Smoke and blaster fire fill the air as the same monotone order repeats over the comm channel.
"Execute Order 66."
Clone pilot Chuckles has no idea what's happening as he watches clone troopers destroy the Jedi temple, murdering the people they've fought alongside for the last three years. But when he stumbles across two terrified younglings, a Twi'lek named Arni and a Pantoran named Nita, he knows he must do whatever it takes to save them.
Rating - E (canon typical violence, language, explicit sexual content, character death)
**M-rated version of this fic available on AO3**
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Chuckles Artwork (by the outstanding @love-like-poetry)
Chuckles Artwork (by the incredible @cross-my-heartt)
A/N: IT IS TIME! I'm very excited for this fic, and I hope you all are too (even if it is a purely OC fic). I've loved these three since I introduced them (Chuckles and Arni first appeared in 200 Follower Celebration Ficlets, and Nita made her first appearance in “Reunion” and is also featured in one of those ficlets), and I wasn't certain if I'd ever write a fic for just them, but this one has really just been a labor of love from the start. I know this will probably have lower than normal readership since it doesn’t revolve canon characters, but I hope those that do read it love it as much as I do. As always, thank you to the absolutely incredible @teletraan-meets-jarvis for beta-reading this for me and encouraging me to write this (while also being a wonderful sounding board for all my ideas). Couldn’t do this without you, TJ! Without further ado...
Chapter Rating: T (entire work is rated E, but M-rated version can be found on AO3)
Warnings: language, canon-typical violence
Word Count: 6.6k words
It’s almost over.
Chuckles’s feet felt lighter as he stepped out of his fighter and onto the ladder next to the Z-95 Headhunter, slipping his helmet off and tucking it under his arm. He paused for a moment on the ladder to examine his reflection in the transparisteel of his cockpit viewport. He ran his fingers through his flattened mohawk, trying to stand the colored ends back up from where the helmet had pressed them against his skull. The teal color he’d dyed the tips of his hair a few weeks ago was fading to more of a greenish grey at this point, and his mouth twitched at the hue.
Needs a touch-up soon.
The color had been chosen by his friend Howzer after a lost game of sabacc to “ensure everyone knew who beat him.” Chuck would never admit it, but he’d liked the teal the best of any colors he’d tried during the war. It had looked nice against the magenta and grey of his armor.
Three years, and it might all end today.
When he reached the base of the ladder, he paused, glancing down at the helmet in his hands. His fingers traced the stars he’d painted for each of his fallen brothers on the plastoid, some of them with scratches marring their magenta paint. Turning the helmet, his thumb grazed the single grey star he’d painted on the back of the helmet near its base. He sighed.
Thank the Maker this might all be done. Was running out of real estate for these guys.
A few of the maintenance droids were already rolling towards his fighter, and he gave them one of his lop-sided grins, the scar on the right corner of his mouth tugging against the expression. “Make sure you polish her up good, fellas. By all accounts, it sounds like there’ll be a victory parade shortly.” The droids buzzed and beeped in excitement, the R7 unit spinning in an excited circle. Chuckles grinned, patting its metal dome as he moved past.
What to do with my day off? The possible last day of the war? Maybe I’ll go see that mechanic down in the temple garage. Might be time I finally asked her out to dinner. To celebrate.
Chuck glanced down at his armor before raising his arm and giving his armpit a sniff. The last mission had been shorter than the others, so the stink hadn’t set in yet. He shrugged, deciding not to run by the barracks and change.
Eh, who can say no to a guy in his armor? I showered yesterday anyway.
Reaching down, he made sure his sidearm was still in its holster at his hip before he stepped out of the garage. He’d misplaced the damn thing enough, and he was not about to be reprimanded by some uptight admiral on a day as momentous as this.
The streets of Coruscant were buzzing as usual, but today felt different. There was a charge of excitement that made the air feel electric, as if everyone knew what he did.
News travels fast, I’m sure. Especially good news.
He slipped his helmet back on so that he could monitor the clone comm channels. This was not the day to be out of the loop. He tuned into the main feed, listening to the crackle that was occasionally interrupted by one of the millions of voices that all sounded like his, reporting statuses or giving order updates. If General Kenobi could just handle things on Utapau with the 212th, then it would be all over.
A new beginning.
Chuckles had been created to fight in this war, and with the end of it looming, he wasn’t exactly sure how to feel about his future. If he was honest, he hadn’t really thought that far ahead. With as many brothers as he’d lost, he’d just assumed he’d wind up as a star or a hashmark on someone else’s armor at some point, but now, he’d made it.
Beat the odds, I guess. Despite the galaxy’s best efforts.
The columns of the Jedi temple loomed taller as he approached, their towers reaching up to pierce the clear Coruscant sky that was beginning to turn orange and pink as dusk approached. Chuckles nodded to a few of the Jedi stewards as he passed into the gardens that ran along the side of the temple. He loved cutting through them to get to the maintenance garages. Normally, they were filled with masters and padawans meditating or younglings running about, but today, they were uncharacteristically still.
Probably all inside tuned to the feeds like I am. Wonder if General Rancisis is back from Saleucami yet. He’ll want to be here for this.
He paused under one of the larger trees in the garden, his head tilting up to observe the fluttering petals of the blooms that had broken out across the branches since the last time he’d been here. A few of the pale pink petals were caught in the breeze and fluttered downward towards him. Chuckles reached out his glove to catch one of them, smiling to himself underneath his bucket.
“Attention all Coruscant-based troops. Attention all Coruscant-based troops.”
Chuckles paused, listening to the buzzing, monotone voice in his helmet.
“Execute Order 66.”
There was a ringing in his ears before a flash of pain shot across his vision, blinding him for a second as he cursed loudly. His hand flew to the side of his helmet. The petals he’d caught drifted to the ground, his boots crushing them as he tried to steady himself, his knees shaking.
“Execute Order 66.”
Another searing blast emanated from the right side of his head, and Chuckles pressed his hand against the tree as he tried to stay on his feet.
Good soldiers…
He slapped the side of his helmet, trying desperately to clear his mind. His thumb grazed the comm switch, silencing the channel that was just repeating the same directive over and over. Another bolt of pain slammed into him, and he roared a curse. And then, as suddenly as it came, it dissipated. Chuck was crouching down by the tree, bracing his palms against the bark of its trunk as he took several deep steadying breaths. The rushing of his blood in his ears had subsided, giving way to a deafening silence. He rested the forehead of his bucket against the tree as he inhaled deeply once more.
What the kriff was that?
A scream ripped through the silence. Chuckles froze, almost wondering if he had imagined it until he heard another one, unmistakable and a much lower register than the first. And then came the blaster fire. Chuckles ripped his sidearm from its holster, crouching against the tree.
Good soldiers follow…
The pain came roaring back and he gasped, banging on the side of his helmet again.
Come on, get it together, Chuck.
He heard the pounding steps of someone running. Crouching low, he peered around the trunk cautiously. The back door of the temple was open. A blonde human padawan was running from it, making her way across the courtyard, her lightsaber in hand as her dark robes trailed behind her. Suddenly, multiple blaster bolts erupted out of the door. The padawan whirled, and Chuckles could see tears streaming down her face.
“WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?!” she screamed before another volley of bolts flew through the door. Chuck stood, running towards her as fast as his legs could carry him. He made it through the durasteel decorative gate, sprinting towards the hedges that lined the courtyard the padawan was standing in, but as he went to vault them, one of the branches caught his toe. As he fell forward, his arms flailing, he watched as a blaster bolt caught the padawan in her shoulder. She dropped her lightsaber as another one caught her in the chest, and she collapsed to the ground, her blonde braid trailing behind her.
No.
Chuckles felt bile rise in his throat as he slammed onto his chest behind a set of bushes. The wind was knocked out of him, and before he could struggle to his feet, he froze as three clone troopers in blue and white armor jogged out the door of the temple. They approached the padawan, their blasters trained on her. One of them crouched down, checking her before nodding at the others. Chuckles watched in horror as they abandoned the padawan’s body, retreating into the temple.
What? Why would they do that? She needs help. She needs…did they kill her?
From where he lay, hidden from view, he could see inside the temple now. The unmistakable blur of lightsabers shone down the hallways, deflecting blaster bolts back at more troopers in blue and white armor. Chuckles watched another group of Jedi fall, the troopers stepping over the bodies left in their wake. Pushing himself to his knees, Chuckles lifted his helmet just enough to vomit violently into the bushes.
What the kriff is happening? The temple is under attack. Where did the Seppies get clone armor? How did this many of them get on Coruscant with no one noticing?
He took a deep shuddering breath.
Focus. You need to focus.
He punched the comm on his arm. “This is CT-4311. Does anyone read me?” He was met with silence. In frustration, he punched the comm again. “HELLO? This is CT-4311! I’m at the Jedi temple, and they are under attack by soldiers wearing clone armor. We need as many battalions as we can get down here ASAP.” No response. He banged his vambrace against the ground again. “HELLO? IS ANYONE THERE?” He slapped the switch on his helmet again, tuning to the main comm channel.
Surely this is making the waves.
“Execute Order 66.”
The pain shot through his skull again, and he gasped before switching the comm back off.
What the kriff is going on?
A rustle in a set of bushes off to his left made him jump. Chuckles sprang to his feet, drawing his sidearm and aiming it at the source of the sound.
“IDENTIFY YOURSELF.”
The bushes rustled again, closer to him this time, and Chuckles took a step backwards as he tried to put more authority in his voice. “I SAID IDENTIFY YOURSELF.” He gripped the blaster tighter, trying to hide the shaking of his hands.
Hushed whispers carried to him from the foliage. Suddenly, he noted two bright, honey-colored eyes peering at him from between two branches.
It’s a youngling.
He holstered his blaster, squatting back down. “Hey there, can you come out?” He went to take a step forward, but before his heel could hit dirt, a blur of brown and blue stepped in between him and the bush. A yellow lightsaber hummed in front of his face, held by a quivering young blue Twi’lek.
“DON’T TOUCH HER.”
The kid’s face was covered in tear stains, their bottom lip trembling as they dug their teeth in as if that would keep them from dissolving into a sobbing mess. They were mostly blue with a tan birthmark on one side of their face that reached from their chin to just below their eye, almost like a splotch of paint had been flung at them. The kid’s lekku hung down their back, trembling along with the rest of them. They were dressed in a traditional brown Jedi tunic and robe that matched their lekku wrappings and the cap that covered their head, but along their belt were multiple pouches with handwritten labels. Bacta. Bolts. Snacks. I’ll have to ask what kind of snacks later. Chuckles glanced at their face. Can’t be older than twelve, maybe not even that.
“Back up,” the Twi’lek demanded in a quavering voice.
The bushes behind the youngling rustled again, and a small Pantoran emerged. Her silver hair was wound into two messy buns on either side of her head with a few leaves from the bush sticking out of them. She wore a silver tunic that seemed just a little too large for her, her sleeves hiding most of her hands. Her large golden eyes appraised the clone in front of her, but before she could speak, the Twi’lek shoved her behind them. The Pantoran peered at Chuckles from behind her companion’s robes. There was fear in her eyes, but also curiosity. That one’s probably six or seven. Maker alive, what is happening?
