Chapter Text
“There is a small group of high-ranking Republic representatives going to Agora. One is the Senator Riyo Chuchi, and the other the Anor Jedi. It is imperative that their peace negotiations fail, and Agora fall into Separatist hands. They are escorted by Marshall Commander Fox and Lima Squad, none of which are trained for diplomatic escort. Kill the Senator, capture the Jedi.”
–Darth Sidious to Lord Tyranus, a week before the Coruscant Guard was deployed to Agora.
“Try not to die.”
Fox frowned at his brother and crossed his arms. “Thire, I assure you, I will not be dying on some backwater planet.”
“I’m just looking after my vod,” Thire said with a laugh. “It’s your first time off Coruscant in how many rotations?”
“Too many. Now if you’re finished harassing me, I need to be going,” Fox replied tersely.
Thire stepped out of his brother’s way. As Fox walked out the door, Thire put a hand on his shoulder, making Fox come up short. “Be safe out there. I’ll lead the guard best as I can until you return.” Thire’s gaze hardened. “Which you will, vod. I don’t want your job long-term.”
“Perhaps a lucky droid will put me out of my misery,” Fox said dryly.
“Fox.”
“I will endeavor to survive. Promise,” Fox recited in exasperation. He looked out of the corner of his eye at Thire before turning to face him. “You’re a good commander. I know you’ll take care of them until I return.” He set his shoulders and put on his helmet. “May we see each other soon.”
He left before Thire could say anything else, be it to taunt or encourage him.
The morning sun bathed their transport in golden light, though whether it was gold from natural causes or pollution was anyone’s guess. Fox stood at parade rest by the entrance to the ship, studiously watching as supplies were carried onboard. It wasn’t his first time escorting high-profile figures through space, but the last time was months ago and he hadn’t been guarding both the Pantoran senator and an Anor Jedi--whom he had yet to see.
The senator was already on board, and at this point Fox believed that no politician could go anywhere without a small army of crates. What is so important that she needs so much stuff? He and his brothers needed little more than a change of blacks, ration bars, and a place to rest. The encampment they’d be staying at would have anything else they might need, be it extra ammunition, advanced medical supplies, or things to repair their armor. Clearly, such simple means were unsatisfactory for a senator.
Fox shook his head at the thought and looked out at the landing platform. That Jedi better show up soon. Otherwise, we’ll be behind schedule. He frowned in frustration before blinking as a pale figure walked out. The Jedi?
They were pale turquoise with a pair of thin, red lines--almost like tattoos--framing her eyes. Her long, pointed ears were bright red and curved against her head. While the top half of her body looked humanoid, her legs looked more akin to the back haunches of a Nexu, muscles taught as if expecting an attack at any moment. Instead, she slipped as she stepped off of her transport, padded feet struggling to find purchase on the slick, duracrete platform. She easily turned her fumble into a graceful walk towards the ship as the short, raven-black hair on her head stirred with the movement of the wind.
“General,” Fox said, giving a single nod as the young woman reached the steps of the transport ship.
“Rin is fine,” the Jedi murmured. “I lack the experience to have such a title.” Her foggy eyes flicked around him. “You are Marshal Commander Fox?”
Fox inclined his head before realizing that she couldn’t see him. “Uh—yes, I am.”
Rin’s lips twitched at a smile. “You seem unsure.”
Fox flushed in embarrassment. “No ma’am. I am Marshal Commander Fox.”
Rin nodded and stepped onto the ship. “Well, Marshal Commander Fox, I have held us up long enough. We had best be on our way.”
“I’ll have Tuck get us off the ground,” Fox said before following her up the ramp and closing it behind him, studying the jedi as she found her way to the nearest chair and settled down into it. Despite the fact that--outwardly, at least--she appeared to be blind, she moved as though she had no issues seeing whatsoever.
Must have been some weird jedi thing.
“Let’s get moving,” Fox said over the comm to Tuck.
“Sir… are we leaving Loit?” Tuck asked.
Fox smirked and shook his head. “It’s been ten minutes. He isn’t coming.” Thire will take care of that.
There was a pause before Tuck spoke again, “Yes, sir.” He sounded amused. “Loit won’t be happy.”
“He should have been on time.” Fox rolled his eyes. ”And the ten minute rule was one of our mutual agreement and creation. He should understand,” he murmured cheekily before sitting down and strapping himself in.
As they took off from the platform, climbing higher through the Coruscant atmosphere and fighting their way through the incessant traffic, the senator sat beside the jedi and the two began to chat. Fox, however, generally tuned them out and looked over his datapad, though behind the visor of his bucket he kept glancing towards the jedi.
According to the file he’d read on her before they left, she was an Anor, but unlike any of the photos he’d seen on the holonet. A brilliant red stripe ran around the back of her head and down her neck and sides standing in stark contrast to her luminous skin. There must have been something significant about the stripe—her clothing was cut to expose as much of the red as possible, the fabric around it held together by strings tied into intricate designs. That can’t be comfortable or secure, Fox absently thought before looking up as Tuck called back from his seat.
“We’re cleared for the jump to hyperspace, Commander,” the pilot announced. “Looks like a two day trip to Agora, barring any complications.”
Fox stowed his datapad and went to his brother, looking over Tuck’s shoulder as the traffic in front of them cleared. “Let’s get to it, then.”
“Copy that, sir,” Tuck replied before pushing the lever and the ship shuddered as it jumped to hyperspace.
Fox was very thankful for his bucket right then, because his lips pulled at a stupid smirk. He’d almost forgotten what hyperspace looked like after so many months of Coruscant. He stood there for a beat too long, eyes wide to try and soak up as much of the blur of stars as possible. Who knew when he’d see them next. “Good man.” Fox said as he straightened.
Tuck nodded and went back to messing with the controls while Fox watched a moment longer before turning to go back to his previous seat.
Two days. Two whole days in hyperspace. The second he sat, it occurred to him that he didn’t have anything he needed to attend to. In the rush to prepare for deployment, he had taken care of all of his usual duties, and that left him with--well, it left him with surprisingly little to do. He blinked at the viewport. Is this what boredom feels like? He didn’t have experience with boredom.
He found he didn’t like it.
He suddenly pushed himself to his feet and decided to walk a lap around the transport ship. Surely something to do would present itself.
“Commander Fox.”
Oh thank the Force. Something to do. Fox turned towards the senator and jedi.
“I heard we have two days in hyperspace. Is that correct?” the senator asked.
Fox nodded. “Yes ma’am.”
“If you weren’t about to do something, I wondered if we might discuss our plans for joining Master Krell’s battalion and negotiating peace with the Agorians,” she said.
Fox’s brow twitched in confusion. He had not planned on joining the negotiations. Guarding the senator and ensuring her safety from beginning to end, yes of course. But partaking in the negotiations? That was outside of his jurisdiction—not to mention that she was a senator and was gaining a level of notoriety on par with Senator Amidala’s for negotiating peace. But if she was commanding him to do so… “Of course, ma’am.”
He walked over to the empty seat and joined the women. “Tuck will be landing our ship at General Krell’s base.” Fox said. “From there, we will work with the 57th to ensure a safe journey to the capital city and effective egresses, if needed.” They should both already know this… He looked between the women and realized that neither seemed surprised by the information. Are they… just wanting to converse?
“When I last spoke with Master Krell, he suggested that his bacta stores are low,” Rin murmured. “I believe his exact words were that his men were setting aside bacta for the Senator and I’s use, should something go awry.” Her lips pulled at a delicate frown. “He did not elaborate on the matter. But if they are redirecting bacta for our use…” she made a displeased sigh, “I am concerned.”
“Low on bacta?” Riyo asked, looking up from her datapad. “He did not say anything about that in our meeting last week. When did you speak with him?”
“Two days ago,” Rin responded. “He also said that there is only one building with air conditioning: The command center. Needless to say, I have questions regarding his men’s infirmary. When pressed, he cut the line, feigning bad connection.” She shook her head. “I brought some bacta with me, just in case, but a few bandages is nothing for a battalion.”
“Low on bacta? No air control in the infirmary? Does he want his men to get infected? Because that’s how people get infected,” Runner hissed on the private comms. “What sort of camp is this general running?”
“One I’m glad to not be a part of,” Skipper muttered on the line, shifting slightly in his seat before he stood and filtered out of the cockpit, the other troopers following his lead.
Riyo frowned. “I wish he had thought to share that more broadly. I could have brought a shipment with us.” She looked towards the door that led to the rest of the ship. “A small shipment, but like you said, some is better than none.” She shook her head and looked at her datapad. “It gets worse. I tried to contact the Agorian diplomat yesterday to finalize some details, and even with the inevitable time change between Coruscant and Agora, he has not responded.” She looked to Commander Fox. “The lack of communication is concerning, though I’m not sure I can blame him for being inaccessible.”
“I’ll ensure my men are ready for anything, ma’am.” Fox inclined his head to her.
Rin looked over at Riyo, brow delicately pulled together in concern. “I tried to contact you yesterday regarding Krell’s updates. I guess my message got lost in the mail.”
Riyo’s brow knit together. “I don’t understand.”
“Nor do I. I left you a voice message on your comm frequency, but there was a power surge, perhaps that disrupted the message,” Rin mused to herself.
Fox cringed. He almost hadn’t left Coruscant because of that power surge. But when the Chancellor ordered him to continue on his scheduled deployment, he had little choice but to obey. Thorn was a capable man. He could provide oversight for that problem.
Riyo sighed. “Regardless, we’re in hyperspace now. Perhaps General Krell is between shipments of bacta and that is all he was referring to.”
“Mm.” Rin hummed before fixing that blind stare at Fox. “Tell me about your troops. Have they served with you for a long time?”
“Yes, ma’am. Lima Squad are some of the finest men from the Coruscant Guard.” Fox said.
“Do they have names like you?” Rin asked.
“Yes ma’am. There’s Sprinter, who’s the Sergeant, Walker, Runner–our medic–Skipper, and Tuck, a former fighter pilot who was transferred into the guard.” Fox replied. “I hand-selected them for this mission. We… have numbers as well. If you prefer.”
Rin blinked in his general direction. “Do you prefer to be addressed by number?”
“We…” Fox paused. He preferred to be addressed by name. But technically… “We will go by whatever you prefer to use, ma’am.”
Rin frowned to herself. “Thank you, Marshal Commander Fox.” She rested a hand on her chin and quietly repeated their names.
“I think that is all we had for the moment. Thank you, Fox,” the Senator murmured. She offered him a smile before turning her attentions to her datapad.
Fox inclined his head before leaving the cockpit.
He found his way to the barracks, where his vode were getting situated and cleaning their weapons. As soon as he stepped in they snapped to attention. “Sir!” a chorus of the same voice called.
“At ease,” Fox said, and they carefully returned to their previous activities. “Tuck says we have two days of travel.”
Sprinter nodded and leaned against the wall. “Anything between now and then?”
Fox carefully turned Sprinter’s words over in his head. “I want two rotations sweeping the ship to make sure we didn’t gain any unwelcome guests. The chance is low, but the risk is always present.”
Sprinter nodded. “We’ll get right to it, Commander.” He glanced to his squad, seeing who might volunteer to go with who.
Runner got to his feet. “I’ll go with you, Sergeant. I can get back to organizing my supplies later.”
“Let’s get to it, then,” Sprinter replied, grabbing his helmet before heading out the door.
Walker glanced to Skipper and arched a brow, tucking away a small box he’d had clutched between his hands a few moments earlier.
Skipper made a face before nodding obediently. “Sir, yes sir.”
Walker snorted and shook his head at Skipper, “Lazy nerfherder.”
Skipper cocked an eyebrow at him. “And yet I always pick up more shifts than you.” He pushed himself to his feet. “Well, I suppose you’ll be joining me?”
Walker snorted and got to his feet as well. “Not like I have much choice.”
“Doesn’t that make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside,” Skipper said, smirking.
Walker laughed. “Someone’s gotta keep your head from getting too big. Come on, we can play sabacc with the others after we make sure the ship is secure.” He paused and glanced towards Fox. “You’re welcome to join us, sir. We can teach you the rules.”
Fox stiffened as he sat, face twisting in confusion behind the privacy of his helmet. A game? His frown deepened and he cocked his head. What rock does he think I live under that I don’t know how to play sabacc?
“Or we can review the mission details. That’s what he meant to say, of course. Sorry, Commander.” Skipper said quickly, shooting his vod a look that left no room for argument.
Fox nodded to himself and pulled out his datapad. “Either sounds like a good way to pass the time. After you finish your sweep.”
Notes:
Thank you for giving our first chapter a read! We’re in for a wild ride with Fox, Riyo, Rin, and Lima Squad, so we hope you stick with us because we are only just getting started. For your reference, this fic will be updated weekly on Sundays and any content warnings, as needed, will be kept in the end notes for those who want to avoid spoilers (though we will leave a note at the beginning so that you can easily find them).
Chapter Text
Open Chat: Leg Daze
Hopper [KIA], Sprinter, Runner, Walker, Skipper, Loit, Tuck
Loit: day 2 of having the WORST SQUAD EVER
Skipper: dar
Sprinter: --rolls eyes emoji-- you woke up LATE, what did you expect?
Loit: not for you all to LEAVE ME standing on the KRIFFING PLATFORM
Walker: Sounds like a you problem. We told you to set multiple alarms.
Runner: Can confirm. The first one woke me up and then I couldn’t get back to kriffing sleep.
Tuck: As if you don’t take nearly as long as Loit to get up.
Runner: I don’t have a thirty minute “lay in bed and prep myself for the day” routine. So consider your next words carefully.
Sprinter: No, you just have a thirty-minute “sit in the fresher and prep yourself for the day” routine.
Runner: At least we all know that I won’t be the reason the barracks smell like Hutt poodoo. Not naming names, but I think we all know who’s done that too many times.
Skipper: ah yes, the Commander
Tuck: Skipper, I swear if you don’t take a kriffing shower when we get to base, there will be hell to pay. I can smell you from the damn cockpit .
Skipper: i don’t know what you’re talking about. i smell just fine. rude. also, no texting and driving. didn’t they tell you that on Kamino??
Tuck: they also told you to shower, so
Loit: we’re getting off topic from the fact that you LEFT ME BEHIND and Thire has me doing security for the west-wing senators --puke emoji--
Runner: Yeah, that’s cold. You should for sure mention that to the Commander.
Sprinter: Don’t know that I would. Fox might put you at the super-max instead.
Loit: ugh, you right. Where are you guys going anyways?
Walker: Some outer rim agri-planet called Agora? I’d never heard of it before the debrief that you, apparently, slept through @Loit. But the holonet had some really beautiful images of forest and valleys. One of those types of planets.
Runner: Pity it’s so far out; I imagine senators would want to use it as a vacation destination.
Sprinter: …we’re forgetting one key factor on the whole “Loit’s still on Coruscant” situation…
Walker: ?
Tuck: ?
Skipper: --side eyes emoji-- --side eyes emoji-- --side eyes emoji--
Sprinter: He’s the one who made the “If I’m not there after 10 minutes have passed, I’m not coming” rule. That… That’s why we left you @ Loit. Just following your own rules.
Loit: no need to call me out like that
Tuck: In my defense, I tried to stick up for you.
Loit: --eye roll emoji-- get back to flying
The next day, Fox found himself standing on the observation deck at the front of the ship, hands clasped behind his back as he studied the viewport. Walker and Sprinter were sitting in chairs on either side of him, studying their datapads. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” a voice asked, and Fox looked over his shoulder at the Anor jedi. She gestured around them and repeated, “It is beautiful, is it not?”
Fox arched his brow. “It is, ma’am.” He paused. “Can you… see it?”
“No.” She shook her head. “But I can sense your awe.”
Fox coughed and unclasped his hands only to cross them across his chest. “Well… we’re on track to be on Agora in another day. We’re making good time.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sprinter arch an eyebrow and smirk slightly.
Rin frowned. “Indeed.” She turned to Sprinter. “Which name is yours? Walker? Runner? Sprinter? Tuck? Skipper?”
“Sprinter, ma’am,” he replied quickly, schooling his expression. “And that is Walker.” He gestured to his vod .
Rin looked to Walker. “I take it you are not keen on running?”
“Ah… no ma’am. But I run just fine when the situation calls for it. I can keep up, don’t worry about me, General,” Walker offered the jedi a smile that faltered a second later.
“Oh, I have no doubt,” Rin agreed. “And please. I do not have the experience to be called General. Rin is fine. Or Jedi Knight Rin. Commander or Captain if you must think of me in military terms.”
Walker and Sprinter exchanged a look before looking at their Commander. Fox stood in silence for a beat before speaking. “Commander Rin.” He inclined his head to her.
She snorted and inclined her head to him. “Marshal Commander.” She looked around. “Where would I find Tuck?”
“He’s our pilot, ma’am. So he’s at the controls in the cockpit,” Walker said, gesturing towards the open cockpit doors. “Ah… the other person here. Um…” He looked to his vode helplessly.
Tuck snorted and turned in his seat. “I’m Tuck.”
Rin’s face twitched in confusion as her non-existent gaze passed over him. “Pleased to meet you. So the only men I haven’t met yet are Skipper and Runner?”
“Correct,” Fox confirmed.
“And Sprinter… You are the Sergeant, yes?” Rin gestured towards Sprinter.
“Yes, that’s me,” Sprinter said with a smile that was lost on the blind Jedi. As it was, her lips twitched upwards.
“Thank you for helping me place names with people.” Rin inclined her head to them. “It can be difficult, without traditional sight.”
“We all have the same face, ma’am. Traditional sight wouldn’t make it any easier,” Sprinter replied with a shrug.
“Perhaps. Though it seems unlikely to me. You each feel unique in the Force. I just need help pairing names with what the Force tells me,” Rin said before shaking her head. “Thank you for the introductions.” She offered a polite smile before turning and heading out. The doors snapped shut behind the Anor, leaving the four clones in the cockpit.
The men remained frozen in place, processing what the Jedi had so casually said. It was Sprinter who broke the silence. “I know General Yoda said something like that to Rys, but I thought it was all some… bad joke,” he admitted, leaning back and looking at his brothers. “Now this blind Jedi says the same thing, and she literally cannot see our faces to make it some sort of ‘you’re all individuals’ joke.” He snorted. “I mean, don’t need to tell me twice that we’re all unique--Any clone could tell you that--but to hear it like that…”
Walker murmured his agreement. “Maybe that’s the answer to ‘why clones’, hm? Cause we’re all different for Jedi, even if the rest of the galaxy sees the same man a hundred times?”
“A hundred? Try a couple million.” Tuck snorted.
“Apologies, you are correct.” Walker mockingly saluted his brother, “A million of the same man.”
As they spoke, Fox lowered his chin to his chest, disappearing into himself to consider the Jedi’s words. In the guard, he and his brothers worked as hard as they could to be both seen and unseen by the people around them. Only officers got a unique paint job, every clone was trained to talk on private channels, to maintain a stiff exterior for the ease of the senate. But that each of them were so markedly different within the Force that a jedi with no sight and hardly any foreknowledge of them could easily tell them apart? “So much for tattoos and novelty haircuts.” Fox commented, earning him a delayed laugh from his brothers as he returned to the world around him.
“Commander! Did you just make a joke?” Walker asked incredulously.
Fox rolled his eyes from behind his helmet. “I am capable of doing so.” He took off his bucket and tucked it under his arm to eye his vod with his customary unimpressed frown.
Walker laughed. “That’s more like the commander I know!”
“Don’t worry, Fox. We won’t tell anyone that you made a joke,” Tuck promised, a twinkle in his eyes.
“I make no such promises,” Walker declared, leaning back in his seat.
“Can’t say I will either, Commander,” Sprinter added with a smile.
Fox deepened his frown. “Mm. I already regret my decision to bring you lot.”
“That’s a good one, Commander,” Walker said in amusement, waving a finger at him. “You like us.”
“Against my better judgment… you are correct,” Fox replied in exasperation. His lip twitched at a smile. “Don’t get too comfortable. We’ll be on Agora soon.”
“Don’t worry. We’ve got this, Commander,” Sprinter said as he pushed himself to his feet. “In and out, like we always do back on Coruscant.”
“That’s what I’m counting on,” Fox sighed before turning and walking out to check on the senator.
He lightly knocked on her door, and a few moments later it snapped open with a hiss. “Senator Chuchi. I’m just stopping by to inform you that we’re on track to be on Agora in another day’s time,” Fox reported, and she looked at him with a smile.
“Thank you. Commander Fox, or… do you prefer just Fox?” Riyo asked. “You’ll have to forgive me, you haven’t been part of my detail for some time and I’m still getting used to all of this.”
Fox’s lips pulled at a small smile. “I answer to either, Commander Fox, Fox, some people just call me Commander. Whatever is your preference, Senator.”
Riyo studied him for a moment, her gaze an equal mix of curiosity and concern. “Why do you answer our questions like that?”
Fox froze, his eyes widening as his throat went dry. His mouth opened to form words, but none came for a minute. He didn’t trip up in front of Senators. He couldn’t insult her by pretending he didn’t know what she meant, or that he hadn’t heard her. “I simply want to give you and Commander Rin the option of how you wish to refer to myself and my men,” he managed, falling back on his carefully constructed ‘Commander’ voice.
Chuchi looked up at him, face twisted in confusion. “I’m not sure I understand. I would appreciate your thoughts, whatever they may be. I know the Senate, Master Rin knows the Jedi Order, and you know your men. In that, I trust your judgment when it comes to how to address them.” She held out her hands. “And referring to someone by their name, given or chosen, is a common courtesy. Please, at least while we are in private, allow me to call you Fox? And you can call me Riyo.”
Fox stared at her through his visor. “You… wish for me to call you by your first name?” His commander-voice slipped awkwardly, and he cringed. This is going terribly. I’ll be reprimanded for sure.
Chuchi didn’t seem to notice his slip up. Or maybe she’s too graceful to acknowledge it in front of me, Fox ruefully thought to himself as the senator spoke.
“Yes. At least when we are in private. I understand how, when we are in public, regulations must be met, and I must be Senator Chuchi and you Commander Fox. But in private, I would like us to speak as equals,” Riyo said.
Now there’s a thought. Equals. “Okay. Yes ma’am,” Fox paused for a beat, “Riyo.” The name tasted strange in his mouth, like it didn’t quite belong. But if she wanted him to call her by her first name… he didn’t have much of a choice.
The senator smiled before looking at her datapad. “I’m sure you already have all the relevant files on the Agorians, but I am sending you my talking points to negotiate peace.” She looked up at him. “If you have a moment, I’d like it if you looked over them, and make any suggestions you think appropriate.”
“Ma’am, with all due respect… I’m a clone,” Fox said slowly.
“I know. You had a rigorous training on Kamino and have served as the Marshal Commander for the Coruscant Guard since just after the start of the war. You work closely with the Chancellor. Correct me if I’m wrong, but all of those experiences, along with your general proximity to the Senate, line you up to offer a unique voice regarding these issues and their nuances,” Riyo said, smugly smiling up at him.
She and Fox both knew she was correct. But Fox had never actually reviewed a senate bill, penned a speech, or negotiated peace. Read over important documents, sure. He did that during his caf breaks, meals, when he woke up, and before he went to bed. He had to keep up to date with all of the new laws and regulations he was called to enforce, and there was no better way to stay on top of them. But he was never asked to offer his opinion, and the few times he had when he had first arrived on Coruscant, he was often dismissed or reprimanded. “I’ll do what I can,” Fox finally responded after an almost uncomfortable pause.
“Only if you have a moment. I’m sure you have a very busy schedule,” Riyo said.
“I will have time.”
“Wonderful. I will see you around.” Chuchi turned her attention back to her datapad, a clear dismissal.
Fox turned and stepped back into the hall, dumbfounded. Does she actually want my input? Or is this all just… the illusion of free will? Fox shook his head and went back to his quarters. It seemed he had work to do, even if it was just busy work that the Senator intended to ignore.
Fox had just finished cleaning his DC-17s when the ship dropped out of hyperspace. His head jerked up to try and get a glimpse at the transition as he felt the lurch in his stomach, but beyond the small viewport in his quarters, the stars had already gone from blurs to identifiable planets. He sighed and pushed himself to his feet. I’ll catch it on the flight back to Coruscant.
Fox slipped his pistols into their holsters and walked over to the viewport to get a good look at the planet he assumed was Agora. Wow. That’s… really green. Fox thought before mentally scolding himself. Yes, of course it’s green. That’s what the kriffing report and holonet said about the planet. Green and brown and blue. He pressed his palm to his forehead and shook his head. I need to get off-world more often.
He looked back up to the viewport, his brow hardening at the battle-group of Republic venators currently facing off against a Seperatist command ship and frigate escort that were quickly approaching the planet. Far in the distance, Fox could make out the flashes of blaster fire as vulture droids and starfighters danced around each other, but no one seemed to be paying their ship any mind.
At least, not for now.
Fox turned away from the viewport and pulled on his helmet before stepping out of his quarters. The sound of hurried steps made him turn to look down the hall before pressing himself against the wall. Fox arched a brow as one of his vod—Sprinter—ran past him. “Sorry commander,” he said quickly as he passed, “excited to finally see another kriffing planet!”
“Put them on one off-world mission, and suddenly they’re all shinies again…” Fox said to himself in amusement, as if he didn’t want to react in the same manner. Nothing would have brought him more joy than to press his face to a viewport and stare at the stars as if he was fresh off of Kamino. But his personal code of conduct forbade him. With an amused shake of his head, Fox meandered to the front of the ship.
“We’ll be entering the atmosphere shortly, men. Don’t forget that this is an active war zone. Don’t let the greenery fool you,” Fox said as he stepped into the cockpit. “Protect the senator. Try not to die.”
“I’m inspired,” Walker muttered blandly, and Skipper stifled a snort.
“I need men on guns,” Tuck called, not sparing a glance back at his brothers as his hands flew over the controls, no doubt ensuring the shields were up and the ship was prepped for a potentially rough landing. “I don’t think we’re going to get a nice greeting like on Coruscant.”
Skipper and Sprinter scrambled to their feet and ran to man the guns, footsteps fading into the bowels of the ship.
The Pantoran senator watched the men go before swiveling in her chair to look out the viewport as they passed into the atmosphere, the ship shuddering from the changing pressure and winds that buffeted the planet below. “I hope we will not need to shoot. Killing others and then asking for peace is no way to begin a treaty negotiation.”
“With… all due respect, ma’am… that is what war is,” Fox murmured, checking his blasters to make sure they were ready if needed.
Riyo sighed. “I don’t much care for the war either, Commander. We have tried to negotiate peace many times with the Separatists, thus far to no avail. I always hope for a bloodless battle of words, though our present reality seems far from achieving such a victory anytime soon.”
Fox internally sighed before yelping as he was thrown to the side, the ship shaking around him from the force of a blast that the shields had barely managed to deflect. Fox caught himself on the back of a chair and dug his fingers into the padding to keep himself upright, eyes fixed on Tuck and Walker who were fighting the controls of the ship and calling out all manner of readings that Fox could probably figure out, but he was too far removed from his crash course in flight on Kamino.
The Jedi sprinted into the room and skidded to a stop, the claws on her feet screeching as they tried to find purchase. She looked around frantically before her non-existent gaze settled on Tuck, her face settling in a hard frown.
“Commander, you should sit down and strap in!” Fox called, but the Jedi didn’t listen, and in two strides, she was behind Tuck. She grabbed the back of his seat and hung on.
“Tuck--”
“We’re being attacked, commander. The Agorians are not happy to see us!” Tuck shouted.
“Then return fire!” Fox snapped back.
“Already on it, sir!” Sprinter called over comms, the sounds of blaster fire echoing all around the ship.
Fox glanced at the senator, whose face was as calm and stoic as ever, but her hands were wrapped tightly around the armrests of her seat. “I suggest you hold on tight or buckle up, Senator.”
Riyo nodded and snapped a seat belt across herself, eyes following the fighters and bolts of light that were dancing through the viewport.
Tuck chose that moment to jerk their ship to the side, and Fox cried out in suprised pain as he strained to keep his grip on his seat. “Tuck…” he growled.
“You’d best buckle up, sir. It’s going to be a bumpy ride!” Tuck returned, voice tight as he shot a glare towards the jedi before returning his attention to the ship.
Fox scowled and stumbled into a chair. He forced the buckle and twisted in his seat to get a good look at his squad. Skipper and Sprinter on guns… Tuck in the pilot’s chair with Commander Rin breathing down his neck… Walker is co-pilot… Runner sitting in a crash seat behind Senator Chuchi… His grip tightened on the sides of his chair as another blast shook their ship and the control panels started shorting out and arcing electricity all around their pilot.
“Tuck!” Walker cried as he tried to hold the ship steady, and dread washed over Fox like a cold blanket. He could see Tuck’s head sway to the side a second before the Jedi rose up one leg to dig her toe-claws into the controls, catching his vod in the process and keeping him from falling out of his chair. She reached forward with one hand, and it took a beat before Fox realized that she was using the Force.
“Shields are at thirteen percent and dropping!” Walker called, hands gripping the yoke of the ship to try and dodge out of the way of a quickly approaching vulture droid. “We‘re going down!”
The ship listed suddenly to the side and plummeted towards the ground, wind howling in Fox’s ears from a hole that must have been blown in the side of the ship. Anything light enough and not locked down flew around from the depressurization. Fox was sure he was going to throw up as they dropped and wind tore through the carcass of the ship, his stomach left somewhere in the upper atmosphere.
“Prepare for impact!” Fox snapped into his comm, pressing himself against the back of his seat and watching as the trees rushed all too quickly towards them.
Notes:
Who doesn’t love a good cliffhanger? At least we only have to wait a week to find out if Fox accidentally breaks his promise to Thire…
While most of this story will be told through narrative, we couldn’t leave out the text chats between the clones that help give more of a glimpse into their character. Most of the chats you’ll see are inspired by silly headcanons we make up during late nights--and even some of our own late-night conversations (at least in how they talk to each other).
Anyways, thank you for reading, happy February, and we hope you have a lovely week ahead!
Chapter Text
The hull of the ship groaned as it was tossed from tree to tree and Fox couldn’t help but groan with it, practically biting the inside of his cheek to keep from vomiting. No amount of simulations on Kamino could prepare one for a crash landing.
With a particularly loud snap, the floor cracked beneath their feet and before anyone could react, more blasts echoed around them with an explosion of heat and burnt air. Fox braced himself as the ship crashed into another tree, and he would have gone flying were it not for the seatbelt that snapped taunt against his body and knocked the breath from his lungs.
When Fox managed to look back up through the haze, he realized that the forward half of the cockpit had been completely ripped from the ship and was nowhere to be found and he was staring at the far-below ground of Agora. Just as he was sure he would face plant into the soil and break his promise to Thire, the ship yanked to a stop, caught in the thick branches and suspended ten feet from the forest floor.
The metal groaned as what was left of the cockpit dipped forward and smoke curled into the ship, obscuring the view of a sandy beach and making the senator cough, her entire frame shaking from the effort. The commander cast a quick look around before throwing his seatbelt off and scrambling to his feet. “We need to get to cover! Everyone, out!”
Riyo stared at the ground, staying securely in her seat. “How do you suggest we do that without breaking a leg?”
“That’s no problem, ma’am,” Runner said, clipping an ascension cable onto the crash chair before offering his arm to the senator. “Hang on, I’ll get you down to the ground.”
Riyo nodded, getting out of her seat and grabbing onto Runner, who immediately repelled down to the forest floor and ran for cover, making sure the senator’s head stayed down and that she remained tucked in the cover of his larger frame. Fox was not long behind them, using the same cable to guide himself to the ground before running for the same thick brush that Runner and Riyo were hiding in.
His visor adjusted to the bright light so he didn’t have to squint, letting him properly see two more of Lima squad running towards him. “Any sight of the Jedi, Tuck, or Walker?” he called.
“No, sir!”
Fox clenched his jaw. “Where are they?” He scanned the smoky horizon before turning and leading his men further into the brush and away from the remains of the ship that creaked from where it was held by the trees, branches cracking and groaning from the sudden weight.
The thick brush, even along the open beach, slowed them as they sprinted away from the ship and towards the plume of smoke in the distance, where Fox hoped against hope his vode and the jedi were still alive.
“They’re making another pass!” Sprinter yelled seconds before the fighters began raining blaster fire on the beach.
Fox had never run so fast in his life, and he doubted the senator had either. As it was, his vode were quickly overtaking her and if they continued like this, Fox feared that she would lag behind. That is unacceptable. “Apologies,” he said simply before scooping her up and over his shoulders in one smooth move as he ran.
She yelped but didn’t fight him. Fox pressed his lips into a hard line, trying to avoid accidentally jostling her too much as he practically sprinted to catch up with his brothers–he was close to decommissioning by carrying the senator like this as it was. At least the fireman’s carry was an explainable necessity.
Fox did all he could to catch back up with his brothers as heat and sand exploded all around him. Only when he and the senator were safely back among them did he look over his shoulder. And no sooner had he done so that their transport exploded in flame and fell from the trees in spectacular fashion. The shockwave threw him to the ground, and Chuchi cried out as she tumbled from his shoulders.
Runner helped Riyo back up while Sprinter looked through a pair of binoculars towards the remains of the cockpit. “We have to get out there and get to the Commander. She might be a jedi, but I don’t think she can protect herself and our vode in such an exposed position.”
Fox crouched beside him and nodded. “Any sign of them?”
“The open side of the ship is facing away from us, and the smoke is too thick to properly see into the viewport,” Sprinter replied, passing the binoculars over.
“We need to keep moving,” a feminine voice said sternly from behind them.
Fox froze, halfway to grabbing the binoculars Sprinter had offered, before he slowly turned and looked up at the blind Jedi with Tuck balanced, head lolling, between her and Walker.
Rin glanced between the clones, her entire aura radiating the sheer gravity of the situation. “Only death awaits us if we stay here. Follow me.” She turned and jogged into the trees.
She has Tuck and Walker. They’re alive. Fox let out a breath and shook his head before looking to the others. “You heard the commander—follow her! I’ve got our back.”
His men and the senator nodded before chasing after the Anor, Runner taking the jedi’s place at Tuck’s side so he could better assess his injured brother.
Behind them, the Separatists made another sweep that Fox did his best to block out as he focused on his squad in front of him. His helmet helped to muffle the explosions, but it couldn’t keep the anxiety from quietly gnawing at the back of his mind. He picked up his pace, watching as the Jedi paused to look back at them, her blind eyes wide. Her gaze bounced around for a minute before she turned and continued running. We waste precious time with every pause. Fox thought to himself in frustration before sobering to help move Tuck over a particularly big tree root.
They continued in this manner for some time before the Jedi came to a stop among some trees. “We will camp here for the evening,” she declared. “And we will be safe.”
Not quite sure how you can guarantee that, but it seems like a suitable camping spot. Fox looked around at the trees that seemed to get taller as night fell and shivered. “I want men on the perimeter.” He turned to Runner. “How’s Tuck doing?”
“He’s still mostly out of it, sir.” Runner said as he and Walker laid Tuck down. He delicately removed Tuck’s helmet and began a more in depth check-up, his medscanner whirring and beeping as it scanned over Tuck’s body.
Riyo watched as the clones moved around her, setting up a makeshift camp while Runner knelt over Tuck. “Will he be alright?” she asked the medic, looking over his shoulder.
“He has a concussion, it seems. Some electrical burns from the ship’s malfunction before our crash, and perhaps a broken rib? He also has a lower blood-oxygen level than I’d like, but given the amount of smoke in the cockpit before the crash, and the fact that he wasn’t wearing his helmet, it’s not unexpected,” Runner murmured.
Riyo tilted her head to the side. “What does that mean in laymans?”
“Well, as long as we can get him to base and he gets plenty of rest? He should recover just fine,” Runner replied, looking back at the senator. “Are you alright, ma’am?”
Riyo nodded. “Yes. Just a few bruises and scrapes, but I was pretty well strapped in when we crashed.”
“Glad to hear it, ma’am. You should get some rest, though. We’ll need to get up early so we can hopefully get a move on before any clankers or hostile natives catch up to us,” Sprinter said, stepping in for the medic. “We’ve put together a lean-to for you and Commander Rin. I know it’s probably nothing like your penthouse on Coruscant but… it’ll have to do for now.”
Riyo looked up at the sergeant before nodding. “It is more than enough, Sprinter. Thank you.”
Sprinter nodded, watching his squad find some semblance of order as they settled for the night.
It was just past midnight, as Walker was switching for guard duty with Sprinter, that the pair heard the crunching of leaves just beyond the camp.
Sprinter’s head snapped towards the sound and he raised his blaster. With his free hand, the sergeant made a few quick gestures, flank, identify, hostile, shoot. Walker nodded and looked down the sights of his DC-17 as Sprinter slipped into the woods. The footfalls slowly crept closer to the edge of the camp, and Walker squinted through the moonlight to try and get a glimpse of whomever, or whatever, was almost on top of them.
The footsteps, mercifully, did not sound like those of clankers. Even the commando droids, as silent as they could be, still had a distinct hydraulic hiss as they moved, but neither clone heard such a hiss, nor the telltale flat footsteps of a B1 or a super battle droid. That left the options of either a native or an animal and Walker was not familiar enough with the fauna of Agora to be able to tell either way—after all, the plan had been to land on base, not trek through the jungle.
A moment later, a clone in plain armor was roughly shoved into the clearing, tripping over a root and falling flat on his face with a grunt as Sprinter stood behind him.
“Who are you?” Sprinter barked as the others began to stir.
The shiny pushed himself to his knees and held his hands up, Sprinter’s blaster still pointed at his back. “I--I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Who are you?” Sprinter repeated, voice thin and cold.
“CT-82-1021,” the clone replied.
Walker rolled his eyes, going to the shiny and pulling off his perfectly white, phase II helmet. “Put your blaster down, Sprint. He’s a brother.”
The clone looked up at Walker with wide, terrified eyes, silently pleading them not to kill him
Sprinter watched for a moment longer before holstering his blaster and waving for his squad to go back to sleep.
“What’s your name, shiny?” Walker asked once he got a look at the younger clone’s face. While the rest of him seemed perfectly regulation, his hair was grown out and tied back into a tight bun on top of his head.
“CT-82-1021, sir,” the shiny repeated. “And I’m… not that shiny, sir. Just… a fresh coat of paint on my armor.” He gestured to himself.
Walker squinted before shaking his head. “Alright, Two-One. What are you doing out here?”
“My squad and I were sent out to retrieve General Rin, Senator Chuchi, and any survivors of the ship crash,” Two-One said, straightening to attention and looking past Walker as if he was giving a report.
Walker removed his own helmet and smiled. “Well, the help is appreciated. We’re resting for the moment, and I’m sure your squad could use some rest too. Why don’t you call them over and Sprinter and I can get acquainted with the rest of you.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible, sir,” Two-One said quickly, eyes betraying the pain hidden behind his stoic face.
Sprinter stared. “Why’s that, Trooper?”
“They—they’re all dead, sir. I’m the… the only one that survived,” Two-One replied, and neither clone was certain how the not-so-shiny was able to keep his voice from shaking.
Sprinter sighed, his strict Sergeant facade falling away. “Alright, kid. I’m… I’m sorry to hear it. Why don’t you settle in to rest up with the men and we’ll figure out the best way to get back to base in the morning.”
“Yes, sir.” Two-One nodded and retrieved his helmet. He slid it back over his head before going to a tree and settling against it.
Walker watched him go, brow creasing as he watched the young clone.
“Your face is gonna get stuck if you keep staring at him like that,” Sprinter snorted, gently elbowing his brother.
Walker balked, looking up at his sergeant. “Where’d you hear that osik?”
“Something some parent said to their kid a few weeks ago when we were doing a protection detail on that senator visiting the Coruscant primary schools. Pretty sure it was a joke,” Sprinter chuckled.
Walker rolled his eyes before shaking his head. “Look at his armor. Something’s not right about it.”
Sprinter pursed his lips, studying “Two-One” with renewed interest. Sure enough, he had a phase II helmet, but the rest of his armor was some strange mishmash of both phase I and phase II armor sets, and most of it didn’t match in the slightest.
The Guard had heard of infantrymen modifying their phase II armor with elements they had preferred from the phase one models, in some cases even going so far as to weld bits and pieces together to form something new altogether. But Two-One’s armor was nothing like that. The phase two pieces seemed random and asymmetrical, and hardly fit together with the phase one pieces.
“That’s… not right,” Walker murmured. He couldn’t imagine wearing a mismatched kit–when he’d first gotten his phase II armor, before it was even painted, he’d tried wearing his new leg armor with his old torso armor. The way it had pinched and rubbed was not a fond memory, though his foolishness got a good laugh from Zuri and his brothers.
Sprinter shrugged. “Maybe he was in the middle of painting his new armor when his squad was called and just put on what was already dried? It’s a problem for… not right now,” he said, yawning as he finished. “Fox is up next for watch in two hours. See you in the morning, vod.”
Walker arched a brow skeptically at Sprinter. “Phase II kits rolled out a while back.”
“We’re in the outer rim, Walker.” Sprinter waved a hand dismissively, “Maybe it hasn’t gotten here yet.”
