Chapter Text
Just as Dogma's about to enter their temporary barracks to sleep as instructed, a clone he doesn't know stops him.
“You're CT-6922, right?” The clone asks.
“Yes.” Dogma answers truthfully. He's not sure what a soldier he doesn't know would want with him, but he's not about to lie about his CT number.
“General Krell wants to see you. He's in the command centre of the tower, you can't miss it.” The clone continues, jerking his head in the direction of the central tower of the airbase. Dogma nods curtly, changing direction towards the tower swiftly.
What their general could want with him, merely a private, is lost on Dogma. He doesn't waste energy considering the reasons any further. Dogma will find out soon enough, for now, he should just feel honoured general Krell even knows who he is.
The trooper that relayed the order to Dogma was right: It's not hard to figure out how to get to the command centre once in the tower. The room is on the highest floor, Dogma has little more to do than take the elevator to that level.
Dogma's heart skips a beat when he enters the command centre. General Krell is the only one present in the room, currently standing at the large window. Dogma's never been alone with a Jedi before, he's struggling to suppress the nerves that arise as he walks towards the general. Treating his superiors with the necessary respect is easy, but Dogma can't help fearing potential mistakes he might make.
Coming to a halt at a respectable distance from general Krell, Dogma clears his throat before speaking. “You requested my presence, general.” Thankfully, his voice doesn't waver.
“Do you know why, CT-6922?” The generals voice is loud, commanding.
“I'm sorry sir, I don't.” Did Dogma miss something, perhaps a briefing? Last he knew, he'd been ordered to rest.
"Captain Rex didn't tell you?" General Krell says, clasping his lower arms behind his back as he turns to face Dogma.
"Tell me what, sir?" Dogma doesn't make eye contact with the general as he speaks. It seems disrespectful to do so, presumptuous.
"The consensus is that you're the one to be punished for the disgusting lack of obedience shown earlier."
Dogma's heart drops. What? No, this can't be happening. Dogma would never even think of disobeying a Jedi's order, but now General Krell is being lead to believe Dogma would do so. Dogma's chest aches, he feels close to tears. He's never been anything other than a good soldier, to think that general Krell may no longer see him as such makes bile rise in Dogma's throat.
Why wasn't Dogma included in this conversation? Why didn't anyone tell him about this? He knows why, there's a reason he isn't included in most things. People don't like Dogma, he irritates them.
But even Tup? He's always been Dogma's closest vod, one of the few people that could actually stand him. They spoke about everything together, trusted each other. At least Dogma thought it was that way. Whilst Dogma doesn't doubt Tup has his reasons, it still hurts to know he tried nothing to correct the misinformation, that he'd lie about something so important to Dogma. Tup could have at least warned Dogma.
Should he try telling the general the truth? No, it's not Dogma's place to correct general Krell. The general isn't the one in the wrong anyway, it's Dogma's vode that lied. If Dogma speaks up to general Krell, he will only confirm the insubordinate nature his brothers have falsely attributed to him. Even if the general believed him, Dogma would just end up wasting the Jedi's time with having to find someone else to be punished.
No, Dogma will do as told, show general Krell how well he can follow orders, how good he can be. Hopefully that will make the Jedi think of Dogma favourably in the future, and not associate him with disobedience.
"Yes sir!" Dogma salutes the general, standing at attention. He's terrified, but won't let that make him behave disrespectfully towards his superior. "What would you have me do?"
"As a clone, you must be familiar with corporal punishment." General Krell says, flexing a clawed hand.
Dogma swallows thickly. His mouth's been dry since he entered the room. The general is absolutely correct of course. The trainers on Kamino don't shy away from meeting bad behaviour with physical reprimands. Dogma's ashamed to remember how often he was disciplined early into his training. Fortunately, he's grown as a person greatly since then.
"Yes sir."
Since Dogma started active duty, he'd never heard of corporal punishment being implemented. But then again, it's not like Dogma's in the habit of breaking rules, nor has he been off Kamino for all that long. It makes sense, after all, if it's used on Kamino, why wouldn't the GAR use it too?
Behind his back, Dogma tries to conceal the way his hands shake by clasping one around the other's wrist. He never thought he'd have to face something like this again.
For far too long, general Krell says nothing. Dogma can't tell if the Jedi wants him to do something or not. It's best to just wait for an order.