Chuckles raised his hands in surrender, sinking into a crouch behind the bushes, blocking them from the view of the door.
“Kid, look-”
“Why?” the Twi’lek demanded. “Why are you doing this to us?”
“Doing what?”
“Why are you attacking us? Why are you killing us?” the youngling demanded.
Chuckles stared at them blankly. “It’s not us, kid. Someone must have stolen our armor. We would never-”
“IT IS YOU! I SAW ONE OF THEM TAKE OFF THEIR HELMET!”
Chuckles’s heart thundered in his chest. That can’t be. Why would we attack the Jedi? That doesn’t make any sense. What the kriff is happening? He shook his head. No, focus. I’ve got to get these kids out of here. He made a move towards the Twi’lek, but the youngling brandished their lightsaber as firmly as they could.
“Stay. Back.”
Chuckles noticed the youngling’s eyes were flicking back and forth as they looked at him, and then he remembered he was wearing his helmet. Slowly, he reached for the base of his bucket, sliding it up and over his head and setting it on the ground next to him before he raised his hands once more. The Twi’lek’s face seemed to soften a bit at the sight of a human face staring back at them.
It’s harder to kill something with a face, Chuckles thought.
“Listen, I don’t know what’s happening either. I’m just as scared and confused as you are. But, I’m not going to hurt you. I want to get you out of here, alright?” The Twi’lek appeared to be considering it carefully, their eyes darting to the direction of the screams that were still coming from the temple and then back to Chuckles. Chuck took a deep breath. “I’m not one of them, kid.”
“Arni.” The Pantoran gently tugged on the Twi’lek’s robes. “I think he’s telling the truth. Reach out to him.”
The Twi’lek looked at her for a moment before moistening their lips. “I…I can’t read him without touching him. I haven’t gotten good enough at it yet.”
Chuckles thought for a second before taking his blaster and tossing it near the Twi’lek’s feet. We need to get out of here, but I need them to trust me first. Pulling the binders he had on his belt, he held them up. “I’m gonna put these on, ok? You’ll have to let me out once you’re sure. And if you don’t get the right…read, you can just leave me here, alright?” And then I’ll be on my own. But at least maybe they’ll be safe. Or at least, safer I guess. Before he could overthink it further, Chuckles turned so his back was to the two younglings, slipping the binders over his wrists and locking them in place. He gave them a tug to demonstrate he was locked in. The two younglings whispered again behind him before coming around to stand in front of him. The Twi’lek Arni stepped closer, and with trembling hands, cupped his face. Their palms were sweaty and cold, and Chuck could feel them trembling against his cheeks. Arni closed their eyes, their brows furrowing in concentration. Chuckles closed his eyes as well, feeling a warmth wash over him that seemed to emanate from the kid’s fingertips despite their clamminess. He’d never really experienced the Force before, but he imagined that was what he was feeling now. It was…pleasant.
Suddenly, a rush of memories overtook him. His batchmate with him in a supply closet, drunk and giggling uncontrollably as they tried to stifle their laughter to hide from one of the trainers on Kamino. The first time he flew. The first time he saw a sunset on Bespin, soaring and diving through the pink and gold clouds. The losses. Painting the stars on his helmet. The sobs. The anger. And then, the moment the Twi’lek had stepped out of the bushes. He felt as though he was watching a replay of his life. And then, it was over, and he was staring at the back of his eyelids. His eyes fluttered open, refocusing in the bright light. Arni stood before him, panting.
“You…you’re telling the truth. You’re not one of them.”
“I’m not. Will you let me help get the two of you out of here?”
An explosion rumbled from within the temple, and all three of them turned to see smoke billowing out of the upper windows. Arni moved quickly behind Chuckles, and he felt the binders click and loosen. He sighed in relief as he slapped them back to his belt. Turning, he gripped the Twi’lek’s shoulders, looking in their eyes to try and steady them. I can’t do this without them. I need them with me.
“Arni, right?”
The kid nodded.
“Ok, Arni. I’m Chuckles, but you can call me Chuck.” He turned, extending a hand behind him, which the Pantoran glanced at before looking at Arni. The Twi’lek nodded at her, and the Pantoran slipped her small, pudgy hand into Chuckles’s gloved one. He gave it a reassuring squeeze. “What’s your name?”
“Nita,” she said quietly.
“Excellent, we all know each other now. You two have done so well getting this far, and I can get us out of here, but I’m going to need your help, alright?” His words were more certain than he felt.
The two younglings nodded.
“I’m a pilot, so if I can get us to a ship, we’ll be in good shape. Do either of you know if there are any in the garage?”
Arni thought for a moment before nodding. “No fighters, but a few transports and maybe a freighter when I was down there yesterday.”
“Good. Good. Ok, to the garage then. You two stay close to me.” Chuckles reached for his helmet and blaster, sliding the bucket back over his head. It muted the smell of smoke that had started to permeate the air. Quickly, he ushered the two younglings forward, keeping low behind the bushes as they raced towards the garage entrance. After a few minutes, it became apparent Nita was struggling, so Chuckles scooped her up. “I’ve got you, kid. You’re alright.” He felt her tiny hands dig into the fabric of his undersuit at his neck, and he gently pressed his helmet against her head. “You’re gonna be alright.” He looked over to Arni, who was jogging next to him. “If we see anyone, you help me out, ok? That lightsaber will prove pretty handy in a fight.” Arni nodded, but he could still see the tremble in the young Twi’lek’s hands at the thought.
They managed to make it to the garage door. “Can you get us in?” Chuckles asked Arni. The Twi’lek nodded, digging out a slip of flimsi from one of their pouches before setting to work finding the door code punching it into the panel. Chuckles turned his back to the door, scanning the courtyard for any approaching clone troopers. He clicked the stun setting on his blaster. Just in case.
Smoke was billowing from the Jedi temple now, a dark column reaching towards the sky, which felt more blood red than anything at this point, far more menacing than it had been mere minutes before. Chuckles felt himself sigh with relief when he heard the door beep and hiss open. Turning, he nodded at Arni. “Alright kid, lead the way. We need-”
“YOU THERE! STOP.”
Kriff.
Chuckles froze, his breathing growing shallow as he recognized the voice. A brother.
He turned back slowly, his grip tightening on the blaster at his side. Two troopers in blue and white armor were approaching him and the younglings, blasters aimed at them.
“What’s up fellas?” he asked, trying to keep his voice even.
“Where are you taking those traitors?”
“To…um…to the prison block. Figured a transport would help me get there faster.”
“They’re marked for execution.”
Chuckles’s breath stuttered in his throat.
“They’re kids,” he rasped. “Just kids.”
“They’re traitors to the Republic and are to be executed.”
What the kriff is going on?
“We’re not killers. We don’t do this,” he said quietly, a plea sneaking into his tone. “Please don’t do this.”
“Put the youngling down.”
Chuckles’s mind raced before coming to the clear decision. Something’s wrong. I have no kriffing idea what, but this is wrong. I have to protect these kids.
“Nita, close your eyes honey, ok?” he whispered.
“Are you not going to comply?” the trooper demanded.
“Arni, stay behind me.” He heard the Twi’lek shuffle in the doorway.
The trooper on his right took a step forward first. Chuck raised his blaster and fired, but rather than the blue stun rings he expected, a lethal bolt erupted from the muzzle. The bolt struck the trooper between the eyes, and his body collapsed limply to the ground, a small trail of smoke snaking from the smoldering hole in his helmet.
I clicked on stun. Why is it not on stun?
The other trooper raised his blaster, but before he could squeeze the trigger, Chuckles shot him in the chest twice. His body hit the ground with a thud, his blaster skittering out of his hand.
I just killed two of my brothers. I set it to stun. Why…how?
It felt as though Chuckles was trapped in the worst nightmare of his life, everything around him sounding muted and muffled. It was far worse than any of the battles he’d relived in his sleep, snapping awake in a cold sweat, but even as he stood rooted to the ground, he knew there would be no waking escape this time.
This can’t be happening. It can’t.
Nita whimpering in his ear pulled him back to the present. He looked at the blaster in his hand, still smoking, and then back at the bodies. He felt a tug on his arm and looked down to see Arni staring up at him.
“We’ve got to go,” the youngling whispered.
“Yeah. Yeah we’ve got to go.” He slipped the blaster back into its holster at his hip and wrapped his other arm around Nita, cradling her against his chest. He felt a dampness in the fabric of his undersuit as he stepped into the garage.
“Arni, lock the door behind us. That’ll buy us some time.”
He set the little Pantoran girl down and looked her over. She was trembling, tears streaming down her blue cheeks quietly, but she didn’t seem to be injured. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t cry, but I’m just so scared,” she whimpered.
She shouldn’t have to endure this. She’s just a kid.
“Hey, none of that. You are doing so good, ok? This is scary,” Chuckles soothed, brushing some of her stray hairs out of her face. He paused before taking his helmet off again. “You know what helps me feel brave? Wearing this.” He slid the helmet on her head, and it immediately slipped to her shoulders, far too big for her. “There, do you feel braver?”
The helmet nodded wordlessly, swinging back and forth on her tiny shoulders.
“Alright. You look braver. And cooler.”
“Chuckles, over here!” He looked up to see Arni waving at him from a freighter.
Taking Nita’s hand, he strode towards the ship quickly, appraising it as much as he could from its exterior. Corellian. Small freighter. Should have at least a hyperdrive and looks to have forward cannons for defense. It’s a bucket of bolts, but it’ll do.
“Good stuff kid. I’m gonna take Nita inside and get the pre-flight started. Do you know how to open the main roll-up door?” Gently, he pushed the little Pantoran inside the ship’s hatch.
Arni nodded.
“Can you do that quickly and get back here as fast as you can?”
Arni looked around, their eyes settling on another keypad against the far wall. Chuckles could see the wheels turning in the kid’s head, calculating the risk.
“Hey, I know it’s scary, but I need to get this ship warmed up, or else it’s gonna be another few minutes before we get out of here. Now, can you do it?”
Arni looked back up at him with wide, fearful eyes. The kid had been so brave, but the facade was starting to crack. Chuckles placed his hands on the Twi’lek’s shoulders again.
“I won’t leave without you.” He held out a pinky. “Pinky promise.”
Arni blinked, raising an eyebrow at him.
“Hey, for me and my batchmates, this is as good as a blood oath. Now gimme some pinky and let’s get this done.”
Arni gave him a small smile before locking their pinky with his and then turning and sprinting towards the keypad on the wall. Chuckles bolted into the ship, leaving the main hatch open for Arni. Sliding into the pilot seat, he examined the control panel.
Simple enough. Even simpler than a Headhunter.
Glancing over, he saw Nita was sitting in the co-pilot seat, her feet dangling off the front of the chair. The helmet was still perched on her head, watching him as it swung.
“Buckle up, honey. This might get bumpy.”
Chuckles began slamming switches to boot up the flight computer and warm up the hyperdrive. The ship whined to life, the various buttons on the flight console flickering on. Another explosion rocked the building, sending dust falling from the garage’s ceiling.
“HOW WE DOIN’, ARNI?”
He heard a loud mechanical squeal and saw the first traces of Coruscant's waning sunlight filtering in as the garage’s main door began to lift. A few seconds later, he heard a thud as Arni leapt into the ship, slamming the hatch shut behind them.