Walker begrudgingly dropped the matter and went back to his watch. “And if it’s a fresh coat of paint, don’t you think the white would have smudged on his way here?” He muttered to himself. No, there was a lot that didn’t add up about Two-One. But worrying this much about it… well, that was Fox’s job.
Biting off a small chunk of his ration bar, Walker went back to scanning the trees with his eyes and listening for any approaching footfalls, hoping against hope that neither enemies nor wild animals would find them.
Notes:
So this is earlier in the war, only about a year or so in, but the CG has Phase II armor (and Two-One has some pieces of it as well). Yes, we know it probably wasn’t canonically around during that time. So… fight us. Don’t actually though, we’re doing our best and we hope you like what we have planned in later chapters…
Also, Agora is an actual place in Star Wars! Its Wookiepedia page is rather lacking, so we took some creative liberties in describing it.
As always, thank you for reading! Today is apparently “Pay a Compliment Day,” so we would like to compliment you, dear reader, and remind you that you’re a pretty amazing person. Have a lovely week!
Chapter Text
The next morning, Two-One was up and ready before a majority of the squad, only beaten by Fox and Sprinter, who were busy planning their next moves through the jungle.
Sprinter glanced over. “Morning, Shiny.”
Two-One stood to attention, trying to ignore how one side of his armor was riding up and making him look terribly uneven. “Good morning, Sir.”
Sprinter snorted. “At ease, soldier. Why don’t you get a ration bar and tell us what you know about the jungles around here?”
Two-One watched him hesitantly before complying, joining the other clones. Two-One had seen clones with painted armor--it designated lieutenants, sergeants, captains, and commanders in the 57th, and for other battalions it seemed to be a point of pride to create designs with very particular shades of paint. Of course, all of the other battalions’ kits were cohesive and matching, too, and not a hodge-podge like his own. But these clones’ armor was more highly decorated than anyone else’s he had ever seen.
The Coruscant Guard was an elite group of clones, and their armor was no exception. Painted in a fine red were several different designs between the gathered clones, but all of them were cohesive with the guard’s symbol proudly emblazoned on their spaulders. Even if Two-One wasn't a shiny---and he wasn’t, not for a few months at least---he certainly looked like one compared to these soldiers.
“So, vod, how long have you been on Agora?” Sprinter asked casually.
Two-One blinked before starting to frown. “This is my first deployment, but I have been here several months. And… my name is not ‘Vod’.”
Both Fox and Sprinter fixed Two-One with the same look of shock, though Sprinter’s lips parted as he tried to find something cohesive to say.
Fox simply stood and pulled on his bucket. “Well, I’ll leave you to the plans, Sprinter. I’ll get everyone else up.” With that, he walked away and Sprinter shook his head to bring himself back to reality.
“Did you have any Mandalorian trainers on Kamino, kid?” Sprinter asked once he’d recovered.
“No, Sir. We had bounty hunters. The Kaminoans said that the Mandalorians were volatile and not the ideal trainers for clones,” Two-One replied, trying to figure out the sergeant’s line of questioning.
Sprinter slowly nodded. “Do you know any Mando’a?”
Two-One’s blank stare answered the question before his brain could conjure a response.
“I see,” Sprinter said softly. “Well, ‘vod’ means brother.”
Two-One sucked in his lips, glancing around him. “If I… may make a suggestion, Sir…” he looked to Sprinter, waiting for the other to nod before continuing, “General Krell does not take kindly to the clones having their own language. It may be best to avoid using such words here, on Agora.” He shrank into his armor as he spoke, his voice growing quieter as he went on. He’d made the mistake of using an Agorian phrase earlier that week and had paid for it with his breastplate and helmet. He was lucky to have gotten new pieces so soon after the fact, otherwise, he’d most certainly have died before reaching Senator Chuchi’s entourage.
Sprinter leaned forward, his brow knitting together in concern. “Well, usually we only use it between brothers--fellow clones. Certainly not a more… uptight general, such as Krell.” He sighed, pulling a small holoprojector and setting it on the ground between them. Almost immediately an image of the planet flickered to life, spinning lazily in tinted blue light. “Anyways, back to my original question. You’ve been on Agora for a few months?”
“Since the beginning of this campaign, Sir,” Two-One replied, glad to be back to a more typical subject of conversation. “The 57th had gone back for a resupply near Kamino after their last campaign and me and my squad were sent to help reinforce the numbers.”
Sprinter nodded. “So where are we? And how far are we from the base?”
Two-One easily manipulated the hologram, zooming in until a map of the region came into focus. “Well, Sir, you landed South of the base, which is located here,” he pointed to the top of a tall cliff with a sheer face. “Your ship landed here, and right now, we are camping here.” Two-One pointed to the spot on the beach where their ship had fallen apart, then even further South to an area of jungle.
Sprinter sighed. “That is… sub-optimal. But our navigation systems were a bit fried as we came down and we couldn’t get our bearings with the enemy firing on us.”
“I’m sorry for the bad news, Sir,” Two-One replied quickly, eyes shifting to avoid Sprinter’s gaze.
Sprinter waved a hand. “Not your fault, vod. Just the reality of war and active combat zones.” He turned the map this way and that, lips carefully pursed as he studied the terrain around them. “Who controls the beaches to the West?”
“Well, no one, Sir. The enemy is too far East to effectively grab them from us in a full-on assault. But they’ve got mortars that they like to throw at anyone that tries to use the beaches as a means to get to the base,” Two-One explained.
Sprinter smiled. “Excellent. We’ll stay in the jungle but follow the beaches towards the base. I’m guessing it’ll take at least half the day?”
“Probably. So long as we stay under cover and away from any Agorian scouts.” Two-One nodded.
Sprinter studied the holomap for a little while longer before scooping up the device and tucking it into one of the pockets on his belt. “Well, best eat up, brother. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”
“Indeed we do,” Fox echoed as he walked past them. He looked to Sprinter. “Head out in thirty or less?”
Sprinter nodded. “Yes Sir! I’ll debrief you after you’ve eaten. It’s pretty straight forward.”
Fox dipped his head slightly before rounding back and walking to the tent they’d built to protect Tuck. He ducked inside and disappeared from view.
Skipper and Walker sauntered over to them, the former wearing an impish grin. “Morning shiny!” Skipper chimed as he sat and pulled out a ration bar. “Skipper.” He gestured to himself before looking to Sprinter. “How’s Fox? I half expected to see him mourning the loss of the old ship’s caf machine.”
Sprinter shook his head in amusement. “Fox is doing fine from what I can tell. A few days without caf won’t kill him.”
Skipper considered before shaking his head. “I think it will.”
Walker snickered and situated himself across from Two-One. “Walker. We met last night.”
Two-One nodded and looked awkwardly between the men before looking past them.
Walker followed his gaze and watched as Senator Chuchi walked out of her lean-to. The warm morning sun bathed the Pantoran in golden-green light, making her look almost ethereal. She yawned and stretched her arms above her head before walking towards the lean-to serving as a temporary infirmary.
Walker took a bite of his ration bar before speaking, “First time you’ve seen a girl?”
Sprinter gave Walker a look. “That is no way to start a conversation.”
Skipper snickered and leaned over to Two-One as if telling him a secret. “Walker fell for the first non-vod who smiled at him.”
Walker frowned at his brothers. “Hey. It worked out. And you all love visiting with Zuri too.” He gestured to Two-One. “It’s an honest question. I heard him say this is his first deployment! I just wanted to know.” He twisted in his spot and lowered his voice. “The blue one is Senator Chuchi, and the one with the red stripe is Commander Rin, the Jedi. As far as senators go, she’s a pretty good one. Cares about us clones, treats us well, though she doesn’t really… understand us. Same with the Jedi. But she’s pretty kriffing weird.”
Riyo looked over her shoulder as Rin joined her and the pair exchanged some words before turning their attentions to speak with those out of sight. Chuchi gestured into the tent before ducking inside, leaving Rin in the doorway. A few minutes later, she reemerged and the jedi said something to her before the pair looked over at the clones. Walker offered a smile and a wave, earning him a snort and a bemused wave from Riyo. Rin simply blinked at them before her brow knit together and her blind gaze zeroed in on Two-One.
Walker turned back to his brothers. “Like I said, the jedi is kriffing weird. She’s always frowning and looking concerned. And looking at us like she can see us, but we’re all pretty certain that she’s blind.”
“Also pretty certain that she’s the last of her species,” Skipper added. “At least, no one can really find any sort of recent, reliable records on any Anor. Lots of fun conspiracy theories though. You know, I heard they shoot poisonous spit. What do you think the likelihood of that is?”
“Let’s not bring that up around the Jedi.” Sprinter said, giving Skipper a disapproving look.
Walker waved a hand dismissively, “We’re getting away from my question. Is it your first time seeing a girl?”
Two-One’s eyes jumped from the women to Walker, shock and terror written on his face. “I… I’ve met female Kaminoans.”
“They don’t count,” Skipper said, rolling his eyes.
Two-One shrugged. “Then I guess I’ve never met a girl before. Um…” he glanced over at them. “They seem… small.” He shifted uncomfortably. “And I… wouldn’t be calling any Jedi ‘kriffing weird’ around General Krell…”
“Eh, we keep that chatter on the private comms,” Walker said with a grin that quickly fell. “You okay?”
Two-One was saved from answering as Fox stepped out of the tent. Runner emerged behind him, looking exhausted, but not defeated. “Gear up, boys. Runner says Tuck is stable enough to move, and we should get to it before the day drags on too much further.”
“You got it, Commander,” Sprinter replied immediately, getting to his feet. “Skipper, help Runner with the tent. Me and Walker will take the first turn with Tuck.”
Runner nodded. “We were able to put together a makeshift stretcher last night. Let’s just hope we don’t encounter any resistance on the way to the base.”
“Well, Two-One here gave us the rundown of what to expect and how we should approach. I have a feeling we’ll be just fine,” Sprinter said, a hint of pride and respect coloring his small smile as he nodded towards the younger soldier.
Just as Two-One had said, so long as they kept to the trees near the beach, the hike was silent and uneventful. Every hour or so the clones would swap who was carrying Tuck’s stretcher, and Runner was always right beside him, keeping everyone appraised of their brother’s condition. Mercifully, Tuck remained stable despite the heat and humidity that the jungle around them seemed to hold down.
Despite the climate, though, Agora was beautiful.
The clones of the Coruscant Guard had never seen a world so naturally wild or so lush with green. It felt more akin to a fantasy than it did to real life. Were the circumstances different, they might’ve set up camp just in the tree line and spent the day staring at the wildlife, sunbathing, and swimming. Skipper would have killed for an afternoon on the beach–one of his simple fantasies fed by sneaking glances at holos of beautiful people on beautiful sands by beautiful water. The only thing that kept them in formation was their years of training and conditioning on Kamino, and the almost visceral compulsion to protect their fallen brother.
It was not long after their brief lunch break that they reached a tall cliff with a massive waterfall spilling from the top, and Two-One slowed.
“The base is at the top of the cliff,” he said into his comms, the sound of the water almost enough to drown out his voice. “But there’s a path behind the waterfall that will lead into a series of caves. One of them has a lift that will get us the rest of the way up to the encampment.”
Fox frowned. “I hope it's well guarded…”
“Always, sir,” Two-One replied quickly. “If the Agorians know about the caves, they haven’t attempted a close enough attack to where they could get into them. And even if they were to send any soldiers on a stealth mission, the lift is always guarded and has a code that is changed daily, so only authorized personnel can use it.” He paused. “Not to mention that it is a maze, sir. You have to know where you’re going in order to even find it.”
Sprinter nodded in approval. “Why don’t you lead the way, then?”
Two-One gave a hesitant “yes, sir,” before going to the front of the group and leading them towards the base of the cliff, the spray of the waterfall dousing their armor and nearly soaking the senator and jedi to the skin as soon as they approached. But despite the stone that was slick from the moisture, Two-One’s steps were sure and practiced, more than confident with the path they took.
The group was generally silent, each taking in the wonder of the waterfall and the path carved behind it, the sheer force of it awe inspiring to each in their own way. It wasn’t until they were behind the waterfall that Skipper spoke, forced to shout to be heard.
“Hey, Walker!”
“What?” Walker asked, voice a touch on edge. “You see something?”
“If you look to the right, you’ll see something truly breath-taking. Something absolutely remarkable. You’ll fall harder for this than you did for Zuri.”
Walker sucked in a breath and looked over to his vod. “Really?”
“Some might even say it’s not worth misting,” Skipper said, unable to keep the grin out of his voice.
“Skipper, I swear if you make a kriffing waterfall joke--”
“Ladies and gentlemen, behold!” Skipper cried, stepping in front of his brother and throwing out his arms dramatically, “The backside of water!”
There was a collective groan from the clones, stifled laughter from Chuchi, and the sound of creaking plastoid as Walker gently shoved his vod.
Rin, however, looked around in mock confusion. “Where?” She called over the pounding of water, her hands firmly clasped over her ears.
At that, Skipper practically cackled and Walker shoved him again, this time a little bit harder for good measure.
Sprinter softly chuckled, shaking his head as he pulled his bucket off and looked at Two-One beside him. “You’re allowed to laugh at his jokes, kid. Just maybe don’t let him hear you. He can be a bit incorrigible at times.”
Two-One glanced over before taking his own helmet off, letting out a breath as the cool, misty air hit him in the face and filled his lungs. “Your squad seems like a group of good men.”
“They are. Lima Squad is one of the best of the Coruscant Guard. Our batch--all except for Tuck--was actually trained by Commander Fox, once he had graduated training but before the war had started. He helped us with our names and was so impressed he dragged us with him to Coruscant after the Battle of Geonosis,” Sprinter explained. “But there’s no place I would rather be than with them.”
Two-One nodded, though he was not sure he could really say the same of any of his brothers. “My squad, well, none of them were my batch-mates. I was just dropped in with them, when I joined the 57th. Seems to be pretty common here, having batches split up to fill spaces in squads that are missing men.”
“Oh. I see,” Sprinter murmured. “Have you seen much of your batchmates?”
Two-One shook his head. “Not recently, sir. And we do not often get much downtime beyond what we need to sleep or eat, so I don’t really get the chance to go looking for them.”
Sprinter frowned, his low opinion of General Krell plummeting further. Of course he had heard stories of the Besalisk jedi and his callous approach to the treatment of his soldiers, but he wasn’t quite prepared for what Two-One was sharing with him. He sighed, pushing the thoughts away for now. “Did your batchmates give you a name, Two-One? Or are you still waiting for it?”
Two-One stumbled, glancing backwards for a moment before looking forward again, gaze avoiding Sprinter completely. “We aren’t allowed to have names, Sir.”
“We’re among brothers, Two-One. And I like to call brothers by their names, so long as they don’t mind sharing them,” Sprinter murmured, voice soft so no one else could hear him.
Two-One sucked in his lips before hesitantly nodding. “It--it’s Clutch, Sir.”
Sprinter smiled warmly, gently elbowing Clutch. “Well, I think it’s an excellent name, Trooper. Is it alright if I call you that?”
“Not on base!” Clutch nearly cried, his eyes wide with panic.
Sprinter held up his hands. “Alright, not on base. But what if we’re in private? Would that be okay? I won’t share it with anyone else if you don’t want me to.”
Clutch hesitantly nodded after a moment. “O--okay. Yes, Sir.”
Sprinter smiled again. “You’re a good soldier, Clutch. And a good brother. Don’t let anyone try to tell you otherwise.”
Clutch managed his own small smile before nodding to the cave ahead, face falling as he pulled his bucket back on. “Well, we’re almost into the caves, and we’ll want our torches.” He hesitated before walking into the cave mouth. “Not too much further to the base.”
Sprinter paused, watching him for a moment before continuing on. They followed in Clutch’s footsteps as he led them into the caves and through tight corridors and dizzying turns, climbing ever upwards until there was the soft glow of a torch and the clicking of two blasters.
“Who’s there? Identify yourself!”
“CT-82-1021!” Clutch replied immediately. “I’m with Senator Chuchi and Gen-- Commander Rin. And the Coruscant Guard.”
The two guards, also in perfectly white armor that was mismatched, watched them for a few moments longer before lowering their blasters. One nodded while the other turned to a panel in the stone wall, the door to a lift opening a moment later.
“We’ll notify the general’s staff that you’ve finally arrived. Someone should be waiting for you once you reach the top,” one of the guards said before doing just as he’d explained.
The group stepped into the lift without another word, all of them relaxing just slightly as they were back in the relative safety of a Republic facility.
Once they had reached the top, after a several minutes-long ride in the lift, a clone greeted them. Or rather, greeted the senator and the jedi, paying almost no mind to the Coruscant Guard. “Senator Chuchi. General Rin. General Krell is waiting for you in the command center.”
“You can address me as Commander if you must, trooper,” Rin said evenly. “Are you able to direct some of these men towards the infirmary? One of our guard was injured in the crash and needs medical attention sooner rather than later.”
The trooper nodded, giving Runner the directions to the infirmary before returning his attention to the high-profile guests. “This way to the command center.”
The remaining clones--Fox, Sprinter, and Clutch--followed behind the senator and jedi as they were led through the bustling base and towards a central building that was surprisingly quiet, given its status as a command center.
As soon as the doors shut behind them, an old air conditioning unit sputtered back to life, and musty cool air blew through the space. Fox wrinkled his nose in distaste–Republic facilities were supposed to meet certain standards and this building clearly did not. He vaguely considered submitting a report regarding unsafe air flow, or poor building specifications that blocked any attempt at an easy view. But this far away from Coruscant, he doubted it would make much of a difference.
“Knight Rin, I’m surprised to see you here.” a throaty voice boomed, and Fox zeroed in on a tall, looming man standing in front of a holoprojector. Fox had seen plenty of Besalisks during his time on Coruscant, from the amicable Dex who was always happy to serve the clones, to ones that caused all sorts of trouble and ended up in the prison, but the general was still something of a shock. He towered over them not only in his stature but also in the way he held himself--chin up with his gaze sweeping over them, one set of arms crossed over his chest while the other set were clasped behind his back. He stepped towards them, his brown eyes focused on Rin’s slight frame. “I almost did not believe they would allow you out of the temple, but clearly you have finally made it to the frontlines.”
“It is unusual for me to be away from the Temple, I know. But Master Yoda requested my presence on Agora, so here I am.” Rin replied pleasantly.
“Yes, the treaty negotiation, I’m sure.” Krell waved a hand dismissively before squinting at the shorter Jedi. “Tell me, are there Anor here?”
“Not that I’m aware of. Why do you ask?”
“Well, the only reason Yoda would send you compared to any other, equally qualified jedi, is that you are here to find a mate.” Krell said simply, clasping one of his sets of hands behind his back.
At first the room was silent, Clutch and the few clones that were part of Krell’s command staff simply continuing about their business as if they had not heard anything out of the ordinary. Fox, however, blinked in the privacy of his helmet, almost not believing what Krell had said. From the corner of his eye, Fox saw Sprinter shift slightly on his feet, though he kept his posture at parade rest and gave no other indication of his inner thoughts.
Beside them, Chuchi had flushed violet as she grit her teeth. Even though she had been exposed to rude and invasive questions and statements throughout her time in politics, she could not remember a question such as this, and certainly never coming from the likes of a jedi.
Rin paused and blinked before delicately frowning and looking up in Krell’s direction. She studied him for a minute before slowly nodding as if realizing that he wasn’t joking. “I have unfavorable genetics,” she said flatly.
“It does not matter,” Krell pressed, “Surely that is your true purpose here. Being part of an endangered species, I’m sure Master Yoda sent you in hopes that you would find another Anor.”
“You certainly think very highly of women,” Rin said blandly. “Regardless, the last male Anor died five years ago. So my bearing children is… exceptionally unlikely.” She gave a small shrug. “We have more pressing matters to attend to.”
“More pressing than the extinction of your species? Come now,” Krell demanded, putting a hand over the exposed red stripe on the other Jedi’s shoulder and moving to lean over her.
Everything suddenly moved very fast.
Rin’s face twisted in disgust and agony as she rose a hand towards Krell. In seconds she pushed him away with the Force and drew one of her lightsabers, the cyan blade coming to life with a soft hum. Rin sank into her haunches, claws scraping against the durasteel floor. Her lips drew back to expose a set of wickedly sharp canines and she let out a low growl from the back of her throat. When she spoke, her voice was uncharacteristically hard and cold, “Do not touch me, Master Krell. I will not warn you again .” A second later, she jerked upright and returned her lightsaber to her belt as a heavy silence fell over the room.
Fox and Sprinter had hands hesitantly hovering over their holstered blasters, ready to defend their charges should the Besalisk attack. Both had been in plenty of situations while guarding members of the senate where fights would break out between parties that were supposedly sympathetic to each other, though neither was quite prepared for a similar situation when it came between two jedi.
Fox quietly set his blasters to stun; he couldn’t very well kill a Jedi. That would get him decommissioned, and he’d made a promise to Thire that he wouldn’t die on some backwater planet.
Clutch was outright struggling to remain at parade rest, hands twitching as he watched the scene unfold with only a mind to run the other direction while desperately wishing he had never followed the Coruscant Guard into the tent. He had no business being there in the first place, but he had all but forgotten himself under Sprinter’s encouraging words and calm leadership.
Chuchi was fuming as her mind ran through all of the implications the brief conversation had brought up before Krell had even laid a hand on Rin, and part of her almost wanted Rin to do worse than scare the Besalisk for his words and actions. But she was a senator, and this particular command center was not her arena--at least, not right now. For now, she would bite her tongue and let the jedi settle this.
”I will entertain this conversation no more,” Rin said after a tense moment of silence, her usually soft voice harsh. “Senator Chuchi and myself are here to negotiate peace with the Agorians, as you well know.” She paused before continuing, “We will do what we came here to do and when we are done, we will leave. I trust you can supply us with a ship?”
Krell growled as he got to his feet and stalked towards the women, his massive frame towering over both of them. “Yes.”
“Good,” Rin said dryly. She shook herself and rubbed the red stripe on her shoulder where Krell had touched her, mumbling something under her breath. Her blind eyes cut over to the General. “And you would be wise to stop inquiring about whether or not I intend to bear children. All male Anor are dead. We are not an endangered species--we will disappear with the deaths of those born within this decade. Do not press the issue anymore. I will not be so forgiving next time,” she said, deliberately leaving no room for argument. The besalisk merely scowled.
“Your species will have no one to blame but themselves for their demise. You will have difficulty finding sympathy.”
“We never requested sympathy. I know my species. And I know myself.” Rin responded before turning and walking out.
Notes:
Because we all needed one more reason to hate Krell, he’s now a misogynist too.
Also, we’ve learned a bit more about Rin and the Anor! If you haven’t figured it out by now, the Anor are an original species and fantastic piece of world building by CoattailsAndComms, so we hope that you are as excited as we are about exploring who Rin and the Anor are. And finally, Two-One has shared his name--Clutch! More exploration of the 57th will happen next week, and next week's chapter is definitely one of our favorites.
Today is Palentines Day--like galentines but better. Today, we’re celebrating our pals (both near and far, and those we know from in person and online) and we hope you can as well. And don’t forget to check your local grocery stores for that discounted candy in a few days as well. Hoping you have a lovely week!
Chapter Text
Riyo grit her teeth as they left the command center and glanced towards the trooper that had helped guide them to the base in the first place. “Do you know where our tents are?” she asked before immediately wincing at her tone. The clone--a younger one if she had to guess, based only on the lack of paint on his armor--had seemed skittish and hesitant when they had broken camp that morning. Though she could not blame him with a general such as Krell, Riyo refused to cause him any more anxiety.
“Ma’am?” the trooper almost squeaked, practically falling over himself to come to some semblance of attention.
Riyo held up a hand, shaking her head. “At ease, trooper. I am sorry for speaking so brusquely. Are you able to lead us to where our tents are? While I cannot speak for the others, I know that I would appreciate a few moments to gather my thoughts and rest before we finalize the plans for our negotiations.”
The trooper hesitantly nodded. “This way, ma’am. Umm, will you need anything when you arrive? I can see if the commissary will allow me to bring you any food, if you need it…”
“That isn’t necessary,” Sprinter replied. “Fox and I can get the senator some food if she needs it. You should probably rest up some yourself, though. You’ve had an even more harrowing couple of days than we have.”
The soldier simply shifted on his feet uncomfortably as they reached a small circle of tents that would serve as the temporary quarters for the delegation from Coruscant.
“I’ll go check in on Tuck and the other boys, Commander, and get some food on my way back?” Sprinter asked, looking towards Fox.
Fox simply nodded. “Make sure the others can find their way back here.”
Sprinter nodded. “Of course, Sir.” The sergeant dipped his head towards Riyo and Rin before turning to lead the younger clone away.
Riyo sighed as the pair left before looking over to Fox. “I understand if you weren’t able to go over the materials I gave you while we were in hyperspace, but if you were, could you share your thoughts after we rest?”
Fox nodded. “Yes, Senator. I was able to review your notes, and if you don’t mind, I did have a few thoughts on certain matters.” He reached for his side where his datapad usually hung, but his fingers only touched air. Panic shot through him and he fought his gut reaction to glance down and confirm what his hand already had: His datapad was gone. His cheeks flushed in embarrassment and he was, once again, very grateful that his helmet was secure over his head.. “I… seem to have lost my datapad in the crash… however, I remember all of my notes.”
Riyo nodded to herself. “Okay. I’m… sorry about the datapad. I hope you didn’t have anything important on it, or that it was encrypted at the very least. You can borrow mine for now.” She pulled hers out and held it out to Fox. “You can return it when we meet later. I’ve gone over everything so many times, I think I have it memorized.”
Fox reverently took the datapad. “Thank you, Senator. If you… don’t mind… I need to report to the Coruscant Guard HQ that we’ve landed and joined General Krell’s encampment.” He secured the datapad to his belt.
“Of course.” Chuchi smiled. “Contact whomever you need to.”
Fox stood a little straighter as he looked between his charges, hesitantly glancing towards the jedi for the first time since they had been in the command center. Her body was still tense, claws dug into the ground as if she were about to pounce, but her face was not nearly as agitated as it had been. “Are you alright, Commander Rin?”
“I will be, thank you for the concern. I just need to meditate,” Rin murmured, head bowed. She looked towards the others. “I apologize for my outburst. It was unbecoming of me, and I am sorry you saw me like that. I do not take kindly to physical touch.” Her lip twitched at a smile. “Obviously.” She sighed and shook her head. “If I am not back by tomorrow morning, please comm me. I… tend to forget about time when I am in caverns or meditating.”
“Do you need an escort?” Fox asked, and Rin snorted.
“No,” Rin replied before breaking off from the group and walking towards the elevator shaft.
Riyo Chuchi: Start new chat - Commanders of the CG
Riyo Chuchi [Fox], Thire, Thorn, Stone, Hound
Riyo: We’ve crash landed on Agora and Tuck is down, but Runner confirms that he will live and just needs to rest. After a long march along the beach, we were able to reach General Krell and the 57th Battalion’s HQ. The General made some… comments… about Commander Rin, and after a brief scuffle, we have situated ourselves in camp.
Thire: Thank you for the report, Senator.
Open Chat: Croissant Guard
Fox [Offline], Thire, Thorn, Stone, Hound
Hound: Uhhh… Why is the senator contacting us? Also, how does she know who I am?”
Thorn: No idea.
Thire: And where the kriff is Fox? I told him not to get himself killed on some backwater planet and the idiot promised…
Open Chat: Commanders of the CG chat
Riyo Chuchi, Thire, Thorn, Stone, Hound
Riyo: Senator?
Riyo: Oh right.
Riyo: Sorry, this is Fox.
Thire: Fox?
Hound: YOU GOT THE SENATOR’S DATAPAD???
Riyo: She gave it to me to review her speaking points, since I lost mine in the crash.
Hound: Wow
Thorn: I knew there was a reason we liked her
Stone: Wait–she asked for your input? And is going to take it into account with her treaty negotiations?
Riyo: Seems like it. I’m having a hard time believing it myself–it’s also why I’m upset with myself for losing my datapad. I had a lot of good notes…
Hound: Dar
Riyo: Anyways… So you are all aware, she will be able to review our communications when I return her datapad to her.
Stone: Could always delete everything.
Riyo: oh right. I guess I could.
Riyo: Um… I’m not exactly sure how to do that.
Stone: what do you mean you don’t know how to do that?
Hound: how are you a Marshal Commander and you don’t know how to delete chat history???
Riyo: I’ve never been allowed to do that..?
Stone: kriff, man, I’ll message you directly and give you Blackout’s contact. Spec Ops knows all the loopholes that I certainly don’t know about already.
Riyo: I’m going to pretend I believe that.
Riyo: Thank you; received Blackout’s information.
[Stone “Liked” “Thank you; received Blackout’s Information.”]
Thire: So you’re alive.
Riyo: yes. I promised I wouldn’t die on a backwater planet, didn’t I?
Thorn: We all know that promises like that can’t always be kept.
[Thire “Disliked” “Thorn: We all know that promises like that can’t always be kept.”]
Hound: way to remind us of our mortality, Thorn. [roll eyes emoji]
Riyo: I took a holo of Agora as a confirmation that we’ve landed and we’re alive.
[Picture ID: Beautiful, ancient trees stretch skywards with golden light breaking through.]
Hound: Can I come with you on your next deployment? And can I bring Grizzer? She could use some enrichment via actual trees.
Riyo: If the Chancellor orders that, sure.
Hound: disregard. I’m not brown nosing my way off-world through him. [puke emoji].
Riyo: Your opinions have been noted
[Hound “Loved” “Your opinions have been noted”]
Thire: Holy kriff, I thought you were dead and there you are on some paradise planet?
Riyo: Did you miss the part where we crash landed and Tuck got severely hurt?
Thire: So you’re stuck on Paradise Planet. Boo hoo
Riyo: It becomes a problem when your charge pulls their lightsaber on the general because he suggested she’s just here to find a mate.
Thire: what
Thorn: What?!
Hound: da kriff?
Riyo: Yeah. It was like the second sentence out of his mouth. I was worried he was going to proposition her right there. I’ve never seen a Jedi force-push someone across a room so fast. Also apparently there aren’t any male Anor left? Like… they’re all dead?
Thorn: dar
Stone: You’ve never even seen an Anor
Thorn: You don’t know that
Stone: Pretty sure I do. Unless you’ve been getting your information from the holonet
Thire: @ Riyo How're the infantrymen treating you and Lima?
Riyo: This is the best treatment I’ve ever received in my miserable life. But these vode… They’re skittish. Different. I don’t know how to describe it other than hungry.
Riyo: Both literal and metaphorical
Stone: Hungry?
Riyo: They wear armor that is made of both phase one and phase two kits, but it’s random. And when we passed by some men that weren’t wearing their buckets…. They just… they watch us with this look in their eyes. I’m not sure how else to describe it. It’s unsettling. It seems like they wear their buckets all the time unless they’re actively eating.
Riyo: I’ll be the first to admit that the Guard has some extra rules, but “buckets on'' only ever refers to when you leave Vode Only zones. And we… we’re uniform. We aren’t… watching each other like cannibals looking at their next meal.
Stone: That… yeah, that’s weird.
Thire: Keep your blaster on stun and keep it close.
[Hound “Disliked” “Keep your blaster on stun and keep it close.”]
[Thorn “Disliked” “Keep your blaster on stun and keep it close.”]
[Stone “Disliked” “Keep your blaster on stun and keep it close.”]
Riyo: Are you suggesting I shoot vode
Thire: I’m suggesting you keep an eye on your ration bars and shoot to stun if someone gets too close.
Thorn: so you’re suggesting Fox shoot vode. That’s what I’m reading.
Stone: Yeah, what the kriff, Thire?
Thire: I said stun!
Riyo: By the power vested in me by the powers that be, Thire, you’re on fresher duty for the night.
Hound: ohhhh someone’s in trouble
Thire: You aren’t even on Coruscant!
Riyo: Are you being insubordinate?
[Thire has left the chat]
Riyo: That’s what I thought. @ Thorn, @ Stone, @ Hound, make sure Thire has those freshers spotless.
Thorn: You got it boss
Stone: [thumbs up emoji]
Hound: Sure thing!
Open Chat: Croissant Guard
Fox [Offline], Thire, Thorn, Stone, Hound
Thire: He’d better delete that chat from the senator’s datapad before he gives it back.
Stone: I’m sure he will if you actually do fresher duty tonight
Thire: Shut the kriff up
[Hound “Laughed” at “Shut the kriff up”]
Clutch was silent as he led Sprinter back through the camp, eyes downcast as he navigated his way through the maze of tents and brothers and towards the infirmary. As they drew near, he recognized the makeshift staging area they had for when the bodies of their brothers were brought back from the field or after they had passed in the sickbay.
The fighting that day had been minimal, based on what Clutch had overheard from the others, but there were nine body bags neatly lined up and waiting for burial.
Clutch looked away, nearly missing a step as he did.
“You alright, kid?” Sprinter asked, his voice gentle and not harboring any judgment whatsoever.
Clutch sighed. “That’s my squad. I’m pretty sure it’s my squad, at least,” he mumbled.
Sprinter nodded, resting a hand on Clutch’s shoulder for a moment in solidarity. “How long were you with them?”
“Since I joined the 57th. They weren’t my batchmates but… they were good men,” Clutch said quietly before frowning as he caught sight of several clones cleaning pieces of armor and putting fresh coats of paint over any scuff marks. The men glanced around with paranoid regularity, and as Clutch watched, one used his foot to push a greave out of sight.
Clutch immediately bristled, hands clenching into fists at his sides as he stopped walking.
“What’s wrong?” Sprinter asked hesitantly, more than a bit stunned by the younger clone’s abrupt change in demeanor.
“I should have had the chance to get their armor first,” Clutch muttered.
Sprinter made a sour face and stopped his hand mid-way to his helmet as he fought to keep himself in check and mind the apparent unspoken taboo that you simply did not show your face in this particular encampment. “What?”
“That--that’s protocol. Squadmates get the first pass at their squad’s armor when they… when they don’t need it anymore,” Clutch mumbled.
Sprinter stared at Clutch incredulously before grabbing his arm and hauling him to the outskirts of the camp. He tore his helmet off once they passed the last bunch of tents. “You mean to say that you’ve been poaching your vode’s armor for yourself?”
Clutch stepped back from Sprinter, eyes wide as he hesitantly removed his own helmet. “But that--that’s what we’re supposed to do…”
“No!” Sprinter replied before pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. “Every once in a while, if there is a desperate need in the middle of the field that would be alright but… Is your kit made up of armor from all different vode?”
Clutch hung his head. “My sergeant got a lot of it for me. I--I don’t like going near the dead bodies. It feels wrong. But we never get new shipments of armor in and when ours breaks…” he trailed off. “The Sergeant said that was just what we do.”
Sprinter watched him before sighing and shaking his head. “I’m sorry for being upset with you,” he started, “but there is no such protocol for taking a brother’s armor off of him, especially after he’s dead. Your general or captain or commander should be requisitioning armor for all of you when you need it, just as they do weapons and ammunition.”
“Only the general is allowed to enter requisitions,” Clutch whispered, stepping closer to Sprinter as his eyes darted around, looking for any passersby that might report them. It was bad enough to have their buckets off in the first place, but to openly be talking about this? That was a surefire way to earn you a one-way ticket back to Kamino. Especially for Clutch, who was already on thin ice with the general.
Sprinter nodded. “Has he said when he will be ordering the Phase II armor?”
“Never,” Clutch said, even quieter.
“He hasn’t said yet when he’s ordering it?”
“No, he--he has no intention of ordering it,” Clutch replied. “At least, that is what my sergeant said. My…old sergeant…” he looked away awkwardly.
Sprinter pursed his lips, the pieces slowly clicking into place.
It was wrong to strip a brother of their armor on so many levels. Armor, even if it had yet to be painted, was an expression and extension of the clone within--a roadmap of the battles that clone had fought, the brothers they had saved and lost, and a testament to how far they were willing to go in order to protect those around them. Stripping a clone of their armor was taking away their very identity. Tattoos and hairstyles would fade to the sands of time, but the armor would last forever--or, at the very least, far longer than any other possession that the clones had.
But these brothers, for better or for worse, had seemed to have lost that knowledge. Or rather, and far more likely, had resorted to scavenging in a futile attempt to protect themselves when their general refused to. Clutch’s squadmates had not only been stripped of any identity they had, but Clutch would not even get a chance to carry their armor for himself and at least attempt to make their sacrifice worthwhile.
“Stuff like this, it’s not normal everywhere else,” Sprinter murmured. “The people on Coruscant may not see us as people, but out there, in the rest of the galaxy, clones are treated with some amount of dignity. And most of the Jedi seem to want the best for their soldiers. That’s what I’m told, anyways.” He sighed, wheels turning in his mind. “I cannot make any promises, but since you are lacking a squad right now, perhaps I can ask Fox if he can pull some strings and let you come back with us?”
Clutch stared, eyes wide. “You… I could…?”
“I can’t make any promises,” Sprinter said again, his heart practically shattering at the look of hope on Clutch’s face. “But maybe. At the very least, perhaps we can ask around the 57th and see if we can’t find you another decent squad to join.”
Clutch weakly smiled. “Thank you, Sir. I would really appreciate it.”
Sprinter nodded before pulling his bucket back on. “Let’s get to the infirmary to check on the others and then you can take us to the commissary. After that, you should get some sleep.”
Notes:
Recycling is great. But taking from others in order to recycle? Much less great.
In all seriousness, the 57th is going through it and is only doing their best to try and stay alive, but obviously their methods are more than a bit barbaric--especially to Sprinter. The plot thickens, and things are really going to start to pick up in the next chapters.
Today is National Muffin Day, so we encourage you to track down a muffin to celebrate. 2 out of 2 fic writers would strongly recommend baking your own or picking one up from a local bakery. Tomorrow is also President’s Day in the USA, so if you’re one of those fortunate people to have Monday off, we hope you enjoy it! But anyways, we hope all of you have a fantastic week!
Chapter Text
“Has the Jedi returned yet?” Skipper asked as he broke off a piece of his ration bar.
“Have you seen a blind Anor walking around camp?” Walker arched a brow up at his younger brother--well, not technically younger, except for perhaps by a few seconds, but everyone generally regarded him as the youngest of their batch. “Because I haven’t. Not at the commissary, not in our little camp, nowhere.”
Skipper tossed his bite in the air and tried to catch it in his mouth. The cube of ration bar bounced off his cheek and onto the ground. “So close!” he exclaimed as he bent down to pick it up. “Five second rule or something, right?”
Walker grimaced. “Or something…”
Skipper blew the dirt from his food before eating it. “Then she’s still in the caves. Guess General Krell didn’t extend adequate hospitality to her. Weird; I thought all the Jedi were supposed to be friends?”
“I think that’s a lie. I’ve heard the senator muttering to herself, and Fox hasn’t spoken in a while. Not to mention silence on Sprinter’s comm. And our missing Jedi. I’m assuming the last bit is fine, otherwise Fox wouldn’t be so…” Walker looked towards his commander, “...relaxed…”
There was such a thing as good posture. Great posture, even, and it had been drilled into the clones since they could sit up. Fox was severely lacking in either right then, his body curled in on itself as he leaned on his elbows and typed furiously on the senator’s datapad. Though they couldn’t see his face beneath his helmet, Walker had no doubt he was hyper focused onto the screen in his hands.
Walker shook his head. “He’s mad.”
“Mad flexible. I don’t think my hips can do that,” Skipper said before trying. He grunted as he shifted his armor around, attempting to gain the flexibility that Fox, apparently, had. “Maybe if I…” His eyes widened as there was a loud popping sound. “I don’t think it’s supposed to do that.”
Walker laughed. “You kriffing idiot! Zuri’s gonna strangle you if you tore something and end up in the medbay when we get back.”
Skipper gently massaged his hip. “No, I really don’t think it’s supposed to do that. I’m never doing that again. Don’t let me do that again.”
“What’re you two on about?” Sprinter asked as he joined them. “And why are you two cursing in close proximity to the senator?” his lips set in a disapproving frown. “Buckets on in camp.”
“What? Why?” Walker glanced to their sergeant in confusion. “We’re in camp, the Senator’s in her tent, the General is nowhere to be seen, same with the Commander. Vode only!”
“I don’t care. Buckets on,” Sprinter said as he sat. “They do things differently in this battalion. Looks like buckets off is reserved for the commissary. And, I assume, the barracks.”
“I’m eating,” Skipper retorted defensively, waving his half-eaten ration bar in the air. “So I can keep my helmet off, yes, Mr. Sergeant Marshal Commander Sprinter CT-2956, sir?” he muttered to Sprinter before taking another bite of his ration bar.
Sprinter rolled his eyes and nodded. “Yes, you can keep your bucket off.” He rubbed his face. “Has Fox told you about the General’s conversation with Senator Chuchi and Commander Rin?” When neither clone spoke up, Sprinter shook his head. “He made some rather… crude comments about why Commander Rin was selected to come to Agora. It… wasn’t pleasant.”
“What did the General say?” Walker asked curiously.
“He said she was here to find a mate. She explained that all the male Anor are dead. And used the Force to throw him across the command center like a tooka doll,” Sprinter said.
Walker winced. “Good for her. That… She’s a Jedi. They aren’t supposed to be having families and all that.”