"Get that plastoid off." General Krell says, tone cold and calculated. His ability to remain professional is admirable. Dogma gives another affirmative answer before swiftly doing as told.
There's an approved way to store CT armor, most clones don't know that. Most clones are also not appreciative of being told as much by Dogma. As Dogma removes bit after bit, he places them on the floor neatly, and by the regulations.
The general wants Dogma to take off the plastoid, so when the clone is down to his shoes, he pauses. Does general Krell want them off too? Dogma doesn't want to ask, in fear of angering the Jedi further. He decides to take them off, just to be certain.
Dogma doesn't like standing in the middle of the room in nothing but his blacks. But following orders has little to do with what Dogma likes, and this is a punishment after all. Even if he did nothing to deserve it.
When general Krell beckons Dogma closer, he obeys immediately, standing at attention as he stops in front of the general. Thankfully, the Jedi is more than a head taller than Dogma, making eye contact impossible as the clone stares forwards blankly.
The general grabs Dogma's right arm firmly, large clawed hand dwarfing the limb. Dogma doesn't flinch, even when the Jedi's claws are dug into his wrist.
“Some may tolerate disobedience. I refuse to, especially from clones.” He tightens his grip in emphasis. The generals words hurt, but they are true. It's a fact that clones are made to be expendable.
“As you should, sir.” Dogma speaks clearly. The bounty hunters on Kamino always liked it when Dogma agreed with the reasons behind his punishment.
Dogma should have known better than to assume general Krell would function the same. The Jedi growls, using the grip on Dogma's arm to send the clone crashing to the ground. Landing hard on his hip, Dogma skids a good two meters across the control centre floor.
“Did I give you permission to speak, clone?” General Krell yells, making Dogma flinch as he scrambles to his feet. He catches sight of the Jedi's face when he moves to stand at attention again. General Krell's furious expression hurts more than the impact with the floor.
“No sir.” Dogma speaks as loudly as he dares. He immediately realized his mistake as general Krell yanks Dogma forwards by the front of his blacks. The Jedi's claws leave searing lines of pain along Dogma's chest in the process, blood feeling all to hot as it runs along the clones skin, pooling at the waistband of his briefs.
“That question was rhetorical!” General Krell snaps. “Of course a clone wouldn't know the difference.”
Dogma intends to keep his mouth shut, to be good, he really does, but the apology slips out before he can stop it. “Sorry sir.”
The besalisk growls again, grabbing Dogma's neck with another hand. Like this, Dogma is forced to look at the general. He can feel the Jedi's hot breath on his face, can practically count the sharp teeth in the general's mouth he's so close.
“Oh you'll be sorry soon enough, clone.” He increases the pressure on Dogma's neck.
For a terrible few moments, seemingly going on forever, Dogma can't breath. He doesn't struggle, he won't disrespect the general by trying to break free. General Krell has mercy on Dogma soon enough, keeping his hand on the clone's neck, but loosening the grip. Dogma keeps his wheezes for air as silent as possible.
“I don't want to hear a word out of you unless I expressly ask you to speak.”
Dogma nods almost frantically in response, fear showing in his movement. A wide grin spreads on the general's face. At least Dogma finally did something to please the Jedi.
General Krell lets go of Dogma. Knees feeling weak for a moment, Dogma has to focus not to fall over. The Jedi walks two three steps away from Dogma as the clone tries to stand up right again. Before Dogma can do that, something sends him flying backwards, hitting the wall hard. His back takes the brunt of the impact, reflexes making Dogma protect his head.Dogma is hit with the realization that the general used the Force on him. He'd never experienced it before, and Dogma isn't sure he likes it.
“Come here.” General Krell orders. He's walked across the room.
Dogma doesn't let the general wait, ignoring every ache in his body to follow the order quickly and quietly.
“Kneel.” Dogma executes that order even faster, biting the inside of his cheek as his knees hit the floor hard.
As general Krell circles him, Dogma keeps his eyes trained forward. He has no idea what the general has planed, but is prepared to take what ever his superior deems a necessary punishment.
The general's clawed foot hitting his side catches Dogma off guard, making him fall onto his hands. The next kick hits him in the stomach. Dogma tries to hold still, but falls onto his side.