“They’re coming,” the Twi’lek said quietly.
Chuckles leaned forward to look past Nita, and sure enough, he could see the door they had entered through shuddering under what he could only assume was troopers trying to get in. He turned to Arni, keeping his voice level despite the panic rising within him.
“Buckle Nita into one of the rear seats and then strap in yourself,” he said, standing to reach the exterior light controls before turning to his tiny co-pilot. “Nita, I need Arni up here with me, ok? You’ll have to sit in the back for now in one of the jump seats.”
Nita appeared to consider the proposition. “Can I keep the helmet on?”
“Absolutely. Arni?”
Arni lifted Nita out of the seat clumsily, helping her towards the rear of the ship as Chuck eased the freighter forward, frantically trying to get a feel for the controls. He hadn’t expected the freighter to be as nimble as his fighter of course, but the response felt slower than a stoned bantha, lumbering and clumsy. Chuckles ground his teeth together, trying to gauge just how minute small movements actually were as he piloted the ship around a few stacks of supply crates. Arni slid into the seat next to him just as a blast rocked the rear of the ship. Nita squealed in fear.
“It’s alright honey, just a bit of a bump,” Chuckles called over his shoulder before leaning over to Arni and pointing at a few of the displays on the console. “This thing does have basic shields. I need you to work on getting all power diverted to our aft end. Can you do that?”
The young Twi’lek nodded before they leaned forward, pressing buttons. Chuckles punched a button to bring up a rear camera and swore under his breath. An entire battalion was pouring in behind them, blasters firing at the ship with a few heavies moving into position. “You got it, kid?”
“Yup, almost there.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Chuckles could see the displayed mapping of the shields shift, and he gave the Twi’lek a tight smile. “Good. Nice job. Now get strapped in. I don’t think we’re out of the woods yet.”
As if the galaxy was playing a cruel joke on him, the proximity sensors began screaming. Leaning over, he brought up the radar and swore more loudly this time. “Fighters inbound. You ever work a ship’s gun before?”
Arni’s eyes were wider than saucers. “No.”
“Alright, well the best training is on the job.” Chuckles joked dryly, reaching over past the kid and swinging the controls in front of them. “This is your computer. Helps you aim. You’re too close for torpedoes, so stick to lasers. That’s these buttons here.” He tapped the grey triggers lightly. “When you’re ready to fire, flip this switch so that it’s green. That means the gun’s hot. Then you want to line up your target in this box. If you can get the little ‘x’ over the main body of a ship or a wing, you’ll be in business. Then you give ‘em hell. Clear as mud?”
Arni placed shaking hands on the controls and nodded.
“You’ve got this, Arni. I know you can do it.”
At least I hope so, or we’re all dead.
The Twi’lek nodded wordlessly again. Chuckles didn’t miss the way their throat bobbed with a hard swallow.
“Nita, honey do you have a favorite song?” he called into the back.
“Yes.” Her voice sounded tiny, even through the helmet’s modulator.
“Great. I don’t know many songs. Can you sing it for me to help me learn it?”
“Right now?”
“Yup. Right now. I love multitasking, so let’s put on a concert. I hear all Pantorans have great singing voices.”
The ship shuddered again, and Chuckles glanced over at Arni. “Shields are holding in the rear,” the young Twi’lek said quietly, seeming to understand what Chuckles was trying to do.
“Alright, when I tell you, swap the power back so that we’re 75 percent in front, 25 at the rear, got it? We’ll need more power to block fire from the fighters ahead of us, but we can’t leave our back end totally unprotected.”
Arni nodded.
From the rear of the ship, Nita’s tiny voice began to sing.
“I’ve been to many moons and all the stars in the sky
I’ve been to rocky shores where all the fish fly
But all of them pale, yes all of them pale
When compared to my darlin’s sweet, sweet ale.”
Chuckles stifled a nervous giggle. “Nita, where did you hear that?”
She pushed up the helmet to look at him. “One of the troopers was singing it once. I said I liked it, and he taught it to me. His name was Hardcase.”
Chuckles huffed a laugh, noticing Arni watching him out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t know many troopers from the 501st, but everyone had known Hardcase.
Still a menace, even beyond the grave, he thought, a smirk creeping across his face.
“Is it a good song?” Nita asked hesitantly.
One of the best drinking songs I know. At least he didn’t teach her the verses.
“It’s great honey, keep singing.” Chuck’s eyes flicked down to the radar blips that were quickly approaching. “Ready to swap the shield power, kid?” he asked Arni quietly.
“Yes.”
“Good. On my count. Three…two…one.”
Arni frantically punched the buttons in front of them just as two fighters swung into view at the mouth of the garage.
“GOT IT!” the Twi’lek said excitedly.
“Great job, kid. You’re doing so well. Alright, remember, flip to green and then shoot. Get it armed. Don’t shoot unless they fire at us first though. There’s still a chance they don’t know we’re trying to get out of here.”
The first fighter immediately began peppering them with laserfire. Chuckles swore under his breath. “Alright, never mind. Shoot ‘em back.”
Arni swallowed hard, but he saw the youngling flip the switch to arm the guns before opening fire. Reaching over, Chuckles slammed the throttle forward. He realized it had grown quiet in the rear of the ship.
“Come on, Nita! Keep singing!”
There was still silence as the ship rocked from a well-placed bolt from one of the fighters.
“Arni?”
“Forward shields still at 68 percent.”
“Good. Keep firing. NITA! Come on! I’ve been to many moons…”
Nita hesitantly joined him, and Arni started singing as well after a few minutes. Chuckles sang louder as alarms began sounding around him, warning him that he was pushing the ship to its limits. Just hold together a bit longer, you kriffin’ rust bucket. You weren’t my first choice either.
Arni gasped next to him, and he redirected his attention to one of the fighters, which now had smoke pouring from one of its wings as it drifted out of view, slowly beginning to spiral downwards. Chuckles let loose a whoop. “YES! That’s the way to shoot, kid.”
“I hope they make it out ok,” Arni said softly, and Chuckles sobered.
“I’m sure they will. They have ejection seats.” His heart broke as he watched the Twi’lek nod, clearly not certain. Reaching up, he pulled down the hyperspace display from above Arni’s head. “Alright, you’ve done good work, but I need another favor. Do you know how to set up a hyperspace jump?”
The Twi’lek stared at the display, their eyes flicking between the various readouts before nodding. “Shouldn’t be too hard. I’ll need coordinates though.”
Chuck’s mind raced as he dodged the fire from the last fighter. I’m gonna have to pull it into a steep climb and then just jettison into hyperspace from the upper atmosphere. I’ll never outrun them otherwise. But where do we go? I don’t know how widespread this is. Can’t take them to a Republic world. Definitely not a Separatist system. No neutral ones close by. There’s… yeah, that’ll work.
Reaching over, he punched in a set of coordinates over Arni’s head. “Use those. Get the calculations started.”
Arni squinted at the coordinates. “Where is that?”
“A safe spot,” Chuckles replied. “Just trust me.”
Arni looked at him for another few seconds before nodding, beginning to program the computer for the jump calculation. Nita had looped back through the chorus of her drinking song again, and as Chuckles cast a quick glance over his shoulder, he grinned at the tiny Pantoran, swaying back and forth with his helmet on, the base of it swinging back and forth as she moved. The ship rocked from another blast, and her voice faltered, but Arni took up the chorus louder, and she joined in again. Chuckles gave the Twi’lek a grateful smile before rolling the ship hard to the right.
“HANG ON, KIDS! Arni, let me know the second we’re good for the jump.”
“Another few seconds. We’re close.”
The ship shuddered.
“Rear shields are failing,” Arni stated, fear starting to trickle back into their tone.
“Don’t worry about them. Keep working the calcs. Won’t need the shields when we jump out of here.”
Chuck yanked the ship’s yoke hard, pulling the freighter into a tight turn that kept the front of the ship facing towards the other fighter and swinging around so that the fighter was forced to circle back towards the garage, keeping all sources of fire in front of the freighter. Leaning over, he threw a switch to reverse the thrust of the engines, pushing the ship backwards.
“You’re in a speeder lane!” Arni said urgently. “You might hit someone!”
“I’m bigger and they’re faster. They’ll get out of the way,” Chuckles said as casually as he could. “How much time?”
“Five seconds.”
“Give me a countdown.”
“Five…four…three…”
Chuckles flipped the direction of the thrust again, pulling back on the yoke with all of his might and sending the ship skyward. He pushed the engine to its max, searching for a clear hole in the speeder lanes to shoot through.
“Two…”
The clone pilot could feel his teeth creaking as he ground them together. Glancing at the radar that showed the orbiting ships, he held his breath. Just need our trajectory to stay clear for another few seconds.
The ship jolted. Nita screamed.
“ARNI! NOW!”
Chuckles felt the familiar pull of his stomach pushing to the back of his chest cavity as the hyperdrive whined to life, pressing him back in his seat. Coruscant’s sky seemed to smear past the viewports as the engines began to roar, the sky rushing towards them. Chuck closed his eyes and exhaled.
Please let this work.
In between heartbeats, he felt the pressure on his chest ease as the ship stopped accelerating, the roar around them fading to a steady hum. Chuck opened his eyes slowly, and felt his body almost sag into the chair in relief at the familiar sight of blue and white star streaks of hyperspace that were rushing past them. Turning his head, he looked at the Twi’lek next to him. Arni was still clutching the guns so hard their knuckles were pale, visibly quivering. Chuckles climbed out of his seat, flicking the safety back onto the guns before gently removing Arni’s hands from the triggers and pushing the weapons controls away. The Twi’lek had a dazed expression as they looked at him, their eyes somewhat blank as Chuckles spun their chair to face him.
“You did good, kid. You did exactly what you needed to do to get us out of there, alright?” Chuck said quietly, resting his hands on Arni’s shoulders. The youngling nodded slowly, swallowing hard again.
“What do we do now?” they asked quietly.
Chuckles took a deep breath, exhaling it in a deep sigh. “I don’t know yet. But we’ll figure it out.”
Arni bobbed their head, but their eyes were glued to the floor of the ship.
Unsure of what else to do, Chuck searched for the right words. “Hey, look at me.”
Arni met his gaze, their wide brown eyes glossy with unshed tears.
“Do you trust me, kid?”
Arni’s eyes became focused as they studied the clone crouched in front of them. After a few seconds, they nodded. “Yes.”
“Good. Because I’m going to need you and little one back there to help me. We’ll get through this. Together. One step at a time.”
“Why did your brothers want to kill us?”
The memory of the smoking hole in the front of the trooper’s helmet flashed in Chuckles’s mind again, and he blinked rapidly, trying to fight the tightness that suddenly began squeezing his chest.
Keep it together in front of the kids. Focus.
“I don’t know, kid. It doesn’t make any sense. But I promise I won’t let anything bad happen to you and Nita. Alright?” He held out his pinky again, and a small smile tugged at one corner of Arni’s mouth. They wrapped their thin blue pinky around Chuckles’s thicker, gloved one.
“Alright.”
The sound of coughing made them both turn and Chuckles grimaced as he took in the sight of Nita holding his helmet in front of her as she vomited into it.