Skipper’s lip twisted in disgust. “I thought so too. Guess that explains why she isn’t in camp and Senator Chuchi’s been… holed up in her tent. I wouldn’t want to risk interacting with a guy like that again if I were her.”
“Yeah.” Sprinter sighed before fixing his gaze on Skipper. “On to the topic of business… When you’re done eating that, I want you to join the ARF’s patrol and report back with whatever you see.” He dropped his hand from his face and looked to his younger brother. “Got it?”
“Sir yes sir. What’m I looking for?” Skipper asked as he tried, and failed, to catch another piece of his ration bar in his mouth.
“I want to know how far out they scout, and if possible, what Agorian cities look like. Sure, we already have city plans, but having a holo versus seeing it with your own two eyes is different. I want an eye-wittness report, preferably from one of my own men. The 57th aren’t keen on sharing their knowledge with us,” Sprinter said.
“What about Two-One? He seems amicable enough,” Walker suggested.
“He’s not an ARF,” Sprinter replied.
“And I am?” Skipper asked in amusement. “I can’t wait to be transferred to one of Hound’s squads. He’ll get a kick out of my transfer flimsi.”
“Two-One’s already one of the 57th. They’ll be more accepting of him tagging along with an ARF, and he already knows the area,” Walker reasoned. “Let’s face it, none of us are going to be much use in the woods. We’re city slickers.” He shrugged.
Sprinter shook his head. “Two-One’s been through enough the past twenty-four hours. He’s barely slept. Not to mention that I’m not his commanding officer; I can’t order him around.”
“Sir, with all due respect, you must be truly desperate to request that I traipse around as an ARF trooper.” Skipper said as he shoved the last pieces of his dinner in his mouth. “I mean, I’ll do it. But I’m not built for the woods.” With that he got to his feet and pulled on his helmet before going to find wherever the 57th’s ARF troopers gathered.
Skipper hadn’t been lying when he said he wasn’t built for the woods. In the safety and privacy of his helmet, his face had remained twisted in disgust ever since he’d stepped away from the rocky trail behind the backside of water. The trees, those beautiful, massive, twisting things that had enraptured him on their trek to the encampment? Horrifying. Some had deep scratch marks that ran from far above his head to the ground, and others were covered in a strange, spongy moss that oozed something sticky. He’d made the mistake of touching it when he’d first seen the strange growth, and now he had two leaves stuck to his hand that refused to come off.
That wasn’t to say that Skipper wasn’t accustomed to disgusting situations–-he had seen and experienced his fair share of nasty circumstances on Coruscant. But Agora was a different beast. His boots sank into mud, then gathered small, sticky seed pods, then more mud, and, that’s right, more seed pod things. He’d need to spend at least an hour getting the osik off–-and another three days ridding himself of the squishing sensation between his toes.
Ahead of him, slinking like a shadow over root and mud alike, was the ARF trooper from the 57th. When Skipper had asked the man for a name, he’d received no response beyond a nod. So, Skipper decided that was the name he’d give the clone: Nod. Mentally, anyway. Force knew he wasn’t about to try and give the man a name–-Skipper didn’t have the right. But Nod sure beat ‘ARF Trooper’ as a way to mentally categorize the soldier.
Nod was not a clone of many words. He did not joke, he did not advise. He simply did his job and nothing more. Like Two-One, Nod wore a kit built of both phase I and phase II pieces, though his seemed a little more stylized. At the very least, it was slightly more cohesive. One arm was phase I, the other phase II. The rest of his armor echoed the visual balance, and hanging from the backside of his belt were the torn remnants of what Skipper was pretty sure used to be a kama.
“So, uh… how far out do you usually go?” Skipper asked over the private comms.
“It varies day by day,” Nod replied curtly.
Didn’t expect him to actually talk… “Don’t want people picking up on your system… Clever,” Skipper said at a length.
“Quiet.”
Skipper made a face but complied. The ARF trooper cast a look around, and Skipper decided that he wasn’t being told to shut up because he was too talkative, but the other clone must’ve heard something. Skipper looked out at the trees bathed in moonlight and scanned for life forms. Just bugs and rodents and birds… he thought to himself before stiffening as he heard a branch snap.
Nod made a quick series of hand gestures and Skipper thanked his lucky stars that he recognized them. Two contacts ahead. Approach. Don’t engage. The last thing he wanted right then was to misunderstand and suddenly be in combat with whatever, or whoever, was prowling around in the woods with them.
The pair slowly moved forward. Through the brush, Skipper could see a small clearing. As he watched, a shadow flickered against the trees. He made a few quick gestures, conveying what he saw and that he thought it might be an Agorian. He’d no sooner said this that their mystery figure in the clearing stepped into view.
They were not an Agorian.
He balanced on slim, nexu-like legs, and his skin-tight suit was cut to expose a muted red stripe running up the side of his body and climbing up his neck to his face. Long pointed ears outlined in red curved along either side of his sapphire skin. Hanging from his hand was a long, spear-like weapon with a strange omega-shaped head filled with spikes.
The man was an Anor.
Skipper recoiled in confusion. Sprinter had said that Commander Rin claimed that male Anor were all dead. That it had happened years ago. Now Skipper knew that was rather outlandish, but stranger things did happen. This man, however, looked very much alive.
The Anor melted back into the shadows, and Skipper stalked forward to get a better look at the clearing. It wasn’t a camp, that much was obvious. A small trail was stomped into existence along the back rim of the clearing, the culprit still walking along that path. With a few blinks on his HUD, Skipper began transmitting back to Lima Squad. “Are you guys seeing this?” he whispered.
“Skipper? Aren’t you supposed to be on patrol with one of the ARFs?” Runner’s tired voice asked.
“I am on patrol. But look what we found! That’s a male Anor! Someone let the Commander know,” Skipper said, voice colored with just a hint of excitement.
“What? How do we know they’re male? They might not be,” Walker hissed.
“Okay, male-passing Anor. Happy?”
“Not with your tone of voice, but yeah.”
Skipper rolled his eyes.
“Did… the Commander lie?” Sprinter asked at a length. “I didn’t think jedi lied.”
“Maybe Commander Rin does? I don’t know. Quiet on comms–” Skipper breathed as the Anor froze.
Behind the mysterious figure, none other than Commander Rin stepped out from the trees and said something in a tongue Skipper didn’t recognize. The male Anor spun to face her, lowering his mancatcher as he did.
“Holy osik…” Skipper whispered, shifting to make sure he stayed well hidden in the dense underbrush.
“You’re a long way from home,” Rin murmured.
“I could say the same for you,” the other anor replied with a sharp voice, studying her. “You got my transmission?”
“I did. I mean you no harm,” Rin said calmly, holding out her hands, palms up.
“Then you’re the one they call Rin?” he asked, gesturing to the knot work that exposed the red stripe on her leg. “Are the rumors true?”
“Unfortunately.” Rin sighed as she unclipped her lightsabers and held them out. “You’ll be wanting to recharge.”
He considered the lightsabers before securing his weapon to his back. “It has been some time. Nearly two months.”
Rin tossed the lightsabers over, and he wasted no time igniting them and piercing himself. He relaxed into the blades and smiled, and as Skipper watched, he realized the blades were not causing any sort of injury but instead more pigment seemed to return to the Anor’s skin. “Thank you.”
Rin nodded. “Of course. But you did not come all this way and request my presence simply to recharge.”
“You are correct,” he murmured before looking up to meet her blind gaze. “I must know, Rin. I must know how this ends.”
Rin frowned slightly. “No. Why are you so far from home? Is it just to know your fate?”
The blue Anor looked away. “I am being hunted.”
“Yes, you are,” Rin confirmed before inquiring, ”Why? You are, or were, Huthé. Why have they turned on you?”
“I dared to love the wrong person. The “wrong” species. They became pregnant with our child,” he replied boldly. “The baby was delivered safely, but was deemed too great a risk to our species by the High Court. When I would not kill them, another did.” He shook his head in disgust. “They slaughtered my loves. Rin overcame them in seconds.” his brow piqued at the painful memory before he awkwardly paused and looked at the Jedi. “Er… not you, of course, but the bacteria that is… well, I believe it is your namesake.” He paused. ”Your parents really should have thought that one through–-though I mean no offense!”
Rin arched her brow. “You truly believe my parents named me after that dreadful thing?”
“Well, no… but it is what they call you.” The man shifted uncomfortably. “Truth be told, I can’t imagine any parent naming their child after something that can cause such a quick death… But it is your name on record.”
Rin slowly nodded. “Indeed.” Her voice turned gentle, “As for your child… they would not have lasted long.”
“I know. We both knew. But we had hope… They survived for so long--they were born, Rin. And that is more than either of us expected. We hoped… we had such hope for them…” his face twisted in sorrow. “Please. I beg you to tell me.” He stepped towards her, face pleading. “You already know!”
Rin shook her head. “ No. You know it is always conditional. But once the information is voiced, it will come to pass. That is how it has always been.” She shifted between her feet uncomfortably, claws ripping up the soil. “You have better chances of escape if I remain silent.”
“I do not care! Knowing is better than the constant dread of being hunted! At least in knowing I will be at peace,” he said desperately. “How does it end? Is it the bacteria? Is it three months from now? Do I starve? Do they ambush me?”
Rin pressed her eyes shut and looked away from him, a low growl rumbling from her breast. She paced like a caged animal for a moment before turning towards him again. “You understand what you ask of me?”
“Of course. I know the consequences. I accept them readily. Anything is better than the dread of watching my every move for those I once fought alongside!” the other Anor cried.
Rin’s eyes widened slightly and she recalled her lightsabers to her hands. The other Anor didn’t seem to care as he continued his desperate plea.
“My sanity is waning, I have lost everyone I hold dear--at least give me peace! If you won’t give me peace through knowledge, then I beg you,” he took his mancatcher from his back and pointed it at his chest, “Live up to your namesake and deny them a completed mission. Let this all be over!”
Rin shook her head. “No. I will not eliminate you. I refuse. Anyways, what would I do with a Huthé Mancatcher? They are not easy to hide. And your ship–what am I to do with that?” She sucked in a breath and hissed it out. “I will tell you what I have foreseen.”
Skipper frowned from where he was watching the scene unfold, hidden in the thick brush and shadows of the jungle at night. Foreseen? “Can Jedi… see the future?”
“Sh!” Runner hissed back over comms.
“You are at a ship’s controls. You look around in panic, but there is nowhere to go. I see two Huthé. One spears you to the controls, the other traps you in their mancatcher. I see you writhe in agony from electricity, then rin overcomes your body. You cease.” Rin’s gaze intensified as her gray eyes bore into him and she frowned. “You are changing your fate. Now I see you at a ship’s controls. They’ve trapped your ship. You run to the hold and take your last vial of rin bacteria.” Her brow knit together. “You deny them a completed mission and destroy yourself.”
The other Anor watched her, brow set in a hard line as he processed his fate. “How long do I have?”
“Days, I believe. But I’ve never been good with time. Only death. I must admit, even for having a child with one who isn’t Anor, yours could be an extreme execution,” Rin said regretfully.
The other Anor barked a humorless laugh. “Tell that to them. The courts labeled me a ‘Risk To the Species .’ Too compromised by my time among others. Unable to conform to our isolationist ideals. Worthy only of immediate execution. Curious that they do not say the same about you .” The man shook his head and stepped away from Rin, lowering his weapon to hang at his side. “But it seems I will be reunited with my loved ones soon.” He rested his chin on his chest for a moment before looking up at Rin. “Thank you,” he said meaningfully.
Rin made a displeased sound and lifted a hand to her head before bringing it to her breast. She inclined her head. “Goodbye.” She stepped away from him. “May the stars welcome and bring you home.”
“May the stars bring me to my loves, for where they are is my home.” The man gave a sad smile. “Sometimes even the worst of curses is a blessing. Thank you for telling me.” He turned and sprinted into the trees.
Rin watched the trees the other Anor had disappeared into before slowly lowering herself to kneel on the ground. She pressed her palms to her eyes and shook her head, softly mumbling words that Skipper couldn’t hear. She dropped her hands to her lap and lifted her chin to the stars, eyes shut as tears trickled down the sides of her face. She remained like that for a moment before pressing herself to her feet and wiping her tears away. After one last glance towards the trees that the other Anor had disappeared into, she turned back in the direction of the encampment.
Skipper stared after the Jedi, mind struggling to process what he’d just seen and heard. The other Anor, stabbing himself with two lightsabers--and surviving? Commander Rin, describing how this man would die, then editing it so he would commit suicide? What were the Huthé? What sort of twisted concept of “pure blood” did the Anor adhere to that one would be hunted-–and murdered- –for siring a child by someone outside of the species?
“What was that? ” Runner hissed, reminding Skipper that he was still broadcasting his view to his brothers.
“I have no idea. But I have a lot of questions for the Commander,” Skipper whispered.
“No. Whatever that was-–it wasn’t meant for anyone’s eyes,” Sprinter said. “Here’s what we’re going to do.” Skipper could just imagine his sergeant’s face setting with fierce determination as he spoke, “We’re going to forget we just saw that, and if anyone’s helmet was recording, we’re going to scrub those files, as soon as we disconnect . As far as any one of us is concerned, Skipper’s experience as an ARF trooper went by without any hiccups. Got it? ”
“Sir, yes sir,” Walker replied, Skipper and Runner echoing him a minute later.
“ Good, ” Sprinter said firmly. “This never happened.” He disconnected his comm with a quiet blip that was followed by two others.
Skipper sighed and looked down at his feet, his cheeks burning with shame. What had he been thinking, recklessly including his brothers like that? Now their risk of Commander Rin knowing what he’d seen grew, and with the close proximity, it seemed more likely that one of them would slip. His brothers would need to deny all knowledge if they wanted to stay alive. All because Skipper couldn’t believe what he was seeing and wanted to share the experience with his brothers. Stupid. He bit back a tear and shook his head.
“Head back to camp.”
Skipper jumped and looked towards the clearing again. Nod was standing where the male Anor had just minutes before. Kriff, Skipper thought to himself. No denying that Nod had seen the man too, and knew that Skipper was there. It was a lost cause now–-Nod would inform General Krell, who would then question the commander. Skipper would be decommissioned, and his brothers would need to lie to stay alive.
After an awkward amount of silence, Nod turned and headed towards camp. Skipper stood frozen in place a minute longer before running after him. There was no way he’d make it back without the ARF Trooper, and explaining that to Sprinter and the others would just be embarrassing.
Open Chat: Love of My Life [Heart Emoji]
Walker, Zuri
Walker: Hey Z, you up?
Zuri: Of course im up. Its just after dinner.
Walker: Thank the stars…
Zuri: What are you doing up? Its… 2AM there? 3?
Walker: Skipper saw some weird osik in the jungle and now I can’t get back to sleep.
Zuri: Top secret osik?
Walker: yeah
Zuri: Ah… Hows everyone doing otherwise? Saw that Tuck ended up in medbay…
Walker: Runner says he’ll be okay. But he’s too hopped up on drugs to help us with the security detail tomorrow.
[Zuri “disliked” Walker: “Runner says he’ll be okay. But he’s too hopped up on drugs to help us with the security detail tomorrow.”]
Zuri: Will you have anyone to fill the gap?
Walker: Nah, we should be okay to cover without him. Especially between Commander Fox and Commander Rin.
Zuri: How is Fox doing with being off world?
Walker: Hogged the caf machine on our way to Agora. He’s a lot more like how I remember him from when we were training on Kamino. Like, he’s serious when he needs to be, but he’s a lot less strict? He played sabacc with us on the way over and absolutely destroyed Skipper.
Zuri: [cry laugh emoji] [cry laugh emoji] [cry laugh emoji]
Zuri: Serves him right
Walker: Say what you will, but without Skip we wouldn’t be getting free drinks at 79’s all the time.
Zuri: I suppose
Zuri: Oh, mum and dad want to have you over for dinner sometime soon. Maybe after youre back from Agora?
[Walker “loved” Zuri: “Oh, mum and dad want to have you over for dinner sometime soon. Maybe after youre back from Agora?”]
Walker: That sounds amazing
Walker: Is your mum going to try to do the vegetables again?
Zuri: No, I think she learned her lesson last time. Togruti should not do veggies. I think father is going to do them instead and try some recipe from his clan back on Ryloth.
Walker: Perhaps Twi’lek veggies are better than Togruti veggies?
Zuri: Togruti dont do veggies, Walk [rolls eyes emoji]
[Walker “laughed” at Zuri: “Togruti dont do veggies, Walk [rolls eyes emoji]”]
Walker: Well, I’m sure the food will be excellent no matter what. Even mushy vegetables are better than ration bars and the slop in the mess hall.
Zuri: You flatter, but Ill tell mum you said so.
Zuri: You should try and get some sleep. Morning will be there before you know it.
Walker: Wish us luck for tomorrow?
Zuri: I dont need to. Leg Daze is the best squad in the CG.
Walker: Please?
Zuri: [rolls eyes emoji] Good luck, Walker. And tell the others I said so too.
[Walker “loved” Zuri: “[rolls eyes emoji] Good luck, Walker. And tell the others I said so too.”]
Walker: Love you, du sareen
Zuri: Love you too
Notes:
Content warnings for mentions of suicide and murder.
Du = Togruti for "my"
Sareen = Twi’leki for "sweet"Wow, lots going on in this chapter! First another Anor and then a brief text chat with the incomparable Zuri, who lovingly puts up with Walker and the antics of the whole squad. It may not be perfectly clear (after all, it's just a text chat), but Zuri is half Togruti and half Twi’lek, but favors their Togruta side.
In the course of writing this chapter, the authors entered a heated debate concerning the sticky seed-pod things that get stuck to Skipper as he leaves the encampment with the ARF trooper. So we turn to you, dear readers; do you know what a stick-tight is? Is this a word that is part of your vocabulary? Inquiring minds need to know…
We’re about to start a new month, so we hope you have a lovely week and a wonderful March!
Chapter Text
Fox’s head felt like a hot beskar spear was slowly drilling into it, and try as he might, no amount of tossing or turning helped to mitigate his searing headache. He groaned as he rolled to the side and slowly opened one miserable eye. The wooden lean-to leaked dying starlight, creating an artistic dappled effect on the wall opposite him. He studied it for a moment before sitting up and rubbing his pounding forehead. When it became apparent that no amount of rubbing or massaging would make his headache go away, he forced himself to his feet and pulled on his bucket to walk a lap around camp. That always helped steady his mind on Coruscant, and at least on Agora, the air was fresh and cool.
The camp was already awake, though Fox doubted it actually slept at all. Troopers in shiny white armor marched around in standard squads in what looked to be normal rotations. They worked as a well-oiled machine, quiet and steady. Fox had to hand it to their commanding officers--whom he had yet to meet--they ran a respectably tight ship. Even if the men seemed perpetually distrustful.
Before long, Fox found himself at the edge of the promontory looking out at the landscape beyond. Thire had referred to Agora as a paradise planet, and despite his text rebuttals, in the dawn of morning Fox had to admit that his brother had a point. Agora was unlike any planet Fox had ever seen before. And unlike any you will ever see again, he thought ruefully.
“I take it you couldn’t sleep either?”
Fox snapped to attention and watched from the corner of his eye as Riyo joined him. She was already dressed for the day, her lavender hair twisted back out of her face and adorned with that beautiful golden hairpiece. She was still wearing the jumpsuit she had been wearing when they had crashed the day before, but it had been cleaned and perhaps even pressed, making her look more than ready for the day’s activities. She waved a hand dismissively at him. “No need for formalities, Fox.”
“Yes ma’am,” Fox said, falling to parade rest. Chuchi gave him an amused look, and Fox awkwardly shifted his weight to one leg to try and look ‘relaxed’. This seemed to please the senator, who stood beside him. Fox studied her profile for a moment before following her gaze to the landscape beyond.
“I’ve never been to Agora before. Truthfully, there isn’t much about it on the holonet. And the images… they fail to capture the beauty,” Riyo mused.
Fox nodded in agreement but remained silent. She hadn’t asked him a question, so he had no need to respond. That was a mistake he made once, early in his days on Coruscant, and one he’d never repeat.
“Pantora… is not like this planet. It is primarily a marsh planet, when you get out of the cities. Not a mountainous planet like this one,” Riyo murmured. “I imagine Agora is different from Kamino as well. I hear that planet is… just one giant ocean.” When Fox didn’t respond, Chuchi looked up at him. “Can you… tell me about Kamino? That is where you and the other clones are from, isn’t it?”
“Yes ma’am. Kamino is an ocean planet inhabited by the Kaminoans and multitudes of ocean creatures. It is… cloudy. Stormy all of the time. But Tipoca City, where the clones and myself are from, appears white to any non-Kaminoan. It is a spectrum of colors for species capable of picking up colors outside of the human color spectrum of visible light. It is sterile in its cleanliness. Designed for optimum efficiency,” Fox explained simply, falling easily into the cadence of a briefing. Once upon a time, he found solace in the consistency of Kamino. It was easy to fall into habit there. To listen to, or ignore, the trainers. To listen to the rain; his only companion that didn’t point a blaster at him. Didn’t cut him, didn’t yell at him or slap him or beat him. A constant, steady patter on the viewports and, if all was quiet, he could hear them from his sleeping pod, too. His first friend, the rains of Kamino.
It was not an opinion shared by many of his vode.
Chuchi smiled slightly. “Sounds like summers on Pantora. The rain, anyways. We get humid rains that flood the valleys and lower levels of some of the major cities.” Her smile turned fond. “When I was little, I used to play in the rain with my siblings. We made mudpies and castles.” She giggled before sighing, “Sometimes, I miss those days. A senator can’t very well be seen picking up algae and wearing it as a hat.”
Fox stifled a snort at the thought. Beside him, Riyo chuckled as well. “You’re allowed to laugh, Fox. It’s funny.”
Fox gave a belated chuckle, and Riyo shook her head in amusement. Fox risked looking down at her from the corner of his eye. “Senator, if I may…” he managed to say.
“Riyo, please. We’re in private.”
“Of course... Riyo. Are you able to return to Pantora in the summers to see the rains?” Fox asked, his heart pounding in his ears. Or perhaps it was just his earlier headache, back with a vengeance.
“Not as often as I would like to,” Riyo admitted.“Perhaps I can request that you and your squad escort me home this summer. I try to return for a few weeks at least once a year to be with my people and my family. I imagine you don’t leave Coruscant very often.”
“No, we don’t. We aren’t in the Diplomatic Services branch of the Coruscant Guard. That branch is overseen by Commander Thorn, who then reports to me. The Chancellor requested us to escort you and the Commander for this mission,” Fox explained, and Riyo sighed. He hated seeing her sigh like that, with a gentle turn of her chin away from him, as if he’d disappointed her by nature of his job. “If you request us, I’ll do my best to ensure we escort you, Riyo.”
“Then I’ll be requesting you and your squad too much. The galaxy is much bigger than Coruscant, despite news outlets that would suggest otherwise,” Riyo murmured. She looked over at him and smiled. He’d pleased her, and though she couldn’t see his face, he smiled in return. “It’s a shame if all you ever see is one city planet.” She looked back to the forest beyond them. “What time do we leave to meet with the Agorians?”
“At ten hundred,” Fox said, returning to parade rest.
“That isn’t far off,” Riyo murmured to herself before looking back up at him. “We haven’t gotten a chance to talk about your suggestions to my speaking points. Perhaps we can do that now, before we leave.”
“Of course, Senator.” Fox inclined his head. “Uh… Riyo.” That smile returned to her face, and Fox couldn’t help but return it behind the safety of his bucket.
At 10:30 sharp, their LAAT/i landed outside of an elegant building that surrounded a large, open-air courtyard where the treaty negotiations would be hashed out and signed. Fox, personally, thought that the building’s open roof was a terrible design flaw that the 57th should have utilized to their advantage long ago. One well-place bomb would have wiped out the Agorian command.
But he digressed.
He walked alongside Senator Chuchi towards the Agorian senator, who expressed a polite greeting, and Fox immediately zoned out. Life was better that way; the less he knew, the better. With a few flicks of his eyes, he switched to private comms. “Lima, private comms open.”
“Thank the Force,” Skipper immediately breathed. “I was getting claustrophobic in here.”
“You live in your bucket like the rest of us,” Walker teased.
“Who’s to say I’m not claustrophobic all the time?”
“Runner has. Repeatedly,” Sprinter said flatly.
“Indeed I have. Skipper, you’re fine. If you really think you’re claustrophobic, then open another private channel with me and we can talk,” Runner said blandly. “Claustrophobia isn’t something to joke about.”
Skipper mumbled something indecipherable and Runner gave a long-suffering sigh.
“Fox, Lima, what do you think of Two-One?” Sprinter asked as they walked with Senator Chuchi into the open-roofed building.
“You thinking of adopting him, Sprint? I’ve noticed you hanging out with Two-One,” Skipper said.
“I’m thinking of folding him into the Coruscant Guard, if we can. He hasn’t got a squad, and he’s a good brother. Not to mention he kept us from getting our shebs handed to us on a platter when we were getting to the base.”
“I think that’s a good idea. He’s already good at laying low, and I like the kid,” Walker added.
Skipper murmured his agreement.
“Fox?”
Fox considered. General Krell didn’t care for his troops, Two-One was without a squad, and the kid acted like he was walking on shattered glass-–something Fox had ample experience with. Folding him into the guard though? “We’ll see what we can do. General Krell seems… indifferent to his soldiers. I imagine it will be a simple relocation and Two-one could make a seamless transition from the 57th to the Coruscant Guard. But I don’t want to make any promises without looking at the flimsiwork. As far as the Republic is concerned, he’s property that’s been sent to the General. There’s always a home for a displaced infantryman in the guard, but he isn’t technically… displaced. The 57th still exists.”
Fox could just see the displeased look on Sprinter’s face through his visor as he spoke. “He hasn’t got a squad. General Krell treats him, and all of the 57th, like osik.”
“The Republic doesn’t care, Sprinter. You know that as well as I,” Fox said gently. “But I will see what I can do. Like I said, there’s always an opening in the Guard, and he’d fill it just as well as anyone else.” Fox winced at his tone and tried again, softer this time, “I’ll look into the forms as soon as we’re back at camp. I’ll need to speak with the 57th’s commanding officers, and General Krell will need to approve it. Along with a representative of the Senate. Though I imagine that Senator Chuchi will be more than happy to sign off. I am less sure of General Krell, and I’ve yet to meet any of the 57th’s commanding officers.”
“It’s settled, then,” Sprinter snapped, and Fox inwardly sighed. “Tuck’ll be happy to know he isn’t the only–holy kriff!” Sprinter jumped back as a cyan lightsaber blazed to life. Seconds later, a blaster bolt bounced off of the blade.
Fox snapped back to the world around him and carefully reached forward to take Chuchi under his arm, stepping around her to use his body as a shield. Rin spun her lightsabers and deflected blast after blast as the courtyard descended into chaos.
“It’s an ambush!” she said over the fire, and Fox thought that was a completely unnecessary statement. Obviously it was an ambush. Now that it’d been sprung, he felt incredibly incompetent–-they were in an open-roofed building with multiple entries and exits. Assailants could come from any entry, despite the heavy presence of air-support all around the building. And they had, streaming from the roof and peripheral rooms.
“Get the senator back to the ship!” Fox commanded as he turned to shoot back at the Agorians, now supplemented by a number of battle droids. Rin was way ahead of him, her two blades making quick sweeping motions. She glanced over her shoulder before drawing back her hands and shoving them towards their assailants. The Agorians flew away from them--a Force push, Fox realized--and Rin spun around to face him.
“I’ve bought us time. Get to the ship, Commander Fox, and get it off the ground,” she ordered, and Fox had no choice but to obey.
He turned and sprinted after his brothers who, as a well-oiled machine, had surrounded the senator and made sure she kept her head down as they escorted her away from the trap and to the waiting LAAT/i outside.
They were about to step onto the gunship when a shrill whistle sounded from overhead and almost immediately Sprinter tackled the senator to the ground as the rest of the guardsmen dropped around them. Fox, however, was not as quick on the draw as Lima squad, and was thrown back with the force of the exploding LAAT/i as a rocket collided with its fuel cells.
The world flashed white with heat, but mercifully, Fox was only dazed as he sat up, blinking the light from his eyes and taking stock of his now singed but still intact armor. He fiddled with the dial for his comm frequency, fighting through the ringing in his ears and the static until he could hear the voices of his brothers.
“Lima, sit-rep, any injuries?” Runner’s voice called through the comms, all too loud for Fox’s headache, which had returned with a vengeance.
“Me and the Senator are okay, just a few bruises,” Sprinter replied, voice tight. The others echoed that they were all relatively okay, aside from a few scrapes, bruises, and burns from the shrapnel.
“Commander?” Runner asked, helping Fox to his feet and towards the alley that the rest of the guard had scrambled to for some semblance of cover.
Fox stumbled for a moment before righting himself, shaking his head to regain his bearings before giving a nod. “I’m alright, Runner, thanks.”
“We can’t stay here!” Walker said over comms, his rotary blaster roaring to life as he began firing on the enemies that were trying to follow them into the condensed side street--a mix of Agorians and battle droids alike. “We’re going to get ourselves pinned!”
“We need to move to the secondary extraction point,” Sprinter said firmly. “It’s closer to the edge of the city, so hopefully our ships will be safer from enemy fire.”
Skipper held up a holo-map of the city, two red beacons lit up to show where they were and where they needed to be. “We need to move East and stick to the narrower streets. The enemy will have to come at us in smaller groups and it'll be harder for any snipers to get an angle.”
“Time's up, let’s go!” Walker shouted a moment before throwing a thermal detonator into the growing crowd of enemies behind them, and the group set off into the streets as Skipper guided them through the maze.
They turned down an alleyway, and Rin grabbed hold of Fox's forearm. He spun to face her in shock, then recoiled at the intense look in her blind eyes. “Keep Chuchi’s head down. Do not allow her to be alone.” She released him and drew her arms back before using the force to push all of Lima squad and the senator away. Fox barely had time to process Rin’s words as a ray shield sprung to life, cutting them off from the jedi. She stood at the wall, her blind eyes boring holes into the group. “Keep to the left, and you will be safe. I will join you later.”
Behind her, a lean figure stepped out from the shadows, twin red lightsabers sparking to life. “My dear Jedi, you are a hard woman to catch.”
Rin slowly turned to face Asajj Ventress, her own lightsabers humming to life. “Bold of you to assume I am captured.”
Fox’s heart pounded in his ears as he scrambled to his feet. He was supposed to keep them safe . Now there was a laser gate between him and one of his charges.
The Separatist assassin jumped forward to strike Rin, who lifted her lightsabers to block. The Anor held her ground and easily swept her lightsabers to intersect each of Ventress’ strikes. As Fox watched, frozen, the hair on the back of his neck rose. Something was familiar about this, about the sound, the colors, the practically palpable feeling of rage and malice that filled the air. He flinched away from the assassin’s blades as they raked across the ray shield and he was plunged back into reality. He shook his head and looked back to his squad and the senator. “Come on men! You heard her orders!”
Skipper tore his gaze away from the Jedi and the assassin to meet Fox’s. He gave a quick nod before looking back at his map. “We need to go right!”
“No–-left. We need to go left.” Fox shook his head and went to take point. “On me.”
“But sir-–”
“ On me, ” Fox repeated sharply, leaving no room for argument before he looked at Senator Chuchi. “Keep your head down.” With that, he began down the left alleyway, the sounds of fighting slowly fading behind them.
“We’re going to need to get to the right, sir. That’s where the–”
“I know , trooper,” Fox cut Skipper off. He came to a stop at a junction and checked to make sure it was clear. He felt a hand on his arm, and he looked over to see Chuchi. The fear in her eyes betrayed her hard expression. “Senator.” Fox stiffly nodded.
“May I borrow a blaster?” she asked, nodding to his DC-17. “I’d feel better if I were armed.”
Fox obediently handed one over, though he severely doubted that she knew how to use it. She smiled gratefully and held the pistol that dwarfed her hands, thankfully having the wherewithal to point it at the ground and keep her fingers off of the trigger. Fox looked back to the streets and turned the corner, his squad and the now-armed senator behind him. They slowly made their way down the street, weapons ready at a moment’s notice.
The city was eerily silent, making the hair on the back of Fox’s neck rise with unease. Coruscant was never silent-–there was always someone causing a ruckus, making it impossible to sleep even if Fox had the time to shut his eyes. His ears strained to catch any minute sound, but all he heard was his own breathing and that of Chuchi behind him.
“Not much further until we reach the extraction point…” Skipper whispered.
“This is too easy,” Runner murmured.
“Because we’re walking into a trap,” Fox said. “That’s what I would do, concentrate my firepower in all the most likely points of egress.” He had no sooner said this that he heard a click. He instinctively lifted his pistol and fired, barely taking time to aim.
The blaster bolts met in mid-air, the blue and the red laser combusting on impact and creating a shower of sparks. No sooner had the two blasts combusted that the clones and senator sprinted for cover across the street and pressed themselves against the walls, one block closer to the extraction point.
“Does anyone have eyes on the shooters?” Sprinter called, DC-15A pointed towards the rooftops and swiveling back and forth along the skyline.
“They ducked away--couldn’t get a clear shot after the Commander fired,” Walker replied, his Z-6 aimed towards the open street.
Skipper held up a hand. “Silence on comms, I hear something!” he hissed, and Fox looked towards the senator as Commander Rin’s words echoed back to him.
Keep Chuchi’s head down.
Fox stepped closer to her, one hand landing lightly on her shoulder. Thankfully, the senator wordlessly understood and she sank a little lower to the ground, his pistol held firmly in her hands.
No sooner had she done so that a blaster bolt burned into the space her head had just occupied. She yelped and dropped to a crouch, her eyes wide as five commando droids leapt into the alley. Three came down from the roofs above and two others blocked their means of escape on either end of the narrow side-street.
Lima, in turn, created a semi-circle around the Senator and began shooting. With his single pistol, Fox fired as fast as he could at the droid closest to him, but DC-17’s weren’t known for their speed. Only their firepower, and without a second to offset the blast delay, he lost precious seconds as the commando advanced. Fox snarled and charged at the thing, using his DC as a club to try and simply beat the thing into submission.
The commando fired at him, and Fox didn’t have time to process it as he slammed the butt of his pistol into the thing’s neck. The droid stumbled, its arms swinging open. Fox abandoned his pistol and grabbed the droid’s head with both hands. Using all of his strength, he yanked the thing down into his knee, the raised jut of his armor tearing through the durasteel plating. The light in the droid’s eye circuits flickered and dulled as Fox released his hold and stumbled backwards.
In his rush to eliminate a seemingly unbeatable droid, he’d made two miscalculations. For one, he had dropped his lone pistol. And two: He now had a droid hooked to his right knee and he couldn’t stand up straight--let alone move--without dropping his guard to rectify his situation. Usually, if he did something like this, he had his second pistol and could cover himself. But the senator had his spare, leaving him unarmed and exposed. Faced with this unpleasant knowledge, Fox had little choice but to stumble back to the safety of his brothers dragging a dead commando droid along the way.
Lima had made quick work of dispatching the other droids, which were now smoking heaps of metal. “Sir, you’ve gained a limb,” Skipper said, a hint of amusement coloring voice as he gestured to the commando still hooked to Fox’s knee.
Fox grunted in response before kneeling to take care of his knee plating. The damn thing was lodged in there, the tip of his plastoid sticking out the other side of its head. As Fox fought with the thing, he heard a whirl. He barely had time to look up as a blue blaster bolt whizzed by him and embedded itself in a commando droid they’d thought was dead. “Good shot, Sprinter,” Fox said without looking as he returned to his task of righting his armor.
“Not me, sir,” Sprinter replied, and Fox looked towards where the shot originated. There stood Riyo, his DC-17 clasped in her hands with the tip smoking. She hissed out a breath and tore her gaze from the droid she’d just shot to look at Fox, lowering the pistol to point back at the ground.
“Thank you for letting me borrow your blaster, Commander,” she said with a small smile.
Fox simply blinked, dumbfounded. Riyo was no Senator Amidala, who was known among the Guard for her marksmanship and tendencies to get into what she called “aggressive negotiations.” Chuchi was better known for her diction, her ability to maneuver the political warfare of social gatherings. Certainly not for shooting. Realizing suddenly that he hadn’t responded and appeared to be staring at the senator, Fox stiffly nodded. He dropped the droid to the side and went to collect his fallen blaster, focusing back on the task at hand. “We need to keep moving.”
Skipper nodded in agreement. “We aren’t far now.” he pulled up his map. “Just a few blocks.”
Sprinter nodded and lifted his wrist to his bucket. “Close air support, do you copy?” he asked over comms.
“We copy, Lima squad. What is your position?”
Skipper held up the holo-map for Sprinter, the two red beacons now closer together but still several streets away.
Sprinter nodded before pressing a button on the holo device. “Transmitting our location to you now. We expect we can be at the secondary extraction point in about ten minutes.”
“It will be a tight window, Sergeant. We see a new group of enemies approaching from the North side. We’ll try and cover your next moves, but be quick,” the clone replied over the comms before three republic fighters flew overhead. A few moments later they heard the echo of blaster fire through the streets.
Fox sighed, taking a quick sip from his canteen before pulling his bucket back on and resting his hand on his pistol.
Just as Sprinter had said, ten minutes later they were peeking out of a narrow street and towards an open, empty plaza, the world eerily silent around them. “Close air support, we are at the extraction point,” Sprinter said into his comm, the others keeping their blasters trained for any hint of movement around them. “Where is our ship?”
“We are incoming, Lima. Please stand by,” the response came and the square that was once uncannily still plunged into darkness as the whir of an LAAT/i engine sounded off above them, blocking out the light of the sun.
Chaos erupted immediately as fighters for both the republic and the separatists thundered overhead, shots firing wildly in the sky and some crashing into buildings and lighting them on fire. On the ground, the droids that had been attempting to flank the guard burst into the plaza, raining shots towards the alley as they streamed out of the streets around them.
“Get the senator to safety before they cut off our escape!” Fox shouted into the comms and the group moved as one out of their hiding spot and towards the descending gunship.
They were halfway there before droids cut them off. The LAAT/i tilted precariously away. “We can’t get a clear landing! We’re going to make another sweep and pick you up,” the pilot said before the LAAT/i lifted away.
Fox grit his teeth. “Surround and protect the senator!” he growled as he took a protective stance beside Riyo. Lima followed suit, and they loosed their firepower on the droids that were surrounding them.
“We can’t stay out in the open!” Runner yelled as he ducked away from blaster fire.
“Where do you suggest we go?” Walker demanded as his rotary blaster roared.
“I’m open to suggestions!” Runner called back over the chaos.
Fox continued firing, DC-17 in one hand and the other reaching behind him to make sure Riyo was still there. There were too many droids, it was only a matter of time before they were overwhelmed and slaughtered. “I’m sorry, Senator.” he said regretfully.
“We are not dying here,” Riyo replied firmly, and from the corner of his eye, Fox watched her lift his blaster and start shooting into the droids. He had to hand it to her, she had spirit. But would that be enough for her to survive?
Then he saw a flash of spinning blue light. It didn’t make sense for a minute--baster fire didn’t behave that way. Then it clicked as Fox took a closer look at the spinning rod of light. A lightsaber , he realized, and he dared to hope as the weapon circled safely around the clones. The droids that had once held them pinned down fell in droves, their parts burning from Rin’s lightsaber that came to a stop in her lifted hand.
Behind them, Fox heard the steady drone of the LAAT/i’s engines as it landed. That small flame of hope grew, becoming just a little bit steadier. They could escape. There weren’t that many droids left, and Lima, reinvigorated by the presence of a Jedi, were firing with renewed energy. That also meant they were burning through ammunition quickly, but Fox was trying to focus on the positives.
Rin looked towards the clones, and Fox could have sworn she was making eye contact with him. She gave a stiff nod as she changed her grip on her lightsaber. “Go, Commander. I’ll buy us some time.”
Fox hesitated for only a moment before walking backwards towards the waiting ship, firing around the jedi and towards the enemy before he felt his calf bump against the deck of the LAAT/i. He jumped onto the ship, shouting for them to fly before his feet hit the durasteel bed.
“But the General!” the pilot exclaimed, though the engines began to rev with more effort as blaster fire from their escort ships thundered around them.
“This is her order! Get us out of here!” Fox snarled.
The LAAT/i jerked as it lifted, and Fox looked out towards the Jedi in concern. He’d heard, of course, of how skilled they were. But he’d never seen one in action. Not really. The lightsaber throw had been impressive to say the least, and he almost wanted her to do it again–seeing it from the sky would be interesting. But she was retreating, using her now double-sided lightsaber to block blaster fire as droids marched back into the plaza.
“Lima! Lay down covering fire to protect the Commander!” Sprinter called, kneeling at the edge of the gunship and lining up his rifle before starting to fire on the pursuing enemies. Lima squad joined him a minute later, painting the space around Rin blue with laser bolts.
Rin danced backwards, easily spinning her lightsaber to deflect blast after blast. “Commander Rin!” Fox called, and she looked back at him. Something changed in her expression, and she sprinted to them, enemies behind her all but forgotten. She lept into the air and landed on their ship, a twenty-something foot jump that made everyone stare at the jedi in awe. But they didn’t have long to admire her physical feat as she immediately turned to the open doorway and sank into her haunches. As she lifted her hands, a blast turned the world white.