He doesn't shield himself, that would potentially lessen the punishment, but Dogma can't prevent his body from curling up on instinct. General Krell doesn't aim for Dogma's head, which the clone in very grateful for, but if the general decided to do so, Dogma would let that happen too.
As another kick lands square in Dogma's ribs, he absent-mindedly wonders how often general Skywalker has to beat his men. He's seemed almost too tolerant in the time Dogma's known him, though he's sure the younger general has his limits. Dogma wouldn't be surprised if Fives had ended on the generals bad side more than a few times. It's genuinely shocking to Dogma how often the ARC runs his mouth.
Dogma pushes the pointless thoughts to the side. He fully intends to never behave bad enough to drive a Jedi to have to discipline him. It strikes Dogma again that he wouldn't be here if his vode hadn't lied.
New sparks of pain flare with every hit that lands, gradually making the majority of Dogma's body feel bruised. He tries to keep count, in case general Krell wishes him to do so, but quickly loses track of the number. Dogma just hopes he won't get in more trouble thanks to that failure.
He can't bite back the pained noises he makes, but Dogma manages not to let tears fall across his face. The last thing he needs is the general thinking he can't handle a bit of pain without crying like a tubie.
When no more hits rain down on him, Dogma moves back into a kneeling position as fast as he can. He feels like he's moving far too slow, like he's wasting the general's time.
As soon as Dogma is up, he is kicked in the back and sent sprawling on his front. General Krell presses a knee into Dogma's back, thankfully not with the entirety of his weight. A hand finds its way into Dogma's neatly slicked back hair, yanking his head back by it sharply. Another of the general's hands comes to rest on Dogma's upper back, claws being dug into the skin there through the blacks.
“Now, there's something I want you to say, and I think you know exactly what, CT-6922.” The Jedi's voice is almost painfully loud.
Dogma swallows as he tries to gauge what general Krell wants him to say. He needs time to think, not wanting to annoy the Jedi with a false answer, but doesn't wish to let the general wait for too long either.
“Thank you, general.” Dogma says, going with his gut.
General Krell laughs, making Dogma cringe. That wasn't what the general wanted to hear.
“As much as I like hearing that you enjoy disciplinary action, that's the wrong answer.” The besalisk tugs on Dogma's hair sharply. “Try again.”
Dogma panics. He shouldn't, should be better at following orders than this, but still, he panics. He stutters and stumbles over every word leaving his mouth, none making any sense. The incoherent stream of pleas and praise is halted by general Krell's claws digging deeper into Dogma's back.
“Stow it!” He hisses. Dogma snaps his mouth shut. “Stupid clone, I want you to apologize.” A whimper escapes Dogma as his head is pulled back further, angle painful.
Dogma tries to keep his apology coherent, but in his desperation to make general Krell aware of how sorry he is, he starts talking too fast. He barely remembers to breath between apologizing for everything he or his brothers have done wrong, or might have done wrong. Dogma apologizes for even the smallest thing he may have done to disrespect the Jedi.
When the grip on Dogma's hair and the knee on his back abruptly disappear, Dogma stops talking. Hopefully, he's pleased the general. Dogma gets back on his knees, slouching more than he'd normally allow himself too.
“Once you've cleaned up this mess, consider yourself dismissed.”
Dogma looks around the room. The general must be referring to the various smears of blood dotting the floor.
“What are you waiting for? Get on with it!” General Krell barks, making Dogma wince.
“What should I use to clean?” Dogma asks, hoping the question won't net him further chastisement. The general groans in clear frustration.
“Do I look like cleaning is my job? Figure something out!”
“Yes sir!” Dogma falls back to the floor when he tries to stand the first time, but manages the second. Dogma considers using parts of his blacks to clean the mess, but he still needs to wear them so he discards the idea. “Can- Can I leave the room to look for something to use?” Dogma's voice shakes almost as much as his legs do.
“Fine, as long as this room is spotless when you're done. Because you do not what to find out what happens if it isn't.” General Krell's voice is threatening.
Dogma nods, fear gripping him at the general's words. He gets back in his armor before leaving the command centre. Even if his vode know what happened to Dogma, he doesn't want them to see how much the punishment affected him. It's bad enough that the general had to discipline Dogma, he couldn't stand any remarks his vode might make. It doesn't matter that Dogma didn't do anything to deserve punishment, he doesn't want to be remembered as the one vod that had to be beat by general Krell.