“I’m sorry. The ship made my tummy upset,” she said softly after she finished retching.
Chuckles ran his fingers through his mohawk again, giving her a small smile. “It’s ok, honey. We’ll get it cleaned up. Definitely my fault for flying like a drunken mynock.”
The little Pantoran giggled before tilting her head back down and emptying the rest of her stomach contents into his bucket.
Chuckles sighed.
One step at a time.
Tag List: @seriowan @rosmariner @misogirl828 @ellichonkasaurusrex @zoeykallus @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @partoftheeternalsoul @hockeyjedi13
A/N: WOW! The response to this was ENTIRELY unexpected, but HI HELLO WELCOME I LOVE YOU ALL! As always, thank you to the wonderful @teletraan-meets-jarvis for beta-reading this chapter for me! :)
Chapter Rating: T
Warnings: canon-typical violence
Word Count: 6.8k words
Two sets of eyes stared back at the clone pilot, one pair an earthy brown, the other a honey gold. The two younglings sat in the pilot and co-pilot’s seat, swinging their feet and watching Chuckles as he stood before them, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. Their looks were expectant, waiting for him to tell them what the next step was.
As if I have any kriffing idea.
Chuckles hadn’t told them how he’d known about this place, hovering in a random point in space within view of a massive pink nebula. He’d found this spot by complete accident. His squadron, the 28th Combat Wing, had gotten bad intel and jumped right into a Separatist trap. They had been overwhelmed instantly and torn apart before they could process what was happening, ship after ship exploding in a fireball as radar blips and lives blinked out of existence. Crater, his captain, had screamed at them to jump out, and as Chuckles watched his commanding officer’s ship rip apart, his scorched body floating away, he’d punched in a random set of coordinates into his Z-95’s computer, fighting the bile rising in his stomach, and made the jump to hyperspace.
He had been lucky that he’d jumped somewhere empty rather than crashing into some planet’s surface or being sucked into the middle of a black hole. In fact, it almost seemed fated that he found this spot, gazing at a dark pink nebula that almost matched his armor. He wasn’t sure how long he’d sat in the cockpit of his fighter that time, hyperventilating at first and then shifting to angry sobbing. He’d scuffed the inside of his cockpit punching the paneling until his knuckles bruised and started to crack and bleed under his gloves. Finally, he’d just ripped his helmet off and screamed until his lungs had burned, tears streaming down his cheeks. When he’d worn himself out, he’d ground the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to clear the memories of his squad mates’ screams and Crater’s final words.
“Run, Chuckles. Get your ass out of here. Carry on the fight.”
He’d leaned back in his seat with red eyes and a bad case of the hiccups.
“Why would I want to carry on after that?” he’d rasped to no one in particular, wiping at his cheeks and runny nose. When the silence had no answer, he’d continued. “What’s even the point? We’re just cannon fodder, meant to be expendable. Fighting an entire war for a side that hardly sees us as human.” His general was stuffy and not necessarily cruel to the clones, but hardly one to treat them with the empathy and compassion Chuckles felt they deserved. They were soldiers and were expected to behave with decorum and unwavering bravery.
“What if I’m broken? What if I’m not brave enough?” Chuckles had asked the nebula again.
The stars had no answer for him, and he’d eventually limped back to base, finding solace in the bottom of a bottle at 79s until Howzer and a few others had carried him back to the barracks.
After that, he’d returned to the nebula after battles, talking with his brothers that were lost. In his mind, finding it by accident had been the galaxy giving him a place to talk with them, updating them on the war, asking their advice, or telling them any of the new jokes he’d come up with. The stars in the nebula had been the inspiration for the stars on his helmet, markers for each of those that had fallen. Now, he wished for nothing more than to sit in the pilot’s seat and talk to his brothers again, but he knew they definitely wouldn’t have answers this time.
None of us were trained to deal with this. Turning on those we fought alongside? Stealing shitty ships? Taking care of two kids? Yeah, none of that was in the training manuals.
He sighed, scratching at the back of his neck again as he looked back at the two younglings sitting in front of him. “Alright, first thing’s first. You two hungry?”
Arni’s stomach grumbled in reply, and he huffed a laugh. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Let’s see what this greasy freighter pilot has to eat. And then we inventory. See what we’ve got around this rust bucket. Also, gonna need to figure out how to scramble this ship’s signature. Arni, think you can manage that?”
The Twi’lek’s eyes widened, and Chuckles could see the task was perhaps a little daunting. “Food first, then we’ll think about it together, ok?”
The three of them began digging through storage compartments, setting whatever they could find that was edible out on the small table that protruded from one wall with two small benches on either side. The younglings could just manage to squeeze onto one together, and Chuckles took the opposite seat after removing the top half of his kit and his gloves. As they sorted through the food and water packets they found, Chuckles plucked the bottle of cheap-looking grog from Arni’s grasp as the Twi’lek was studying the faded and scratched off label. “None of that for you.” Arni rolled their eyes before returning to sorting through the food. When it was all said and done, they had half a dozen ration bars, several freeze-dried meals, a few packets of assorted dried fruits and nuts, some bags of fried snacks, and two dozen packets of water.
Not a lot for three people, but it’ll hold us for a rotation or two.
“Alright, what do you feel like eating?” Chuckles asked.
“SNACKS!” Nita demanded, reaching for one of the brightly colored bags.
Chuckles started to pull it away before he looked back at her face. Both kids looked exhausted, and suddenly, he realized just how much they’d endured in such a short span of time. Arni’s stomach growled again.
Let her have the chips. It’s the least you can do.
Chuck surrendered the bag. “Alright, but don’t eat too much. We’ve got to make this last for a bit, and I’m done cleaning up puke for the day, got it?” His eyes flicked to where his helmet was sitting out to dry after being scrubbed thoroughly in the ship’s tiny refresher. Nita nodded, but her eyes were sparkling as she tore the bag open. “Make sure she works some fruit in there,” Chuckles said pointedly to Arni. The Twi’lek nodded before hesitantly reaching for another bag of snacks.
Chuckles suddenly remembered the pouch he’d noted on Arni’s belt earlier. “By the way, what kind of snacks do you normally keep stocked in that utility belt, kid?” he asked.
Arni was already working their way through something fried and crunchy that smelled very spicy. They shrugged as they chewed, mumbling around mouthfuls. “What…whatever the clones…in my battalion were craving.”
Chuckles’s face softened. “You saw combat?” They’re just a kid. As a pilot, he’d rarely been around younger Jedi, but now as he sat and took in the youngling’s casual demeanor, his heart broke a little. They’re accustomed to it. They’re so young.
Arni nodded, swallowing. “Not much. I was only Master Yaddle’s padawan for a little while before…today.” The Twi’lek’s face fell slightly, and Chuckles could see the day’s events racing back through their mind.
“A little young to be a padawan, aren’t you?”
“No, I’m the right age.”
“Ah.” He had to admit he knew very little about how that process worked. “Well, how do you decide which snacks are best? That’s a lot of opinions to account for.”
Arni’s expression shifted with Chuckles’s question. “I’d poll them. Take requests, and gauge what was most popular statistically. If there was something that was unpopular that one guy really liked, I’d try to have that on hand when I could.”
Chuckles looked at them. “What was normally most popular?”
“These actually,” Arni said, holding up the bag they were eating from. It was aggressively red and orange with yellow lettering that spelled out SIX SUNS SPICE SNAPPERS. “They’re my favorite now too,” the Twi’lek said quietly before popping one of the snacks in their mouth. Chuckles reached into the bag, taking out one of the bright red curls and examining it warily. He took a hesitant sniff, and the smell alone made his eyes water. Arni and Nita were watching him with a bit too much interest as he inspected it. Chuckles raised an eyebrow at the two of them, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Well, I’m not about to back down from this challenge. Plus, how bad could it be? Arni’s eating these like they’re nothing.
Without sparing it another thought, he popped the snack into his mouth, and immediately, his taste buds were overwhelmed with a scorching heat that seemed to constrict his throat as his eyes watered and his nose ran. He coughed hard, banging a fist on his chest as he chewed determinedly before finally swallowing and sticking his tongue out, panting hard to circulate cooler air across his taste buds. He reached for the bottle of mystery booze, popping the cork off and taking a large mouthful and gargling before swallowing and choking some more. After a few minutes, he finally managed to assuage some of the burning, wiping his nose. As he sat up, he noted Arni trying unsuccessfully to stifle a grin. Nita, however, had no such inhibitions. The tiny Pantoran was squealing with laughter.
“YOUR FACE! IT’S SO RED!”
“Yeah, well yours is blue!” he rasped back.
“It’s supposed to be that color.”
“If you say so,” he retorted playfully, giving her a wink as he took another drink from the bottle.
It was the first genuine smile he’d seen from the two kids all day, and it warmed his heart. During the war, he’d made sure to try and joke his brothers out of any depressive funks after missions, his goal being to get one smile a day if he could. In drastic scenarios, he’d wound up resorting to physical comedy. They mostly were harmless, but there were a few cases where he managed to land himself in the medbay with a concussion or a broken finger or two and on a particularly reckless day, a broken collarbone and dislocated shoulder. Sticks was pissed that day. I really thought he was gonna break my neck just to not have to deal with me anymore. Thank the Maker Stones was around to talk him out of it. He grinned at the memories of the twin medics, Sticks normally grumbling in the corner about how irresponsible he was while Stones joked about him just coming up with a reason to raid the candy stash they kept in one of the med cabinets.
Glad I got a laugh out of them. Gotta keep some traditions alive, I suppose. Worth it to see their smiles. Even if my intestines might be wrecked.
The three of them finished their meal, Chuckles joking with them until he finally got Arni to laugh, the Twi’lek tipping their head back and guffawing loudly. The sound made him smile so much, his face hurt, and for a moment, it felt as though they hadn’t just endured the end of the galaxy as they knew it.
After they finished eating, he put Arni and Nita in charge of putting the food away while he continued poking through the various storage compartments. He found a few blankets that smelled a bit but would be warm enough to sleep under. Glancing over at the small bunk, he tipped his head in to look around its inside. The walls were bare, but the previous owner of the ship had a double-sized bed that would fit both kids pretty well.
I’ll take the pilot’s chair. They need a comfortable place to sleep.
Nita was already making her way towards him, rubbing her eyes and yawning loudly. “‘M tired,” she said sleepily, reaching up to pull at the ribbons that were tied around her buns.
Chuckles lifted her into the bunk before kneeling down and helping her undo a particularly stubborn knot in one of the ribbons. “Well, good news! There’s a bed. You two will sleep in here, alright?” He ruffled her silver curls as they finally fell to her shoulders.
“What about you?” Arni asked as they came up behind him.
“Ah, I sleep better in a pilot’s chair than I ever sleep in a bunk,” Chuck fibbed. “Plenty of practice.”
The Twi’lek didn’t argue with him, although they seemed skeptical as they climbed into the bunk next to Nita. Chuckles threw one of the large blankets over the top of both of the younglings, tucking them in.
“Chuckles?” Nita said softly.
“Yeah?”
“Why do you call me ‘honey’?” she asked.
Chuckles sat down on the edge of the bunk. “Because the first thing I saw was your eyes, and that’s what they made me think of: fresh honey. You ok with me calling you that?”