Fox rose an arm against the light and watched in shock while smoke and electricity sparked around Rin as she skidded backwards, claws screeching on the durasteel floor. In her hands, the blast got smaller and smaller until it was a brilliant white orb floating above her palms. She grunted and threw the somehow-contained blast back at the ship that initially fired, the sphere flying through the air and looking akin to a miniaturized star.
The explosion as it impacted with the enemy rocked the ship, and Rin stumbled back into the cabin of the LAAT/i as the blast doors sealed them safely inside and the gunship sped away.
Notes:
Perhaps a bit of Foxiyo there at the beginning? Don’t get your hopes too high for seeing either of these characters jumping on that anytime soon. This is a slow burn that will take, well, a really long time to even get warm, so we hope you don’t mind settling for these tiny hints at it for now. It’s going to be like when you’re drinking one of those flavored sparkling waters (like la croix) and it says its xyz flavor but it doesn’t really taste like xyz flavor, more like someone yells a flavor in the other room and you kinda nod and go “yeah I think I taste it.”
Yeah, that’s how slow the burn is.
Anyways, this week is International Women’s Day, and this chapter seems pretty relevant as we see both Rin and Riyo being total badasses (and don’t worry, they are badasses in more ways than one). We hope you’ll celebrate with us! As always, have a lovely week!
Chapter Text
The flight back to the base was far worse than their landing on Agora had been.
With the blast doors of the LAAT/i sealed and the interior lights set to red, it was all Riyo could do not to vomit as the gunship was thrown every which way in their escape from Agora’s capital.
All around their ship, Riyo, Rin, and their escort could hear the whine of Republic fighters engaging with Seperatist vulture droids and an almost constant roar of blaster fire that was only interrupted when a bomb was dropped beneath them or a ship exploded too close for comfort. The engines of their own gunship were grumbling and sputtering intermittently, and there were several times that the senator felt that awful, sinking sensation of being just a bit weightless as the ship threatened to drop like a stone.
It certainly did not help that while the Coruscant Guard troopers were as stoic and still as ever, seemingly unbothered by the chaos, the clones that General Krell had sent along were glancing between each other and nervously shifting on their feet, many appearing to adjust the frequency of their comms that fed directly into their helmets.
Riyo almost wanted to hear what exactly was going on, but a twisting sensation in her gut told her that perhaps ignorance was better for her state of mind.
“Senator!” Fox called over the din as he walked towards her through the cramped space. “We will be making our landing soon. The men and I will make sure that you and Commander Rin make it safely to the bunker, but you must stay there until one of us comes to get you.”
Riyo nodded. “I understand, Commander. Are your men alright?”
“Just a few scuffs and near misses, but nothing we can’t handle, ma’am,” Fox replied evenly. “Are you okay?”
Riyo grit her teeth as the ship pitched to the side, holding the back of her hand to her mouth for a moment while the other gripped the handlebar above her even tighter. “Once we get off this ship and into some fresh air, I will be in far better condition.”
Fox stiffly nodded, and Riyo distantly wished he wasn’t wearing his helmet--at least then she could see if her small attempt at humor had landed. “You’ll need to be ready to run, ma’am,” Fox murmured, his voice as even as ever. “Word on the comms is that the base is currently under attack, so we can’t linger.”
“Thank you, Commander,” Riyo sighed before holding out the blaster pistol he had allowed her to borrow. “Something tells me this will be of far more use to you once we are back on-base. Thank you for letting me borrow it.”
“Of course, ma’am,” Fox replied, head dipping slightly as if he wanted to say something more before he stowed the pistol back in its holster and turned to face the other clones.
Riyo followed his gaze after a moment, looking again between the clone troopers that surrounded her.
She found herself immensely thankful that she was not exposed to this regularly. In fact, she had hardly ever been in a situation quite like this one. The fighting she had witnessed on Orto Plutonia, which had been very little and from a distance, was its own kind of brutal. However, she had been relatively well removed until she had stepped up and made peace with the Talz on behalf of her system.
When the Trade Federation had blockaded Pantora, Riyo had feared a fight much like the one they were in now, but instead they had been met with subterfuge and scandal. Even when sneaking aboard the Trade Federation’s ship with Ahsoka and being met with battle droids as they searched for the Chairman’s daughters, she had not felt as though she was in any amount of danger.
Padme had reassured Riyo before she took this assignment that the clones were indeed the best army the galaxy had ever seen, and that while some things may have felt a bit touch-and-go at times, that overall the experience would be educational and worthwhile.
Riyo had to agree that it had indeed been an educational trip thus far.
But definitely not one she would want to repeat anytime soon. She was decent with a blaster and generally not squeamish, but this assignment had tested all of her limits--from her ability to effectively negotiate with others to her resilience in the face of a seemingly hopeless situation. She would have to have another chat with Padme upon her return to Coruscant and learn if her similar assignments had gone anything like this.
“Hang on! This is going to be a rough landing!” the pilot called over the comms, and not a moment later did the engines sputter out and the ship made a sudden drop in altitude. Judging by the sudden stiffening of the men, Riyo found just a tiny bit of comfort knowing that she was not the only one holding on for dear life.
While it felt like hours, only a second later the engines gurgled back to life and the ship stabilized and throttled forward once more before slowing down and making a controlled descent. As the ship reached the ground, the blast doors on one side slid open and the clones began to spill out into the encampment, which was hardly recognizable to how they had left it that morning.
One of the Coruscant Guard--Sprinter, Riyo was fairly certain--took her by the arm and pressed one hand to her back, keeping her in a bent-over position as they ran out of the relative safety of the gunship and towards what Riyo assumed was the bunker. Above her, Sprinter was calling directions to his squad, and the other three clones, along with Fox, easily surrounded her and matched each other step for step as they called out where the incoming fire was and how close they were to safety.
But just as soon as they had run out into the chaos, Riyo was gently pushed into a low bunker with Rin stepping gracefully beside her a moment later, her lightsabers retracting as she hung them from her belt.
“Will we be okay here?” Riyo asked, looking at Rin after getting her bearings in the relatively cramped space.
“Relatively, yes,” Rin replied, though she was turned to the closed door, almost as if she was looking beyond it. “For now we wait. The Guard will assist with defending the base, and hopefully the bombardment will ease up soon.” She raised her wrist comm to her mouth. “Master Krell, I advise you to have the men on the guns to aim 12 degrees to the west.”
“Rin. Your advice is noted. But with the bombardment as it currently is, we will not divert our attack,” Krell’s voice responded.
Rin grit her teeth. “Understood.” She lowered her comm. “I find his unwillingness to put stock in others’ suggestions to be of great concern. Among other things.”
“You can say that again,” Riyo muttered. The Anor looked at her curiously before nodding to herself. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking Pong is not going to like me and I don’t care. He can’t touch me,” Rin said before raising her comm back to her mouth. “Commander Fox, can you patch me through to one of the gunners? The… big ones behind the bunkers. Like tanks.”
“Yes, ma’am,” came Fox’s reply a second later.
After a few minutes, the jedi’s comm buzzed and the same voice came from another man. “Commander Rin, you requested me?”
“Yes. Can you aim your gun 12 degrees to the West?” Rin said quickly, her eyes settling on Riyo as she gave the elevation.“Fire now.”
A thundering boom rocked the bunker, and a few seconds later the ceiling rattled as shrapnel fell harmlessly outside. Rin’s lips pulled at a smile.
“What just happened?” Riyo asked as she stumbled into a wall.
“We are alive, so I suspect the trooper was able to shoot the Seperatist’s blast out of the sky almost right above us,” Rin responded, blind gaze following her.
“How did you know that would work?” Riyo asked in wonder. Even though she was close friends with Ahsoka and had met a number of jedi while on Coruscant, Riyo never understood the mystical power that fueled their abilities, nor what abilities said power gave the jedi.
“Same way I knew to raise my lightsaber when I did,” Rin responded.
Well that didn’t explain a thing. Riyo thought to herself in frustration, but a bunker in the middle of a fight was not a good time to press the matter.
As it was, Rin had turned her attention back to her comm. “Good job, trooper. I need you to fire again in…” she looked up and towards Riyo, though it felt more as though the jedi was staring into Riyo’s very soul. “Three… two… now!”
Another blast exploded around them, shaking the ground. Riyo stumbled and fell into the wall before looking up at the wooden ceiling. “Do you think it’ll hold?”
“Yes,” Rin replied shortly. “Trooper, I need another shot. Now!”
The blast was too close, and both the jedi and senator were thrown to the ground.
Riyo cried out as she slammed against the packed dirt floor. She had not dressed to be in a war zone, much less to be thrown around like some tooka doll, which was how this entire trip had felt since Agora had come into view when they dropped out of hyperspace. How Padme managed to maneuver war zones in the extravagant gowns the Naboo Senator was known for was beyond Chuchi, but it was now on the growing list of topics she would need to speak to Padme about.
Riyo pushed herself to her feet and dusted herself off. “I can’t wait to get off this planet.” She glanced up to see Rin heading towards the doors. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going to help,” she replied, hand resting on the release for the door. “Stay here and you will be safe.” She didn’t even wait for Riyo to reply before stepping out from the bunker.
Clutch, who still had yet to be assigned to a new squad, was beyond relieved as he recognized the bright red paint on the armor of the Coruscant Guard troopers. He glanced towards the medic he had been assisting, Three-Nine if he remembered right, and nodded towards the elite soldiers. “Should I go check on them? Make sure they’re alright?”
Three-Nine nodded in response. “Good idea, Two-One.” He pressed some bandages and a small tube of bacta into Clutch’s hands. “I trust you can deal with anything minor, but if there are major injuries, call me over or have them sent to the medbay.”
“Copy that,” Clutch replied easily before glancing skyward as he heard the familiar whine of approaching vulture droids. The one blessing they had, such as it was, was that the attack on the camp only involved the aerial fighters and long-range cannons. According to intel, the Agorians had yet to receive any Hyena Bombers, though at the rate the vulture droids were tearing up the camp with their blasters, Clutch wasn’t sure if it would have mattered either way.
A moment later, blasters fired above them, the ground exploding in showers of dirt and loose stone and the more slapdash buildings of the encampment collapsed wherever the bolts hit. Clutch ducked his head back down as all of the clones collectively held their breaths, waiting for the fighters to pass overhead. Several tense minutes passed with only the sounds of blaster fire above and explosions all around before the vulture droids were out of range, at which point the clones began to scramble around to find fallen brothers and continue loading their tanks and heavy guns with fresh shells.
Clutch ran for the bunker that the Coruscant Guard was surrounding, jumping when a shell exploded almost right above their heads as it intercepted a projectile from the enemy.
“Are you alright, Trooper?” Sprinter asked, grabbing Clutch’s arm as he stumbled.
Clutch nodded. “Yes, Sir. I’m here to check on you. It’s Two-One.”
“Glad to see you up and on your feet, Two-One,” Sprinter said before they both jumped as another shell exploded overhead. “Those heavy gunners are good shots…”
Clutch managed a laugh. “Well, they get a lot of practice. Though, admittedly, we haven’t had a bombardment like this in…eh…it's been a few weeks.” He paused, looking around. “If I may ask, what happened? I thought the senator was negotiating for peace?”
“Yeah, that’s what we thought too,” Sprinter muttered. “I’m not entirely sure what happened--we’re taught in the guard to hear without listening. It’s best if you don’t, generally. The more dirt you have on a Senator or anyone in power, the more likely you are to get thrown in front of a speeder or otherwise disappear. Anyways, all of a sudden the Agorian delegation’s security started firing and we had to make a quick exit.”
Clutch nodded. “That must have been when they started firing on the camp. Was anyone injured?” he asked, holding up his supplies.
Sprinter shook his head. “No, thank the stars. Had a couple close calls, but it’s all just scrapes and bruises--” he cut himself off, head tilting to the side before he nodded. “The Commander just confirmed that the guns firing on the bunker were destroyed by fighters. She wants us to assist with defending the camp.”
Clutch stood a bit straighter. “There’s not much us ground troops can really do. All fighters have been scrambled and the guns and tanks are doing the best they can. The attack is long-range and the closest the enemy’s ground forces have managed to get to is about ten klicks out.”
“So how can we help?” Sprinter asked.
Clutch considered, listening to his own comm feed that was currently on the same frequency as the medics. “It sounds like there’s a shell that hit towards the front of camp, at the cliff face. The medics need help getting troops out of there.”
“Copy that,” Sprinter replied before turning to his squad. “Medics need our help, boys. Runner, you get to the medbay and see where they need you the most. Skipper and Walker, you two team up and assist with getting the injured vode to triage and out of the way of incoming fire, but stay near the bunker just in case the Senator needs any assistance.”
There was a chorus of “sir, yes sir” before the rest of the Coruscant Guard turned to follow their orders.
“Alright, Clutch. Let’s get to the front of the camp and see how we can help,” Sprinter said before setting off towards the cliff.
Clutch eagerly followed, glad to be of some use to his battalion and to be with Sprinter, who was far different than any other clone he had ever met. But all too soon, the familiar whine of the vulture droids returned, their shadows zipping across the late afternoon sky and towards the encampment.
“Sir! Get down!” Clutch called before tackling Sprinter and rolling the pair of them towards the remnants of one of the buildings that had already been destroyed.
“What are you doing?” Sprinter hissed, trying to wriggle out from beneath the younger clone.
“Stay still, Sir,” Clutch replied, eyes fixed on the horizon. “The droids look for movement to know where to fire. It's best to freeze or get down near something they’ve already destroyed.”
Sprinter stopped fighting, going deathly still as the shots began overhead. The pair stayed frozen, along with the rest of the camp, as they waited for the aerial strike to recede.
“How long do the bombardments usually last?” Sprinter asked as the first wave of shots slowed and the droids veered to make another pass.
Clutch tucked his head as the fighters began firing again, some shots close enough that the loose dirt and stones rained down on top of the pair. “A couple hours, or until the vulture droids get shot down by our pilots.”
Several more minutes passed before the droids were driven off and both Clutch and Sprinter got back to their feet, not even taking the time to brush themselves off as they ran for where the most movement was in the camp at the edge of the cliff.
Their own voices echoed all around them, medics calling out instructions while injured troopers groaned and cried out in pain. It seemed that more than one shell had struck this particular area of the encampment, as there were at least twenty clones that were scattered about in various states of injury.
“Get the ones towards the edge first!” a medic called, and based by the scuff marks on his armor, it was most likely the senior medic of the battalion. “The cliff is becoming unstable!”
“Copy that!” Sprinter replied before stepping out towards the cliff, light on his feet and careful of his footing.
Clutch followed in his footsteps, and the pair knelt on either side of a trooper who was softly gasping for breath as he tried to sit up. “Hang on, Trooper,” Sprinter said gently, lacing his arm beneath the trooper and propping him up. “Two-One and I will get you back to the medics who can help you out.”
Clutch copied Sprinter from the other side and in one fluid motion they hauled the injured clone up and carried him away from the cliff edge and to the safety of the medics.
They pulled two more troopers before Clutch froze as the shrieking of the vulture droids echoed overhead.
Sprinter watched the horizon before looking to Clutch. “Come on, we can get one more out before they start firing again.”
“A--are you sure, Sir?” Clutch asked, his eyes wide beneath his visor.
Sprinter gave him an assured nod before starting out again towards a trooper that was at least able to sit up on his own power. But he was close to the edge of the cliff, and those droids were coming in fast.
Just as the Sergeant reached the injured soldier, the vulture droids reached firing distance of the camp. A squadron of republic fighters met them in midair, the clone pilots darting quickly around the enemy and quickly cutting through them.
“Clutch, come on! We have a window, we need to get him to safety!” Sprinter shouted, shaking Clutch from his shock.
As he reached them, Clutch looped his arm beneath the injured trooper’s and helped him to his feet, starting to guide him back towards the medics. They had only gone a few steps before an explosion sounded behind him and Clutch looked back in time to see a vulture droid hurtling straight towards the cliff. Panic shot through Clutch like a drug and he threw the man they’d been carrying. He willed the clone to go towards the medics, and warmth flowed through him and out of his hands. It must have been the adrenaline playing tricks on his mind, or dehydration or hunger or shock, but he could have sworn the injured soldier floated through the air for just a moment before landing safely in the arms of a waiting medic.
Clutch dropped his hands to his side seconds before the ground buckled. He stumbled as fire, shrapnel, and soil flew up around him, and a crack splintered across the cliff face. The adrenaline that had flowed through him seconds before failed, and he watched numbly as the world began to tip. All he could hear was his breathing, an uneven, suffocating sound. It occurred to him that this wasn’t a good sign. The world shouldn’t tip like this. Surely the ground had once been flat?
“Clutch!”
Sprinter’s voice cut through his thoughts, and his head snapped towards his friend a few yards ahead of him. Clutch broke into a run as cracks stretched like scars across the ground, growing wider and deeper as they ran for safety. To make matters worse, another vulture droid was bearing down on them, and remaining still was simply not an option. Not here. Not now.
The ground crumbled away beneath the pair, each chunk falling to the depths of the valley below. Clutch’s heart pounded in his ears as he scrambled gracelessly from rock to falling rock. There was no rhyme or reason to it, just a desperate jump from one thing to another. Clutch didn’t know if he was actually going up, or if he was falling. All he knew was there was one more hunk of cliffside ahead of him, and he needed to get over it and on to the next one. If hesitated, he would surely fall to his death.
Clutch continued jumping forward a couple yards before making the embarrassing realization that the ground was flat and not moving . “Sprinter!” he called, looking around for his friend.
“Little help?” a voice said behind him, and Clutch spun around towards the new edge of the cliff. He stumbled over his own feet in his mad dash back to the edge, and whipped his head over to find the source of the voice.
A few feet down, hanging precariously from a particularly stubborn root, was Sprinter. His right arm hung awkwardly from his body, the clasp holding together the right side of his cuirass missing as the two plastoid plates dangled from his left shoulder. But Clutch could only focus on the fact that Sprinter was still alive. “Hang on!” Clutch said.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” Sprinter said tersely.
Clutch flushed in embarrassment and reached down. “Sorry, Sergeant. Can you grab on to me with your right hand?”
“I was shot in the shoulder--can’t feel my fingers,” Sprinter replied, and as Clutch took a second look, he realized that the blacks around Sprinter’s shoulder seemed a bit darker than they should have been and the red paint of his armor was smeared. Well, he hoped it was only paint.
“Hey!” Clutch yelled over his shoulder, “Somebody give me a hand!” He turned back to Sprinter and reached for him again. His fingers brushed against the back of Sprinter’s hand guard, but with the jagged cliff side, he couldn’t get a secure grip. Clutch’s brow piqued as his heart rate picked up. “I’m going to get you out of here.” He looked over his shoulder again. “I need somebody! Now!”
“Hey, Clutch, it… it’s okay,” Sprinter said, voice suddenly gentle, and Clutch looked back towards him.
“Someone is coming to help. Then I’ll be able to get a good grip on you and we’ll lift you out of here.”
Sprinter nodded. “You’re a good vod’ika, Clutch.”
Clutch’s brow twitched and he tensed as the sound of vulture droids got close. He looked up and watched in abject horror as the droid got closer and closer at dizzying speeds. “No,” he whispered as it began firing at them.
“Protect yourself!” Sprinter shouted over the jarring sounds of blaster fire.
“I won’t leave you!” Clutch cried, desperately reaching for his friend. His fingers continued brushing uselessly against the back of Sprinter’s hand, and Clutch cursed himself for it.
“That’s an order , Clutch. Get out of here!” Sprinter said before his body jerked with the impact of blaster fire.
“Sprinter!” Clutch cried in horror as he watched his friend’s grip slip. Sprinter frantically grabbed at his root, and Clutch grasped desperately at thin air, but it was useless. A second laser hit Sprinter, right where his armor had already been damaged, and he fell. “Sprinter!” Clutch screamed, watching helplessly as Sprinter free-fell towards the forest below. Clutch was anchored to his exposed stretch of soil, unable and unwilling to leave his spot as the trees swallowed Sprinter whole.
He didn’t even try to run as he felt the world beneath his feet begin to shift. His squad was dead, and now Sprinter had fallen a dizzying distance to the forest below, never to be seen again. In that moment, he doubted his batchmates would even recognize him in a lineup of other clones, and he was fairly certain the same could be said if he were face to face with his batchmates. The ground shuddered. There was nobody left to mourn him, as if anyone would mourn a clone, and he was created to die. Why not now? The ground tore itself open like the maw of a saberjowl and Clutch began to slide backwards into it, not bothering to try and stop his momentum as his calves were sucked in by the dirt.
Sprinter promised to try and get me folded into his squad. Maybe… maybe there’s still a chance? Clutch thought wistfully to himself. A clone like him, a grunt, in the Coruscant Guard as a shock trooper? What a fantastical idea. And a dream that could still become reality, if he somehow survived this battle.
Clutch’s eyes widened in horror as he realized how close he was to the edge of the sinking ground. He grabbed uselessly at the sides of the maw, mind reeling from the whiplash of his emotions as he decided that he didn’t want to die.
Not yet, anyways.
His leg slid over the side, and he kicked at thin air as the lower half of his body followed suit. He looked over his shoulder, mind barely processing that there was an outcropping about ten feet below. But before he could even call for help, one of the clones’ shabby lean-tos hit his shoulder, making him lose his grip. He slid over the edge and hung from his fingertips, looking skyward. The ground was still bucking and bowing as it shifted, and Clutch’s grip slipped. He cried out as he fell, landing hard on the rubble and loose stones below. His head snapped back and the world went dark.
Notes:
Content warnings for depiction of character death. Not graphic, but it still happens. Note that this is one of our OCs, not Fox or Riyo.
We don’t have much we can do to lighten the mood here, except to promise that it will, eventually, get better?
Tomorrow is Pi Day, and you should absolutely celebrate it in Sprinter’s honor. Mans would love pie. Anyways, we hope you have a wonderful week!
Chapter Text
Pockmark scars from the bombardment smoked across the camp, but Fox hardly noticed them. He carefully raised a hand to his helmet to open a private comm to Lima. “Lima Squad, report in.”
“This is Runner. I’m at the medbay right now and Tuck is still safe and sound and drugged up inside,” responded the first voice. “The camp got hit pretty hard. We’ve got a lot of wounded and the other medics have reported a few deaths, but for the most part injuries have been fairly minor.”
“Skipper and I are bringing some more to you, Runner. This is Walker.”
“Copy that,” Runner replied shortly before silence fell over the comm line.
“Sprinter, do you copy?” Fox asked as the world narrowed to the quiet radio crackle. “Sprinter, sitrep.”
There was another long pause as everyone waited with bated breath.
“Has anyone seen Sprinter since the fighting began?” Fox demanded once he’d grown tired of the eerie silence.
“We’re looking for him, sir! Lost the connection to his HUD, so this could take a minute,” Skipper responded tersely.
“Last I saw he was with Two-One. Has anyone seen Two-One?” Walker frantically asked. “I don’t have his comm line and I don’t see him. But if we find Two-One, we’ll find Sprinter.”
“I just tried comming Sprinter. He didn’t open the line. He wouldn’t ignore me. Not right now, anyways,” Skipper said.
“I need to find the Commander. Keep me updated,” Fox ordered before dropping his wrist to his side. His exhausted heart pounded in his ears as he listened to his vode hunt down their sergeant. He can’t be gone. Fox had ample experience with dead vode. It was a tragically common thing, and he had been forced to sign off and confirm senator-ordered decommissioning of his own brothers. Those were his least favorite forms to see across his tiny desk; demands from senators--who didn’t know osik about the clones--commanding him to validate their racism and reward it with the death of his own flesh.
Of course, he did what he could to give those men new CT or ARF numbers from the pool of freely given lifelines from brothers marching on, but sometimes it didn’t work out. Those were days that he found himself studying the cursed skyline of Coruscant and willing himself light-years away from everything--that, or dead himself. Now he was on the edge of the galaxy and the cold hands of death might have claimed one of his closest brothers.
No. Fox forced himself to look away from the wreckage. He had to believe that Sprinter was alive. He would show up by dinner, and they would all share a pint back home and laugh about it at 79’s. That was their future. It had to be their future.
Fox forced himself to walk into the tattered remains of camp. It could barely be called that anymore—the tents were little more than ratty scraps of fabric and the few wooden buildings towards the edges of the camp had been turned to splinters. Those that were closer to the center of the encampment and somehow still standing were burning, embers and ash mixing as they rose into the atmosphere. As he passed one, it creaked and groaned before collapsing, sending up sparks and a wave of heat. He coughed and waved away the smoke. This is a mess. He lifted his wrist comm back to his mouth. “Commander Rin, please report your location.”
The sound of lightsabers colliding came from ahead, and Fox’s head snapped towards the crash and he ran, panic building inside him. Had the Separatist assassin from the city managed to infiltrate the camp? How could they have missed that? And where was the senator?
“Does anyone have eyes on Senator Chuchi?” Fox barked into his comm, drawing his blasters.
“We’ve instructed her to stay in the bunker until we’re certain the camp is safe,” Walker replied. “I can see the bunker from here. What’s going on?”
Fox grit his teeth. “Stay by the bunker and don’t let anyone inside. I think that assassin from the city is here.”
“Copy that!” Walker called through the comms and Fox subconsciously tuned out the rest of Lima Squad’s conversation.
But as he got closer to the sounds of a duel, he realized there wasn’t the flash of red on blue he had been expecting. Instead, Commander Rin skidded backwards and into his line of sight and a few yards before her stood Krell, his green and blue lightsabers drawn. Rin jumped to her feet and took a defensive position before a trooper who, judging by the direction his back was twisting, probably wasn’t going to be going anywhere anytime soon.
Commander Rin said something, but Fox was too far away to hear her. Krell’s response, however, was booming. “This is how we treat insubordinate clones, Rin. They are punished for their actions. Sometimes their feeble bodies cannot take the stress, and they die. It’s what they were created to do.” He stalked towards her, spinning one of his lightsabers.
Fox hesitantly walked closer to his charge, carefully setting his blasters to stun. She really likes fighting the general…
“By murdering them you steal their ability to learn from their mistakes. And this man,” she gestured to the trooper behind her, “was working by my orders. He saved the Senator’s life. He likely saved my own. If not for his shooting--for his listening to orders-- you would have to explain why there was a dead senator of the Republic in your camp. I hate to think that this is how our men are treated for saving a senator’s life. If you had issue with his actions, I would expect you to take it up with me, not him. That is how the chain of command works, is it not?”
“You think you can just undermine my authority on a whim?” Krell roared.
Rin looked up at him evenly and arched a brow, unimpressed. “Yes. When it comes to the senator’s life, I outrank you. When I know that she would be eliminated if certain actions aren’t taken, then yes, I will undermine you. She is my charge and we are both under Lima squad’s protection.”
Krell roared and swung his lightsabers to hit her.
Fox’s eyes widened and, before he could think of any other solution, he pulled the trigger on his blaster and shot the besalisk. Krell stumbled a step and growled as he turned towards Fox, hardly affected by the stun bolt. “You dare to shoot me?”
“I have orders to protect the senator and jedi commander Rin,” Fox replied evenly.
“I am a jedi master. ” General Krell snarled, spinning his two double-bladed lightsabers. “I will not be shot by a creature bred in some laboratory!”
“Then you should find a different line of work,” Rin said blandly. “Your behavior is embarrassing, General Krell. You neglect your men’s well-being and now expose yourself as having the memory of a mere rat. The chain of command--all of this--was discussed in our briefing last week. ”
Krell sneered. “Perhaps if you learned how to speak up, I would have paid more attention.”
Rin gave a dry laugh and shook her head. “Holograms and comm units have volume adjusters. I am not responsible for your negligence.” She looked towards him. “I will report you to the council. You have shown through both words and actions that the strain of leadership is too much for your dense mind.”
“You have no power, you are a Jedi knight, ” Krell growled. “You cannot touch me.”
Fox looked between the pair, still tense. His blasters were still raised, aim fixed on Krell’s upper left chest where Fox hoped his heart was. But Fox never studied Besalisk anatomy; the Jedi’s heart could be anywhere.
Rin gave a small, cold smile. “If you say so.” She looked back at the twisted plastoid behind her. “This man should not have passed. Not like this. Not now.” She de-ignited her lightsabers and clipped them to her belt before kneeling down before him.
Fox could see from twenty paces away the sick thrill of delight that flashed in the general’s gaze as the other jedi left her defense wide open. “Commander—!” Fox called as he fired at Krell, who easily deflected his stun blasts, used the force to throw Fox into a tent, and sliced through Rin in three smooth movements.
But Rin didn’t die.
At least, Fox didn’t think she did. Because as he fought against the rags that tangled around him and dragged him back down, he heard the impact of lightsabers and the general’s booming voice shouting in disdain. “What is this?”
Fox tore as his loose bindings frantically. What was Krell seeing? What was he responding to? Commander Rin couldn’t be dead—then Fox would be dead and he had promised —
“You didn’t know? I am a tutemenis master. Your lightsabers have no effect on me.” Rin said innocently. “Now I’m sure you didn’t mean to try and kill me, and this is all some big misunderstanding. I’d like to hear it.”
Thank the force she’s alive . Fox tore the last of the rags from his boots and stumbled back to the action. He’d lost a pistol in the tent, but he still had the other. He snapped his hands up and aimed for Krell’s shoulder as the besalisk took a step back from Rin, his lightsabers cutting through the afternoon light.
“As the commanding general, I have the right—“
“ That was a rhetorical question.” She pointed her lightsaber at him. “Your actions were brash, and you are lucky I am who and what I am. You are not helping your case for my sympathy. Hopefully, the council will agree and you will be stripped of your rank.” Rin’s lips pulled at a delicate frown. “If I were you, I’d accept this opportunity to take my leave.” She turned her back to him again and de-ignited her lightsaber once more.
Krell growled at her. “What right have you to make such claims?”
Rin’s lips pulled at a scowl and she stared ahead of her, brow twitching. “I am second to the chief of the Temple Security Forces, and wherever I am that he is not, all rights to oversee the protection of others falls to me. ” Her gray eyes turned to slits as she turned her head over her shoulder towards the general. “I have every right to make such claims when the lives of those I defend are in danger. Right now, you are the greatest threat to them. Therefore, I outrank you.”
Krell’s lips pulled back and he snarled at the other Jedi. “We will see how long that lasts.” he said before turning and marching off.
Fox carefully lowered his blaster and walked over to Rin. “Commander, are you okay?” he asked, mentally trying to make sense of what Rin had just said. She, second to the chief of the Jedi Temple Security Forces? Acting leader in his absence? And I just put her in a bunker, he thought dumbly.
Rin rolled her eyes with a sigh. “I do not find pleasure in pulling rank like that. But Pong is keen on getting on my last nerve, it appears. Please… do not share my position with the other men. I would rather not be treated differently.” She knelt beside the fallen clone who now had two smoking lines through his side. “He should not have passed. Not like this. He was manning the gun that intercepted the long-range blasts where we were.” She lifted a hand to her forehead before bringing it to her heart. She bowed her head towards the fallen trooper.
Fox looked between the Jedi and the trooper, brain still struggling to process her words and actions. To stand and defend the corpse of a clone was peculiar behavior indeed–only vode did that, and oftentimes they joined their vod on the ground, dead. Whatever she was doing looked like some sort of mourning gesture—why would a jedi mourn a clone? They were worthless. Even Fox, a Marshal Commander, could be replaced on a whim—something the Chancellor was fond of reminding him.
His comm beeped, and Fox ignored it. Then, his helmet comm buzzed to life. “Commander, do we know the status of the assassin?”
“False alarm,” Fox muttered. “We’re all clear. The senator can leave the bunker, though she needs to be under our supervision at all times.”
“Of course, sir,” Walker replied, but his voice was uneasy, tight with some unspoken emotion.
“Sir, we found Sprinter,” Skipper’s voice came after a tense silence. “You… uh… in a good place?”
Fox frowned. “I’m with the commander. Where’s Sprinter?”
“He… he’s marching on, Fox,” Skipper said quietly.
Fox froze. No. Sprinter isn’t dead. “Do we have his body?”
“No, Commander. He…fell into the valley,” Skipper trailed off.
It took all of Fox’s willpower to not collapse. This was supposed to be an easy assignment. In and out. It had been an easy deployment, though not without a few bumps along the way until now. Escort the most relaxed senator and jedi that Fox had ever met to a beautiful planet to make a peace treaty with the locals and then return to the hellscape of Coruscant. Sprinter was supposed to be on the ship home. By all accounts, he should have been there.
Now Fox was standing stiff alongside a jedi who was crying over some other clone and Fox couldn’t find a private place to mourn. He fought to control his breathing and focused on a crumbling building beyond Rin, hardly able to think past the chasm that had opened up in his chest. Sprinter is dead.
Riyo activated her wrist comm as she stepped out of the bunker, looking around at the carnage that had been wrought by the attacking ships. She had thought the camp looked to be in a sorry state when they had landed in the gunships, but now only a few buildings were still standing--the infirmary, the command center, and a munitions depot, all of which were built from duracrete instead of the more temporary wooden barracks and mess. The tents the troops had been staying in were now little more than ash.
“Commander Fox, Sergeant Sprinter, is there any place I can help?” she asked, almost unable to focus for all of the chaos around her.
“Senator, this is Skipper,” a voice responded almost immediately. “There’s nothing you need to do, we can take care of this.”
Riyo frowned slightly. “I want to help. How can I be of service?
The clone hesitated before answering. “Perhaps you can help the medics towards the cliff? There’s… a lot of wounded.”
Riyo nodded, starting in that direction. “Thank you, Skipper. Where is everyone?”
“Runner is in the infirmary and helping stabilize the more critically injured. Commander Fox is with Commander Rin and General Krell, and Walker is with me,” Skipper replied.
Riyo breathed a sigh of relief as she got close to the cliff and recognized the red-painted armor of the Coruscant Guard before pausing. “But what about the Sergeant?”
One of the guard glanced back at her before taking off his helmet and shaking his head, face twisted in anguish.
Riyo shut off her comm before going to him, hesitantly resting a hand on his shoulder as she recognized his face. “I am so sorry, Walker.”
Walker managed a nod before pulling his helmet back on, trying to close himself off. “He went with Two-One to help the medics here first.” He paused, gaze going towards where medics were triaging the injured. “Sprinter--he fell. And Two-One is not in good condition.”
Riyo nodded. “Where can I help?”
“You any good with bacta or bandages?” one of the other guardsmen asked--Skipper, she was fairly certain.
Riyo offered a tired smile. “One does not have three younger siblings and not learn the finer art of cleaning and caring for all sorts of scrapes, bumps, and bruises.”
Skipper handed over a medkit with a firm nod. “The wounded out here, for the most part, have relatively minor injuries. Broken bones, bad burns, and the like have been brought to the medbay already.”
“Got it,” Riyo replied, taking the medkit before her eyes fell on three troopers set away from neat lines of sitting wounded men. These three men were lying in the dirt, their armor melted, dented, or removed completely and the black bodysuits beneath torn or cut away. Blood seeped from their wounds, and all three faces were twisted in agony, though one had gone very, very pale.
“Skipper…” Riyo called hesitantly before nodding to the three. “Why aren’t they in the medbay? Those men look to be in critical condition!”
“Because they will not survive the night,” a deep voice answered from behind Riyo before Skipper had the chance to respond.
Riyo sucked in a breath, carefully schooling her expression before she turned to face General Krell. “That remains to be seen,” she said evenly.
“One is already dead,” Krell responded. “The other two are well on their way.”
“If that is the case, then at the very least the medics can offer them a humane death! In a cot with painkillers and surrounded by their brothers!” Riyo replied immediately before marching towards the three. It was then that she realized that one of the anguished clones was ‘Two-One,’ as the Guardsmen had called him, with his long hair falling out of its bun while his chest heaved for air.
“S--Senator…” he managed to choke out, his brown eyes pleading for any sort of help she may be able to offer.
Riyo knelt beside him, opening the medkit and digging through until she found some bacta. The least she could do was treat some of his lesser wounds and attempt to soothe him.
Even with the soldier struggling to breathe and the odd angle of his arm, Riyo severely doubted that he was on his deathbed, especially not when the battalion was supplied by the Republic. Sure, they absolutely should be taking better care of their soldiers--this whole trip had proven that to her time and time again--but they were at least given decent medical supplies.
“Why are you wasting valuable resources on that thing?” Krell stepped to the side of Two-One, hauling him up by his broken and potentially dislocated arm.
Two-One’s mouth opened in a silent scream, face turning deathly pale as his eyes glazed over.
“Put him down!” Riyo commanded, drawing herself up to her full height--though her full height was pitifully short in comparison to the clones, let alone the massive besalisk.
“It is a waste of resources and time when we could be making an attack on the enemy!” Krell retorted before tossing Two-One aside. The trooper landed limply on the ground and didn’t move.. Riyo could only hope that the shock of what Krell had done hadn’t actually killed him.
Riyo grit her teeth, steeling every nerve in her body. She had faced off against the Talz’s brute strength and the Trade Federation’s cunning--she could do this, too. “It would seem to me, General, that you are not fit to command this battalion when you would rather send your soldiers into a meat grinder as opposed to caring for their well-being.”
“They are creatures created in a tube to die. They are only fulfilling their purpose,” Krell hissed.
“And sending them to their deaths is yours?” Riyo asked, eyes narrowed. “Somehow, I do not think the Jedi Council would look kindly upon such a thing.”
The pair stared at each other in the subsequent silence, gazes steely and unyielding as neither blinked until the general’s comm device chirped and a holo flickered above his wrist when he held it out.
“Master Krell, heard about the attack on Agora, we have,” Master Yoda said, his flipped manner of speech grating on Riyo’s already long-since frayed patience. “Sending reinforcements for evacuation, we are.”
Krell squinted, jaw grinding as he stared at the holo of the Jedi grandmaster. “We’re abandoning this campaign?”
“Successful, it was not, and needed elsewhere, you and your battalion are,” Yoda replied.
Riyo cleared her throat, allowing herself a small smile of satisfaction as Yoda turned towards her.
“Senator, relieved to see you alive and well, I am.”
“And you, Master Jedi,” Riyo said, dipping her head politely. “These men have fought valiantly, despite their hardships. I hope additional supplies can be sent their way, to more than make up for what was lost in the bombardment?”
Yoda nodded. “Arranged, it will be. Sending another transport for you and your squad, we are. Return to Coruscant, you must.”
“Of course, Master Yoda. I greatly appreciate it,” Riyo murmured, giving another respectful bow of her head before glaring up at Krell as the holo flickered off.
“There, I have arranged for more supplies, since you seem to be in such short supply as to not wish to care for the more critically injured,” Riyo said primly before looking to the gathered medics and other clones, who had all frozen to watch the exchange with bated breath. “Skipper, Walker.”
“Yes, ma’am,” they responded, both straightening to attention.
“Please assist the medics with getting Two-One and these other critically injured clones to the medbay immediately. I will speak with Runner when we arrive and ensure they are all properly cared for.” Riyo gave a nod before looking back at Krell. “Did you have anything else to add, General?”
Krell simply glared at her, clearly seeing he had lost this battle of wills, and stalked off to the command center.
Notes:
Content warnings for depictions of traumatic injuries. We tried to keep descriptions tame, but better to let you know now.
Need more reasons to hate Krell? No worries, we have you covered!
Today is world story-telling day, and we are here to encourage all story-tellers (whether you write, draw, or do some other kind of story-telling thing) to continue pursuing their passions. This project has been a labor of love for us since the Fall, and watching it come together and be so well received has been a delight. Thank you times a million for sticking with us, and we hope you have a wonderful week!
Chapter Text
Fox, no longer able to stand guard over the mourning jedi who he was fairly certain could hold her own in pretty much every feasible situation, walked in a haze towards the infirmary. He selfishly hoped that he could distract himself from Sprinter’s death by throwing himself into helping the medics. After that bombardment, surely one healthy clone would be more than handy in the infirmary. The medics probably could care less if his motivations weren't entirely pure, though he sincerely did not want to see brothers needlessly die.
He'd make himself useful, at least until he could find some private place to process the news of Sprinter's death. Someplace well away from the 57th, who seemed more robotic and unfeeling than flesh and blood, and even from Lima squad, who looked to him as an unflappable leader. No, it had to be private and alone and it certainly had to wait until he could set eyes on the rest of his vode.
When Fox entered the medbay, one of the few buildings still standing, it was almost pure chaos.
Runner stood at the center of the room, the only clone on his feet with his bucket off, somehow able to coordinate the battalion’s efforts to heal their brothers better than the actual head medic. Though upon a second glance, Fox wasn’t sure he would even be able to identify the head medic among the people moving back and forth between the beds in perfectly uniform armor.
Fox went to Runner once the opportunity presented itself and took a quick glance around. “Any way I can help?”
Runner sighed and shook his head. “It’s a madhouse, Fox. Most of these men aren’t too badly injured, and once we have them patched up they can be on their way.” He paused before wincing. “Not that they exactly have much in the way of barracks that they could rest in anymore.”
Fox nodded in agreement. “How bad were the casualties?”