Pushing the pain to the back of his mind, Dogma does his best not to limp as he searches for cleaning supplies. He finds a rag to use relatively fast, but spends ages looking for anything remotely similar to a bucket. He find one in what looks like a storage room. Locating a refresher is easy enough, as the door bares the same inscription the refresher in their temporary barracks does.
Bucket filled with water, Dogma returns to the command centre. Dropping back to his hands and knees, Dogma mops the floor. At first, all he manages to do is spread the blood further. He doesn't let his frustration show, just continues the job until it's done. He has to change the water in the bucket once, ending in him spilling bloody water across the refresher floor. Dogma's never spent so much time kneeling on the floor before.
General Krell watches Dogma as he cleans, making the clone extremely wary of making mistakes. Dogma only announces that he's finished once he is certain no blood stains are left.
Krell tells him he's dismissed, and waves in the direction of the door. Dogma makes sure to walk as upright as he can manage on his way out. Even outside of the Jedi's view, Dogma continues trying to keep his composure. He doesn't let himself limp, doesn't clutch at his aching chest, doesn't slow down for a second.
For a split second, Dogma considers visiting Kix. He shakes his head at the stupid thought. Kix tolerates Dogma at best, the medic would hardly enjoy being disturbed with something like this. And besides, if Rex was involved in choosing who'd bare the punishment, then Kix was no doubt included as well. Dogma couldn't bare the humiliation of having the medic refuse to treat him after pestering him like some cadet that had never been disciplined before.
Clenching his teeth, Dogma reminds himself that it's only a bit of pain, that no doubt countless other clones go to battle after far worse beatings every day. The worst thing about the situation is that general Krell now believes Dogma to be disobedient.
Exhaustion washes over Dogma as he enters the barracks. He can't give in to it, not yet. He needs to at least look at the cuts the general left him with, and he knows his blacks have tears that need to be mended. There is never en excuse to not be presentable. Taking care not to wake his sleeping vode, Dogma locates their small emergency medkit and some sewing supplies, taking both to the refresher.
Dogma sighs when he sees himself in the mirror, usually neat hair an unkempt mess. Trying to flatten it down makes him aware of scratches the general left on his scalp. Dogma decides against using the shower, partly because he doubts he could stand upright long enough to do so, and because, for the life of him, Dogma can't figure out how to get the umbaran shower running.
Instead, he cleans himself off with a wet towel in front of a sink. He quickly scrubs the gashes on his chest and upper back out, then covers them with the minimal amount of bacta. Shame writhes in Dogma's chest as he sees the vivid bruised blooming on his skin. It almost feels like he did do something wrong, like he was the one to disobey orders. He shakes his head to prevent tears forming in his eyes.
Dogma forces his shaking hands through the task of sewing the holes in his blacks. The end result is far from perfect, but it makes Dogma presentable at least.
He makes sure not to leave any evidence of his predicament in the refresher, then returns the supplies he borrowed. Dogma hopes his vode won't notice the small amount of bacta he took.
Passing Tup on his way to his own bed, Dogma pauses. He's fast asleep. Once again, Dogma wonders why Tup didn't tell him about the meeting with general Krell that had awaited Dogma. He swallows down the hurt rising in his chest, pushing it aside. It doesn't matter, not to Dogma. Tup's still the nicest person Dogma knows, still the only one that can tolerate spending time with him.
Rather him than Tup, Dogma thinks as he starts climbing up to his bed, sore body shaking with the effort. He repeats the thought as, despite his best effort to move carefully, laying down on the hard mattress aggravates every ache and pain he's experiencing. Dogma shivers, pulling the thin blanket high enough to cover half his face.
Dogma glances down at Tup once more before turning his back to him. When they were on Kamino, Dogma would often share a bed with his brother. They haven't since they were deployed. Dogma understands why. They're already significantly younger than the most of the 501st Legion, the last thing Dogma and Tup need is their vode looking down on them because they cling to each other like cadets.
Still, Dogma longs to sleep near his brother again, now more than ever. But he'd never go against Tup's wishes. He just wraps his arms around himself a little tighter, trying to force his mind to make use of the few hours of sleep he'll be able to get.