She pondered it for a moment. “Yeah, I think so.”
“Good.”
“Chuckles?”
“Yes, Nita?”
“What’s gonna happen to us?”
He looked past the Pantoran to find Arni watching him, the question reflected in their eyes as well. He sighed, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips. “I don’t know yet. But you know what I do know?”
“What?”
“That we’ll figure it out together. Arni’s the smartest person I’ve ever met. You’re kinder than you have any business being. And I’m a pilot. The three of us are unstoppable.”
“So you won’t leave us?”
His brow furrowed. “No, why would I do that?”
The Pantoran shrugged. “We’ll slow you down.”
Chuckles sighed. He’d spent the last few hours wondering what the next move was, but at no point had he considered abandoning the younglings that had stumbled into his care. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what had made that a certainty. Maybe it came from being raised in a group setting from the moment he was taken out of his tube, maybe he just didn’t want to do this alone. Either way, they were staying with him, at least until he could figure out a better situation for them. “No, honey. The three of us are sticking together for as long as you two can stand me,” he teased.
Nita appeared to think on it before nodding with a bit of finality. “One step at a time,” she echoed from earlier.
“Yeah, one step at a time.”
“Pinky promise?” She held up her tiny blue hand with her pinky extended. Chuckles laughed lightly.
“Pinky promise.” He locked his pinky with hers before reaching over to Arni with his pinky extended. “Come on, gimme some pinky.”
The Twi’lek gave him a small smile before locking their pinky with his again.
“Alright, you two get some sleep. I’ll be right here in the pilot’s chair if you need me. I’m gonna shut the sliding door so the light doesn’t bother you, ok?”
The two kids nodded, settling down amongst the meager pillows and blankets as Chuckles slid the door shut with a squeal.
Oof. Gonna need some grease for that.
Alright. Now what?
Inventory. See where you stand.
Methodically, Chuckles worked his way through each storage compartment in the ship, mentally cataloging everything they had and moving things around to where they made more sense to him.
Medkit needs to be more easily accessible. Maybe closer to the ‘fresher. At least that’s somewhat clean. Small, but clean. Tool kit could use an upgrade, but it’ll do. Maybe Arni’ll have some ideas about what to get for it. Put that closer to the maintenance access panel. Spare blankets can go closer to the bunk…
He went for hours until he could finally feel exhaustion overtaking him. Looking at the chrono on his vambrace, he noted it was well into the middle of the night Coruscant time. Carefully, he removed all of his armor except for his boots, neatly piling it in one of the storage compartments except for his vambrace, which he set in the copilot seat next to him with the chrono facing him. Picking up his sidearm holster, he hung the weapon from a hook on the wall near the cockpit. Grabbing the last blanket he’d left out for himself, he trudged to the pilot seat, settling back into it and wrapping the blanket around himself as he propped his feet up on the control console. His eyes drifted out the front viewport, taking in the magenta nebula in front of him as the thoughts he’d been avoiding finally caught up with him.
“The kriff am I supposed to do now, boys?” he asked the stars. He was met with silence. “Maybe it’s good you all didn’t make it to the end. You’d have hated today. It was absolutely the worst, and we’ve endured whatever that was that the long-necks would serve us as food at the end of the month when supplies were running low. It was nutritious, sure, but we all know we’d rather have eaten the skin off our own foot callouses given the choice.” He sighed, his fingers trailing down to grip the neck of the bottle of grog that he’d dragged over to the chair. He examined it, still not entirely sure what it was since the label was unreadable. Not too much. Can’t be hungover right now. I’ve got two other living things to take care of. He took another swig, sighing as the warmth spread across his chest and into his stomach.
He sat in silence for a few moments, trying to get comfortable, but his mind wandered back to the blaster hanging from the wall in its holster where he’d placed it. Wrapping the blanket tighter around his shoulders, he stood, walking over and pulling the DC-17 loose before trudging back to the seat. Leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, he pressed his thumb against the mode switch and felt the same click he could have sworn he’d felt a few hours ago. He looked down, and sure enough, the blue stun indicator glared back at him. He clicked it again, and the mode indicator flipped to red, signaling it was set to kill. He clicked it back to blue again.
I was so sure. I felt it click. I know I did.
The two troopers he had killed came roaring back to the front of his memory, a helmet with a smoldering hole in the front of it and a chest plate with two identical holes. He’d never had to fire the weapon before today, but he had certainly been trained enough on how to use it to where it was nearly second nature.
Click. Click. Click. Click.
He flipped the weapon’s mode again and again until his thumb started to hurt.
I didn’t want to kill them. I just wanted to get the kids out of there.
Blue. Red. Blue. Red.
They were going to kill you though. You did what you had to.
But they were my brothers.
But they were going to kill you.
Click. Click. Click.
The blaster clattered to the floor. Chuckles pressed his shaking hands to his face to muffle his sobs.
Why? Why did they do that?
I thought it was on stun.
---
Thud.
Chuckles awoke with a start, looking around frantically before he remembered where he was.
Thud.
The second bump against his chair startled him again, and he whirled around to find Nita’s wide golden eyes staring up at him. He must have looked angry, because she shrunk back from him.
“Sorry,” she whispered.
Chuckles rubbed his hands over his face quickly before clambering out of the chair and coming to kneel next to her, plastering a smile across his face. “Don’t be sorry, honey. What is it?”
She pointed at his vambrace. “I saw it was blinking when I got up to use the ‘fresher.”
Glancing over, he noted that the comm indicator was flashing on the vambrace, indicating a waiting message. “How about that? Probably nothing.” He glanced at the chrono. “Still a while before you need to be awake. Why don’t you go sleep some more?” Nita was staring at something hard, and he followed her gaze to where his DC-17 was lying on the floor of the ship, long forgotten. He picked it up, tucking it back into its holster on the wall before carrying Nita back to bed.
“You’re sad,” she whispered.
Chuckles appraised her for a moment, wondering if it was that obvious or if her Force sensitivity allowed her to perceive things like that. Ultimately, he decided lying to her wasn’t an option. He heaved a deep sigh, leaning his back against the frame of the bunk as she snuggled back under the blankets, her eyes never leaving him.
“I am. I don’t know why my brothers did what they did,” he said quietly.
“Do you think they’ll come after us?”
Chuckles thought about it. “We’re just three people. I can’t imagine they’d spend a lot of time looking for us. Plus I’m not even sure they know I’m gone. I’m not exactly important, and there was a lot of confusion there at the end. I’d bet a lot of people got lost in the fray. I think we’re safe for now.”
Nita didn’t appear to be fully convinced, but after a few moments, the crease between her pale eyebrows softened as her eyes began to droop. Chuckles waited until her breathing deepened into quiet snores before closing the bunk back up to let the two younglings sleep a little bit longer. He surveyed the blanket draped over the pilot seat for a moment, rolling his neck to work some of the stiffness out that had built up during his brief slumber.
Think I’m done sleeping for now. At least I got a few hours in.
His eyes flicked back to the blinking light on his vambrace.
I suppose that’s worth checking.
Reaching into the refresher, he retrieved his helmet, inspecting it for any remnants of Nita’s upheaval and giving it a cursory sniff.
Doesn’t smell too much like vomit I suppose.
Sitting heavily back down in the pilot’s chair, he swapped over the comm to only play in his helmet and pressed the blinking button. A grating, sinister voice immediately filled his ears.
“Citizens of the civilized galaxy, on this day we mark a transition. For a thousand years, the Republic stood as the crowning achievement of civilized beings.”
Who the kriff is this? The Chancellor? What’s wrong with his voice?
The broadcast continued.
“But there were those who would set us against one another, and we took up arms to defend our way of life against the Separatists. In so doing, we never suspected that the greatest threat came from within.”
A chill ran up Chuckles’s spine.
“The Jedi, and some within our own Senate, had conspired to create the shadow of Separatism using one of their own as the enemy’s leader. They had hoped to grind the Republic into ruin. But the hatred in their hearts could not be hidden forever. At last, there came a day when our enemies showed their true natures.”
Chuckles blinked rapidly under his helmet. What the kriff is he talking about?
“The Jedi hoped to unleash their destructive power against the Republic by assassinating the head of government and usurping control of the clone army. But the aims of would-be tyrants were valiantly opposed by those without elitist, dangerous powers. Our loyal clone troopers contained the insurrection within the Jedi Temple and quelled uprisings on a thousand worlds.”
His stomach tightened and he felt bile rise in his throat once more. There was no insurrection. They murdered younglings. Padawans. This is a lie. It’s all a kriffing lie.
“The remaining Jedi will be hunted down and defeated! Any collaborators will suffer the same fate.”
Chuckles’s breathing was accelerating, his chest tightening with every word he listened to.
“These have been trying times, but we have passed the test. The attempt on my life has left me scarred and deformed, but I assure you my resolve has never been stronger.”
Even through his distress, Chuckles smirked. Not like he was much of a looker to begin with.
“The war is over. The Separatists have been defeated, and the Jedi rebellion has been foiled. We stand on the threshold of a new beginning. In order to ensure our security and continuing stability, the Republic will be reorganized into the first Galactic Empire, for a safe and secure society, which I assure you will last for ten thousand years.”
The speech continued, and Chuckles could barely process what he was hearing. There were mentions of spying on each other, being “loyal and vigilant” citizens, of a new form of government that would crush its enemies. Who defines the enemies? The same people that decided younglings should be executed in cold blood? His mind raced with confusion, with betrayal, with anger. He whipped his head around to look at the closed bunk door. Hunted down and defeated? Like they were at the temple? No. I won’t let that happen. I can’t. They’re just kriffing kids. What is happening? How can this be happening? People can’t be letting this happen, right?
A new snippet of Palpatine’s address drew his attention. “The clone troopers, now proudly wearing the name of Imperial stormtroopers, have tackled the dangerous work of fighting our enemies on the front lines. Many have died in their devotion to the Empire.”
No, they died for the Republic. There was never supposed to be an Empire. What is he talking about?
“We have been tested, but we have emerged stronger,” Palpatine hissed. “We move forward as one people: the Imperial citizens of the first Galactic Empire. We will prevail. Ten thousand years of peace begins today.”
The address cut off for a few seconds before it began looping again. Chuckles ripped his helmet off, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. This can’t be real. This can’t be happening. They’d never allow this. My brothers would never allow this. The people would never allow this. Spying on each other? Murdering younglings? No way.
He leaned forward, searching the control console for any type of radio controls. When he finally found what he was looking for, he cranked the volume down to barely audible before flipping nobs to find the news frequency broadcasts. People must be talking about this. It didn’t take him long to find the first frequency with a voice.
“…Emperor Palpatine addressed the Senate to deliver his proclamation of a new order, the establishment of a Galactic Empire…”
“…Clone troopers have been seen patrolling the outskirts of the Jedi Temple. No media or civilians have been allowed in or out, but some are saying they have seen bodies being removed from inside the temple, although it is unclear if the bodies are of Jedi or clones…”
“…disturbing reports of unrest across the galaxy as the Grand Army of the Republic works to restore order among worlds calling for the immediate removal of the Chancellor…”
Each flip to a different frequency told a different version of the same awful story. Chuckles felt his stomach drop.