“Not sure, yet. Sounds like they’re still counting bodies and finding injured brothers. Once they’ve gone through the encampment, they’ll start checking for those who might have fallen down below. We just got a comm that they’re bringing in three more critically injured, though it seems one may already be gone,” Runner murmured before he pulled back in confusion, eyes looking past Fox and towards the doors.
Fox turned, only to see the Senator stalking towards them with a righteous fury in her eyes.
What have we done now? he thought, a cold spike of fear running down his spine. The Pantoran senator had seemed so very different from the usual senators they dealt with. She actually listened to them and learned their names and put stock in their thoughts and opinions. But Fox knew that look of acerbic contempt perhaps better than he knew his own face, and it was one that he had grown to fear, more for his vode’s sake than for his own.
“Private Runner.” Chuchi strode up to them and both Fox and Runner immediately snapped to attention, as did every other clone physically able to do so. “These men are critically injured and need to be tended to immediately. I would prefer, given the circumstances, that you be the lead on their care.”
Runner blinked, shifting almost imperceptibly on his feet, though Fox still caught the nervous tell. “Circumstances, ma’am?”
“Private, if I may ask, how many extremely critical care patients have you received in the medbay thus far?” Riyo asked, and the question caught Fox off-guard. What was she getting at? What was her agenda, and how badly would Runner be punished for whatever he said?
Runner frowned. “Only a couple. Really it’s very lucky, considering the state the encampment is in and how many brothers are injured, ma’am.”
“And what of the other patients? How many would you say of those?” Riyo pressed. Fox’s heart rate picked up–-she hadn’t liked Runner’s answer. He silently pleaded for her to not harm his brother–-he had already lost Sprinter. He wasn’t ready to lose Runner as well.
Runner glanced down at his datapad. “Most brought to the medbay have just had broken bones, some second and small third degree burns, and scratches that we can stitch up. Anything extremely minor--first degree burns, cuts that don’t require stitches, bruising, and the like--have been kept out of the medbay unless absolutely necessary.”
“Well, I have reason to believe that the most critically injured are still lying outside of these walls,” Riyo said matter-of-factly. “All medics need to be re-directing their efforts to bring those most critically injured here immediately, and if anyone puts up a fuss, they can address it with me.”
Fox relaxed ever so slightly. She wasn’t upset with Runner’s performance. He mentally repeated what she’d led with-–she wanted Runner to take point on the care for these new injured. Obviously she wasn’t upset with them, otherwise she wouldn’t have done that.
Runner gave a firm nod. “Yes, ma’am. Of course.” He turned back to the rest of the room. “Clear beds six, seven, and eight and bring these men there. Three-Nine, send out the command to bring all critically injured here stat. And you, make sure those beds are well stocked with anything we might need for massive bleeding, major third degree burns, and the like.”
The medics immediately began moving again and though Fox tried to follow, desperately wanting to know what exactly had spurred this change in the senator’s demeanor, Riyo turned on her heel and marched out of the medbay. He thought he caught her saying something about tracking down Commander Rin, but Fox didn’t have a chance to inquire further as he was carried away on the tide of working medics.
Hours passed, daylight waning into evening as Fox was put to work with a bacta spray and some bandages to treat the more mild wounds that didn’t require much specialized training while another medic followed to take care of any stitches and release the troopers once they were finished. Around them, other medics passed by in loose papery smocks that were tied over their armor and speckled with blood and other bodily fluids that Fox didn’t want to think about. They called out needs and the statuses of their different patients as the more critically injured were brought for care, and the medbay fell into a steady rhythm around Fox.
Fox was beyond thankful for the noise and activity, though he did not understand much of what was being said. It drowned out the echo of Skipper’s voice in his head that kept repeating that Sprinter was marching on, but that only worked for so long as the less critically injured Clones were discharged from the medbay and Fox was left with nothing to do aside from find Tuck, who was watching the scene with a sense of numb horror.
Fox heavily settled onto the one stool in the whole medbay--or so it seemed–-conveniently placed beside Tuck. He took off his bucket as he sighed. “How are you doing?”
Tuck shook his head. “It’s… a lot to take in.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t visit sooner,” Fox said wearily, rubbing his hands over his face.
Tuck weakly shrugged. “Mission always comes first, Sir. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to help.”
Fox shook his head. “Then we might have lost another vod.”
“Or he--he may not have fallen,” Tuck managed before resting his head back against the pillow and closing his eyes. “Skipper told me when he had a spare minute between bringing the others in.”
“Yeah,” Fox replied emptily, unable to say anything more.
Tuck glanced over. “You alright, Commander?”
Fox cracked a weak smirk. “Like you said, it’s a lot to take in.” He sighed. “Tuck, I know it is… perhaps preemptive, as we do not yet have Sprinter's body, but once his death is confirmed… I would like you to take his role as Sergeant of Lima Squad.”
“Me, Sir?” Tuck blinked. “But I’m, well, a transplant.”
Fox nodded. “Yes, you. You’re the oldest of any of them and are easily the most level-headed. And while you may have been a ‘transplant’ a year ago, that’s not so much the case anymore, vod.”
Tuck pursed his lips. “Have you discussed this with the others?”
“I can, if you would like, but I know those men. I helped train them back on Kamino. And I know they would be more than thrilled to see you promoted,” Fox said firmly.
Tuck closed his eyes for a moment before giving a small smile. “I will accept, Sir. So long as they accept me.”
“It’s either that or I have to find a Sergeant for you lot from a different squad. I am not about to let Skipper, Walker, or Loit take point. And Runner would not want to give up his responsibilities as the team medic.” Fox snorted.
Tuck managed a smile before his face fell as he looked around the now mostly-empty medbay. “Sir, can I ask you something about the 57th?”
Fox glanced around the room to ensure no one was near them before giving a stiff nod.
Tuck sucked in his lips. “Commander, these vode… you’ve noticed that their armor isn’t painted, right? They don’t use their names? Something here is… wrong . At least, it feels like something is wrong.”
“It does feel that way, doesn’t it,” Fox replied drily. He may have just witnessed two jedi fighting each other just hours before, but it was not something he was about to share with Tuck or anyone else who hadn’t witnessed it themselves. Even then, he wasn’t keen on speaking about it with those who had been there.
“So we’re not going to do anything?” Tuck stared.
Fox shook his head. “I don’t know that there’s anything we can do. Like it or not, this is the reality for front-line infantry, though most Generals do seem to have a better rapport with their troops. At least, that is what I’ve heard.”
Tuck nodded, sighing as he let the topic drop. “I suppose, sir. Have we found a new ship?”
“Sounds like the Jedi, or someone powerful, is sending a transport ship for us to take back to Coruscant and then the 57th is going to be pulling out after we leave,” Fox replied, glad that the conversation had crossed into something closer to normal. He snorted mirthlessly. “Never thought I’d be glad to get off a paradise planet and back to Coruscant.”
“Won’t be the same without Sprinter,” Tuck mumbled before both he and Fox froze as a couple beds down, a clone covered in bandages and a blood-stained medical gown began to cry out while a medic tried to pin him down.
Fox frowned as he looked back at Tuck. “Who is that? Do you know?”
“Two-One, Sir, the one that helped us get to the encampment in the first place, as I understand it. He was one of the first critically injured they brought in. I heard a few whispering about him and what had happened--said the general…” Tuck trailed off before lowering his voice even more, “they said the general ordered the medics to not bring in any critically injured to the medbay, to just let them… die outside.”
Fox froze. “What?”
Tuck hesitantly nodded. “Yeah. One of the others, I heard them call him Clutch. It’s the first time I’ve ever heard one of them have a name…”
The harsh screech of durasteel in need of oil echoed through the infirmary as Two-One thrashed. His voice rose above it all, just a few octaves shy of a scream as he begged the medic to stop doing whatever they were doing.
“Two-one, I’m just pushing some pain killers, I promise,” the medic said urgently, but the young clone was having none of it.
“No--please, I don’t… I don’t want--”
“You’re not being decommissioned, Two-one. Just calm down, ” the medic pressed a hand to the trooper’s shoulder, which only caused the man to struggle further.
Fox turned and went across to where the younger soldier was, Tuck’s words echoing in his mind. “Medic, what’s going on?”
“Sorry Commander,” the medic replied apologetically. “Ten-twenty-one is just being a bit difficult about letting me push his next round of meds.” In one swift motion, he reached over and grabbed Two-One’s messy bun, pulling his head to the side to better expose his neck. Two-One weakly cried out and tried to wrangle himself free, only to deflate as the medic plunged a hypo in his neck a few moments later. The medic stood up after a moment and gave a stiff nod. “He shouldn’t be much of a bother anymore, sir.”
Fox frowned, watching the medic turn and march off to another patient a few beds down before taking in the young trooper before him. Unlike most infantrymen Fox had met when they were on leave on Coruscant, Two-One did not have any kind of tattoo visible on his face or any patch of visible skin. The only distinguishing factor was his hair, the curls that had once been tied back in a bun now sticking, sweat-drenched across his face.
“Sir, p--please don’t let them…” Two-One trailed off as his hand loosely gripped Fox’s wrist.
“Don’t let them do what, Trooper?” Fox asked gently. He would have pulled over a chair, but it seemed the only chair in the whole medbay was the one next to Tuck’s bed and Clutch did not seem eager to let go, even if his hold was weak.
Two-One shook, his brown eyes wide with terror. “Please don’t--don’t let them send me back!”
“Send you back where? To the front lines?” Fox studied the young man carefully. The clones were designed to have a high tolerance for the battlefield and the horrors they would inevitably experience outside the white, pristine hallways of Kamino--though admittedly, there were horrors there, too. But Two-One was a shiny, or at least shinier than most. The first battle was always difficult, and losing one's entire squad was an ordeal, but there seemed to be more at play.
“Kamino,” Two-One managed, eyes slipping closed as he shuddered. “Or… Or with the general.”
Fox carefully sat on the edge of the bed, resting his gloved hand over the one Clutch had, well, clutched around his wrist. “Yeah, I don’t exactly care for those options either.”
“They’re-- he’s going to order me to be… to be--” Two-One sucked in a breath, though it sounded as if he couldn’t take in a full lungful of air.
Fox squeezed his hand. “You’re okay, Trooper. It’s Clutch, right?”
As if the shiny didn’t already look terrified enough, his face paled even further and he started panting. “I--I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t--I don’t--I’m ten-twenty-one, sir.”
“You won’t get in trouble with me for having a name,” Fox murmured. “Clutch is a good name. How’d you get it? From a trainer? Or a fellow vod?”
Clutch simply stared at Fox as if he’d grown a second head, eyes searching the elder clone’s face with pupils blown wide from the effects of the pain medication.
“You know the squad I brought? I helped most of them find their names. Sprinter was one of the fastest clones on Kamino. I think only a few of the commandos could beat his times around the track,” Fox said softly before sighing. “He was a good soldier, and we could always depend on him to track down and catch some of the more slippery types on Coruscant. He… will be missed. Just as your squad will be. But they’re marching on ahead of us. We’ll see them all again, but in the meantime, we’ll just keep fighting this war for them…” he trailed off, glancing back down at the young trooper, who’s eyes had slowly drifted shut as his breathing evened out.
Fox sat in silence for a few moments, watching the monitor above the bed as it tracked the clone’s heart rhythm and other readings that made absolutely no sense to him, but after a few minutes had passed, Fox was certain the younger man had fallen asleep.
“Sleep well, kid. We’ll try and figure this out while you do,” Fox said softly before pulling himself from Clutch’s limp grasp and getting back to his feet, returning to Tuck.
Tuck was still watching the younger clone, eyes anchored as if Fox was still there. He shook his head and looked back up. “We’re going to do something, right?”
“I can’t take a whole battalion back with us, Tuck,” Fox muttered. “And aside from that, the General outranks me.”
Tuck made a sour face. “Then what are you going to do? Nothing isn’t an option.”
“I’m going to honor Sprinter’s last wish,” Fox replied simply, pulling his bucket back on.
“And that was?”
Fox glanced back at Tuck. “I’m going to try and get Clutch transferred to the Guard.”
The lean-to that had served as Fox’s quarters was, somehow, still standing. He marched straight in, tore off his helmet, and threw it at the floor. The glorified plastoid bucket bounced across the packed soil before settling on its side. How many evenings had he spent cursing that damn thing only to sing its praises the very next night? Unfeeling and yet privy to all of Fox’s most vulnerable moments, such as now. He could feel his emotions building within his chest like a bomb about to explode, and he tore his eyes from his helmet in shame. A Marshal Commander did not cry. He was supposed to be better than that. How many of his vode had he witness the murder of?
Though, technically , you couldn’t murder something that was only property.
Sorrow turned to rage, and Fox clawed his hands through his hair, trying to reign in his emotions. To raise his barriers. To cut himself off from the feelings set to explode.
But as so many times before, he gave in. He snatched the wonderful, perfect, beautiful helmet off the ground and shoved it on his head. With a few frantic blinks to cut off the comms, he was effectively alone and he relished in it. Solitude and safety; heaven if such a thing existed. Then, and only then, did Marshal Commander Fox allow himself to cry. To sob. Sorrow and pain tore through his body, and when he shook so bad that he couldn’t stand, he fell to his cot.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. Sprinter was supposed to be alive. He was supposed to be in the medbay, helping Runner heal the wounded or in the middle of the encampment, coordinating the clean-up efforts. He was supposed to be on the flight home. He was supposed to be with Lima until the end of the damn war. He was supposed to be leaning on Fox’s doorjamb a week after they returned, making some snide remark about Fox’s caf consumption and the “designer” bags under his eyes. Most importantly, Sprinter was supposed to be alive.
Fox’s hands grabbed at the edge of his helmet, torn between the sanctuary it offered and the pounding in his head that demanded to be out. For the walls that seemed to be closing in all around to relent and for fresh air replace them. He threw his arms to his side and screamed into his helmet in rage until his throat ran dry and he had nothing left to give. All he could do was heave shaking breaths and stare at nothing.
In the corner of his HUD, he could still see the vitals for Lima--minus Sprinter’s. The absence was a mockery of the likes he would not tolerate. His lips twisted into a scowl and he tore off the helmet once more. Fresh, cool, humid air hit him like a wall, and he sucked in a breath to hold back another wave of tears. How he could cry himself dry and still have tears left to shed was beyond him. Perhaps it was a curse–-tears with a side of more tears, free of charge!
Just like this Clone’s labor–-free, free, free. Do whatever you want-–he can’t feel. Those tears mean nothing, they’re just a feature to make you think it feels, isn’t that right? The illusion of humanity! What a wonderful design feature; thank you Lama Su.
Fox hid his face in his hands and gently shook his head from side to side. Some small part of his mind told him that he was spiraling-–it sounded a lot like something Runner would say. Perhaps that was where he’d heard it, though he didn’t think it had been directed at him. It didn’t matter. He was being illogical. He was better than this. He was--
He was going to be sick.
In a graceless scramble to the far end of his lean-to, Fox managed to make it off of his cot before retching. He braced himself on his knees before falling to all fours and throwing up what little food he’d managed to consume that morning. It wasn’t much, especially after twelve hours, which was a blessing, but it left him feeling hollow. What more do I have to give? He thought absently to himself, staring at the floor without seeing. Being pressure washed from the inside would probably have been gentler than how Fox felt right then.
He stared at his mess for some time before removing his gloves and burying it. Despite his low opinions regarding the 57th, he didn’t want whomever got his lean-to when they departed to discover that he’d left them a present. Not to mention the gossip networks--the last thing he needed were rumors floating around that he couldn’t handle facing actual front-lines conflict. Because he could face front-line conflict. He had been one of the first out of a LAAT/i on Geonosis and watched his brothers, those he had trained with and those he had trained, get cut down by battle droids and Geonosians alike.
He took a long drink of water from his canteen and pushed himself to a sitting position next to his cot. Now what? He looked around the tight space. A blue light on his bed stand--the only time in his entire life that he’d had such a luxury as supposedly-normal furniture--answered his prayers.
Senator Chuchi’s datapad.
Riyo hadn’t taken her datapad back yet, and truthfully, Fox had forgotten that he had it. But returning it to the senator would need to wait. Perhaps Fox and Sprinter had debated about the possibility of adding Clutch to the guard, and Fox still thought his arguments had good merit, but he couldn’t let Sprinter down. Not now. Not ever.
Re-invigorated, Fox snatched the datapad off the table and tapped away, his brow knit together in focus. For all of his deep hatred of flimsiwork, he was good at it. He was even better at finding the easiest and most effective forms to push things through in the shortest amount of time. Now was one of those times that he needed things done fast. Who knew how much longer Lima would be on Agora, and he would rather have everyone leaving on the same ship. Fox coldly smiled as he found the form in question: GAR 427-8766737-EZ.
GAR 427-8766737-EZ
CT-82-1021 to be relocated to Lima Squad, The Coruscant Guard , effective immediately .
Species: Human Clone DOB: N/A, Decanted Gender: Male Eye Color: Brown
Hair: Brown Lekku: N/A Height: 1.83m Skin Color: Tan
Home Planet: Kamino
Previous Assignment: the 57th Attack Battalion
Reason for Relocation: Original Squad Deceased, Opening in Receiving Squad
Approved by:
Personnel being Relocated
Original Commanding Officer
CC-1010
New Commanding Officer
Senatorial Representative (If Applicable)
Jedi Representative (If Applicable)
“Welcome to the Coruscant Guard, Two-One…” Fox whispered as he studied the form. Once Chuchi digitally signed the form, they’d have two of the three necessary signatures. If the kid could type, then they’d just need to work on General Krell. If the kid couldn’t type… well… Fox could suddenly be blind. And forgetful.
Getting General Krell’s signature would be difficult. Fox had no fantasies that he could do anything to convince the besalisk of anything. Neither Commander Rin nor Senator Chuchi had even attempted to get on the general’s good side, so their convincing of General Krell was… uncertain, to say the least. Fox rested his head back on the wall and studied the ceiling. How would they convince the general to release one of his clones from service in the 57th? Krell didn’t give a rat’s ass what happened to his men, that much was clear. But would he deny Two-One’s relocation just to spite Rin and Riyo? Fox wouldn’t put it past him. If the women pulled rank, that would probably be enough to make him consider the transfer. Perhaps the threat of losing rank? What was it that made the besalisk tick?
His comm beeped, and he sucked in a breath as he emerged from his thoughts. He wouldn’t ignore an incoming call now. Maybe there was good news for a change. Wouldn’t that be something?
“This is Fox.” He said into his comm as he stowed his--well, Chuchi’s--datapad away, more than satisfied with his progress on Sprinter’s final wish.
Walker leaned against a tree, his helmet beside him. Silent tears ran down his cheeks as he looked at the neverending woods. “Sprinter was going to be my best man,” he said pitifully.
“You aren’t even engaged,” Skipper replied in an empty voice from his spot on the other side of the tree. Their usefulness had been exhausted after all of the injured clones were brought to the medbay, and they had slipped out of the back of the camp and into the woods beyond to sit in silence and try to make sense of everything that had happened.
“I know that. But when the war’s over and we all become citizens of the Republic I can propose to Zuri, Sprinter was going to be my best man…” Walker trailed off.
“You believe they’re actually going to make us citizens?” Skipper barked a dry laugh. “What a load of osik.”
Walker’s face twisted with rage and he spun around, cocking back a fist as he did. Skipper’s cheek made a loud crack as Walker made contact, and the man cried out as he fell to his side. “They have to! They will. I believe the Republic will realize what they’ve done and will make all of us citizens.” Walker insisted, fists still raised.
“That’s a fantasy, ” Skipper growled, lightly touching his cheek as blood trickled down from the corner of his mouth. “They aren’t going to waste their votes on us. But sure, pretend that they will so you can marry Zuri.”
“I won’t invite you.”
Skipper crawled over to a different tree to lean on, letting a tense silence linger between them before he sighed. “Sorry for pissing you off. I’m just… Sprinter wasn’t supposed to go like this.”
Walker studied his younger brother for a minute before deflating and leaning against his tree again. “No, Sprinter wasn’t.” He looked down at the dirt and watched a small bug crawl along the soil. “Remember when he commandeered that radio to play smazzo music?”
“How could I forget?” Skipper smiled fondly. “We spent the next week moving between glimmik, smazzo, and heavy isotope.” He softly laughed. “That was a great week.”
Walker smiled and nodded in agreement. “I remember him giving me crap about that hairstyle I had a few months back.”
“That was a bad haircut.” Skipper agreed.
“Eh… I thought I looked good.” Walker shrugged.
“Thank the Force someone did.” Skipper snickered.
“We have the same face.”
“But I didn’t have that haircut.”
“Touché.” Walker snorted before frowning and looking back towards the base. “Sounds like camp is waking up again…”
Skipper looked over his shoulder. “Looks like you’re right. Should we… join them?”
“Probably. At the very least, ask around and figure out where we’re sleeping… Rather not camp out in the open…” Walker said before forcing himself to his feet. “When we’re back on Coruscant, we’re going to 79’s to drink a glass to Sprinter.”
“That goes without saying,” Skipper replied as he got to his feet and pulled on his bucket. He gestured ahead of them. “Lead on.”
Walker nodded and headed back to the encampment. As they got close, he made out the forms of clones carrying the bodies of fallen vode out of an opening in the cave system that hadn’t been there before. “They’re bringing up the fallen!” Walker said with a gasp. He picked up his pace, praying that they’d already brought Sprinter up. Then they’d be able to give him a proper funeral and pay their respects and reminisce and--
Something was wrong.
What Walker had thought was the chatter of vode looking for batchmates was hissing and snarls of men arguing. They were pulling off armor from the fallen, fighting over chest plates and greaves and helmets. Walker came up short as he watched one trooper punch another. As soon as the man fell, his assailant snatched the kama from his hands and clipped it around his waist. Walker took a shaky step back, his mind reeling. “What is going on here?” he whispered in horror.
“They’re stealing the armor,” Skipper breathed. “That’s why all of their kits are mis-matched. Holy--Walker, comm Fox. Now. I’m going to look for Sprinter.” He scrambled into action and ran into the fray, shoving clones aside and trying to delicately shift the dead to get a better look at their faces and armor.
“Right.” Walker lifted his comm to his mouth, still struggling to process the almost cannibalistic scene in front of him.
“This is Fox.”
“They’re looting the bodies.” Walker said robotically. He blinked and shook his head. “Fox, they’re bringing up vode’s bodies from the valley and stripping their armor for parts!”
Notes:
Content warning for descriptions of anxiety attacks.
As we are creative but not that creative, the form Fox fills out translates to GAR GAR-TROOPER-EZ in flip-phone text! Be on the lookout for future times that we're creative but not that creative.
Not too many exciting obscure holidays going on, so instead we'll take a moment to thank all of you who do comment (your comments give us an immense amount of joy) and apologize that we haven't really responded. Social anxiety crops up in weird ways, but if you ever have any questions, we will absolutely answer those, and we will get better about responding to your comments in general! Otherwise, we hope you have an amazing week ahead!
Chapter 11
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
What had once been the commissary had turned into something from Fox’s nightmares. As night rose, some troopers turned on the lamps mounted to their helmets, creating an eerie scene of dancing spotlights illuminating piles of dead and the men looting them. One trooper’s corpse was already robbed of all his useful armor, and his body was strewn hap-hazardly on his side. Fox fought to contain his rage as he turned on his own helmet’s lamps. “ What is going on here?” he demanded.
Nobody paid him any heed. Fox’s lips twisted into a snarl as he watched one trooper pull the bucket off of a fallen man whose head simply fell limp, his eyes rolled back in his head and dried blood running down his chin. Fox turned up the microphone on his helmet. “What the kriff do you men think you are doing?” he roared.
The clones froze, and those nearest to him shied away. Fox clenched his fists. “You have five seconds to explain this,” he growled.
“What does it look like?” one man snapped. “They don’t need it anymore. We do!”
Fox looked towards the man who’d spoken. “You have begun to cannibalize your own brothers for their armor? ”
“The general isn’t getting us new kits. I’m sure that on Coruscant, things are different. But out here?” a man with yellow markings on his armor scoffed. “You take or get slaughtered.”
Fox scowled in disgust before recoiling in surprise. “You’re the commander.” he realized. The man’s armor was shockingly old, easily dating to Geonosis. But the areas that had once been white were now a maze of grass stains, burn residue, and a cracked dark substance that Fox desperately hoped wasn’t dried blood.
“No shit,” the commander barked a laugh. “Pleased to meet you, Marshal Commander Fox. ” He bowed mockingly before straightening. “Go back to your cushy quarters. We’re in the business of surviving here.”
Fox regarded the other man in horror. “Why have you not ordered phase II kits?” he asked numbly. “Bacta. Things that help men survive.”
“You don’t think I’ve tried?” the commander asked incredulously before laughing. It was a sick, strangled sound that grated on Fox’s ears. “I have! The general--” the man gestured vaguely, “says we are not worth keeping alive. We were created to fight someone else’s war and then die. This, what we clones are doing, it’s just good economic thinking.” The commander picked up a looted armband. “Recycling. I hear it’s all the rage on the core worlds.” He dropped the plastoid and jerked his chin towards Fox. “Go back to where you came from, bootlicker.”
Fox stiffened and marched forward. “You insult the armor you wear.”
“I am the armor I wear,” the commander spat.
“Fox! I got him!” Skipper called, and Fox tore his gaze from the 57th’s commander to look towards his friend. Skipper and Walker were struggling to carry away a body in red painted armor. A cold pit opened in Fox’s stomach at the sight. Sprinter.
The men who’d gathered to loot the bodies, however, only saw the body of a man in a complete phase II kit and swarmed Skipper and Walker, both of whom cried out in shock.
Panic shot through Fox like a blaster bolt and he ran to his vode. He body slammed one assailant away before turning and punching another into submission. This was not how this was supposed to be. It wasn’t what Sprinter, or any clone, deserved. But as Fox continued punching, headbutting, and kicking men away from Sprinter’s corpse, he couldn’t consider alternatives. Pulling rank would only make things worse, and if he paused for even a second, he feared that someone would steal a piece of Sprinter’s armor.
“Commander Fox? What’s going on here?” a feminine voice asked, and Fox froze, as did every one of the gathered clones.
Fox straightened and turned towards the senator. “The men of the 57th are taking the armor of their fallen brothers to upgrade their kits. I… was trying to protect Sprinter’s body and my men.” His heart pounded in his ears as he watched the senator, waiting for her judgment.
She was wrapped in a blanket, her hair undone and a silky lock trailing over her shoulder. Without her senatorial clothes and golden hairpieces, she looked almost… civilian. Fox pushed the thought out of his head as he met her gaze, albeit through his helmet. Her brow was knit together, her lips set in a tight frown. “Does the Republic not provide the necessary armor for the army?”
“It is up to the commanding officer to requisition new kits for their troopers,” Fox explained, and Chuchi looked at the men of the 57th, a disparate group of men in mismatched armor. Some were missing pieces, the replacements hanging from their hands. Others wore battered armor with missing clasps or jagged cuts running across the white plastoid. Not even the commanding officer wore a uniform kit, though it was nigh hard to tell beneath the muck plastered onto it.
“Who is your commanding officer?” Chuchi asked them.
“I am,” the man with yellow markings declared, puffing out his chest. “CC-4927.”
Fox clenched his jaw as he studied the backside of the other man. Show the Senator some respect, trooper.
“Have you failed to requisition new armaments?” the senator asked.
“General Krell believes it best if he handles all the requisitions for the battalion. In response to the expendability of clones, the General decided that it’s best for the economic success of the Republic that we salvage and recycle the armor of fallen soldiers who no longer need it,” the Commander responded, looking down at Riyo with a smug expression. “We have saved the Republic thousands of credits by using this method of armoring ourselves.”
Chuchi studied him for a minute, face souring at the tone of his final statement, before looking at Fox. “Get Sprinter out of here.”
“Yes ma’am.” Fox stiffly nodded before turning to Skipper and Walker. The pair were standing over Sprinter’s corpse, one holding the painted red handguard that someone had managed to take from Sprinter’s hand. Fox sighed and stooped down to pick up Sprinter before Skipper or Walker could. It was bad enough that they had fought vode for the right to even have Sprinter’s corpse.
“This is unacceptable. Today is the last time you will loot your brothers for their armor,” Chuchi declared behind them. “I will personally ensure that you are each given a new set of phase II armor, and that there is a continuous supply chain to replace any broken pieces.”
“That’s not necessary, Senator,” CC-4927 said curtly, and Fox grit his teeth at the trooper’s tone of voice. Were that clone under his command, Fox would give him three days in solitary and a month on freshers for that attitude. “We are more than happy to continue recycling unneeded armor.”
“Perhaps you are, but I am not,” Riyo replied coolly. “Prepare the fallen for funerals. It’s the least they deserve after giving their lives for the Republic.”
There was a long pause before CC-4927 responded. “Fine,” the commander relented. “As you wish, Senator.”
Fox looked over his shoulder at the exchange, wishing that he could be in two places at once. Riyo shouldn’t be standing there by herself. CC-4927 proved to be just as cruel as his General, and Fox did not want to have something happen to Riyo while under his protection. Granted, he didn’t want anything bad to happen to her period. He tore his gaze away and continued walking back to his quarters, Sprinter in his arms with Skipper and Walker trailing behind.
“What’re we going to do?” Skipper asked. “Even if we bury him, nothing’s stopping them from digging him up and stripping him after we leave.”
“We could take his armor with us?” Walker suggested. “Keep it as a memento in our barracks?”
“That’s sick.” Skipper shook his head. He pushed open the sorry excuse for a door to the Commander’s cramped quarters and sighed. “Well… I don’t know what I expected. But it was something nicer than this…”
Fox rolled his eyes as he stooped to get in. “It isn’t a Coruscanti penthouse, that’s for sure.” He carefully laid his brother on the cot. “We’ll keep him here this evening. I don’t know when we’re leaving, but it’ll be soon if I had to guess.”
“And in the morning?” Skipper asked.
“I don’t know.” Fox rested a hand on his fallen brother’s shoulder. “But you’re right, if we bury him, nothing is stopping the 57th from looting his grave.” He looked to Walker. “I need you to go back to Senator Chuchi. Make sure she’s safe–Forty Nine Twenty-Seven seems to take after his General and I don’t want something foul to happen between the Senator and the Commander.”
Walker stiffly nodded and hurried out.
Fox carefully removed his helmet and looked back at Sprinter’s body and Skipper who knelt beside him. He focused on the painted armor, compartmentalizing so he didn’t necessarily recognize the broken body within. It was a technique he had learned quickly during the Battle of Geonosis--looking at damaged armor kept all the feelings of guilt and grief at bay so he could keep fighting and keep leading his brothers that were still alive.
Sprinter’s armor was in bad shape, but not to the point where it wasn’t fixable. The disintegrated shoulder clasp could be replaced and the dents hammered out and back into shape. The cracks in the helmet could be re-sealed and sanded so it looked as though it was fresh from the armory, and all of the grime and dirt and branches from the fall could be stripped away and the armor neatly painted. The internal workings of the armor--the electronics and sensors--would need to be recalibrated if not outright replaced, but it was something they could easily do on Coruscant.
“We have to take his armor with us. The 57th needs to see that the armor is gone, then they won’t try to steal it from him. I don’t like it, but to keep the sanctity of his grave…” Fox shook his head and heaved a sigh. “It’s what we’ll have to do.”
“What’re we going to do once we’re back on Coruscant?” Skipper hesitantly asked.
What would they do? They didn’t usually keep fallen vode’s armor. That wasn’t a thing. It was buried with them. Fox stared blankly ahead of himself before he felt the datapad at his side buzz with a notification, and the reminder of his promise to fulfill Sprinter’s last wish came flooding back. “We give it to Two-One.”
“Give it to Two-One?”
“Yes. I need three signatures and he’ll officially be one of the Coruscant Guard.” Fox looked up at Skipper. “It was Sprinter’s dying wish. I intend to honor it. Assuming I get those signatures and Thire approves it, Two-One will be joining Lima Squad.”
Skipper was silent for a minute before he nodded. “Okay. But… who’s going to be our new sergeant?”
“Tuck. I’ve already spoken with him, and he’s accepted his promotion.”
“So we aren’t getting a transplant leader?”
“No. Lima Squad is not getting a transplant leader,” Fox confirmed.
The tension drained out of Skipper’s body and he dropped his head slightly. “Thank you, Fox.” He looked towards Sprinter. “Walker just reported over comms that the Senator is safe.”
“Good. I… I need to take care of some things.” Fox grabbed his bucket and pushed himself to his feet. “Keep him safe.”
“We’re not going anywhere,” Skipper said, trying quite futily to put some kind of levity into his voice. But instead it felt like another punch in the gut.
Fox sighed as he pulled on his helmet. “I appreciate the attempt, Skip. But not right now,” he murmured before stepping out.
Camp had fallen quiet between finding Sprinter’s body and bringing it to Fox’s lean-to. Whether that was a good or bad thing was another matter that Fox tried not to worry about. He nodded to Walker as he passed and continued walking to Chuchi’s lean-to. Should’ve waited until morning. She’s sleeping. I’m out of line. This isn’t–
“Fox?” Riyo pulled back the sewn together kamas that were serving as her door. She arched a brow up at him. “Walker already secured the area?”
“I came to make sure you’re safe. And I’m bringing Two-One into the Coruscant Guard. I need a senatorial representative’s signature to do that, and after the events earlier this evening… I’d like to get this form completed as soon as possible, ma’am.” Fox rushed to say, panic rising in his chest. This wasn’t protocol. He should have sent her the form--but how could he, when he’d used her datapad to find and fill the document? No, he had to deliver it to her. But he could have--should have--waited until morning. Completing a form now versus completing a form in a few hours didn’t really make that big of a difference, right?
But Riyo didn’t seem upset that Fox had disturbed her evening. Her eyes widened and she nodded. “Yes, of course. I’m happy to sign.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Fox held out the datapad, and she looked over the form before signing it with a flourish.
“I am genuinely sorry about Sprinter. He was a good man.” Chuchi said as she handed the datapad back to him.
“Thank you, ma’am.” Fox murmured. “He was a good friend.” He absently attached the datapad to his belt and looked up at Riyo. She seemed sincere, with those beautiful golden eyes looking up into his visor--kriff, this was the closest he’d ever stood before her--searching the dark T that hid his own expressions. Fox blinked awkwardly down at her--why was she looking at him like this? So sincere and unguarded, and so close that he could differentiate between the lighter gold that radiated from her pupils and the slim, darker ring of orange at the edges of her irises. Perhaps it was some strange Pantoran… thing … to look at someone like this, or a strategy to get Fox to drop his guard. Well, if that was the case, then it somewhat worked. He was beginning to believe that she actually cared about him and his men.
Other senators barely noticed the Guard so far as names and personalities were concerned--they were just meat droids to be used and abused to whatever ends the senators fancied. But Riyo seemed so different. He’d never received a report or evidence of her abusing one of his men. In fact, some specially requested to be in her security detail. He’d chalked that up to those men thinking she was pretty. But perhaps… Perhaps she cared, and if it was genuine concern, then she was in the minority among the Galactic Senate.
“Tuck will be serving as the new Sergeant of Lima Squad,” Fox said after a moment of silence, trying to regain some semblance of control over the conversation.
“Our pilot. I… can’t say I know him very well, but he seems kind. I’m sure he’ll be a good leader for your men,” Riyo murmured. She brushed a lock of hair out of her face and smiled sympathetically at him. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
Fox shook his head. “No, ma’am. Um… Riyo. It… Signing Two-One into Lima Squad is more than enough. Thank you. This… was the last thing Sprinter and I discussed before he… Before he died.” He looked down at the datapad, the two empty lines mocking him. If he couldn’t get a signature out of the 57th, he might just… no. He would not resort to illegal activities. But aggressive encouragement? Now that was perfectly legal and he was well versed in its many finer details.
“Then it must be done. A person’s last wishes should be fulfilled. If I could, I’d reassign every man in the 57th to some other battalion. General Krell treats his men like… like…” Riyo’s brow knit together in frustration as she searched for a word. She deflated, “Like droids. And you aren’t droids. None of you are.” She shook her head forlornly, “And even their commanding officer, bragging about expenditures and lack thereof… It isn’t right.”
Fox looked up at her. Please remember this. Don’t change when we return to Coruscant. “Thank you.”
“What for?” she asked in confusion, looking up at him.
“For who you are,” Fox replied before straightening. “I need to find one of the commanding officers for a signature. Then I’ll be keeping vigil by Two-one’s sickbed. Should you need me, you have my comm frequency.” He dipped his head to her. “Good night.”
“Good night, Fox. Please try to rest at some point. Something tells me you’ve gotten even less sleep than I have this evening,” Riyo said gently before ducking back into her lean-to.
Fox’s lip twitched at a smile and he turned to leave.
“Sir… Did you use the senator’s first name back there?” Walker asked on the private comms.
Fox’s eyes widened and he flushed. “She requested we use first names when in private.”
“Oh.” Walker nodded. “Strange.”
Fox hurried off towards where the 57th’s barracks had been prior to the fight. Hopefully, they were still congregating there, and with some help, he could secure another much-needed signature.
Clutch’s entire body felt as if he had fallen the full distance from the encampment to the forest below. The near-blinding pain was about all that he could register as he clawed his way back to consciousness. He breathed deeply, trying to ignore the sensation of a tube up his nose, before weakly crying out as his chest shuddered with pain.
“Runner, he’s up,” someone called above him, but Clutch wasn’t ready to open his eyes. Some small, nagging anxiety kept him from officially “waking up”--what if they moved him out of the infirmary when they realized he was alert? A small shudder went through him as Clutch decided that he’d prolong his sleep, and he fought to keep as still and silent as he could manage.
“Hey, Clutch--is it alright if I call you that?” someone new asked on Clutch’s other side. It was the voice of a clone, no doubt, but it sounded at ease and almost inviting rather than the usual gruff, clipped manner his fellow soldiers often spoke in. “Can you open your eyes for us?”
Practically of their own accord, Clutch’s eyes fluttered open at the command before he immediately closed them again as harsh, white light flooded his senses. Apparently, his resolve to remain asleep was not very strong, and he mentally scolded himself for giving in so easily.
“Oh, sorry about that,” the second clone--Runner, perhaps--said before Clutch heard a switch get flipped. “Alright, let’s try that again, shall we?”
Clutch groaned but did as he was told, beyond glad that the light above him had been flicked off. Through his hazy vision, he recognized the white of typical clone armor, though it was splotched with red as the two figures moved around him, saying things he didn’t quite comprehend. What is a captain doing here? he thought in confusion as he blinked a few more times. When the world finally came into focus, he realized that the armor wasn’t splashed with red, so much as it was painted in neat, pristine patterns and red designs, and suddenly Clutch’s memories came rushing back to him.
“S--Sprinter--” he gasped, grasping at anything he could with his one free arm.
“Shh, easy Clutch,” the medic murmured, taking his flailing hand and giving it a squeeze. “You’re in safe hands. I’m Runner, if you remember? And sitting with you all night was Commander Fox.” He nodded towards the other clone who’s relatively tamed curls in a standard military cut were spattered with streaks of gray.
Clutch glanced between them, feeling himself pale under their scrutiny.
“Now, I’m going to ask you a couple questions, then we’ll give you some pain medicine and see if we can’t get you moving a little bit, alright?” Runner asked before sitting on the stool beside the cot. “Now, is it alright if I call you Clutch? Or do you prefer Two-One?”
“Clutch, Sir,” he replied quietly, avoiding the medic’s gaze.
Runner nodded. “Okay, Clutch, where are you feeling the most pain right now?”
“Everywhere. But… my arm hurts the most. My shoulder, too. And my head… yeah, my head is really bad,” Clutch mumbled.
“And on a scale of one to ten, how bad would you say those are?”
“A nine?”
Runner winced, but his face was sympathetic, not mocking or cruel. “Okay. You said the rest of you hurts too. How bad is that?”
“A six or seven?” Clutch tried to take a deep breath again before letting out another strangled groan, free hand trying to search for the reason his chest hurt so, so much.
“No, no, don’t do that,” Runner murmured, taking his hand again. “You’ve got a couple broken ribs from the fall, and taking deep breaths or laughing or crying will exacerbate the pain.”
Clutch managed a nod, letting his head settle on the cot. “What else is there?”
“Broken arm and dislocated shoulder. You got a nasty gash on the left side of your forehead and have quite a concussion too. And bruises and other cuts all over from the fall,” Runner explained before tucking his medscanner into a pouch on his belt. “We’re gonna push another round of pain medications, but we can’t drug you up too much, so you’ll still be able to feel some things. Just not nearly as badly as you are right now.”
Clutch shook his head. “N--no. I don’t… I don’t want the drugs.”
Runner glanced over Clutch to Fox before shifting in his seat. “Why is that, vod?”
“The General, he--he wants me decommissioned…” Clutch managed, voice shaking both from the effort of speaking and from the fear that had tightened its grip on his already aching chest.
Runner gently squeezed his hand. “Don’t worry about that, Clutch. We won’t let that happen.”
“Not to mention that you don’t have a general anymore,” a different clone said as he limped into the medbay, leaning heavily on a crutch. This one wore the standard armor of the Coruscant Guard and was flanked by two other guardsmen, all of them with their buckets off and exhausted yet relieved smiles on their faces.