It’s really happening.
“…some say inhibitor chips may have been the cause for the clones’ sudden shift in alliance…”
Chuck paused, his heart pounding in his chest. He crouched down near the radio, trying to keep his breathing even as he pressed his ear to the speaker, ensuring he’d catch every word.
“The Kaminoans allegedly installed these chips in order to ensure obedience in the clones, but some are saying it was these chips that forced the clones to turn on their Jedi counterparts. Inside sources claim that an unknown order was given that activated the chips, driving the clones to murder their Jedi commanding officers in cold blood. Now, we must ask ourselves, are these truly the people we want running the galaxy? An unelected, self-proclaimed sovereign and his army of flesh and blood droids that will turn on anyone deemed ‘an enemy’? I, for one, am quite concerned.”
Chuckles punched off the radio and sank to the floor, his hand drifting up to the side of his head where he’d felt the pain.
Execute Order 66.
That had been when it hit me, right? When that order came down? That was it.
Chuck shuddered, but he couldn’t be sure if it was from relief or fear or any combination of other emotions. He drew his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them as he rocked, trying to steady his breathing. His chest felt as though a Wookiee had him in a hug and wasn’t letting go, and he closed his eyes, trying to focus on his breathing.
They made us kill them. We didn’t do it by choice.
Inhale. Hold. Exhale.
But we helped him subjugate the entire galaxy in one fell swoop, practically handing it to him on a platter. We put him in charge. We murdered for him without ever having a chance to resist it. We were pawns.
But why didn’t mine work?
He touched the side of his head again. It has to be there, right? In my brain? He had never been strong at anything biology-related, but he had to imagine that’s where you’d put a mind control device, in the brain. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him.
How many concussions have I had? And of all of those, how many were on this side of my head?
He started to tally them up on his fingers, trying to remember how each one had happened. There was the one time I tripped on the stairs and ate it without my helmet on. And the time the flight sim rolled on me unexpectedly and slammed my head against the viewport. Or the time I tried to do a backflip while half-drunk off that home brew…that one was a doozy. After a few moments, he paused. Could it really be that? That I’m a kriffing idiot that loves throwing himself around for the sake of making people laugh, and I damaged the damn thing?
He covered his face with his hands.
Eat that, Sticks.
Before he knew it, his shoulders were shaking with mirth. He bit the inside of his cheek to try and stifle his laughter, covering his mouth with his hands as he rocked back and forth. Tears streamed from his eyes. He couldn’t be sure what was driving them, grief, sadness, relief, joy, but he couldn’t stop. He laughed until his abdomen burned and his eyes were red. After a few minutes, he finally managed to get himself under control, taking a few deep, wavering breaths and blowing out sharply.
Alright. What’s next? They’re looking for Jedi. And clones are stormtroopers.
He ran his fingers through his hair, tugging gently at his colored tips before he paused.
I’m not a stormtrooper. And I stand out with this.
Chuckles pushed himself to his feet, striding to the ‘fresher. He surveyed himself in the mirror and cringed at his puffy red eyes. His mouth twitched, tugging at the scar that ran from the corner of his mouth up his cheek.
Get it together, trooper.
Digging around in the meager set of drawers, he finally found what he was looking for: a pair of clippers. He powered them on, and they buzzed loudly. Looking in the mirror, he took a deep breath.
One step at a time.
It only took him a few minutes for him to completely buzz his entire head. Brushing the strands of bleached and dyed hair from his scalp, he looked in the mirror, and felt a lump rise in his throat again. It had been a long time since he’d looked exactly like his brothers, always dyeing the tips of his mohawk all sorts of wild colors. But now, all of those brothers were staring back at him in the mirror. The scar at the corner of his mouth was the only identifying thing on his face. His only tattoo was the large tattoo down his back, a black pattern that was identical to the circuit board layout of his Z-95 Headhunter’s flight computer. When he was fully dressed, he looked just like all of his brothers, just another face among the millions. Rubbing at the scruff starting to pepper his chin, he decided to leave it. A beard might help hide my face a bit. He shivered involuntarily before replacing the clippers in the drawer and sweeping the remnants of his mohawk into the wastebin. As he straightened, he caught a whiff of a stench that made his nose wrinkle. Raising his arm again, he sniffed his armpit and swore under his breath.
Definitely time for a shower now.
He showered quickly and quietly in the tiny ‘fresher before wrapping one of the thin towels around his waist and sneaking back out to the main part of the ship. He’d found some clothes the night before that he assumed belonged to the freighter’s owner. They smelled a bit musty and were somewhat large on him, but he made do, rolling up the sleeves of the dark grey shirt and slipping his belt through the tan trousers to hold them up on his hips. There was a pair of worn, dark boots that were just about his size, and he slipped them on his feet, wiggling his toes experimentally inside of them. He took one last look in the mirror, heaving a deep sigh.
One step at a time.
He turned at the sound of the bunk door sliding open with a sharp metallic squeal. Arni and Nita peered out at him sleepily.
“You cut off your hair,” Nita commented.
“Yeah. I did. Figured it was time for a change.” He walked over, helping her out of the bunk. “You two get enough sleep?”
Arni nodded quietly, but Nita tipped her head back and yawned, rubbing blearily at her eyes. “What’s for breakfast?”
Chuckles grinned. “Whatever we want. But we need to figure out next steps today. I don’t think the food we’ve got will last us more than another rotation or so.”
Nita nodded before heading towards the refresher, shutting the door behind her. Chuckles glanced over at Arni. “You alright? You’re awfully quiet. I mean, you’re quiet in general, but it seems like something’s bothering you.”
The Twi’lek ducked their head. “She had nightmares last night. A lot of them.”
Chuckles’s face fell. “About what happened?”
“I think so. She didn’t want to talk about it when she woke up. Just cried for a bit. I hugged her until she went back to sleep.”
Crouching down, Chuckles put his hands on Arni’s shoulders. “Why didn’t you come wake me up?”
Arni shrugged. “You were tired too. I cracked the door open, and you were snoring loudly. I figured I was already up, so I handled it.”
Chuckles sighed. “I appreciate that, but you come wake me up next time, alright? You’ve done such a good job of taking care of Nita, but you don’t have to do that alone. I want to help. We’re all going to get through this together, so you lean on me to help with things like that. Got it?” The youngling nodded, dropping their eyes to the floor. Chuck slipped his hand under their chin, pulling their face back up to meet his gaze. “And you know that if you’re not alright, you don’t have to just deal with that on your own either, right? It’s ok to not have it all together right now. I’ll take some of that burden for you.”
Arni’s bottom lip trembled, their eyes flicking to the refresher door before they finally burst into tears, their hands flying to cover their face. Chuckles’s heart broke. Hesitantly, he reached out, wrapping his arms around Arni’s thin frame. He was worried the Twi’lek might pull away, but instead, they flung their arms around his neck, sobbing into his shoulder. Chuck squeezed them a little tighter, sliding to a seated position on the floor of the ship with Arni kneeling between his legs, clinging to him tightly as the last rotation’s events finally crashed down around them.
“It’s alright kid. I’ve got you. You’re safe. I promise,” Chuckles soothed, cradling the back of Arni’s head as they cried into his chest, their thin fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt.
“I was just so scared. And there were so many of our friends that were dead. And I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t save everyone. And Nita was so scared. And I didn’t want her to know how scared I was. They killed everyone.” Arni trembled, hiccups interrupting their speech as tears continued to pour down their cheeks. Chuckles rocked them back and forth, holding them firmly and trying to fight the tears that were forming in his own eyes.
“You did so good, Arni. You got both of you out of there, and then you kept her safe. You did exactly what you needed to do to survive. You were so brave, kid. So brave.”
“B-b-but we ran. There were so many others. And we just r-r-ran.”
Chuckles gently pushed Arni back to meet their gaze. “Arni, look at me.”
The Twi’lek’s brown eyes were red and puffy, and their nose was runny, but they managed to meet Chuckles’s gaze. The clone pilot took the corner of his shirt and wiped their nose with it.
“That’s gross,” they mumbled.
“Yeah, well I’m a gross guy, so get used to it.”
Arni sniffled again, but smiled slightly at that, their hiccups starting to subside. They sat back on their haunches, folding their hands in their lap.
“You know, when I found this place, I was running from a battle,” Chuckles said quietly. “We’d gotten some bad information and jumped right into an ambush. My brothers were dying all around me, and I was doing everything I could to stay alive and maybe take down a few Seppies in the process. It seemed like for every ship I shot down, three more showed up. I couldn’t save them, and I felt exactly how you feel now. But then my captain screamed at me to get the hell out of there, and at first, I didn’t do what he said. I felt like I had to save them and that if I left, I was abandoning them. But you know what my captain told me?”
Arni shook their head.
“That I had to carry on the fight. So that’s what I did. I punched in some random coordinates, got my ass out of there, and came here. And then I did what my captain asked. I carried on the fight. If I had stayed, I would have died, and I truly believe I survived for a reason. Well, two reasons, and one of them is sitting in front of me, and the other is very likely making a mess of the ‘fresher right now.”
Arni giggled quietly, picking at their fingernails. Chuckles took their hands in his. He was still surprised at how much his hands dwarfed theirs, slender blue fingers folded in his massive, calloused palms.
“I’m sad that I lost those brothers. Each star on my helmet represents one of them, and I carry them with me everywhere, but it's their memory that keeps me going. I’ve got to keep living for them. You and Nita now have that same responsibility now. You’ve got to carry on that fight for those that you cared about. I never knew too many Jedi during the war, but from what I can gather, they’d want you to keep going. You honor their memory by living and carrying them with you. So that’s what we’re gonna do, ok? You and me and Nita are gonna keep living, keep surviving, and some day, we’re going to tell their stories and make sure everyone knows how brave our friends were. Alright?”
Arni nodded.
“And it’s ok to miss them and be down about it. You both have been through a lot, more than any kid should ever have to deal with, so I’d have been worried if you’d just held it together the entire time. This was good to do. So don’t feel bad about this. When you’re down, you come find me, and we’ll talk it out, or if you need to cry, you cry and I’ll hug you while you do it if that helps. Got it?”
The Twi’lek nodded again, swallowing hard. “What happens if you’re sad?”
“Ah, I don’t get sad. There’s a reason my name is Chuckles.”
Arni’s brow furrowed skeptically. “Well, if you need to be sad, you can talk to me too. You said we’re doing this together, that we’re going to take care of each other. So, we have to take care of you too. Nita’s too little to do much, but I can help. I can listen.”
Chuckles looked the kid over, chewing his lip for a moment before nodding. “Alright. If I get down, I’ll talk to you.”
Arni held out their pinky wordlessly. Chuckles huffed a laugh before locking his pinky around theirs. When they released hands, he helped the Twi’lek to their feet and pulled them in for one more quick hug before they heard some loud banging coming from the ‘fresher.
“HELP! THE DOOR’S STUCK!” Nita’s voice was more annoyed than panicked as she shouted from within her tiny prison.
Arni covered their mouth with their hand to stifle their laugh.
“How long you figure we should leave her in there?” Chuckles asked, his eyebrows wiggling teasingly.
“HELLO?! ARNI!? CHUCKLES?!”
“I’ll get her if you get breakfast out,” Arni replied, grinning up at him.
“Deal.”
A/N: I can’t believe the first part of this story that got wrecked by canon is YADDLE, but here we are. This part of the story existed before ToTJ aired, and at the time, I thought (and still think) that Yaddle would have made an AWESOME master for Arni. SO IT STAYS AND I STAND BY IT, DANGIT. That’s what fanfic is all about anyway haha.
A/N: As always, thank you to the absolutely wonderful @teletraan-meets-jarvis for beta-reading this for me! ICYMI, TJ just started posting her own Wolffe x OFC multi-chapter fic titled “Pieces”, so if you haven’t already, I HIGHLY encourage you to go check it out! I’ve had the privilege of reading it as her beta-reader, and I ADORE it.
Chapter Rating: T
Warnings: canon-typical violence
Word Count: 7.3k words
“YOU THERE! STOP.”
Chuck’s heart fell as he froze, breathing heavily as he held Nita closer to him. He could hear her heart pounding in her chest as her fingers dug into the neck of his undersuit, her tiny body quivering with fear.
Not again. Please not again.
He turned back slowly, his grip tightening on the blaster at his side, trying to quell the shaking in his hands. Two troopers in magenta and grey armor were approaching him and the younglings, blasters aimed at them.
“Please let us pass,” he begged. “You know this isn’t right. Deep down, I know you do. We don’t kill kids. We don’t do this.”
“They’re traitors to the Republic and are to be executed.”
“Please.”
“Put the youngling down.”
“Nita, close your eyes honey, ok?”
“Are you not going to comply?” the trooper demanded.
“Arni, stay behind me.”
Chuckles looked down at the DC-17 in his hand. It was on the lethal setting. He clicked it. The red indicator didn’t change. He clicked it again. Still no change.
“PUT THE YOUNGLING DOWN.” The first trooper stepped forward, and Chuck’s heart fell as he whipped his blaster forward, shooting the clone in the chest. Before he could think, he whirled and shot the other trooper, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes as he sobbed, watching his other brother fall.
Suddenly, he realized his left arm was empty. Nita was gone. He spun, and Arni wasn’t there anymore either. In fact, he couldn’t identify where he was. Darkness and cold surrounded him, the only source of light shining down on the bodies of the two troopers lying on the ground in front of him. He looked closer at the bodies, and his breath stuttered as he noted the grey lines that cut through the magenta paint over one of the helmet’s eyes.
It’s a pilot. It wasn’t a pilot. It… it can’t be. He was already dead.
He dropped to his knees, pulling the bucket off.
Crater stared up at him, his eyes wide, unseeing, the notches in his eyebrow that matched the stripes on his helmet unmistakable. Chuckles fell forward, resting his head on his captain’s chest plate.
“I’m sorry, Crate,” he sobbed. “I’m so sorry.”
“Chuckles!” His eyes snapped open, his fingers locking around the thin blue arm that was shaking him awake. Arni’s brown eyes widened with alarm, but they didn’t pull away as Chuckles sat up quickly, rubbing sleep from his eyes. The birthmark on the young Twi’lek’s cheek twitched with an anxious swallow.
“What is it?” Chuck mumbled, clawing his way free of the sleepy haze that was still fogging his brain.
“Nita’s gone.”
Chuckles was immediately awake, flying to a seated position. “WHAT?”
Arni held their finger to their lips, their eyes darting around the room to where the other refugees were sleeping. No one seemed disturbed by Chuck’s outburst, but the clone pilot could hardly be bothered to care who he’d awoken. He swung his feet over the edge of the cot he was sleeping on, pulling his scarf back up to cover his face. The monks of the temple had set up the temple’s main atrium for housing the refugees with tables for food and cots for sleeping along a few of the walls. Chuckles had chosen to take one of the back corners, picking a cot that allowed him to sleep facing a wall so that he could pull his scarf down to sleep without fear of being recognized. The two younglings had opted to sleep in two cots that he’d pulled closer to his, but now, he could see Nita’s cot was empty, her trooper doll the only remaining occupant. His eyes scanned the snoring forms of the refugees around them frantically. He didn’t see Nita’s figure anywhere, and he swore under his breath.
“You see which way she went?” he whispered urgently.
“I thought I saw someone go downstairs, but I was half-awake before I realized it was her.”
Chuckles nodded, looking around again. The set of stairs at the end of the corridor had been designated as off-limits by the monks due to the holy artifacts that they supposedly housed below, but knowing that Nita probably had wandered down there made his decision to disregard the direction all too easy.
“Alright, I’ll go find her. You stay here.”
“No, I’m coming with you.”
“Arni-“
“I’m coming with you.” The Twi'lek's jaw was set with a stubborn determination that Chuckles was quickly beginning to realize meant that there was no room for argument. He sighed.
“Alright, but stay close. We’ve got to get in and out of here without getting caught. I don’t want to get kicked out of here by the monks after all they’ve done for us.”
Arni nodded before leading him silently between the sleeping refugees. At the top of the stairs, they looked down into the depths. They could see the base of the stairs and a dim, eerie glow whose source was out of view.
Dammit, why’d she have to go into the creepy temple basement? Why not out in the gardens or somewhere pleasant?
Chuckles sighed again before quietly beginning his descent with Arni close behind. They stuck close to the walls, peering around corners as they made their way deeper into the temple’s depths. The glow was getting brighter, seeming to emanate from the end of the corridor they were creeping down. The air also seemed to be getting cooler, and Chuckles noted his breath now hung in front of him in a light mist. He strained his ears but could hear no sign of Nita. When they reached the end of the hall, the clone pilot pressed Arni and himself up against the wall before sticking his head through the carved stone archway to see what he could see. He let out an audible gasp as he took in the room in front of him.
The corridor emptied into a cavern with a ceiling at least ten meters high. Lamps producing the eerie greenish white light they’d seen in the corridor were placed around the cavern walls, reflecting off carved stonework and massive crystals that were growing from the floor and walls.
“The kriff is this place?” he murmured under his breath.
Arni leaned out, their jaw falling open slightly as they took in the cavern. “It’s…they’re growing kyber.”
Chuckles’s head snapped down to look at them. “The stuff that goes in your lightsabers?”
Arni nodded, their eyes darting around the cavern. “I’ve never seen so much before.”
A faint giggle reached Chuckles’s ears and he looked down at Arni to see if they’d heard it too. The young Twi’lek nodded in confirmation.
Of course she’s in the place with all of the big shiny objects.
“Alright, let’s go get our girl.” The two of them cautiously stepped into the cavern, their boots echoing against the stone. The floor of the cavern appeared to be cut from the existing stone, smoothed and polished to a dull, even shine, and as Chuckles took in more details, he realized some of the crystals had been carved into massive pillars, and in some cases, statues. The lamps along the wall bounced off of and through the kyber crystals, sending shimmering sparks of light dancing and flickering across the stone. Water dripped from the ceiling, pooling in certain areas, the drips the only other sound beside their echoing footsteps as they stepped through the cavern.
The two of them made it through the first chamber into a second where the crystals seemed more sparse and in earlier stages of their growth. Another giggle from Nita spurred them on, weaving through a few cavern hallways until they came into a small chamber with more small crystals growing from the rocky walls. Nita was crouched in a corner, speaking quietly, although they couldn’t hear what she was saying. Chuckles felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up and his fingers flexed nervously at his sides.
“Nita,” he hissed, pulling down the scarf covering his face. She turned, her eyes sparkling as she smiled at him. Chuckles closed the gap between them, scooping her back to her feet and checking her over before kneeling down, resting his hands on her shoulders. “What are you doing, honey? We’re not supposed to be down here. Didn’t you hear Chirrut’s friends?”
Nita’s face fell slightly. “I’m sorry. The sound was just so pretty. Don’t you think so?”
Chuckles stared at her blankly. “Honey, I don’t hear anything.”
Nita’s brows furrowed in frustration. “Really? It’s right there.” She turned and pointed at a small crystal the size of her thumb poking out of the wall. “You can’t hear that?” she asked quietly. Chuckles shook his head, turning to Arni, whose eyes were wide.
“You know what she’s talking about?” he asked.
Arni nodded, opening their mouth to explain, but before they could utter a single word, the sound of a walking stick clacking against stone made them all jump. “The kyber is calling to her,” Chirrut said, rounding the corner and entering the small cavern, his hand resting against the wall as he came up behind Arni.
Chuckles’s mind raced as he launched into an apology. “Chirrut, I’m so sorry. She wandered off and-”
The monk raised a hand to silence him, smiling. “It’s quite alright. I’ve never been present to witness a kyber song. I should be thanking you.”
“I still don’t understand,” Chuckles said, his confusion deepening.
“Only she can hear it singing,” Arni whispered. “Wh-when we…” they cast a hesitant look at Chirrut, who bowed his head.
“I know what you and Nita are, young one, and your secret is safe with me. Tell Chuckles what it means.”
Arni nodded, wetting their lips apprehensively. “When we’re getting ready to become padawans, we’re taken to Illum to search for our kyber crystals that will go in our lightsabers. We find them because we can hear them ‘singing’ to us, but only one person can hear their kyber crystal. Th-they don’t sound the same for everyone. It… it took me a few hours to find mine.” They turned to look at Chirrut. “But why would it be here? Why not on Illum? And isn’t she too young?”
Chirrut smiled. “The Force works in mysterious ways, Arni. I imagine Nita’s crystal would have found its way to her regardless of when she came searching for it.” He strode forward, crouching down by the small crystal in the wall that Nita had pointed at. “Come here, Nita,” he said gently. She stood next to him as he took out a small tool from a pocket. He felt along the wall until his fingers grazed the crystal. Chirrut turned, reaching back for Nita, and she allowed him to take her hand without hesitation. The monk positioned her hand so that she was gripping the crystal. “This is the one, yes?” Nita mumbled a quiet affirmative. “Very good. Tug on it while I chip away.” The monk delicately began scraping at the rock and dirt around the kyber crystal, and after a few moments, Nita was able to pry it loose, holding it in her palm with a reverence Chuckles had never seen from her. He couldn’t tell if his mind was playing tricks on him or not, but it almost seemed as if the crystal was emanating its own soft light, almost pulsating in the tiny Pantoran’s palms.
“It’s warm,” she said softly. “What do I do with it now?”
Chirrut chuckled, cupping his hands around hers to close her hands around the crystal. “Keep it safe for now, young one. I do not think now is the time to be building lightsabers, for several reasons. But when the time comes, I have a feeling Arni will be more than happy to teach you how to construct your blade.” He turned to Arni for confirmation, and the young Twi’lek nodded silently in agreement.
Nita walked over to Arni. “Can you keep it in a pouch for me so I don’t lose it? Until I’m ready?”
Arni’s eyes widened, but they held out their palm for the crystal, which Nita gave without any reservations. “I’ll guard it with my life,” Arni said quietly. Lifting their poncho, they tucked it in a pouch at their belt, ensuring to fasten it shut again.
“Chirrut,” Chuckles said gently. “You told us these lower levels stored holy artifacts, and I’m assuming that the kyber falls under that label. We can’t take this.”