Clutch looked between them all, face twisting in confusion. “I don’t understand?”
“You’re not part of the 57th anymore, vod,” the trooper with the crutch said, and Clutch realized it was Tuck speaking. He’d barely spoken to the man, having only met him when he took Sprinter to visit that first night the Coruscant Guard had made it to the base, but Tuck was smiling warmly at him.
“I’m not?” Clutch looked between them all before his gaze found Fox who, though he had been generally quiet and impassive the whole time Clutch had known him, seemed to have a small spark of satisfaction behind his tired eyes. Supposedly the commander had stayed by his bedside all night, and through the haze, Clutch vaguely recalled the commander soothing him as he had fallen asleep, sharing how each of the squad members had gotten their names. Perhaps he wasn’t as stoic as he appeared.
Fox shook his head. “No, you’re being folded into the Coruscant Guard, effective immediately.”
“Wh--how?” Clutch stared.
“Sprinter… Well, he saw a lot of potential in you. He asked me, just before things started to go awry at the peace talks, to see about transferring you to the guard,” Fox replied. “Senator Chuchi approved the transfer request last night and I got a signature out of Captain CT-9011, so we just need your signature now.”
Clutch glanced between them all, the smallest and most hesitant of smiles on his face. “I could be one of you?”
“Once you sign on the dotted line,” Tuck replied before nodding to the datapad Fox had unclipped from his belt and was holding out to Clutch.
Clutch looked down at the form before his eyes spotted his number, and he slowly dragged his finger across the screen to sign it as best he could.
“Welcome to Lima Squad, Two-One,” Tuck announced while Walker and Skipper behind him gave approving nods.
Clutch looked between them all before sucking his lips. “It’s… Clutch.”
Skipper tilted his head to the side. “Sorry?”
“My name. My name is Clutch. We weren’t supposed to have names here, but now…” Clutch trailed off.
Skipper grinned. “It’s perfect. Doesn’t quite fit with the theme we had going, but Tuck was kind of toeing the line with his name anyways.”
Tuck rolled his eyes before looking back at Clutch. “Did you have any questions for us?”
“Does this mean I get to go with you, when you leave?” Clutch asked, glancing between them.
Walker nodded. “Can’t very well be part of Lima squad and not be, well, with us.”
“The transport ship entered the system a couple hours ago, but is refueling up top in a venator and waiting to ensure it’s safe before coming down to land,” Tuck explained.
“Which is why we can’t pump you too full of medicine just yet. We’ve gotta be able to get you onto the ship, and I’d prefer you walk there under your own power, if you can. Just to make sure you don’t get any blood clots in your legs from staying still for too long,” Runner murmured.
Clutch nodded. “I’ll need my armor, though. But that’s… about all that I ever had to myself.”
“Don’t worry about the armor,” Fox said firmly before taking a bag from Walker. “We don’t condone taking another trooper’s armor unless absolutely necessary. But, we believe that Sprinter would want you to have his kit, instead of letting it be snapped up by the 57th.”
Clutch watched in dumbfounded awe as the bag was unzipped to reveal the nearly perfect, cohesive, phase II armor kit. While the paint was still a bit scuffed from the fall, the scratches had been buffed out and any dents re-molded into the proper shape. Even the shoulder clasp on the cuirass looked to be in working order.
“I worked on getting it back into shape for you all night,” Skipper murmured, the mood in the medbay turning somber. “And we can re-paint it once we’re back on Coruscant. The electronics in the HUD and vambraces will probably need some recalibration, but it’s nothing we can’t figure out.”
Clutch nodded, hand hesitantly resting on the helmet. “I… I’m honored. I hope I can do his armor proud.”
“You will, vod,” Fox replied evenly. “We wouldn’t let you have it if you hadn’t made him proud already.”
Runner sighed. “On that note, the rest of you have a senator and jedi to collect. I’ll get Clutch patched up and ready for the shuttle.”
The others nodded before trailing out one by one, Fox being the last after giving Clutch’s good shoulder a gentle squeeze as he got up.
“Alright Clutch, you gonna let me push the pain meds now?” Runner asked as he selected a syringe from the tray beside Clutch’s cot.
Clutch gave a hesitant nod, watching Runner with wide, anxious eyes.
Runner, however, was perfectly happy to explain exactly what he was giving Clutch as he plunged the substance in the syringe into a port in the IV bag, watching as it started to drip down the tube and into the back of Clutch’s hand.
An hour passed before Clutch began to feel some semblance of relief, watching as the IV bag drained and Runner moved around him to unhook the oxygen line he’d been attached to. Once the oxygen and IV were gone, Runner helped Clutch to sit up and change into a fresh set of blacks before putting on Sprinter’s armor.
The first thing Clutch noticed was how much more comfortable the new armor kit was. Obviously he wouldn’t know how comfortable it would truly be for long-term wear until he was properly up and moving, but his first impression left him quite stunned at how the armor pieces fit almost perfectly together and didn’t rub in uncomfortable places. But as he looked down at the red-painted cuirass and saw his reflection in the black visor of the helmet, his wonder faded to heartbreak. Sprinter shouldn’t have been the one to die during the bombardment. It should have been Clutch--an expendable, lonesome infantryman--that was caught out too far.
The guilt hit Clutch in the chest just as heavily as when the ground had collapsed on top of him. Clutch had brought Sprinter towards the front of the base to help with getting the injured clones out of danger. Clutch had led Sprinter to his death, and now Sprinter’s brothers saw fit to reward Clutch not only with Sprinter’s armor kit, but also with a place in their squad.
“I thought the guard was too good for recycling armor,” a voice crowed, cutting through Clutch’s thoughts. He looked up in surprise and watched as a lieutenant walked by. “How’d a private like you get armor like that? And didn’t your sergeant teach you to strip the paint first? Force, you’d think you were decanted yesterday.”
“I… I’m in the Guard now…” Clutch whispered, wanting to shrink into his armor. Or better yet, faint again and not have to deal with this interaction.
“In the guard? You?” The man laughed. “And I’m the Chancellor!”
Runner frowned. “Clutch is a member of the Coruscant Guard. Effective this morning. Now you’d best be on your way before things get ugly.” He placed a gentle hand on Clutch’s back and began leading him away.
“What’re you going to do, bleed on me? You’re a medic, and in the Coruscant Guard. You have no business carrying a blaster, let alone wearing armor,” the Lieutenant said sarcastically.
Runner shook his head and kept walking. “He isn’t worth the time,” he muttered.
“Yeah, that’s right! Walk away! Nothing but a bunch of flimsi-pushing bootlickers, the whole lot of you!” the man yelled behind them. “You might wear their armor and live where they live and eat their food, but you’ll never be a shock trooper! You’ll always be one of us,” the Lieutenant snapped.
Other troopers had taken notice of the exchange, and even with their expressions hidden behind unfeeling visors, Clutch could feel their resentment. Their judgment. Their affirmation of the lieutenant's words. He would never be a shock trooper; he hadn’t ever received any special training to be one. He certainly didn’t deserve to be one. His brow pulled together painfully as he felt each of their emotions as if they were his own; he didn’t deserve this, didn’t deserve to be whisked away. What right did he have to sign a form and transfer himself to another battalion? He was just property, property didn’t have rights. “Runner, I–”
Runner shook his head. “Nobody is decanted a shock trooper. The Coruscant Guard didn’t even exist as it is today until halfway into the first year of the war. We were the 65th for a little bit. The… aura of a shock trooper comes from his bravery. His courage. And later, his training.” Runner turned to face Clutch and rested a hand on the younger clone’s good shoulder. “And you are both brave and courageous. We’ll work on the training.”
Clutch weakly smiled, not really believing him. In a week they’d be regretting that they’d given him Sprinter’s armor and brought him into Lima Squad. They’d request his immediate transfer back to the 57th, and he’d get the joy of being a dead man walking, robbed of his-- Sprinter’s --armor the second his feet touched Agora’s soil. He could see it then, him in his blacks trying to survive in the unforgiving wilderness. He wasn’t sure if he would rather face that or General Krell’s wrath.
Runner squeezed Clutch’s good shoulder and stepped to his side again. “You aren’t a shock trooper yet. But you will be. Once you’re healed up, you’ll join us for training exercises. You’ll become one of us. Promise.”
Or I’ll die trying, I guess, Clutch thought to himself as he limped out of the medbay and into the morning sun.
Notes:
We stan clones and the plights they’ve been through, but obviously the 57th has been through hell and it has shaped them into, well, clones that are easy to dislike. That whole nature vs. nurture thing. For the record, not all of them are bullies, and most are just doing their best to stay alive, and as such, it is important to say that Clutch doesn’t hate the 57th, even if some of them have been terrible to him.
This week is National Library Week, and we absolutely encourage you to visit your local library and get a library card (if you don't have one already). Not only do we have a friend who is a librarian, but both of us have enjoyed visiting our local libraries to check out a lot of SW books (and others too), from recent releases, to comics, to books now considered legends. And a lot of libraries (at least in the US) participate in Libby, which is an app you can get on your phone for e-books and audio-books! Anyways, we hope you have a lovely Sunday and a great first week of April!
Chapter 12
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“We aren’t… this isn’t the way to the landing strip or the hanger…” Clutch ventured to say as Runner led him to the woods. I didn’t actually read that form. Did I sign my own decommissioning? Are they going to execute me in the woods? Clutch’s heart-rate picked up as he looked around. They weren’t anywhere near the landing pads. They were closer to the barracks than anything, and as much as Clutch wanted to sleep, he wasn’t keen on never waking up.
“No, we… well, Sprinter was your friend too. We decided to hold off on burying him until you were well enough to move.” Runner murmured.
“Oh.”
They continued in silence, walking a ways more before they came into a small clearing with a clone-size hole dug in the center. Sprinter’s corpse, devoid of armor, was laid out beside the pit, his face serene. He could have been sleeping after a long day of work, if not for the void where his life should have been. Lima Squad stood in a circle around him, the senator and jedi standing with them, all wearing somber expressions.
Clutch had never participated in a clone funeral before. Usually, they just dug a big hole in the ground and piled in the bodies at the end of a fight. A layer of dirt was packed on top, and so on until the hole was flush with the ground level. There was no ceremony and certainly no senators or jedi in attendance.
Fox looked up at them and gave a small nod before kneeling beside his fallen friend. He wordlessly removed his helmet and set it aside. In silence, he cradled Sprinter’s head and pressed their foreheads together. His brow knit, and Clutch could have sworn he saw the glint of tears trickling down the commander’s cheeks. Clutch’s brow pulled together in confusion–why was the commander pressing his forehead to Sprinter’s?
The rest of Lima followed Fox’s example, taking turns pressing their foreheads to Sprinter’s. Walker sobbed, and Skipper made a strange strangled sound. Tuck said something that Clutch couldn’t make out, and Runner remained stoic the entire time. When they stepped back, they took turns pressing their foreheads to their living brothers’. Clearly, the gesture meant something.
When it was Clutch’s turn, he simply stood at Sprinter’s feet, not sure what to do. His cheeks burned in shame--What was the apparent significance of pressing foreheads together? What was he supposed to do, other than be in Sprinter’s place? But time was passing, and Clutch didn’t want to be the one holding everyone up.
He robotically lifted his hands and removed his--Sprinter’s--helmet and fought the tears from his eyes. “I… You… you were the first person to show me any kindness in my time in the 57th. I…” He swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut, praying that his tears wouldn’t fall as his quiet voice shook with effort.
His tears had other plans. They trickled down his cheeks in droves before splattering onto his--Sprinter’s--armor. “I didn’t know you very long. And you didn’t know me very long. But I will never forget your kindness. Your wisdom. Your gentle leadership. I… I hope I’m half the man you were.” He choked back a sob and knelt beside Sprinter, eyes never leaving his sleeping face. Clutch felt a hand on his shoulder, and he bowed his head, trying to fight the tears that demanded to be shed. His whole body shook, and he lost his balance, managing to fall to the side with his good arm and avoid disturbing Sprinter’s body. Clutch forced himself upright. “I’m sorry--I--” he scrambled to his feet and backed up.
“It’s okay, vod,” Runner said gently, wrapping an arm around Clutch. Runner sadly smiled at Clutch before pressing his forehead to Clutch’s. Confused, Clutch simply froze and stared at him, still trying to figure out what in the galaxy was so meaningful about this gesture that seemed to be common knowledge.
When Runner pulled away, Clutch simply nodded and looked over to Senator Chuchi and Commander Rin. The senator had lowered her chin to her chest and was murmuring to herself while the jedi raised a hand to her forehead before bringing it as a fist to her chest. The Jedi remained like that for a moment before raising her hand towards Sprinter. His body silently floated into the air and lowered into his grave. Clutch had never seen the Force used in such a gentle way, and he weakly smiled as a fresh flood of tears threatened to spill out of his eyes. Maybe there were good Jedi.
Lima Squad went about refilling the pit, and before long Sprinter was really and truly gone. They stood there for a little longer before Fox sucked in a breath and looked towards his men. “We have to get moving. Our transport will be here soon, and we’d best not keep them waiting.”
Tuck watched as Runner helped the not-so-shiny onto the transport ship that would take them back to Coruscant. The fact that Clutch was even up and moving was impressive, but also very concerning. How many stims and other medications had Runner pumped him full of to get him off of that cot in the medbay and into his blacks and armor? Probably more than the legal amount and barely below the maximum a human body could sustain.
Clutch settled into one of the seats and his head flopped back against the headrest, eyes only half open but face scrunched in pain.
“You alright, vod?” Tuck asked.
“Just… hurts,” Clutch mumbled, doing his best to help Runner strap him in.
Runner softly sighed. “I know, Clutch. The minute we get back to Coruscant, we’ll get you in a bacta tank. You’ll feel ready to take on anything after a few hours in that.”
“Am I really allowed to join your squad?” Clutch asked, voice even quieter than before.
Tuck turned in the pilot’s seat, truly studying the younger clone. “Yes, absolutely. Unfortunately we’ve… got something of an opening now, but even aside from that, we couldn’t leave you with Krell and the 57th.”
Clutch searched his face before nodding. “Thank you, sir.”
“Of course, vod,” Tuck murmured before turning back to the controls. He didn’t doubt that Clutch was a generation younger than himself and the rest of Lima, but he seemed… almost innocent, though that wasn’t quite the right word. Tuck frowned at the controls as he turned over the terminology in his mind. Beaten to submission. That seemed more fitting. He looked over his shoulder at his new baby brother. We’ll help you heal, Clutch. He turned back to the controls. And if he can survive Krell… Maybe he can survive Coruscant.
About then, Rin, Chuchi, and Fox climbed onto the ship, the two women deep in conversation.
“General Krell should not be allowed to have his own battalion if this is how he treats them. Refusing to send the critically injured for medical attention? Refusing to purchase supplies or armor? It’s beyond barbaric!” Chuchi insisted, gesturing behind her. “Not to mention that his poor attitude has rubbed off on his troops. Well, at least those that have some kind of command post.”
“While I do not disagree, the fact remains that both myself and the Marshal Commander do not outrank him within the structure of the Grand Army of the Republic. Even if we wanted to, we could not take control of the 57th,” Rin said evenly.
Chuchi squinted. “So we leave these men to die? I am sorry, but I will not stand by when the soldiers that are fighting our war are mistreated and cast aside like slaves.” Her lips twisted in a scowl as she straightened defiantly, as if by will alone she could change everything about the 57th.
“I am not asking you to, Senator. But this is not a fight we can win by brute force,” Rin replied. “No, we will have to beseech the council, and with hard evidence, to get them to consider removing Krell from any kind of command.” She found her seat and looked towards the Senator. “I believe we can. But it may take time.” She sighed and shook her head. “Time that some may not have.”
“We must do something. That,” Riyo gestured behind them, “is unacceptable. If we can remove General Krell from the 57th, we must.” She found her seat and crossed her arms in frustration. “Once we’re airborne, I will begin drafting our plea for the Council.”
Tuck shook his head as he focused once more on getting the ship prepped for flight. “Is everyone on board?”
Fox nodded as he took his seat. “We’re all on board, Sergeant.”
“Copy that,” Tuck replied after a pause, far from used to his new title. He pressed a button to have the ramp retract and door seal closed before activating the comms. “Ground control, this is shuttle GX-15462. Are we cleared for take-off?”
The speaker crackled for a moment before a voice replied. “You are cleared to take-off, shuttle GX-15462.”
Tuck let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding as the ship’s engines engaged and he lifted them off from the ground of Agora. Around him, Lima squad seemed to be sharing similar sentiments as they shifted in their seats, watching as the sky went from a light blue expanse filled only with clouds to the black emptiness of space, stars peppered all across the view screen.
“Jumping to hyperspace,” Tuck called before pushing a lever forward, and the stars around them bent and blurred until they were streaming past the windows in a single, amorphous daze. Tuck’s lips pulled at a smile. Some things would never get old, like that exhilarating two second pull on the gut as a ship jumped to hyperspace. No, it wasn’t the same as swooping in to save vode in a LAAT/i--nothing could compare to that adrenaline rush--but it was enough.
His face fell and he looked down. Sprinter should be here too… He licked his lips and looked back out the viewport. If afterlives were real and spirits could enjoy the world after death, Tuck desperately hoped that Sprinter was seeing this too. It’d bring him joy, Tuck was sure of it.
There was an eerie stillness before Runner shifted and got to his feet. “Commander, I’m going to take Clutch and get him settled in one of the beds in the back, see if he can’t get some more rest.”
Fox nodded. “Excellent idea, Private. Do you need any help?”
“I can help,” Walker replied immediately, getting to his feet and going to assist the medic with getting their severely injured brother enough out of his seat so that they could get him out of the cockpit.
Tuck turned in his seat after engaging the autopilot. “Two days back to Coruscant. Hopefully we can all get some rest.”
“I wouldn’t count on it.” Fox sighed before he heard a ding and glanced down at the datapad clipped to his belt. “Ah, Senator, I believe someone is trying to reach you.” He unclipped the device and passed it to Riyo without even glancing at the screen.
The senator gave him a tired smile before nodding. “Thank you, Commander. Make sure you get some rest of your own, alright?”
“Ah… yes, ma’am,” Fox replied before sliding into the seat beside Tuck and messing with the communications controls of the ship.
Open Chat: Riyo Chuchi, Thire, Thorn, Stone, Hound
Thire: I cleaned the damn freshers, @ Ryio. Hope you’re happy for ruining my week
Riyo: ? Thanks?
Riyo: I don’t recall requesting the freshers be cleaned. You’re a commander, aren’t you? Why are you cleaning freshers?
Open Chat: Croissant Guard
Fox [offline], Thire, Thorn, Stone, Hound
Thire: I FUCKED UP
Thorn: I’ll say. Anyone you want to fill your role before you’re decommissioned?
Stone: Contact Blackout! He’ll fix everything so that message never sent!
Thire: Send me his number. RIGHT NOW .
Hound: Oh shit
Hound: But even if Blackout fixes it, she…still read your message
Thorn: I’ll start looking for someone to promote
Stone: I’m right here.
Thorn: Great, done with that. Now we’ll need to find someone to fill your role
Stone: I’ve got a few people in mind. But let’s make sure he survives this first. Senator Chuchi is known for being forgiving.
Thorn: For Thire’s sake, I hope you’re right
Riyo frowned at her datapad as she scrolled back at the conversation that, apparently, sparked Commander Thire’s statement. Said frown slowly turned into a smile that turned into a fit of giggles that Lima Squad was kind enough to not react to. When she’d gotten her giggles under control, she looked up from her datapad at the stiff form of Commander Fox, his back to her as he appeared to study the viewport--so different from the man in the texts, and yet so much the same. She looked back to her pad and scrolled further, her brow knitting together as she read that Fox had promised Thire that he wouldn’t die on this mission, and Thorn’s response that promises can’t always be kept.
Riyo carefully angled her datapad away from the Commander as she read his conversation. Technically, it was her datapad, and she didn’t have anything to be nervous about. But these words were written without any inhibitions, and she’d never heard him talk like he was writing.
“Fox..?” Riyo asked at a length, looking up at him. He smoothly turned to face her, his hands clasped behind his back expectantly. The perfect image of a soldier awaiting orders.
“Yes, Senator?” he asked cordially.
Riyo didn’t respond for a moment and blushed when she realized she was staring. “I, um… Sorry.” She looked back at her datapad. “Who… is Hound? I know Commanders Thorn and Thire and Sergeant Stone, but I don’t know any Hounds…”
Fox’s posture changed. He stiffened, and Riyo desperately wished that she could see his face. “Hound… Sergeant Hound is an ARF trooper in the Coruscant Guard,” he said in a stilted voice. “It would be very unlikely that you would have any experience with any of the ARF troopers. They do not take any diplomatic service rotations.”
Riyo nodded to herself. “Thank you. Is his massiff named Grizzer?”
“Yes.”
“You can relax. And I… hope you’ll forgive me… Thire sent a message that I believe was meant for you to my datapad, and then I suddenly had an entire conversation show up that was between you and the other commanders in the guard,” Riyo said apologetically, gesturing to her datapad. She glanced up at Fox and blinked in shock. He looked more like a statue than a man, tenson coming off of him in waves. Riyo awkwardly held out her datapad for him to look at. His head jerked downwards, assumedly to see Thire’s message.
A few minutes later, he gave it back and stared ahead, right past Riyo as if he didn’t see her. “I will speak with Thire directly about this. This is unacceptable behavior,” Fox said in a strange monotone voice. Riyo’s brow twitched in confusion.
“What? No. That isn’t necessary. It was a shock to see in my messages, but you don’t need to punish him for it. I’m sure his own embarrassment is enough,” she replied.
Fox’s Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. “As you wish, Senator.”
“Really, it’s fine,” Riyo murmured, turning off her datapad. She set it aside and looked up at the dark T of Fox’s helmet. “And I agree with some of the things you shared in the text conversation with the others,” she started hesitantly, trying to discern if she was straying too far into private territory. “I was worried that Krell might act improperly towards Master Rin. Well… more improperly than he already was.” She sighed, “Some men only see women as beings to make more of their species. I… didn’t think a Jedi would be one of those people.”
Fox inclined his head ever so slightly and quietly hummed in agreement, but didn’t elaborate.
Chuchi shifted uncomfortably. “Will you sit with me? And… may I see your face? I… would like to just… speak with you.”
Fox stiffly walked towards one of the chairs and lowered himself into the seat. Riyo knew how some of her fellow senators referred to the Clones as ‘flesh droids’ and other terrible things, but she’d never thought of them like that. However, upon seeing Fox’s jerky movements as he removed his helmet, the thought dared to show itself in her own head. She quickly squashed it--they were humans, not droids. “I… I’m sorry. I’ve made you uncomfortable…” Riyo murmured apologetically.
“No, ma’am,” Fox said in that same stilted voice that seemed so at odds with his other mannerisms. She’d carried casual conversations with him before--discussing rain, of all things right before the negotiations. That seemed like a lifetime ago, and not only one day. Now, it seemed, they could not discuss such mundane things. Why had Thire’s text affected him so deeply? It was an honest mistake from what Riyo could tell, but one would think that Thire had attempted mutiny by Fox’s stiff posture.
Riyo searched his rich brown, guarded eyes, however, they betrayed nothing of whatever was going on inside his head. But maybe… maybe she could save this conversation.
“Have you worked with jedi before? I… feel rather foolish for never asking,” Riyo said hesitantly. She wasn’t accustomed to talking to people who were visibly uncomfortable around her, much less as tense as the man before her now. She was a little five foot five Pantoran! She certainly didn’t exude terrifying authority like General Krell had.
“I have, but not as closely as on this mission,” Fox replied in that same strange monotone voice.
“Do all jedi have… a duty to have children? I thought it was forbidden…” Riyo trailed off.
“I… am not the person to ask. But I have heard that Jedi who are an endangered species are allowed to have children.” Fox glanced over cautiously, watching her.
“Oh. Right. Of course.” Riyo blushed. This conversation was a lot more akin to talking to a wall--What had happened to the man who spoke to her only a day beforehand? They were the same man, but he certainly wasn’t acting like it. She switched tactics. “I… appreciated your notes on my talking points. You brought up a lot of things I never would have thought of.”
“You’re welcome, Senator. I’ve no doubt you would have thought of them of your own accord,” Fox said respectfully.
“You’re very kind,” Riyo murmured. Damnit. “And the failure of our talks… I believe, as Master Rin does, that this was a ploy the whole time. For whatever reason, they wanted us far away from Coruscant. I’ve already contacted my allies in the Senate--they assure me that nothing terrible has happened in my absence. But I am still on edge.”
“I will increase your guard upon our return to Coruscant. If you find our services inadequate, I can increase our training until we can satisfy your expectations,” Fox replied. Riyo blinked in confusion--she had not meant to imply that Lima was insufficient. If anything, she had enjoyed being with them and catching a glimpse into the lives of the clones--from their prowess in high-stress situations to the way they interacted with and supported each other in both good and bad times.
“I appreciate the concern and accept the continued protection of the Guard. I’ve seen you in action now, and I couldn’t be safer with any other men, but I do not think it necessary to assign any additional security.”
Fox nodded, and Riyo could have sworn she saw pride in his eyes. Or perhaps it was just the lighting. “Thank you, ma’am,” he murmured.
Riyo looked out the viewport for a minute before pushing herself to her feet. “I’m going to retire to my room.” she looked back down at him. “Again, I feel no ill will towards Commander Thire. He rather gave me a laugh.” She studied his worn features. “Try not to beat him up about it. Literally or metaphorically.”
Fox’s lip twitched at a smile. “Yes, ma’am.”
Riyo smiled at him and left. It wasn’t as fruitful of a conversation as she had hoped, but she had gotten a smirk out of him, and that had to count for something.
As soon as the door shut behind Riyo, Fox turned to Tuck. “Give me your datapad right now. ”
Tuck looked over his shoulder. “Sir, yes sir.” He passed it over. “You started a group chat on the senator’s datapad?”
“I thought I had deleted it. Blackout swore it was gone,” Fox muttered as he punched in his vodes’ codes. “Never trust Blackout. You hear me? Never.”
Tuck snorted and turned back to the controls. “Copy that.”
Open Chat: Tuck, Thire, Thorn, Stone, Hound
Tuck: @ Thire . YOU FUCKER.
Tuck: YOU BETTER START MY PAPERWORK. CAUSE YOU’RE GOING TO BE DOING IT FOR THE NEXT MONTH FOR THAT STINT YOU JUST PULLED.
Thire: What paperwork? I can’t write a mission brief for an assignment I wasn’t on.
Tuck: OH SO NOW IT’S INSUBORDINATION
Thire: What? Tuck, you don’t outrank me? Look man, I literally cannot write a mission brief for a mission I wasn’t on. Like… I can’t do that
Hound: Sir, you’re using someone else’s pad
Thire: Oh fuck is this Fox
Tuck: TAKE A WILD FUCKING GUESS.
Thire: Don’t worry! I already got in contact with Blackout and he’s fixing everything!
Tuck: LIKE HELL HE IS.
Tuck: SENATOR CHUCHI JUST SHOWED ME YOUR MESSAGE.
Thire: oh fuck
Tuck: You’re very lucky she told me not to punish you. Apparently your own embarrassment is enough
Thorn: More reasons we like Chuchi
Thire: …so you’re not going to punish me because my embarrassment is enough?
Tuck: Guess again.
Thire: But Senator Chuchi said no!
Tuck: Doing my paperwork for a week is not punishment
[Hound “laughed” at Tuck: “Doing my paperwork for a week is not punishment”]
[Thorn “laughed” at Tuck: “Doing my paperwork for a week is not punishment”]
Tuck: It is a redistribution of responsibilities.
[Hound “laughed” at Tuck: “It is a redistribution of responsibilities”]
[Thorn “laughed” at Tuck: “It is a redistribution of responsibilities”]
Thire: That’s cruel and unusual punishment.
Tuck: No it isn’t. It’s not even punishment. Punishment is cleaning freshers.
Thorn: He’s got a point.
Tuck: Thank you, Thorn
Hound: ‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa`
[Thire “Emphasized” Hound: “‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa` “]
[Thorn “Emphasized” Hound: ‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa` “]
Hound: Sorry that was Grizzer
[Thire “Loved” Hound: “‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa` “]
[Thorn “Loved” Hound: ‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa` “]
[Tuck “loved” Hound: “‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa` “]
Hound: That’s all very sweet but don’t encourage her. We’ve been working on personal space and datapad time.
Tuck: Noted.
Tuck: To our prior conversation, I am officially redistributing my low-priority paperwork to you, Thire, CC-4477, for the next week. Low-priority is defined as all documents not pertaining to decommissioning or reconditioning, and other topics of a similar nature. Topics considered low-priority include, but are not limited to, assigning patrols across Coruscant, and acquisition of foodstuffs for Clones and massiffs (and that one Tooka unofficially adopted by Sigma). Digitally signed, Fox, CC-1010.
Thorn: Dar
Hound: Dar
Tuck: Thire, I’m waiting…
Thire: [side eye emoji]
Thire: Digitally signed by Thire, CC-4477
Thorn: Sucks to suck, bro
Thire: Shut up.
Notes:
A shorter chapter today, but Fox, Riyo, Rin, and Lima Squad are headed back to Coruscant! Given that we've had a few pretty intense chapters, breaking it up with some fun "Croissant Guard" Command text chats felt like an order to bring a little bit of levity back. But don't worry--while they might be leaving Agora behind, there's still plenty of intrigue ahead.
Today is National Siblings Day, which brings up a fun fact about the authors. While we are pretty close, and a great deal of people think we're twins, we're not actually related at all! But imagine the level of celebration the GAR would have for sibling day if they could. It probably would be a bigger deal for them than any other kind of SW holiday. Anyways, we hope you have a fantastic week ahead!
Chapter 13
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Open Chat: Leg Daze
Sprinter {KIA}, Hopper {KIA}, Runner, Walker, Skipper, Loit, Tuck
Tuck: PSA: Fox is an idiot and used the Senator’s datapad to start a group chat with the CG Commanders (+Hound and Stone, honorary commanders). As if that wasn’t going to bite him in the butt.
Tuck: It did. Thire must’ve sent the Senator something crude cause check out this conversation:
[screenshots of chat with Fox, Thire, Thorn, Stone, and Hound on Tuck’s datapad]
Loit: well… that explains Thire’s silence on comms.
Loit: we’re both in prison rotation rn; Thire just got really quiet.
Skipper: dar
Walker: Since when is paperwork just a “redistribution of duties”? I thought “redistribution of duties” just meant, like… switching prison shifts with someone
Tuck: Guess we’re expanding the definitions. Perks of being Marshal Commander?
Tuck: Also, @ Loit. We’ve got a new member in Lima Squad. Don’t scare him.
Loit: A Newb? Who?
Loit: is it a new sergeant. I thought you were the new sergeant. Did you get demoted already?
Tuck: no, I’m still sergeant. The new member is Clutch, new private in the CG! Made it official this morning
Runner: He’s still a little out of it with pain medications, so don’t be prodding him to make him say or do something that’ll embarrass him when the drugs have run their course
Loit: yessirs
[Tuck added CT-82-1021 to the chat]
[Tuck changed CT-82-1021 nickname to “Clutch”]
Tuck: Welcome to the Lima Squad Group Chat!
Walker: Back in the early days of the war Hopper added a lot of encryptions so we’re pretty much able to say whatever we want here.
Loit: Welcome to the Coruscant Guard! I’m the coolest member in the guard, which is why I volunteered to stay behind on Coruscant when everyone else went to Agora
Skipper: fake ass bitch @ Loit
[Loit “Laughed” at Skipper: “fake ass bitch @ Loit”]
Runner: You’re going to send him into cardiac arrest.
Skipper: it had to be said.
[Walker “Emphasized” Skipper: “it had to be said”]
Runner: behave you two. Three. Everyone but Tuck
[Tuck “loved” Runner: “behave you two. Three. Everyone but Tuck”]
Clutch: Hi e ery ne
[Tuck “loved” Clutch: “Hi e ery ne”]
[Walker “loved” Clutch: “Hi e ery ne”]
[Skipper “loved” Clutch: “Hi e ery ne”]
[Loit “loved” Clutch: “Hi e ery ne”]
[Runner “loved” Clutch: “Hi e ery ne”]
Clutch: h w are u doi that
Runner: Reacting to your messages?
Clutch: ye
Clutch: s
Runner: I’ll show you
Loit: What’s his problem?
Walker: Runner’s got him on like ten different drugs
Loit: sounds like a party
[Skipper “laughed” at Loit: “sounds like a party”]
Walker: @ Clutch Loit slept in and didn’t make it to the ship on time, so per his own rules, he got left. Thus, why you haven’t met him yet.
Loit: wow, air out all the laundry
Skipper: what? It’s your stupid rule.
[Clutch “loved” Runner: “I’ll show you”]
Tuck: You’re getting the hang of it!
[Clutch “liked” Walker: “Loit slept in and didn’t make it to the ship on time, so per his own rules, he got left. Thus, why you haven’t met him yet.”]
Loit: HEY
[Clutch “liked” Loit: “wow, air out all the laundry”]
Loit: HEY
[Clutch “liked” Skipper: “what? It’s your stupid rule.”]
[Clutch “loved” Tuck: “You’re getting the hang of it!”]
Skipper: @ Runner. You’ve created a monster
Runner: I’ve taught a man how to react to texts
Skipper: a monster
[Clutch “disliked” Skipper: “@ Runner. You’ve created a monster”]
[Clutch “loved” Runner: “I’ve taught a man how to react to texts”]
Clutch: Th nk u
[Runner “loved” Clutch: “Th nk u”]
Loit: I hate you all.
Loit: @ Clutch you better not react to that text.
[Clutch “disliked” Loit: “I hate you all.”]
Walker: he’s perfect
Loit: FOR THE LOVE–
[Clutch “loved” Walker: “he’s perfect”]
The ship was quiet as night fell. Skipper slowly walked down the hall, lost in his thoughts. He was grateful that Clutch was doing well, even sassing Loit via text, but the loss of Sprinter still wore at his heart. He sighed and looked out the viewport of one of the sitting rooms on their new transport. The blur of hyperspace flew by outside, and Skipper wished with all of his being that Sprinter was there to watch it with him.
A sharp inhalation of breath snapped Skipper from his thoughts, and he looked towards the sound. Rin was sitting on the floor, her feet tucked underneath her and doing something with her hands. He watched curiously as she laced cord around her fingers before removing it and tugging on either end. She paused and looked up at him with those creepy gray eyes. “Skipper.”
Skipper shifted on his feet. “Sorry for disturbing you, Commander.”
She blinked. “I was just finishing my meditations. So you are not disturbing me. It seems that it is I who has disturbed you.”
“Ah, no ma’am. Not at all.” Skipper shook his head, and she smiled strangely at him. He’d seen senators give that expression to other senators when the other had made a poor decision. Usually, it was followed with some demeaning statement regarding intelligence. Skipper did not fancy himself a particularly intelligent man, but he didn’t want the Jedi to reiterate that.
“Sit with me,” Rin said, gesturing to the chair beside her.
Skipper steeled himself and walked over. A thousand thoughts raced through his head--he hadn’t thought that she’d found out about him accidentally spying on her, but maybe he was mistaken. She could kill him with a quick lightsaber through his chest, and he wouldn’t have time to react. Not a second to tell his brothers goodby, and Loit--oh Loit. His twin would be distraught beyond belief. But as he sat and looked over at the Jedi, she seemed anything but ready to kill him. She softly smiled at him and went back to what she’d been doing, weaving thread between and around her fingers. She made no further comment, seemingly absorbed with whatever she was making.
Skipper looked down at her in confusion, watching her for a few moments before venturing to speak. “What are you doing?”
“I am finger knitting,” she replied. “I find that it calms my nerves and clarifies my thoughts.” She held it up for him to see. It was a thin chain of thread, each interlocking loop perfect. “When I was a youngling, I would finger knit though all of my readings,” she said with a fond smile. “Then as a Padawan, Master Ti had to stop me from knitting during peace talks. Nervous ticks are not the aura of strength a Jedi wants to project, as I’m sure you can imagine.” She lowered her hands to her lap. “Now I knit as I meditate and before I rest.”
Skipper slowly nodded. Yes, he could imagine how unappealing nervous ticks were. One of the Guard was decommissioned a few months back for his habit of shifting his weight around one particularly testy senator. Fox hadn’t been seen for a few days after that one, and when he did emerge from his office, the angry twist of his lip was enough to keep everyone far away from him.
“Do you have any hobbies?” Rin asked as she laced the thread around her fingers.
“Ah… no ma’am.” Skipper blinked, not sure where this was going. He wasn’t dead yet, so he counted it as a win, but the conversation was young.
The Jedi stopped what she was doing and cocked her head. “Nothing? That is rather disheartening.” She looked over to him. “Would you like me to show you how to finger knit? It is a cheap activity; all you need is yarn and two hands. It can be as time consuming as you would like, and you can make all sorts of things. Blankets, hats, cushions for chairs...”
“You don’t need to, ma’am,” Skipper rushed to say, though he had to admit, creating his own blanket… was an intriguing prospect. The mere possibility of a new blanket was reason enough to learn how to finger knit. The old ratty thing he’d been using for the past year was long since expired. Not to mention that what she was doing did look easy.
Rin reached behind herself and pulled out a small ball of yarn. “You are lying. Here, I will show you.” She held the yarn out to him expectantly, and he awkwardly took it, his cheeks burning in embarrassment. She used a claw to cut the string she’d been using and pulled the yarn from her hand. “We will both start from scratch. Come, take the end of the yarn and hold it like this,” she instructed as she pulled fresh yarn from behind her.
“Where are you getting this?” Skipper asked in amazement as he fished for the end of the yarn. A second later he realized how casual he’d spoken, and he rushed to add a “ma’am” to the end.
“I carry it in my pouch,” she replied, leaning forward and tapping the bag on the back of her belt. “That way, I always have it if I need a break.”
Skipper had thought a Jedi would be carrying something useful in their pouches. Ration bars and the like. Yarn? Not so much. He absently nodded. “Okay. I… I have the end of the yarn.”
“Good.” Rin murmured, holding out her hands for him to see. Skipper studied them as she laced the yarn between her pale turquoise fingers. He noticed after a minute that she didn’t have nails, rather, small claws that she used to help maneuver the thin yarn. Absently, he hoped that his not having claws wouldn’t impede his ability to knit. “Do you see what I did? I will repeat it. You lace the yarn like this,” she said in a measured voice.
Skipper was a quick study, and before long, he had created a chain like the Jedi’s, much to his amazement. Beside him, Rin yawned and looked up at him. “I know Sprinter’s death wears on you, more than you are willing to admit to yourself.” Her brow piqued. “The loss of someone we love is never pretty, and it hurts. It’s not okay, not yet. It may never be.” She sighed. “The Force teaches us that no one is ever really gone. Though they may not walk with us or talk with us, they are never far.” She offered him a small smile. “It isn’t much, when all that you want is one more laugh, one more conversation, but it is something to find comfort in.”
Skipper froze and stared at the Jedi in shock. “I thought Jedi weren’t supposed to form attachments,” he said after a minute.
Rin snorted. “No, we are not. But attachments are inevitable, and there is a difference between healthy and unhealthy attachments. One can discern each with one simple question: When the time comes, can you let go of them?” She shrugged and lightly touched her finger knit chain. “I have found that I can, and that I do. Despite what people believe, we are not unfeeling, we jedi. We love and we mourn and we continue, as all life must.”
“Oh. I… guess I see what you mean.” Skipper said, not really seeing what she meant. He jealously guarded every single one of his loved ones and possessions. The galaxy could pull his vode from his cold, dead hands.
She pressed herself to her feet. “We must continue living for our loved ones.” She patted his shoulder before walking away.
Skipper looked after the jedi, not sure what to say. Really, what was there to say? Thanks? But she was gone before he could speak. He slowly looked back at the silken lavender yarn laced around his fingers. Would she want it back, come morning? Or had she meant that the yarn was his when she gave it to him? He wasn’t quite sure, and he cast a look around the observation deck to make sure he was alone before he removed his helmet and set it on the chair behind him. He slowly lifted the ball of yarn to his cheek. Oh that’s soft. He smiled and rubbed the yarn across his skin before quickly setting it back down. He’d never hear the end of it if one of his vode saw him rubbing craft materials across his face, and he wasn’t keen on giving them the chance to see such a thing.
As it turned out, he had other things to be embarrassed about come morning. Skipper couldn’t remember falling asleep, but he was snapped awake as something made impact with his face. “What the–” he reached for his blaster, realized it wasn’t there, and frantically looked around for anything he could use as a weapon. A second later, he heard laughter. “Walker!”
“Morning, Loit,” Walker teased. “What possessed you to sleep out here? And what’s that on your hand?”
“I’m Skipper , asshole,” Skipper grumbled as he rubbed his face. He could feel a distinct ridge across his cheek and nose, and he groaned. “Did I drool on the couch?”
“Actually, you drooled onto your shoulder and the floor,” Walker said, putting the cushion back on a couch. “Sleep well?”
“Like a baby,” Skipper mumbled.
“Great. Anyways, what’s that on your hand? Looks like you’re making a noodle.” Walker gestured to the serpentine thing that Skipper had created the night prior.
“It’s, ah… I’m not sure. Finger knitting. Commander Rin showed me how last night,” Skipper said, holding up the end. “She said I could make a hat, or a blanket, or a cushion with it. Though I’m not sure how… Just looks like a line right now…”
“I’ll say. Breakfast?” Walker held out a ration bar, and Skipper took it with his free hand. “Fox is building his wall up again. I’m gonna miss him when we’re back on Coruscant.” He took a bite of his breakfast. “Ever since we got on the ship he’s been quieter. Seems frozen to the cockpit’s viewport. I think even the Senator’s sensing it. She keeps looking at him with this concerned expression whenever his back is turned.”
“Can’t say I’m surprised--I’ve heard some of the other guys back on Coruscant talk about her being particularly attuned to changes in their behavior. In a good way. But I’m going to miss Fox too. Back to Marshal Commander Fox,” Skipper murmured as he took his ration bar. “And all the fun things that persona entails. Can you believe he started a group chat on the Senator’s datapad?”
Walker snorted. “No. As if that wouldn’t come back to bite him in the shebs.”
“Seriously. That’s gotta be messing with him. It’d be messing with me. I just hope it isn’t so bad that the Senator submits a complaint. That would be bad,” Skipper said.
“I don’t think she will. Tuck was talking about it back in the barracks, and it sounds like Senator Chuchi was more bemused than anything, from what he overheard.” Walker shrugged.
“I hope you’re right.” Skipper paused as he took the last bite of his ration bar, looking towards the room their newest squad member was currently occupying. “Poor Clutch… Someone’s going to need to explain to him how things are on triple zero,” he said, absently returning to his finger knitting.
“Not it. The less I have to think about Coruscant, the better,” Walker muttered. He arched a brow and nodded to Skipper’s hands. “So, uh, knitting?”
“Huh? Oh. Yeah, I guess so.” Skipper looked down at his hands. He shrugged and continued. “If I knew how to start it, I’d be happy to teach you when we’re back on Coruscant.”
Walker considered before scooting forward in his seat. “I could make a blanket for Zuri. I mean, that’s how they make blankets, right?”
“Yeah, or one long cord,” Skipper said.
“ Or I could make a blanket. They’d like that,” Walker replied with a smile. A moment later, his smile fell. “I’m going to have to break the news to them. About Sprinter…”
“Yeah, you are,” Skipper agreed. “They’re going to be heartbroken--Sprinter was their friend too.” He dropped his hands to his lap and looked over to his brother. “I miss him.”
“I do too. I don’t want to dwell on it right now. I… I want to process that back on Coruscant, surrounded by vode and with Zuri.” Walker murmured.
Skipper nodded his understanding. “Every time someone brings him up, it just hurts all over again.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Walker shook his head before walking over to sit with his brother. “Your hair’s getting long.”
“Eh, we were off-world. I’ll trim it back once we’re home.” Skipper shrugged and looked back to his knitting.
Walker pursed his lips. “I don’t know, I think it looks nice. Wouldn’t let it get too much longer, though, unless you want to go for the same kind of look as Clutch.”
“I don’t think I could pull that off. And I hope he knows how to keep all that hair well contained so he doesn’t have to adjust his bucket every five minutes. You know how much certain senators hate that.” Skipper managed a dry laugh, combing his free hand through his hair that was now a bit longer than regulation cut. “Ehh, I’ll definitely be trimming up the sides so it's nice and tight. Maybe I’ll keep the little bit of extra length up top. Enough to curl, but not enough to get a good grip.” He thought for a moment before continuing with his knitting as the pair sat in easy silence together.
“Good morning,” a soft voice said, and the pair looked up to see the Anor Jedi. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “How is your knitting going, Skipper?”
“Fairly well, ma’am. Thank you for showing me how. I… I see the appeal,” Skipper said, making the Jedi smile.
“Of course. When you are ready to turn your serpentine into something, let me know, and I will show you what to do next,” she murmured.
“Oh! Yeah, now. Now would be good,” Skipper replied, shifting in his seat. He paused before adding a cordial “ma’am.”
Unphased by his lack of decorum, Rin walked over and sat beside him. “One moment…” She reached behind herself and pulled out her own knit cord from the evening prior, the end carefully looped around a short rod. She moved the loops from the stick to her hand. “Here we are. Does yours look like this too?” she asked.
Skipper nodded before remembering that she was blind. “Um, yes ma’am.”
“Good. Does it loop around your head snuggly?” she asked, and Skipper held it up around his head, blinking as the cord dropped to hang in front of his eyes.
“It… is too long. Ma’am,” Skipper said while internally berating himself that he had let his manners slip so badly on the trip to Agora. Beside him, Walker was studying the pair in confusion, one brow arched. Skipper shrugged to him before turning his attention back to the jedi.
“Then you cannot make a hat. But you could make a cushion or a blanket,” Rin mused. “Which would you like to do?”
“How about a blanket?” Skipper asked hesitantly, looking between her knitting and his. Hers was far neater than his, but she had been doing this for… however many years old she was. Nat-borns that weren’t human were hard to gauge, but Skipper’s best guess was that she was somewhere in her thirties. Maybe? Twenties? Whatever. She’d been finger knitting for a long time, and a safe guess was longer than he had even been alive.
“Okay. You’ll need to pick up this loop…” she murmured, using a claw to lift the indicated loop. Skipper obediently followed suit, and before long he was knitting his next row. Beside him, Walker was engrossed in the movements, and Skipper did his best to remember everything Rin was saying. At least it was repetitive, but Skipper didn’t know if he’d be able to start a new project.
He found it unlikely.
“Let me know if you need any more instruction,” Rin said before patting his foot, her hand freezing in mid-air. She frowned and cocked her head. “Is that your foot?”
Skipper paused and looked down. “Uh… yes, ma’am?”
“You have no toes. I thought you were human, and… humans have toes,” Rin said, her brow pulling together delicately.
“No, I’m a human clone. That’s correct,” Skipper replied. “That’s my shoe.”
“Ah. You wear shoes.” Rin nodded sagely, and Skipper sucked in his lips to avoid snorting. A jedi, amazed by shoes? “I do not wear shoes,” Rin said, gesturing to her bare feet, and Skipper had to incline his head. Perhaps her amazement was not as odd as it appeared to be.
Skipper looked up at Walker, brow arched. It really was a good thing that Rin was blind, otherwise, Skipper wouldn’t get to have these silent conversations with his vod, and he’d have to school his expressions. Of all his brothers, only Loit was worse at hiding his facial expressions.
“Do you… want to try on a shoe, ma’am?” Walker asked at a length, looking from Skipper to Rin.
Rin considered before slowly nodding. “I have never worn shoes. I will try a pair.”
Walker slowly pulled off his boots. Skipper frowned at him, not sure what had possessed him to offer. They’d both seen how big her toe-claws were, and Skipper had no doubt that she could accidentally shred through the fabric, even though it was designed for the extreme wear and tear of fighting a war on an endless array of planets. Nevertheless, Walker shrugged at Skipper as he held out the shoes and placed them in her hands.
Rin ran her fingers over the shoes, face painted with wonder. You’d think that she’d never seen--Skipper paused. Of course she’d never seen a boot. She didn’t wear them, and she was blind. She turned the shoe this way and that before awkwardly pulling it on and standing. “You wear these all the time?” she inquired, shifting between her feet. Walker’s boots had awkwardly ridden up her haunches, firmly placing her paws in the toe area.
“Ah… yes ma’am. We wear those all the time,” Walker confirmed, scratching his head. It was a strange sight to see, an Anor wearing a clone trooper’s boots.
“Interesting,” Rin said, trying to walk in the things. It was akin to watching a massiff in winter boots for the first time, awkwardly flicking their feet to the side as they tried both to make peace with their situation and remove the strange new addition.
As she made a lap around the observation deck, Commander Fox and Tuck walked in, the pair deep in conversation. One glance up and the pair froze. Though Skipper could not see their expressions through their buckets, he could imagine Fox’s face scrunching in confusion. He had a certain way of arching a brow that never failed to express both confusion and, frequently, made Skipper regret his life choices. As it was, Skipper coughed to hide his laughter.
“Um… Commander...?” Fox ventured to say, and Rin looked over to him, an amused smile playing on her lips.
“Yes?”
“Are you well?” Fox asked, head tilting forward politely.
“Quite,” Rin said before sitting. She snickered into her hand before pulling off Walker’s boots. “Thank you for letting me try them on. They are quite strange, and I do not understand the appeal.”
“They aren’t for everyone, ma’am,” Walker replied in amusement.
“Perhaps just not for Anor,” Rin corrected before falling into a fit of giggles. “No, I daresay I will avoid shoes in the future.”
Tuck cleared his throat. “Commander, ma’am, a comm came in for you last night from the Jedi Temple. They said it wasn’t urgent enough to warrant waking you up, but they would like you to respond at your earliest convenience.”
Rin nodded. “Thank you, Tuck.” She smiled towards Skipper and Walker. “Have a good morning,” she said cordially before walking towards the cockpit.
Once she was out of earshot, both Skipper and Walker could feel Fox squinting through his visor at them. “Put your boots back on, Walker.”
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir,” Walker replied immediately before falling into laughter with Skipper once Fox and Tuck had moved on from the room.
“We’ll be dropping out of hyperspace soon,” Tuck said over the comm system, and Runner smiled.
“You’ll want to get a good look, Clutch--we don’t leave Coruscant very often, so it’s a bit of a novelty.” Runner gestured to the viewport in the barracks they’d turned into a medbay.
Clutch gave a hesitant nod and looked out at the streams of stars. “Is Coruscant like the stories?”
“Stories?”
“Busy and wonderful. Lot’s of opportunity and all that,” Clutch replied.
Runner snorted. “Busy, yes. Wonderful? Not so much.”
“Oh,” Clutch said quietly, his eyes widening in wonder as the blurs of blue came to a stop and a large, dark planet covered in a web of bright, golden lights. “Is that Coruscant?”
“The one and only.” Runner nodded, crossing his arms and studying the planet.
Clutch pushed himself to his feet and carefully walked over to the viewport. No amount of surfing the holonet the past two days could have prepared him for what he was seeing--circles and lines and specks of light, each one signifying a thriving metropolis. A few moons, a beautiful star just beyond. It was all so big and imposing, so glorious and spectacular. He didn’t think he could ever think of a single planet as “home,” and certainly not the one below--at least, not yet. Truthfully, he still feared that this was all some mistake or dream, and when he woke he’d still be on Agora.
Tuck’s voice broke through his thoughts. “We’ll be entering the atmosphere soon. Buckets on.”
Clutch unclipped his helmet from his belt and slid it over his head. Sprinter’s HUD was still set up with sergeant-level specifications, and though Clutch knew he could and probably should change it to reflect his status as a private, he couldn’t bring himself to wipe everything that had made this Sprinter’s armor. The icons glitched every few seconds, making the headache from his concussion flare, but Skipper said it was something they could fix once they were at their barracks. Squad vital signs blinked in the lower left-hand corner of the HUD with their distance from his location, on the right a notification that his kit retained its integrity, and beside that was even an icon that showed his ammunition amounts and distance to known hostiles. The latter, thankfully, was empty.
Clutch blinked the information away from his visor and refocused his gaze on the planet just outside the viewport. “Entering the atmosphere,” Tuck said in the private comms--one of the features Clutch had been most amazed by when he’d accidentally opened a private comm to Runner.
“This one’s for Sprinter,” Tuck murmured, and suddenly there were sounds emanating from Clutch’s helmet. He recoiled in confusion, brow knitting together as his HUD provided him with ID information for a music group and a song name.
Clutch turned to look at Runner and opened a private line. “Do you hear the music?”
“Um… yeah. This was Sprinter’s favorite song. He used to play it every time we returned from a mission,” Runner explained. “I guess Tuck is continuing the tradition.”
Clutch blinked, sensing the bittersweet gratefulness that radiated off of Runner. “Oh. I… didn’t know.”
“How could you have? We didn’t have time to rest on Agora,” Runner murmured.
Clutch closed the line and looked back out the viewport, though his eyes strayed to the song ID information in the upper right-hand corner of his visor. Clutch decided right then that he would memorize it and uncover what about the song had so strongly appealed to his friend.
As mazes of lights turned into rooftops and cityscape, the song came to an end. “Thank you,” Clutch whispered, slowly sitting in a chair Runner brought over. He looked over gratefully at the medic before looking back out the viewport.
Up close, Coruscant was as far from Agora as any planet could be. Clutch did not see anything green, just different shades of metallic. Buildings rose from buildings and ships moved like bugs on missions in a web around them. None of it made sense to Clutch, and he didn’t even try to figure out where they were going. He doubted that he’d understand it anyways.
Thank the Force that Tuck did. Their transport touched down on a floating landing dock, and Runner sucked in a breath before hissing it out. “Welcome to Coruscant, vod. We’ll be disembarking soon, but you sit there and rest while I finish getting us packed.”
As the door of the transport opened and the ramp extended, Clutch found himself woefully unprepared for the midday light that bounced off of every reflective surface and redirected itself for his retinas. The smell hit him after a second through the filters in his helmet--a smell of stale, warm air that was heavy with fumes and smoke from the speeders and transport ships that zipped all around the landing platform that was hovering in midair.
“Ah, Senator!” a voice called from across the platform, and Clutch realized it was another Pantoran who was standing beside a nice looking speeder. “I am glad to see you in one piece, ma’am.”
The senator nodded, striding towards the aide. “Yes, and though Agora was definitely quite a beautiful planet, I am glad to be back in the relative safety of Coruscant.”
“We have arranged an appointment for you at the hospital, just to make sure you are healthy after everything that happened. Then you will have a debrief tomorrow with the Chancellor and Senators Amidala and Organa. After that, you can take the afternoon off and then be back to your usual schedule the following day,” the aide rattled off the itinerary, to which Chuchi waved a hand.
“Give me a moment, Airi. I need to speak with the commanders before we depart.”
Airi gave a small bow. “Shall I collect your things from the ship, my lady?”
“Well, I’m afraid there is nothing to collect aside what I am carrying,” Riyo replied before walking back to Rin and the assembled clones. “Thank you all for keeping me safe. I only wish our efforts had not been in vain.”
All of the clones snapped to attention and gave a salute, and Clutch attempted to do likewise, but with an arm still in a sling, he had limited success.
“Something tells me, Senator, that even if things had gone perfectly prior to the negotiations, the Agorians had no intentions of joining the Republic,” Rin murmured.
The senator sighed. “I believe you may be right, Commander. Perhaps we can meet tomorrow to further discuss our experiences with the 57th? It would seem my schedule is… relatively clear…”
Rin gave a small smile. “Send me a comm whenever works best for you.”
Chuchi smiled in return before looking back to the clones. “May the next time we meet be under better circumstances,” she said easily before pausing and looking pointedly at Fox. “ Do try to rest. I don’t think you got more than five hours of sleep our entire trip.”
Fox stiffly nodded and gave a formal “Yes, ma’am.”
Riyo smiled before turning and going towards the speeder and her aid, the pair flying off into Coruscant traffic a few moments later.
“And on that note, I shall be taking my leave as well,” Rin said. “I will have my debrief report completed by tomorrow morning, Commander Fox.”
As she strode away, a new speeder pulled up beside the landing platform, and two other Coruscant Guardsmen spilled out along with a togruta unlike any Clutch remembered seeing in his flash-trainings. Their skin was a deep purple--the same as the native wines he remembered seeing during the few raids he had participated in on Agora--and their lekku were the same wine color with navy-blue stripes making arrow-like patterns all the way up to their montrals.
“Zuri!” Walker ran to the togruta, wrapping his arms around them and spinning them around. “I wasn’t expecting you on the platform?”
They gave a smile as Walker set them back down. “Well, we heard there were a couple injuries, and Commander Thorn graciously allowed me to accompany him and Loit to pick you lot up.”
“Surprised you woke up to see us, Loit!” Skipper teased from where he was chatting with some of the others as they walked towards the speeder.
Loit pulled his helmet off and rolled his eyes. “Wanted to see the new shiny for myself. Though he’s not looking terribly shiny…” he trailed off as he cocked his head to the side to study Clutch.
Zuri softly laughed before extricating themselves from Walker’s grasp. “I ought to at least pretend to do my job while I’m here,” they said before going over to Clutch and throwing their arms around him, humming. “Sprinter, I distinctly remember telling you not to get hurt on this mission. We have the concert coming up!”
Clutch sputtered, trying to back away from the overly-friendly and now understandably confused togruta.
Movement on the platform--except for the maintenance clones taking care of the transport ship--all but ceased. Clutch was glad for the whine and gurgle of engines all around them to drown out the sounds of his pained wheezes.
Runner cleared his throat as Zuri pulled away, a confused look flashing across their face as they looked between the guardsmen. “Something’s wrong…” they finally settled on before pulling out a medscanner and waving it towards Clutch.
“Zuri, Doctor…” Runner awkwardly trailed off before sighing. “That’s not Sprinter. This is our newest squad member, Clutch.”
Zuri glanced over to him. “New squad member?” They took another long glance at Clutch, taking in his armor and the overall state of him before seeming to do a mental headcount, eyes trailing across each of the red-painted helmets before understanding dawned across their face. “Oh… Oh boys…”
Walker nodded as he stepped beside Zuri, fumbling with his helmet. “Yeah. Sprinter is marching on. And we couldn’t leave Clutch with the 57th, so… here he is.” He clipped his bucket to his belt, and Clutch realized that the weird arrows buzzed into Walker’s hair echoed the stripes on Zuri’s lekku.
Clutch hesitantly took his helmet off, trying his best to not look as spooked as he felt. His lips pulled at an awkward, hesitant smile. His eyes jumped from Walker to Zuri, not sure what to do next. Zuri was awfully pretty--Walker hadn’t been lying when he had said as much--and Clutch wasn’t inclined to have his first impression be a bad one and thus embarrass himself. Though that ship seemed to have already flown. He flushed in embarrassment.
“Clutch, this is my significant other, Zuri. Zuri, this is our newest brother, Clutch. And probably the patient you were informed of,” Walker gestured between the two.
Zuri glanced down at their medscanner before blinking. “Heavens, Runner, what kind of cocktail do you have this kid on?”
“One that’ll keep him standing until we can get him to the medbay.” Runner shrugged.
“Well, we should get him there quick and get him out of that armor before throwing him in a bacta tank. I can’t believe you didn’t do that before leaving Agora,” Zuri muttered.
“Didn’t have much choice in that regard, doc. They didn’t even have a bacta tank on Agora,” Runner replied. “Well, at least not one available to the Republic.”
Zuri squinted at him before helping Clutch towards the waiting speeder.
“Alright, boys. Buckets back on and load up. You’ll get the rest of the day to rest and relax then it's back to business as usual,” the other commander--Thorn, if Clutch remembered right--called as he walked towards the speeder, Fox and Tuck in tow.
Clutch would have liked to have looked around more as the speeder pulled away from the landing platform and started through the Coruscant traffic towards the Coruscant Guard Headquarters, but the lights and sounds around him proved to be a bit too much for his aching head. He quickly decided closing his eyes was far more preferable, and not a moment later he was nodding off.
He woke up to Zuri and Runner gently shaking him, the speeder now somewhere indoors. In one embarrassing split second, Clutch realized that he had not only fallen asleep in the presence of a civilian and three commanding officers, but he was also going to be the last person off of the transport. While that adrenaline was enough to wake him up and start fumbling to his feet, it was not enough to keep him from embarrassing himself any further.
“We’ve just got to walk to the infirmary and then you’ll be sleeping for at least a full eight hours,” Zuri murmured.
Clutch nodded, groaning as he climbed out of the speeder and followed the pair out of the garage space and through a set of double doors into the Coruscant Guard headquarters proper.
Shock troopers made their ways through the halls, each in a complete and pristine phase II kit with the same red markings as Lima Squad’s. Clutch had thought that painting one’s armor was supposed to be unique, or a squad-by-squad stylization. But each of the Coruscant Guard looked identical. How Zuri could tell them apart, Clutch had no idea. Runner was easy; he had a medic insignia on his shoulder. But the rest of the guard? Clutch was none the wiser.
A massiff wandered by with an ARF trooper walking behind it, the trooper engrossed in his datapad. The massiff paused to sniff Zuri, and they absently pat it’s head, earning them a happy bark. The ARF trooper looked up and nodded to them before whistling at their pet. It whined but pulled away only to turn its attention to Clutch, who froze.
The massiff sniffed him over, keenly interested in however he smelled. “Come on, Rouky. Leave him be,” the ARF murmured. Rouky looked back at his master, unimpressed, and barked. Clutch flinched and tried to walk around the massiff, but it simply trotted in a circle around him. “Rouky! Heel!” the ARF snapped, and the massiff whined, but did as he was told. “Sorry ‘bout that,” the ARF murmured without a hint of sincerity before walking away. Clutch winced and looked towards Runner and Zuri for some indication of what he should do.
“Come on,” Zuri said gently, continuing to lead them in.
“The massiffs are really friendly. Sometimes too friendly. And the ARF’s tend to forget that not everyone is a massiff person,” Runner muttered. “But you’ll smell like the rest of us before too long, and then the massiffs won’t stop you in the hall. If they do, just gently push them aside or order them to sit. That usually works…”
“Usually?”
Zuri shrugged. “They usually have a handler, and generally they keep them well contained. I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”
Clutch stiffly nodded, silently hoping that he wouldn’t run into another massiff, and tried to mentally follow their route through HQ. The twists and turns of the hallways were even more confusing than those of Kamino, but at least the walls were gray and not blindingly white like on their home planet.
Stepping into the medical bay, however, was like stepping into a whole other world. At least when compared to the infirmary Clutch had grown used to on Agora.
The main room had a fairly similar layout, but the cots lining the walls had privacy panels between them and screens above them on the walls, the readouts looking very similar to what he remembered from Kamino. The assorted tools and equipment were all neatly organized and stowed away, and everything looked so clean. Several hallways and doors branched off of the main room, one labeled ‘OR,’ another labeled ‘Offices,’ and the last doors labeled ‘Bacta Tanks.’ A few medics milled about, each wearing a new apron. Most were clones, but there were a few other races represented as well--a few nat-born humans, a Twi’lek, an Iridonian, and, it seemed, Zuri the Togruta.
“Lucky for you, Clutch, it’s been a relatively quiet week from both the senate and the lower levels, so you won't have to wait in line for a bacta tank,” Zuri said as they escorted him to a cot towards the back and pulled out the privacy screen. Clutch watched in confused wonder--he’d only ever gotten to use one of those on Kamino.
“Alright, armor off. I want to have a proper look at your wounds and then Runner will get you set in the bacta tank,” Zuri explained as they turned to face Clutch and Runner.
Clutch nodded, doing as he was told while Runner assisted with the parts of his armor he couldn’t remove one-handedly.
“Based on preliminary scans, I think six to eight hours in the tank should heal most of this up. Then he’ll be on light duty for about a week until he’s fully cleared, Runner,” Zuri said, reading through the scan they had taken back on the landing platform.
Runner nodded. “You got it, Doctor. I’ll put it into his chart once he’s settled.”
“Thank you.” Zuri smiled slightly before sitting beside Clutch on a stool and taking a close, careful look at his head wound, hands pausing as they hovered near the stitches. “May I have a look at your wounds?”
Clutch blinked before slowly nodding. “That is… what you are supposed to do, isn’t it?”
“Well, yes, but permission is important,” Zuri replied simply before they carefully brushed aside the loose hairs that had fallen in Clutch’s face and obscured one side of the cut. “I am sorry about our… less-than-formal greeting, Clutch.”
“It’s understandable, doctor,” Clutch replied, trying not to wince as a nail got a little too close to a stitch for comfort.
The togruta hummed thoughtfully before focusing on Clutch’s arm next. “Zuri is fine, at least when it’s just your squad around.” They leaned back to meet Clutch’s gaze. “And to be clear, permission is important in all situations, whether it comes to medical examinations or hugs from friends.”
“He’s probably gonna take some work in that regard, Doc,” Runner chuckled before winking at Clutch. “Zuri here makes sure we don’t make complete fools of ourselves around nat-borns. In addition to keeping us healthy when we inevitably kriff up.”
Zuri chuckled, rolling their eyes. “You’ve got yourself a good squad in Lima, Clutch, every single one of them.”
Clutch weakly smiled. “So they keep telling me. And, well, I have no reason to doubt what everyone’s said.”
Notes:
We finally meet Zuri and the amazing person they are! As a quick refresh, they are part Togruta and part Twi’lek and favor their Togruta side in terms of looks. We love all of our characters, but Zuri is definitely a favorite as one of the characters that is a bit representative of us readers--we just want the best for the clones, and Zuri is definitely the same way. And god bless them, Zuri fell for the biggest himbo of Lima Squad who is also the most supportive and understanding boyfriend ever. Relationship Goals.
Anyways, we're halfway through April now? Gosh, it's wild how quickly the months fly by and yet how slowly the days drag on. We hope that your 2022 is going well so far, and we wish you a lovely week ahead!
Chapter Text
Walking on auto-pilot to the Chancellor’s office was second nature to Fox, and that hadn’t changed in the past few days that he hadn’t been in the Senate Building. His feet obediently took him where he needed to be, and he allowed his mind to wander.
Hopefully, the chancellor would be in a good mood, and he could simply give his report and be on his way. Back to HQ by dinner--wouldn’t that be something? Fox absently smiled to himself at the thought; he had told Thire that he’d eat with him as soon as Lima was back on Coruscant. They had been back for twenty-four hours already, and based on the passive-aggressive looks Thire had been giving him for the past twelve of those, he was tired of waiting for a twenty-minute meal.
But in his defense, Fox had been busy. Even with giving away some of his normal paperwork to Thire to complete, he still had to type up and file his mission report, review and complete the paperwork for Clutch’s transfer, and generally try to make sense of what all had happened in his absence. It hadn’t left much time for dedicated meals or more than a couple hours of rest, and Fox still hadn’t had the chance to check in on their newest addition, which he had been hoping to do since he had heard that Clutch was released earlier that day from the medbay and sent to Lima Squad’s barracks.
In short, there were about a thousand things Fox wanted--no, needed to do, and there was never going to be enough time to get all of them done.
All too soon, Fox found himself at the Chancellor's door. He sucked in a breath before ringing a bell to announce his presence. A moment later, the doors slid open, and Fox stepped inside. The chancellor smiled coldly at him. “I heard the mission was a failure.”
So much for back by dinnertime. “Yes, sir. The peace talks failed, however, we were able to escape unscathed. Both the senator and the jedi were unharmed.” Fox let his eyes, hidden by his helmet, scanned around the Chancellor’s office. Tonight it was empty of visitors, and Palpatine’s personal contingent of Red Guard had only been outside of the office in the waiting area. At least no one else would be present for the scolding--or whatever else the Chancellor was going to do.
“Mm.” Palpatine studied him. “Take off your helmet. Bring it here.”
Fox schooled his features as he robotically removed the sweet haven of his bucket and walked to the chancellors’ desk with measured, even steps. He set it on the desk and stepped back, hands clasped behind his back.
Palpatine studied the helmet. “Execute Order Two,” he said nonchalantly, and Fox’s eyes fluttered.
“Yes, my Lord,” CC-1010 murmured, watching as the Chancellor waved a hand over the Coruscant Guard helmet, and the projector sputtered before properly flickering to life. It replayed a grand total of three seconds of footage: Senator Riyo Chuchi walking towards Fox as she boarded their transport ship to Agora. As soon as it played, the holorecorder winked out with sparks sputtering out.
The Chancellor’s eyes turned to slits. “I see.” His gaze cut to the commander. “This is unacceptable, CC-1010. Sit.”
CC-1010 obediently sat in the nearest chair and stared ahead, awaiting his next order.
Palpatine studied the clone, his lips twisted in dissatisfaction. He slowly rose to his feet and walked over to the other man. “You leave me no choice, CC-1010. You know as well as I that you have forced my hand.”
The clone didn’t respond, his eyes still set dead ahead. Normally, at such a threat, any sentient being would have some kind of nervous tell, no matter how minute, but that was the beauty of the contingency orders--sentience was wiped away. Even within the Force, there was nothing indicating there was a living being before Palpatine. No anger, no pain, just a small void where “Fox” had once been. Truly, the Clones were an amazing creation, if a waste of resources were they not the keystone for his greater plans.
Darth Sidious carefully placed a hand on Fox’s head and dug his fingers in, forcing memories out from the crevices of his mind. CC-1010’s eyes widened, and suddenly agony blossomed from the void of his existence. Even when reduced to the unfeeling droid the clones were, they still registered pain. Perhaps the Kaminoans would consider this a design flaw . On the contrary, this was merely a perk for Lord Sidious. His lips pulled at a twisted grin and he dug deeper, tearing memories from CC-1010’s mind.
He saw the Jedi they had been sent with, the strange Anor that had evaded his previous attempts to see her. Her blind eyes and cyan lightsabers. Her use of tutemenis to redirect a plasma bomb and status as second to the head of security at the jedi temple made for a perfect being to corrupt when the time came to end this war. She would make a fine assassin, perhaps even a sith if Palpatine did not already have the perfect apprentice being groomed by the jedi. But when Krell sliced through her, the seconds that Fox missed… Sidious’ lips twisted into a scowl and he replayed the memory again.
“Commander—!” Fox called as he fired at Krell, who easily deflected his stun blasts, and sent Fox flying backwards. His head snapped skywards as he heard the sweep of lightsabers through the air immediately followed by the sound of lightsaber-on-lightsaber impact. He looked down at himself-- more useless information– and tore at the rags that’d tangled around him and dragged him downwards.
Krell’s booming, indignant voice said “What is this?”
“You didn’t know? I am a tutemenis master. Your lightsabers have no effect on me,” Rin said innocently. “Now I’m sure you didn’t mean to try and kill me, and this is all some big misunderstanding. I’d like to hear it.”
Fox tore the last of the rags from his boots and stumbled back to the action-- finally, something useful. The besalisk stepped back from Rin, lightsabers lowered as she pointed hers at him.
“You disappoint me, CC-1010,” Sidious growled, digging his hand in deeper. The clone’s body jerked beneath him as pain shot through his nervous system.
Sidious brought forth the memory again, studying every precise detail of it. The lightsabers had cut through the Anor’s body based on the smoking gashes on the dead clone behind her. But she seemed unphased by it and even her clothes bore no mark of a lightsaber’s blade. Curious, as the only fabrics known to do that did not even permit the blade to go through them. Sidious’ lip twitched; for all of her Jedi-like behavior, this alone revealed valuable information: She was lying through her teeth.
Of course, Sidious could not exactly blame her when he did the same. And a being who was so very capable of lying and swaying those around them to trust their words at face value could make for a powerful ally. Or a dangerous foe to be quickly disposed of, if needed.
She claimed to be a member of a dying race, and species did go extinct over time, it was true. But older texts that Sidious had read claimed that the Anor had gone extinct during the days of the Old Republic. Once lining the ranks of the Jedi, they were among the first to turn to the Dark Side. They had become some of the most powerful Sith, impervious to lightsabers and blasters alike. All evidence that Sidious had seen suggested that their fall was due to some internal Anor flaw. Regardless, it seemed that this Anor was as immune to lightsaber blades as her forefathers were.
Sidious highly doubted that the Anor were truly such an endangered race. Simply… well hidden. There were many unexplored pockets of the galaxy, either due to distance or the conditions of the space around them. Sidious was neither naive nor foolish enough to believe that, even with his extensive education and penchant for studying, he knew all the secrets of the world around him. In time, the Anor would reveal more, and he would be ready. Watching and listening, awaiting her mistake. It would come, and Sidious was nothing if not a patient man.
Then there was Krell, who had ruthlessly attacked the Anor. His cold leadership tactics. Not apprentice material, no, but perhaps there was another use for him, sometime in the future. Maybe something akin to Lord Tyranus’ Asajj Ventress. Or perhaps it was easier to let him continue as he was, destroying people’s trust in the Jedi, weakening the order from the inside. For now, at least, that seemed to be the best plan of action. While Sidious was powerful, he knew that his plan required a certain amount of complacency from the greater Republic, or even support, when it came to destroying the Jedi at the end of the war.
Beneath Palpatine’s grasp, CC-1010 jerked in his seat, a leg shooting forward of its own accord. A weak cry slipped from his mouth, and Palpatine slammed his head into the corner of the chair, making the clone fall silent as his eyes rolled up in his head as his mouth hung slack.
His body continued to seize up as Palpatine dug deeper, seeing the broken clones of the 57th, an ideal group if ever Palpatine saw one. Though their tactics were rough around the edges, their ruthless recycling and disregard for the lives of their fellow clones was admirable. Something to be encouraged among his own Coruscant Guard, though clearly the guard would need much more breaking in to achieve the same results Krell had with the 57th.
Finally, there was Chuchi, the small Pantoran senator. She was already starting to make a name for herself in the senate, and had attracted mentors and allies in the form of Senators Amidala and Organa. She seemed to like the clones, if Fox’s judgment could be trusted. Of course, it couldn’t be, but she was too kind for her own good. And most assuredly too kind for politics. The minor setback of her failure would do little to harm her continued career, but that good heart, if tied to such a being as Fox… Sidious could nurse that budding friendship as he twisted Fox into the man he wanted him to be--the cold-hearted killer he already was, though it had yet to fully blossom. And through the clone, Chuchi would fall just as the Naboo senator would: For loving the wrong man.
Truly, it was all too easy.
Sidious sighed as he released CC-1010 before striding around his imposing desk and returning to his seat, fingers steepled beneath his chin as he processed what he had seen. Several minutes passed before the clone’s body jerked again, still in the aftershocks of the seizure, and Sidious finally deigned that he should perhaps do something about his pet, lest he want to waste the efforts he had already put in to mold Fox to his likings.
He dialed for one of the other commanders’ lines.
“Chancellor Palpatine, sir.” A hologram flickered to life on his desk of Commander Thorn.
“Commander Thorn, I believe Commander Fox might need another once over by your medics if he has not yet had one after his return from Agora,” Palpatine said easily, falling back into his persona. “During our debrief of his mission, he passed out rather unexpectedly and seems to have experienced some kind of seizure.”
The clone on the holo nodded. “Of course, sir. I’ll send the medics up immediately.” He paused. “Is there anything else you need, Chancellor?”
“No, my boy. I will contact your commander once he is recovered should I need anything further,” Palpatine replied before cutting the line and watching dispassionately as the clone seated before him continued twitching every few moments. He used the Force to lift the commander and dropped him on the ground in his usual spot before floating the helmet and dropping it beside the body, as though it had fallen there during the clone’s “episode.”
While admittedly, the original plan for the “treaty negotiations” had ended in failure, it left Sidious with far more information than he had originally anticipated. And in a galaxy currently torn apart by blaster-fire and lightsabers, information was the most powerful weapon of all.
Clutch had been trying to find his way back to the barracks after visiting the mess hall when he was shoved to the side by medical staff as a group sprinted down the hall. “What--” he came up short as he saw Fox on the stretcher between them with a breathing mask on his face, which lolled from side to side from the quick cadence of the medics. “What happened?” Clutch asked in shock as the Marshal Commander and medical staff disappeared down the hall.
A guard near him sighed. “Best to ignore it.”
“Ignore it? He--he’s--” Clutch gestured in the direction of the medics.
“That’s what we do. Whatever it is, it’s between him and the Chancellor. And the commander isn’t exactly known for taking good care of himself to start with.”
Clutch looked at his vod, astounded. “Between him and the Chancellor? That doesn’t sound suspicious to you? The commander is--well, he didn’t look good!”
The trooper beside the first who’d spoken shrugged. “He never does. I’ve never seen the man smile. But aside from that, it’s all secret assignments and whatnot. Stuff that’s very hush-hush, need-to-know, blackout missions, all that. If we needed to be read in on it, the Commander would read us in. But he’ll be fine, Shiny, you’ll see.”
Clutch looked between the two in shock before rushing past them and running after the group. He forced his way into the infirmary and came up short, the chaos seemingly coming to slow motion as his gaze narrowed on his commander. The top of Fox’s blacks had been removed, revealing burn scars that spread like a web across his body. There were traces of red--tattoos, Clutch realized--but scar tissue made them completely indecipherable. What is happening that Fox is getting burns like that?
But the burn marks seemed to be older and Clutch couldn’t decipher what exactly was wrong with the commander, aside from the fact that he was passed out and there seemed to be an impressive gash on the side of his head.
“You can’t be in here.” Clutch tore his eyes away from the commander and looked towards the medic who’d spoken.
“The commander--”
“Will be okay.” The medic said gently and stepped in front of Clutch, trying to herd him out.
“Is he--”
“Yes, he’s alive. And will remain so but you must get out.” The medic nodded towards the door, eyes softening. “He’ll be fine, trooper. Best you get back to your duties, though.”
Clutch stumbled out of the infirmary at a loss for words, his mind replaying the scenes over and over again in an attempt to formulate some kind of understanding for what he was seeing.
He was no stranger to battle wounds and scars. He had some himself, and wounds that had turned into scars, thanks to his time in the bacta tank the day before. But burns to that extent? That was something he wasn’t accustomed to seeing. It wasn’t the normal wear and tear of battle--it hardly seemed normal at all, that was for certain. And on top of that, Clutch couldn’t remember the commander having any head wounds when they left Agora. Or any injuries whatsoever that had warranted treatment from a medic. The wound must have been dealt after they’d arrived on Coruscant, but Clutch assumed that the commander had been given the previous afternoon off like the rest of them…
And yet, nobody else seemed as perturbed by the commander’s state as Clutch was, which was unnerving for another reason. Was this normal? According to the others, the commander went on top secret missions for the chancellor quite often. Were those where he was getting these wounds? Clutch hoped to the Force that he was never sent on a blackout mission, especially if it meant he, too, would end up in such a similar state to the commander.
A mouse droid tore him from his thoughts as it beeped and drove by Clutch, slowing for a moment before continuing on its quest for… whatever it was doing. Clutch wasn’t entirely sure what the mousedroids did--they didn’t have them in the 57th. Clutch chanced a look into the infirmary when the doors opened for the droid and almost wished he hadn’t. Fox was being shuttled towards the room with the bacta tanks, and from what Clutch could see, his entire body was covered in a labyrinth of scar tissue.
Clutch almost wondered if the things his new squadmates said were true, even though they were said with the cadence of a joke: The only things keeping Fox alive were caf and spite.
Something was terribly wrong with the whole situation--Clutch felt it down to his very core, though he couldn’t explain why.
He leaned against the wall opposite of the doors to the infirmary and slid down to sit. If he couldn’t be right beside the commander’s bedside, at least he could keep vigil in the hall. It’s what Fox did for him on Agora, and the least he could do for the commander. It also helped that he hadn’t yet been officially cleared for duty and Tuck had shared that Clutch’s training schedule would not start until the next day.
A few minutes later the mouse droid emerged, and Clutch got another look at the now seemingly-empty medbay. Clutch winced and sighed. He’ll be better after a night in the tank. Those things can cure anything according to Runner. The mouse droid beeped at him and nudged his foot before scurrying away, Clutch watching it go for a moment before resigning himself to the long night ahead.
The first thing Fox remembered was voices that all sounded like his. The soft lilt of minute differences in Couriscantii accents, and occasionally one that hushed the others. How long have I been out? Fox vaguely wondered.
He remembered returning from Agora, filing flimsiwork for practically a full twenty-four hours, and being called to debrief the chancellor. Had he been given a mission? That would make sense.... But what mission? Fox’s brow twitched in confusion before turning to frustration. He couldn’t remember anything past walking into the senate building.
Fox shifted uncomfortably and opened his eyes. “Ugh…” he growled and used his hand to shield his eyes from the sterile white lights. Infirmary. Great.
“Commander! You’re awake. We need to run a few tests before we--”
“Yes, I know. Let’s just get it over with,” Fox grunted as he pushed himself upright. His vod regarded him in concern before beginning his physical. It started with all the usual questions; what year it was and who was the chancellor and what was the last thing Fox remembered. Then they checked his eyes and ears and made sure his reflexes were intact before having him pace a few laps up and down the aisle of beds.
All of the medics watched him, almost as if this time would be any different, before focusing back on their own individual tasks as Fox sat back down and the head medic brought him a clean set of blacks.
“You’re all set, Commander. Take it easy for the rest of today and tomorrow at least, and let us know if anything changes or gets any worse. Careful with your helmet–your scar is still healing beneath that bacta patch.”
Fox gave a stiff nod before pulling the curtain across for some semblance of privacy and changing into the fresh blacks and putting his armor back on.
With a clean bill of health, Fox all but ran out of the infirmary before any of the medics could change their minds and confine him back to the bed.
Admittedly the sleep had been welcome, even if it was unnerving not to know why he had passed out in the first place and received a new scar on the side of his head. But he had spent too many nights in a bacta tank nursing wounds he had no explanation for, having lights shone in his eyes that left him reeling, and dealing with the wretched smell of medical supplies that burned his nostrils. The whole process made him feel vulnerable and useless, neither of which were sensations he wanted to dwell in. His vode needed him, and he could not help them from a bacta tank or medical bed, even if they insisted otherwise.
Fox stepped into the hall, sucked in a breath of fresh air, held it, and slowly let it out, relishing in the lack of bacta or antiseptic that hung in the atmosphere. As he did, he noticed the trooper slumped against the wall opposite him, chin lolling against his chest as he softly snored with each long breath. Even though the Coruscant Guard’s armor had a standard, pristine design, Fox knew each trooper by the minute differences in how they painted the stripes or the nearly hidden ways that they personalized their kits. He may have been overworked and he never liked to show more than the tough exterior of a commanding officer, but he prided himself on the little ways he cared for his men, even so much as recognizing who they were with their buckets on.
“Sprinter?” he asked, brow arched before the pain of Sprinter’s death hit him square in the chest all over again and he realized he was actually looking at Clutch.
The man snapped awake and looked up at him. “You’re out!” He scrambled to his feet and gave a salute. “I was--I was worried when I saw them carry you in, and they wouldn’t let me stay in the infirmary with you, but I wasn’t going to just leave you. You didn’t leave me.” He took a breath before glancing back up at Fox. “How are you feeling, Commander? The others told me not to worry but you really… you didn’t look like you were in good shape, sir.”
Fox blinked, taking in the familiar paint-strokes of Sprinter’s armor but the almost frantic pattern of Clutch’s speech. “I…” he was at a loss. Thorn was usually the one to seek him out after things like this. Not a shiny. Most of them steered clear of Fox, especially after his… spells… “You stayed here the entire time I was in the infirmary?”
Clutch nodded. “I wasn’t going to leave you. I couldn’t. Not until I knew you were okay.” He paused before straightening. “And I wasn’t shirking my duties either, sir. Tuck said he wouldn’t have me getting started until today and I haven’t heard from him yet, though I should probably check in…”
Fox stared, taken back. A flurry of emotions ran through him; confusion, shock, surprise, comfort, and finally, realization. This new vod truly cared for him, despite Fox’s carefully crafted unyielding demeanor. His gaze softened. “I’m doing better now. Thank you for your concern.”
Clutch nodded after a moment. “I’m glad to hear it. I… guess I’ll go find Tuck and the others now.” He shifted between his feet before dipping his head and leaving.
Fox watched him go, a soft smile slowly making its way to his face.
Notes:
Content warning for depictions of torture (thanks to our favorite Sith Lord). Not graphic in a bloody sense, but Palps is not kinder or gentler about getting what he needs out of Fox’s head.
We hope you didn't think we'd forgotten about Palps' manipulation of the CG, and really the war and the galaxy as a whole. We have one more chapter and an epilogue (both of which will be posted next week) for this leg of the story, but rest assured that there is more in the works for Fox, Riyo, Rin, and Lima Squad as they make their way through the insanity of Coruscant and the horrors of the Clone Wars. In fact, we have officially started the series titled "Lima Squad and the Fall of the Republic," and we would love for you to subscribe to it if you would like to continue following Lima Squad's shenanigans. But in the meantime, we hope you have a fantastic week!
Chapter 15
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Clutch hurried down the halls away from the med bay, not quite sure where he was going, but certain that he should return to the barracks. Tuck had said he was supposed to start training today, though Clutch had no idea what that would entail. He knew the shock troopers had a reputation for being experts at urban warfare and were also trained to use the double-sided electrostaffs. Perhaps his training would involve learning the new weapons--the staffs weren’t standard on Kamino--or getting a better understanding of the many different roles the Coruscant Guard filled.
But no matter what his training entailed, Clutch didn’t want to be a bother or in someone’s way, and as a clone with nothing to do as of yet, he couldn’t help but be in someone’s way. He mumbled apologies as clones ran by, stumbled to the side of the hall when another stretcher was rushed down the corridor, and with each twist and turn, he was certain that he would never reach the barracks again.
Hopefully training would at least involve a thorough tour of the headquarters.
In the safety and privacy of Sprinter’s helmet, he stared at his new squad’s vitals. Runner had shown him how to open a private comm, but they were probably busy with their normal duties, and Clutch didn’t want to be a bother. Anyways, he was going to be a Shock Trooper! That meant this building was his new home, so he’d best figure out how to get around. He was smart, he could solve this puzzle. Right?
He cast a look around the hall he was standing in. It looked like everything else he’d seen: Dark gray with lines of bright, white light. It all looked the same. Clutch swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut. Okay, just like on Agora. When we get lost in the caves below camp, we go towards our brothers, he reminded himself. He sucked in a breath before trying to figure his location in relation to the nearest mass of clones--wherever they were would most assuredly be the barracks.
There… He turned left and slowly walked down the hall. They were below him, well… down and to the left. He could get down and to the left. It didn’t occur to him that the clones were too far away to properly hear, and that their voices didn’t echo through the halls. Nor did it cross his mind that it wasn’t normal to intrinsically know where anyone else was. He simply knew, and followed the tug within him that pointed him in the right direction.
Before long, he found himself walking down a steady decline that ended with a small blast door painted bright Coruscant Guard red around the edges. A thrill of hope ran through Clutch, quickly replaced with worry. Was this the barracks? Or had he stumbled into some area he wasn’t supposed to be in? There weren’t any markers on the walls, and if his eyes weren’t deceiving him, the lights seemed far dimmer here than they were in the halls. Somehow he could sense that there were a lot of clones beyond the door--surely that meant that there were barracks beyond?
Sucking in a breath to boost his confidence, he walked up to the door. It snapped open without any prompting, revealing a dimly lit but fairly clean hall beyond. This looks promising, he thought to himself as he stepped inside. He hesitantly walked down the hall, hoping that he’d see something familiar.
Clutch wasn’t sure how long he’d been walking when he began to see designs on the wall. Red paint twisted and turned along the walls and ceiling, forming motifs that Clutch didn’t understand. He came to a stop to get a better look, his eyes wide behind the dark of his visor.
The painted silhouette of a child stood against a dripping red background, a phase I clone helmet hiding their face. They held a blaster in their hands, pointed towards a melting star. A single blue bolt flew from the child’s gun, inches from the star. Something stirred within Clutch, a sort of recognition that he couldn’t seem to place. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, and he pushed them away--he would not cry because of graffiti. No matter how artistic the graffiti appeared to be.
He left the vignette and walked further down the hall to where he saw more art, if it could be called that. Angry lines of red cut across the dark gray wall, either end dripping black paint. Behind the lines was a dark mass that Clutch couldn’t identify. Whatever it was, it had glowing green eyes that seemed to pierce his soul. He shivered and turned away, trying to ignore the growing discomfort in the pit of his stomach.
Then he realized he heard soft music coming from one of the rooms. Clutch slowly walked to the door, listening to the gentle melody and the quiet sounds of snoring beyond. At least that confirmed one thing: He was in the barracks.
Clutch’s lips twitched at a smile, pleased with his discovery, and he walked further down the hall. Eventually, he would see Lima Squad’s door painted with their weird insignia, and he would be back where he needed to be. Why he’d ever thought to leave without someone to help him navigate was beyond him. The least he could have done was ask if a map could be downloaded to his HUD.
“Tweed!” a clone’s voice called, cutting through Clutch’s thoughts. He looked towards the voice as he heard durasteel clatter a few doors down. “Drop!” the same voice snapped seconds before the door slid open, and out charged a massiff with a plastoid greave in its mouth. It quickly looked up and down the hall before scampering forward as a man dove out of the barracks and face-planted where it had once stood. The disheveled trooper looked up at the massiff. “Drop it. That isn’t yours.”
The massiff--Tweed, Clutch assumed--wiggled his butt and growled at his handler as the man pressed himself back to his feet. Laughter emitted from the barracks behind the clone, who’s lips scrunched up in frustration as he studied Tweed. “ Drop, ” he commanded, but the massiff did not drop his greave.
The clone jumped at the massiff, which made a happy bark and pounced away to safety. “Try that again, Todd!” a clone said from the barracks, and the disheveled clone with a braided fauxhawk– Todd – groaned.
“This wouldn’t be so hard if one of you helped me,” Todd retorted as he stalked towards Tweed.
“No, this is top-tier comedy,” the other clone said, leaning on the door frame to watch. Another massiff sat at his heels, watching the scene unfold in front of them with disinterest.
Clutch looked between the clones and Tweed, not sure how he’d be able to slip away unnoticed. The massiff from the day before had sniffed him up and down and he had not enjoyed that. He wasn’t keen on repeating that, but if he moved, then they’d surely notice him.
As it was, Tweed zeroed in on him and pounced.
Clutch yelped in shock as he scrambled backwards before falling. Tweed climbed over him and shoved its nose against his armor, sniffing. Clutch squirmed and tried to push the massiff off, but to no avail. Tweed had absolutely no concept of personal space, not that Clutch fancied that he had any to start with. The massiff dropped the boot on his chest and began nosing at his helmet. ‘Helmet integrity at 95%,’ flashed in front of Clutch’s eyes. Panicked, he senselessly pushed at Tweed before crying out in shock as his helmet came off with a hiss.
“Tweed. Heel,” a different voice commanded, and the massiff stopped sniffing Clutch’s face to look towards the speaker. Tweed barked happily and sprinted away, leaving Clutch sprawled on the ground to catch his breath.
“I’m so sorry--I’m still training him,” Todd said apologetically as he knelt beside Clutch and handed him his bucket.
“Thank you,” Clutch whispered before sitting up.
“I take it training is still a struggle,” the voice from earlier murmured, and Clutch looked over his shoulder.
The first thing he noticed was gray boots rather than the usual red that seemed to be standard for shock troopers. This clone was wearing a kama too and had an ARF helmet clipped to his belt. He knelt before Tweed and another massiff as they sniffed and circled each other quite happily.
“Yes, Sergeant. Sorry,” Todd murmured, crestfallen.
Clutch quickly straightened and rushed to push his helmet on. “Sorry, sir.”
The sergeant waved a hand dismissively. “Eh, it’s nothing.” He looked up at Clutch and arched a brow. “You must be lost to be in the ARF barracks.”
Clutch’s cheeks burned as he rushed to get to his feet and look more put together than he felt. “Took a wrong turn, sir.”
The sergeant continued to study him with that arched brow. “You must also be a shiny.”
“New to the guard, yes, sir,” Clutch confirmed.
“That explains a lot. What’s your name? I’m Hound.”
“Clutch, sir.”
Hound nodded. “Good to meet you, Clutch. Todd, I’ll get Tweed back to where he needs to be. Why don’t you get Clutch to the right barracks.”
“Yes, sir…” Todd sighed.
Hound pressed himself to his feet and rested a hand on Todd’s shoulder. “It takes a bit of time for a massiff to get used to a new handler. Tweed’ll come around.”
“I hope so. It’s been two weeks,” Todd mumbled.
“He’ll come around,” Hound repeated before dropping his hand. He nodded over his shoulder. “Get Clutch to where he needs to be and maybe get some fresh air on your way back to clear your head.”
“Yes, sir.” Todd looked over at Clutch before walking back the way Clutch had originally come.
Clutch followed in embarrassed silence as Todd led him to a lift and pressed the button for sublevel 3. “Where’re you from?” Todd asked, leaning against the wall.
“I--sorry?”
“What battalion’re you from? You said you’re new to the guard, not a shiny,” Todd prompted.
“Oh. Um… the 57th. Under General Krell,” Clutch replied, and Todd arched a brow.
“He has a high turnover rate. Heard that he went through a thousand men last week.”
“Ah, not quite… but yeah. A lot of men die in his battalion…” Clutch trailed off.
Todd weakly smiled. “Most of our men come back, so it’s not goodbye for very long. Anyways, welcome to the Guard.”
“They come back?” Clutch asked in confusion.
“Yeah, reconditioning. Couple guys got sent out last week, and a whole squad returned the week beforehand. They’re still getting their bearings, but they’re back,” Todd explained. “Gives a man hope.”
Clutch frowned, not sure that he would define reconditioning as ‘hope’. Rather, he’d define that as something pretty terrible. But Todd didn’t seem to care.
Todd looked over at Clutch. “What squad are you in?”
“I’m in Lima Squad,” Clutch mumbled, wishing he could recognize something as the doors to the lift slid open.
“Lima, eh? I don’t know them very well, but we ARF’s tend to stay to ourselves. Or rather, your kind tend to avoid us,” Todd said. “That’s what I've observed in my few weeks here, anyways.” He shrugged, and Clutch awkwardly nodded.
“The massiffs are intimidating.”
“The massiffs are awesome,” Todd retorted. “Grizzer is a gift to the Coruscant Guard.”
“Okay,” Clutch whispered and awkwardly studied the doors, praying that one would look familiar.
They walked in silence through halls that had similar graffiti to the ARF troopers’ until they reached a door painted with the Coruscant Guard insignia with a pair of legs running across it. “Well, here we are. Lima Squad’s barracks,” Todd said, gesturing to it before looking at Clutch. “Maybe see you around?”
Clutch awkwardly nodded and watched the ARF leave before pressing a button to open the door.
“--and then the Senator shot an assassin droid in the face! Right over Fox’s shoulder! I didn’t--who? Oh! Hi Clutch!” Skipper looked over from his bunk and smiled to Clutch. “Just filling Loit in on our trip.”
Clutch’s eyes flicked over to the bald clone, who set his jaw and squinted back at Clutch. “Oh. Okay. Um… which bunk is mine?” he asked in a quiet voice.
“You’re above me,” Walker said, pointing up. “You don’t need to wear your bucket in the barracks. Vode-only zones are all helmet free.”
“And you can tell if it's a vode-only zone by the door. Doors with the red around the frame mean you’re safe to take your bucket off,” Skipper added.
“Oh.” Clutch quietly removed his helmet and set it on the table with everyone else’s before walking over to his new bunk. His old barracks on Agora--such as they were--hadn’t been as nice as what they had on Coruscant. Someone had painted the Lima Squad logo on the back wall, so big that it stretched from the ceiling to the floor, and there were a few cans of spray paint neatly lined up along the bottom. Nestled next to that was a bucket of Coruscant Guard Red paint, and two pieces of flimsi taped above it with regulation paint jobs printed on them.
Clutch paused when he got to his bunk and frowned slightly, his experience earlier that day with Fox coming back to the forefront of his mind. “Did Zuri work last night?” he asked after a moment.
Walker looked over to him. “Huh? Oh, yeah. They’re on second shifts right now, so they’ll start in about an hour or two and then work until midnight. Why?”
“I... I don’t think I saw them in the infirmary last night,” Clutch replied, thinking back to the glimpses he’d gotten of Fox being treated the night before.
“I think they’d have sent me a message if their shift rota had changed unexpectedly…” Walker trailed off, reaching for his datapad and tapping around for a minute before sitting back. “Yeah, they’re still on the second shift for another two weeks.” He lowered his datapad and looked up at Clutch. “Which infirmary were you at? And… you were just released. What had you back in the infirmary while we were working the night shift?”
“I, um… I saw Fox on a stretcher and I kinda… followed…” Clutch mumbled as he saw Walker’s face pale. “What is it?” he asked, barely above a whisper.
“You followed him to the Clones Only infirmary. No nat-borns,” Loit said. “Fox is campaigning for Clone of the Century there at this point. He’s in, like, every other week.” Clutch looked over to Loit, half surprised that he’d spoken at all.
“It’s more often than that,” Skipper murmured, shifting in his seat.
“Point is, that’s where you go if shit goes down on a blackout mission. Top secret assignments means top secret wounds and top secret treatment,” Loit drawled, crossing his arms and leaning against the back of his bunk. “The Chancellor has a laundry list longer than the trains on Senator Amidala’s gowns of things he wants Fox to take care of, and Fox always manages to end up in the infirmary. He’s even got a bacta tank with his name on it.”
“He does not.” Skipper rolled his eyes.
“Yes he does! I’ve seen it.”
“You also said you saw a lightsaber in the senate building.” Skipper rolled his eyes and looked to Clutch. “The long of the short of it is that Zuri isn’t allowed to work in the Clones only infirmary.” He paused. “If they even know about it.”
“They do, and they don’t like it,” Walker replied. “It’s not that they don’t know how to care for those types of wounds, but it’s a different security clearance, one that nat-borns can’t easily get.”
“Oh.” Clutch dropped the topic and climbed up to his bunk. The thin mattress sank underneath him, and he stifled a sigh as he rested his head back on the rolled up towel that served as a pillow. He slowly opened his eyes and looked up at the ceiling, still decorated with Sprinter’s things. A few posters were pinned to the ceiling; one he recognized from the music on their flight back to Coruscant, but the others weren’t familiar at all. Clutch studied a picture of a Rhodian that was leaning into a mic, their hand raised in a fist above their head. Behind them was a green Twi’lek banging on the drums, lips pulled into a toothy grin.
Clutch’s gaze drifted to a crumpled piece of flimsi with a rough drawing of a bunch of red-painted clones tottering across a field with their arms comically raised above their heads. “Leema Squawd” was scratched into the corner beside a doodle of a grinning, blue-faced child with a shock of lavender hair. Scrawled along the bottom in progressively smaller handwriting, where they’d clearly run out of space, was “For Sprinter from Pom.” Clutch blinked and carefully raised a hand to delicately touch the drawing, marveling that Pom, whomever they were, thought to draw Lima Squad and even gave it to Sprinter.
“That’s from one of Senator Chuchi’s aid’s kids,” Tuck said, cutting through Clutch’s thoughts. He retracted his hand to his chest and looked over to his brother--his vod --who smiled. “Great kid, loves our armor. They were infatuated with Sprinter’s helmet.”
“I’ve never met a nat-born child before,” Clutch murmured.
“Not many non-corries have. I mean, civvies have no place in a warzone, let alone kids. As it is, we only really run into kids while we’re on duty. But Pom was unusually sweet,” Tuck said fondly, smiling to himself. “They told Sprinter that they were going to be an artist some day, and gave him that drawing.” Tuck’s smile fell. “If we ever get to see the kid again, they’ll be heartbroken.”
“They’re a kid, Tuck. They probably won’t even remember us,” Loit muttered before yelping as Skipper elbowed him.
“Well, aren't you just full of optimism.” Tuck sighed and looked down before waving his datapad to his brother. “There’s a new bill–the senate wants a hundred thousand more clones.” He shook his head and looked back at the pad. “Makes you wonder how much you’re really worth, when they just purchase more of you at the first sign of danger but say you’re too expensive the moment the danger has passed.”
Clutch swallowed and looked back to Pom’s drawing of Lima Squad. They’d even added Walker’s one burgundy mark on his helmet. “I…” his voice died in his throat as he turned Tuck’s words over in his head. Clutch knew that the senate’s commissions for more clones were why he existed in the first place, and that when they declined to purchase more clones, lower-scoring squads tended to disappear. But Senator Chuchi had seemed so passionately against that mentality--that he and his brothers were created to fight and die for the Republic. Though he hadn’t comprehended much of what she’d said when he had woken up from where he’d been discarded, he remembered her holding his hand, meeting his gaze and radiating concern. She cared, and it seemed her aid’s kid did too. Cared enough to give a Clone their drawing.
“I think some of the senators see our worth,” Clutch hesitantly said, and Tuck offered a weak smile.
“Some do. But not very many.” Tuck looked over to Clutch apologetically. “I’m sorry.”
Clutch frowned and propped himself up on an elbow to meet Tuck’s gaze. “What are you sorry for?”
“Being bitter. I didn’t used to read all the reports--that was Sprinter’s job. But now the duty falls to me and I understand why all of command is bitter all the kriffing time,” Tuck muttered, shaking his head. “The senate’s a mess.”
Clutch cast a quick look around, his eyes wide. “You can just… say things like that?”
“In the barracks? Yeah. On private comms and encrypted chats? Sure. In the open? No.” Tuck shook his head. “ That will get you decommissioned.” He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of his bunk. “Speaking of things you need to know, I’m signing you up for some workshops that’ll help you acclimate and survive Coruscant. What time of day is best?”
“I, uh… any time? You are my sergeant…” Clutch blinked in confusion. “What sort of workshops?”
“Right. Well, there’s--” he was cut off by Clutch’s comm unit buzzing. “You’d best take that. I can tell you later,” Tuck said, nodding to Clutch’s wrist.
Clutch frowned at his comm, and hesitantly lifted his wrist to his mouth. “Hello?” he ventured.
“Clutch, I have news regarding your old battalion. Please report to my office at your earliest convenience,” Commander Fox said stiffly through the comm.
“Yes, sir.” he said in confusion. As the line disconnected, he looked up at his new vode –what an interesting term, vode . “The commander isn’t going to send me back… is he?”
Tuck squinted slightly before shaking his head. “No, he would have to clear it with me as your direct CO. At the very least, he would have talked to me about it. And he didn’t have his ‘doom and gloom’ voice on.”
Clutch paused. “Doom and gloom voice? How can you even tell?”
“You’ll get used to his different voices eventually. We have a bit of a leg-up, since he helped finish our training on Kamino before the start of the war,” Skipper explained. “You’ll be fine, vod.”
Clutch gave a hesitant nod before looking between everyone in the room. “I… don’t know the way to Fox’s office…”
“I can show you,” Tuck said, dropping from his bunk. “HQ can feel like a labyrinth the first month.”
Clutch nodded in agreement as he followed Tuck out of the barracks. “I don’t think I could tell you how I got to the infirmary yesterday…”
“You’ll figure it out. I did--I was a transplant too, just like you. I used to be in the 501st,” Tuck said as they walked.
“The 501st?” Clutch repeated in wonder. The 501st was legendary! Led by Captain Rex and General Skywalker, but some of the stories he’d heard about the 501st--from the little that did reach the 57th--were too awesome to consider true. Encouraged to use names, to strategize alongside their commanding officers, embrace their individuality both off and on the battlefield. Within certain confines, of course. “You were in the 501st?”
Tuck nodded. “So I’m told.” At Clutch’s confused expression, Tuck gently smiled and explained. “I was reconditioned before joining the Guard. I… guess my ship went down hard and in the wrong place--nearly killed me.” He sucked in a breath and hissed it out. “I started having seizures as I recovered. I was sent to be reconditioned in hopes that it would solve the problem. It did, but the Kaminoans don’t care where you get sent after they’re done with you. So I ended up here.”
“Oh,” Clutch whispered, awkwardly looking away. “I didn’t know…”
“It’s okay.” Tuck shrugged. “Reconditioning isn’t… well, it’s fairly normal around here. It’s just the end of one text and the beginning of another. A fresh start without having to lose your life.”
Clutch looked over at him, not really believing it. “I’ve… never met a reconditioned clone before. General Krell just… sent them off.” He shivered--how many times had he toed the line of drawing too much attention and getting reconditioned himself? But decommissioning was much more common in the 57th, and he’d been in the line up for that treatment when Fox and Lima Squad had absorbed him into the Coruscant Guard.
“Most of the recon’d men here are originally from other battalions. The CG takes a lot of them since frontline infantry generally only wants full squads who’ve proven they can work together. You’ll likely meet more before the end of the week. We’re a dime a dozen,” Tuck said.
Clutch awkwardly nodded as they came to a stop before they reached a doorway marked with bright yellow paint. “Buckets on,” Tuck sighed before pulling on his helmet. Clutch followed suit, and they stepped out of the barracks wing.
The hall that connected the barracks to HQ was long, spotless, and, unless Clutch’s eyes were deceiving him, the lights steadily got brighter as they walked towards the main building. “Sergeant,” Clutch ventured to say, “why didn’t you return to your original squad, once you figured it out?”
Tuck shrugged. “It's a lot of paperwork. And Lima Squad had happily taken me in and gotten me settled. I suppose I could have tried--I mean, General Skywalker is rather proud of the fighter squadrons for the 501st. But as much as I wish I could fly on a more regular basis, I am happy here, and the unknown of going back was too scary.”
“Oh.” Clutch blinked, not sure what else there was to say. Tuck didn’t volunteer any additional information, and Clutch didn’t ask. He’d expected an answer similar to his reason for being in the squad--someone died, Tuck didn’t have a squad to return to, and so he was brought in. Clutch hadn’t expected Tuck nearly dying. “I’m glad you didn’t die, sir.”
Tuck chuckled. “Me too. C’mon, we’ve got a ways to go before we get to Fox’s office. It’s in the center of the building.”
Fox’s office, it turned out, was about as big as the officer lean-to’s on Agora. That was to say, and rather generously, that it was cramped. Flimsi, datapads, old caf cups, ration bar wrappers, some used stims, and boxes crowded the floors and tiny desk. There might have been a guest chair in Fox’s office at one point, but it had long since been buried under documents and trash. Fox himself sat in a chair that looked like it’d been built for a child and pulled from a garbage heap. It was almost comical, a Marshal Commander crowded in a small chair behind a small desk in a small room filled to the brim with files and garbage.
Clutch hesitantly looked up at the commander as he stepped into the office, leaving Tuck to wait outside the door so he could help him find his way back. “You… wanted to speak with me?”
Fox looked up in surprise. “Yes. I did.” He looked back to his desk and frowned at the various documents. After some moving of datapads and tossing a perfectly aimed wad of flimsi--how had Clutch missed the trash bin tucked on top of three boxes in the corner?--Fox pulled out one of those fancy holoprojectors. “I received this earlier today. Senator Chuchi and Commander Rin were able to find some success, despite the overall failure of the treaty negotiations.” He set the communicator in the newly cleared spot on his desk, and the pantoran senator and anor jedi blinked to life in miniature. “Commander Fox, we are pleased to share that, as of today, Jedi Master Pong Krell has been stripped of command for the 57th Attack Battalion,” Commander Rin said, hands folded neatly in front of her.
Clutch couldn’t believe his ears. Couldn’t believe what the jedi had just said. General Krell, no longer leading the 57th? He had to be dreaming--there was no way that the General would leave willingly.
“The 57th, once they have fully pulled out of Agora, is being folded into the 21st Nova Corps, under the leadership of Jedi General Ki Adi Mundi,” Senator Chuchi said. “The unfortunate news, however, is that General Krell retains his rank as general. He now acts independent from any clone detachment, assisting other generals in their efforts or serving as an interim for any jedi called to needs outside of leading their men.”
“It is unfortunate that Pong continues to serve in the Grand Army of the Republic,” the jedi murmured. “I apologize that we could not strip him of all rank and associated power, but given that some of the worst situations we experienced on Agora were isolated from prying eyes, the council was hesitant to allow it to devolve into a ‘he-said-she said’ situation.”
Senator Chuchi gently smiled out from the hologram. “Please, let us know if anything else arises. As a senator, I am representative not only of my homeworld, but of the Republic's citizens. If there’s anything I can do to help you and your men, I would like to hear it.” The jedi inclined her head in agreement, and the hologram flickered out.
Clutch stared at the empty air where the holo had just played, convinced that he was hallucinating from painkillers or dreaming. General Krell, stripped of commanding the 57th? His old battalion, folded into the Twenty-First Nova Corps ? Marshal Commander Bacara was a legend among the 57th. When they dared to gossip, his old squad theorized that the 57th’s commander, CC-4927, was one of Bacara’s batchmates. It certainly made sense--from what they knew of Marshal Commander Bacara, he shared the same brutal battle strategies as CC-4927. But General Mundi had to be better than General Krell-- anything was better than General Krell. Commander Rin had shown that Jedi could be kind. Perhaps General Mundi was similarly mannered.
The creak of an unoiled socket pulled Clutch from his thoughts. He snapped to attention before realizing that Fox had simply leaned back in his chair. The commander’s arms were crossed, his own gaze set on the comm unit. “Senator Chuchi is very kind.” his gaze cut to Clutch’s. “So is Commander Rin. But here on Coruscant we don’t have a Jedi General.”
Clutch sucked in a breath and managed a stiff nod. “Yes, sir.”
Fox took the comm back and added it to a pile of things. “I thought it would ease your mind to know that General Krell is no longer in command of the 57th, and that they are being folded into the Nova Corps.”
“Thank you, sir. It… seems a bit unreal.” Clutch ventured to say, relaxing ever so slightly.
“I agree.” Fox confided softly, his gaze going distant for a moment. Clutch was far from an expert in the commander’s facial tells--as Lima Squad had impressed on him minutes before--but somehow he could tell that Fox’s thoughts were far from the 57th and perhaps more focused on the individuals that had made it possible for General Krell to lose his battalion. Fox shook his head and looked back to Clutch. “Are you settling in well? I wasn’t able to check in yesterday after you were released from medical.”
“Yes, sir. Lima has given me a bunk and tomorrow I get a proper tour of HQ,” Clutch replied, smiling slightly. “I was able to shower for the first time in… since Kamino.”
Fox blinked at him uncomprehendingly. “You never took a kriffing shower on Agora?”
“No, sir! We, ah, we bathed in the pool at the foot of the waterfall,” Clutch rushed to explain, his cheeks heating up in embarrassment. This was far too personal--who spoke to their commanding officers about bathing routines, except when poor habits meant they were violating the grooming regulations?
Fox shook his head suddenly as his datapad beeped. “I’m glad to hear that you're settling in well. You’re dismissed.”
Clutch bobbed his head and stepped out, glancing over to Tuck as he did.
“All good?” Tuck asked.
Clutch nodded, still shell-shocked by the news. “Yeah. I think so.”
“Good,” Tuck replied, starting to lead Clutch away. “You’ll need to get to sleep when we get back. Tonight we’re working the brig and the 442nd just got in today for shore leave. So it’ll be a busy night keeping vode from getting into too much trouble.”
Clutch blinked. “Too much trouble, sir?”
Tuck chuckled. “Well, I suppose General Krell wouldn’t have allowed the 57th to indulge in the usual shore leave activities, but we’ll get a number of brothers brought in for being too rowdy after a few drinks at 79s.”
Riyo studied the bill on her desk that demanded the allocation of more funds to purchase more clones. It didn’t sit well with her. Truthfully, commissioning a whole army of clones never had, but such was the way of the Republic, it seemed.
“Senator, your ten AM is waiting at the door,” Airi murmured.
“Give me a moment to collect my thoughts,” Riyo replied, and her aid bowed slightly before stepping out. After the almost constant onslaught of noise while they were on Agora, Riyo was still getting used to the near-silence of her office. In some ways, it was wonderful--she didn’t have to actively filter out the sounds of blaster fire or roaring engines while trying to be productive. But during lulls like the current one she found herself in, the gaping silence left a little too much space to think about everything she had learned while away from Coruscant.
What was the purpose of this war, anyways? As far as Riyo could tell, General Krell fought for the sake of fighting. The clones--not clones, men --under his command senselessly died at his cruelty just as often as from Agorians or Separatists. As much as she did believe that the Separatists were a real threat to the freedom of the Republic and its citizens, she couldn’t help but wonder why neither side had thought to enlist their own citizens as soldiers. That was how battles were fought before--by the people who were directly affected by the results of the fighting. But now…
Riyo looked up to the two men guarding her door. Both clones, neither of which she knew the names of. They’d never offered the information, and she’d never asked. Well, that simply would not do, not anymore at least.
“Excuse me, if you wouldn’t mind, what are your names?” she asked the clones.
They did not respond, and Riyo frowned slightly.
“You do… have names, right?” she asked.
She was answered with a few moments of uncomfortable silence before one of the men shifted almost imperceptibly. “Are you speaking to us?”
“Yes, I am.” Riyo nodded. “I realized that I’d never asked for your names. I consider myself sympathetic to the clones’ plight, but I do not even know the names of the men protecting me right now.”
“My name is Vati, and this is Ado,” Vati said.
“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Vati and Ado.” Riyo smiled. “Do you two accompany me often?”
“About once a week, yes.” Vati stiffly nodded, offering no further information.
The clones had been commissioned to fight a war--not to guard senators. They hadn’t even held a presence within the senate until she and her allies were held hostage by bounty hunters. Riyo averted her gaze and looked down at the bill again. “Vati, Ado… do either of you have a planet that you consider home?”
Neither replied for some time. “Ma’am… Kamino is our home,” Ado said. “That’s where we’re from.”
“Of course. How silly of me.” Riyo shook her head and looked back to the men, not sure how to articulate the question she really wanted to ask.
The galaxy was seemingly endless, and home to all sorts of life. From beings blessed with the strange ability to move things with their minds to small frogs that turned quiet nights into magnificent orchestral landscapes. Wars were fought across the stars, and here, in her comparably small office, Riyo played her part to represent her people and try to make that endless expanse better for the beings within. In the quiet of her mind, Riyo wondered what had come to pass that people would generate two entire, third party entities--who had absolutely no say in the matter--to fight each other on their behalf..
Where had the clones even come from, truly? Kamino was a backwater planet outside of the outer rim that Riyo had never even heard of before the war, but it had given the Republic the best army in all of history.
No, not given. Sold.
Riyo slowly looked up at the men guarding her. Sprinter was a man not unlike them, brave and strong and trying to protect his squad. “You do not have representation in the Senate, do you?” she asked. Neither man responded, and Riyo steepled her fingers in thought. The closest clones had to “representation” within the senate was in the form of Senator Burtoni, but the Kaminoan representative was more a sales-person than an advocate, and was always quick to remind any sympathetic party that the clones were not sentient.
A lot never added up about the Clones, but there was no changing that they were here now, living, breathing, and working among them, then doing their “duty” to die for the Republic when someone deigned it their time. They were a part of this magnificent galaxy, a fairly large part of it in numbers alone. And yet… they had no vote. They were purchased, not unlike… slaves .
Riyo looked down at her datapad and sent a quick note to Fox. She studied the text, waiting for the notification that it’d been received, before she straightened in her seat. She rolled her shoulders back, proudly lifted her chin, and rested her forearms on her desk as she fixed a kindly smile on Ado.
“Please tell my aid that I’m ready for my 10 AM.”
Notes:
While this is the end of the fic, it is far from the end of the story. Fox, Riyo, Rin, Clutch, and Lima Squad will be back with more shenanigans, as soon as we can put all of our thousand thoughts onto the page and make them at least somewhat coherent.
In the meantime, enjoy the epilogue which will give you even more of a hint on where we are planning to take this little (big) story…
Chapter 16: Epilogue
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“Though his sensitivity is admittedly much lower than those in the room today, I believe it would be foolish to overlook Clutch. I sense great potential. I know he has the strength within him,” Rin said, sensing the doubt pulsing in the room around her. When she had made her decision, she had seen Master Plo dying not in a ship, but simply fading into the Force as Master Yoda did. But now, awaiting the Council's verdict, Master Plo and many other jedi’s fates kept changing. If they didn’t make a decision soon, Rin feared that she would get a headache and would need to take her leave before a decision could be reached. Not ideal, given that she’d only just gotten back to Coruscant a week before.
“A force sensitive clone… is unique and worthy of our attention,” Master Ti murmured. “I admit I did not sense him while he was on Kamino, but we have missed many force sensitives stronger than he before. If he can be trained and become a Jedi… is an entirely different matter. He is already grown. He may not welcome our ideals.”
Rin looked towards her old master’s voice. “We haven’t given him the opportunity to accept them. Not yet. He may eagerly adopt them. I believe he would, given the opportunity.”
“I don’t believe he should be trained. He is weak in the Force. Any training would be lost on him, and besides, he is a clone. His first duty is to the Republic, not the Order,” Master Mundi said.
“I would withhold my judgment until I meet Clutch myself,” Master Kenobi countered. “If there are Force sensitive clones, I want to know what to be on the lookout for, for when I am with my own troops.”
“I am in agreement with Master Kenobi… I would like to meet this young man, and then I will make my decision,” Master Plo murmured.
Rin pressed her eyes shut and released her frustrations into the force only for them to be replaced by overwhelming dread. So many deaths prevented if one man was trained in the ways of the Force. “Masters… you are all aware of my abilities. And believe me when I say… I don’t know why the Force chose him. I don’t know how. But I know as sure as I know that Master Yoda will not die, but rather fade into the Force, that if Clutch is trained, thousands of deaths will be prevented. If he is not trained, frankly, I don’t know if I will be able to live with the deaths we could have prevented.” Rin opened her eyes and piqued her brow painfully. “It is not a future I want to see.”
“Train him without our permission, would you, hm?” Master Yoda inquired.
Rin hesitated. She would need to discuss things with her Anor handler, gain the High Court’s approval, argue that saving a thousand lives was beneficial to the species, and then maybe they would let her train a Jedi outside of the Order’s confines. If she was successful, it would save countless lives, and if she sat and did nothing, could she really call her existence living? “I would. I couldn’t live with myself otherwise. When I say thousands of deaths, I mean it. Knowing that we could have stopped it…” she shook her head.
“But he is too old. He cannot be trained,” Master Windu stated.
“I disagree,” Rin said firmly. “Anyone can be taught, if they are willing to learn and put in the work. I was considered too old to be trained. As was Skywalker. But we have both accepted the Order’s training and ideals.”
“Have you spoken with this clone about training?” Windu inquired.
“Not yet. I hoped to invite him after the council's approval.” Rin shook her head.
“Think on it, we will. Much to discuss, there is,” Master Yoda declared. Rin bowed towards Yoda’s voice.
“Yes, Master. I eagerly await your decisions.” She turned and left.
“Your old Padawan is not as reserved as you, Master Ti,” Mace Windu said once the door shut. He looked over to the hologram of the Togruta.
“She has always felt a deep conviction to try and avoid the deaths she foresees. And I do not blame her; her actions have saved countless lives, including my own,” Shaak Ti murmured. “Now on the clone she believes should be brought into the Order… Though I do not know that he can become a Jedi… I do believe this is something we should look into.”
“I agree,” Plo Koon added. “It would seem, given our knowledge of the Kaminoans, that the Force perhaps chose him, rather than the cloners having artificially made him Force sensitive. They would not have sent him out as an infantryman had they known.”
Obi Wan rested his hand on his chin. “Either way, if the Kaminoans are able to intentionally produce Force sensitive clones, it is something we will need to be made aware of as soon as possible so that we can thoughtfully approach the situation. From what we have observed, the Kaminoans have not just given us an army out of their own good graces.”
Shaak Ti sighed and looked at Yoda. “Back to the matter at hand, I do not want to see Rin set up to have a padawan that fails. She believes in him, and perhaps that would be enough. Regardless, I believe we should send some Jedi to confirm that Clutch is force sensitive before approving her request.” She leaned back before continuing, “She may leave or otherwise undermine our decision if it does not give her the future she views as the most beneficial to the Order. Whatever our decision, I will break the news to her. Perhaps it will mitigate rash behavior, should we deny her request.”
“Agree with you, I do,” Yoda said, scratching his chin.
“I will go myself to investigate. If a Clone can be Force sensitive, I want to know what that looks like, and how it feels within the Force,” Obi wan said.
“I will join you, Master Kenobi,” Plo Koon added. He shifted forward in his seat. “We can speak more after the council is adjourned.”
“Agreed.” Kenobi inclined his head.
“Investigate, you both will and report back, you must. Decide what to do upon your return, we will.” Yoda declared.
Notes:
A million thanks for sticking with us to the end of In A Mirror We See Ourselves. We hope you’ve fallen in love with these characters as much as we have, and we can’t wait to take you on more adventures with them. We can’t make any promises on when those adventures will appear (unfortunately we both have big-kid jobs outside of writing fics for one of our favorite series), but we can promise that we have some really big plans in store. In the meantime, we do have a couple one-shots that we will be posting soon, so we encourage you to subscribe to the series not just for the one-shots, but also for the second major installment in the story.
But for now, thank you again for reading this story and we hope you have a fantastic week!
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rabbit_with_a_sword on Chapter 3 Sun 06 Feb 2022 06:36PM UTC
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AssassinMykros on Chapter 3 Sat 16 Apr 2022 06:13PM UTC
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AnEchoInHere on Chapter 3 Sun 17 Apr 2022 01:33PM UTC
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BreakThisSpell626 on Chapter 3 Wed 15 Jun 2022 01:28AM UTC
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rabbit_with_a_sword on Chapter 4 Sun 13 Feb 2022 09:45PM UTC
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AssassinMykros on Chapter 4 Sat 16 Apr 2022 06:38PM UTC
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AnEchoInHere on Chapter 4 Sun 17 Apr 2022 01:34PM UTC
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TheResurrectionist on Chapter 5 Sun 20 Feb 2022 11:51PM UTC
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AnEchoInHere on Chapter 5 Sun 17 Apr 2022 01:35PM UTC
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bjoskul on Chapter 5 Tue 10 May 2022 03:56PM UTC
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BreakThisSpell626 on Chapter 5 Wed 15 Jun 2022 02:04AM UTC
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bjoskul on Chapter 6 Tue 10 May 2022 04:03PM UTC
Last Edited Tue 10 May 2022 04:06PM UTC
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CoattailsAndComms on Chapter 6 Wed 11 May 2022 11:01PM UTC
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BreakThisSpell626 on Chapter 6 Wed 15 Jun 2022 02:16AM UTC
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CoattailsAndComms on Chapter 6 Wed 15 Jun 2022 02:49AM UTC
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bjoskul on Chapter 7 Tue 10 May 2022 04:13PM UTC
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CoattailsAndComms on Chapter 7 Wed 11 May 2022 03:41AM UTC
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BreakThisSpell626 on Chapter 7 Wed 15 Jun 2022 02:29AM UTC
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bjoskul on Chapter 8 Tue 10 May 2022 04:17PM UTC
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BreakThisSpell626 on Chapter 8 Wed 15 Jun 2022 02:38AM UTC
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