The monk smiled at him, his milky irises shining in the cavern’s light. “As I said earlier, I’m not certain how long the Empire will allow us to keep up the operation of this temple. If I had it my way, all of this kyber would go to those with Nita’s abilities before I’d let it fall into the Empire’s hands. Unfortunately, I may not have much of a choice when the time comes. So let’s just say this is you, Arni, and Nita doing the Guardians of the Whills a favor by preserving some of our traditions and holy artifacts.” He rested a hand on Chuckles’s shoulder. “Now, it’s the middle of the night and Baze likes to wake with the sun, so I suggest you all head back upstairs and get some rest before he comes barreling down to take you to the market tomorrow.”
Chuckles looked down at the two children. Nita’s eyelids were already starting to droop now that the excitement was over, and Arni was in the process of trying to stifle a yawn. Bending down, he scooped up the small Pantoran, who nuzzled against his shoulder. He nodded at Chirrut, who gestured for him to lead the way back out of the caverns. They didn’t even make it back to the stairs before Nita was quietly snoring against Chuckles’s shoulder.
---
The next morning, Chuckles was in the process of ensuring the two children had eaten breakfast and gathered the few items they’d brought with them ready to go when Baze approached him.
“Mornin’,” he said, trying to be friendly.
Baze grunted in acknowledgement. “Chirrut has asked to see you before we go to market. To get you the items you requested yesterday.” It was clear the monk was not pleased at the risk his counterpart was taking, but also, he was obviously not going to try and stop him. Chuckles nodded.
“Where’s your armor?” Nita asked Baze, clutching her trooper doll to her chest.
“I take it off when I’m in the temple,” he replied, a hint of a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.
“Ah. That makes sense,” Nita concurred, nodding her head in agreement. Arni had already done her hair again, and her ribbons shook with the bob of her head. Before anyone could stop her, Nita slipped her hand into Baze’s, starting to head down the hall in the direction he’d come. Baze’s eyebrows raised in surprise, but he allowed the little girl to lead him by the hand. Arni looked at Chuckles, who shrugged before following after them.
Nita eventually allowed Baze to take the lead, and the monk guided them through several corridors until they reached a small room with humble furnishings. Two bunks were tucked in the corner, and the entire room smelled of wood polish and blaster cleaner. A small plant sat near the window, delicate white blossoms with a pink hue at the tips of their petals unfurling in the morning light. Chuckles shuddered slightly at the sight of the petals, remembering the one that had fluttered into his palm at the Jedi temple just before Order 66 had been issued. The others didn’t appear to notice his discomfort.
Chirrut was sitting at a simple wooden desk that was pushed against one wall, fiddling with a disk scanner. Baze sighed, stepping forward and taking it from his hands.
“Give me that. You’ll corrupt them, and we don’t exactly have an endless supply of these.”
Chirrut glowered indignantly. “You know, I’ve never corrupted one before,” he retorted, wagging a finger against the accusation.
“You’ve only done this once,” Baze reminded him.
“Still. A perfect record.”
The larger monk gave a neutral grunt before going back to his work on the datapad, picking up where Chirrut had left off. “I’ll need a surname for this.”
Chuckles looked at him blankly. “I… we don’t have one.”
“Well, you’d better come up with one.”
Chirrut sighed. “What my colleague means is that having a single surname would make it easier to pass through security checkpoints without being stopped. If you’re traveling as a family with the same name, it’s unlikely you’ll be separated. In all of your cultures, it's customary to have a surname, so not having one may raise eyebrows.”
Chuckles smirked. “I don’t exactly have a culture.”
Chirrut turned to him, giving him a small smile. “I would disagree, but also, you’re trying not to look like a clone. A surname will add another layer to that disguise. Now, what do you wish your family to be called?”
Chuckles let out a low whistle. “Never thought about it.” He turned to Arni. “What do you think, kid?”
Arni shrugged. “Technically, my family name is Grinata, but I don’t really like it.”
Chuckles turned to Nita. “What about you, Nita?”
Nita tapped on her lips with a finger as she thought. “Mine is Kiili, but I don’t mind changing it either.”
“We probably need totally new names,” Arni said quietly. “Our full names were definitely in the temple archives. If they’re looking for us, they’ll have those.”
Chuckles nodded. “Well, what do we want to go by?”
Arni wrinkled their nose as they thought, but Nita immediately had an idea and didn’t hesitate to voice it. “STAR!” she shouted gleefully.
Chuck grinned. “I think we’ll have to come up with something a little more original than that, honey.”
“But you have stars on your helmet!” the tiny Pantoran objected, a slight pout overtaking her features.
“And you did say they were for your brothers. Your family,” Arni said softly. Chuckles looked at them, thinking for a moment before an idea floated to the front of his mind.
“Arni, do you know the Twi’lek word for ‘star’?” he asked.
The youngling paused for a moment before nodding. “It’s ayy,” they replied, falling into their homeworld accent easily.
Chuckles repeated the word, his pronunciation clumsy as he tried to imitate the way Arni had said it. Simple enough I suppose. “What about you, Nita. Do you know any Pantoran words?”
The little girl shook her head, her face falling slightly. “We mostly speak Basic.”
“I know a few,” Arni offered shyly. “I know the words for ‘light’ and ‘sky’ and a few others.”
“Starlight has been the guide for generations of explorers,” Chirrut offered. “And it seems the stars guided you all to each other. What is the Pantoran word for ‘light’, Arni?”
“Shu.”
Chuckles nodded, combining the two words. “Ayyshu. Starlight. My stars, and both of your languages. What do you both think?”
“It sounds like a sneeze,” Nita commented.
Chuckles tipped his head back and laughed. “You’re not wrong.”
“I like it,” Arni said hesitantly. “I like… that it has a little of all three of us.”
Nita’s face grew serious at Arni’s comment, and she nodded decisively. “If Arni likes it, then I like it too.”
Chuckles felt Chirrut and Baze’s eyes on him as the weight of the moment struck him. He tried to keep his face neutral. A new family. A new name. Who’d have thought? He looked at the two younglings watching him expectantly, awaiting his approval. I’m their pilot, he thought, Chirrut’s words echoing in his mind. He grinned. “Alright, it’s settled then. From here on out, we’re going by the name Ayyshu. Easy enough to spell, and I’m always good with that.” He glanced over at Baze. “Got all that?”
Baze looked up at him through his eyebrows, but didn’t say anything as he punched away on the datapad.
Tough crowd, Chuckles mused internally. A few moments later, Baze’s datapad beeped, and he removed the three small disks he had slotted into a receptacle connected to his device. “All done. Here you are, Ayyshu family. Do not lose these.” Chuckles took them from him, starting to tuck them away in his pouch before pausing and handing them off to Arni.
“You’re the responsible one.”
Arni gave him half a smirk before tucking the chain codes into the same pouch as Nita’s kyber crystal, carefully fastening it shut again. Chirrut stood.
“Alright. To the market then.”
“Will you come with us?” Nita asked.
Chirrut smiled down at her, placing his hand on her head carefully so as not to disturb her buns. “No, this is where we part ways, I’m afraid. I’ve got to stay here and help the other refugees get settled or get on to their next destination. But never fear; Baze is an excellent shopper.” The larger monk rolled his eyes as he began digging in a carved chest in the corner of the room, removing his armor and weapon and beginning to gear up.
Nita’s face fell slightly. “Will we see you again?”
“I certainly hope so,” the blind monk replied, smiling at her. “But until we meet again, make sure you take care of your friend and your pilot.” His milky irises flicked up to stare at Chuckles. “Take care of one another.”
Chuckles stepped forward, extending his arm, allowing his fingertips to brush Chirrut’s arm. The monk took the cue, wrapping his fingers around Chuck’s forearm in farewell.
“I can’t ever thank you enough for the kindness and the help you all have given us,” Chuck said softly. “We’d have been lost without you.”
Chirrut smiled. “I have faith you would have found your way eventually. However, I was more than happy to help speed the process along.” His face softened. “May the Force be with all of you.”
The two younglings bowed their heads slightly, and Chuckles mirrored them before releasing Chirrut. Baze clicked his last armor clasp into place, reaching for his weapon.
“We should get going. There are fewer patrols early in the morning. Easier to get in and get out quickly.” With that, he turned, striding out the door. Nita and Arni fell into step behind him with Chuckles bringing up the rear. As he stepped through the doorway, he paused, casting one more look over his shoulder at Chirrut. The blind monk smiled.
“The Force is with you as much as it is them, Chuckles. Trust yourself. And take care of them.”
“I will.”
With that, he stepped into the dim corridor, jogging to catch up with Baze and the two younglings.
---
The market was bustling in the crisp morning air as the four of them wove their way through the various stalls. Arni walked close with Baze, constantly peppering him with questions about the different aspects of his weapon, which he answered patiently. Nita and Chuckles followed behind at a somewhat slower pace until Chuckles finally pulled Nita onto his back, her arms wrapping around his neck as he tucked his arms under her legs. They moved quickly from stall to stall, choosing food and other supplies such as tools, soap, and even some additional clothes. Baze paid every time, even buying Nita and Arni a piece of candy each when he noted Nita eyeing a piece of toffee at one of the stalls. After a little over an hour, they were loaded up and ready to depart. Arni carried the supplies with Baze while Chuckles carried Nita on his back, bouncing her playfully while she giggled, her silver ribbons bobbing with every step. As they reached the edge of town, Chuckles noted Baze’s expression becoming more wary, his eyes scanning the area. When his gaze settled on their ship, he raised an eyebrow.
“That’s your ship?”
“We didn’t exactly have time to window shop,” Chuckles retorted, setting Nita down. “You kids take this stuff inside and get it organized, alright?”
The two younglings nodded, Nita taking the one of the packages Baze was carrying and tottering along behind Arni up the ramp and through the ship’s hatch. Chuckles took the last package from the monk, standing awkwardly for a few moments before he shifted the supplies to one arm and extended a hand to Baze.
“I know you don’t really like me, but I want you to know how very much I appreciate what you and the other Guardians did for us. It means a lot.”
Baze raised an eyebrow at him. “I don’t know you, Chuckles, so I cannot dislike you. I can’t deny that it’s difficult to look into the face that killed innocents. But, I know that you walk a different path than your brothers.”
“You hear about the chips?” Chuckles asked. “That the clones didn’t have a choice in the matter?”
“You made a choice.”
“Yeah, but I think my chip malfunctioned. One too many hits to the head or something.”
Baze’s eyes pierced Chuckles, and it felt to the clone as if he was being weighed and measured to an unknown standard. “There are many unknowns at the moment,” Baze stated noncommittally. “What I do know is that you have a massive responsibility resting on your shoulders now. Taking care of children is hard enough as it is, but taking care of two Jedi younglings? That’s going to be a very difficult task, particularly with the current state of the galaxy.”
Chuckles jutted his chin out defiantly. “I’m up to it.”
Baze stared at him. “We’ll see.” He reached into his hip pocket, digging around until he found a pouch, which he tossed to Chuck. “A final gift from the Guardians. May it help with your journey ahead.” Chuckles opened the sack to find what he estimated to be several hundred credits emblazoned with a cog-like symbol that somewhat resembled the Republic crest emblazoned across the chest of his black undersuit. “They’re Imperial,” Baze stated, seemingly noting his confusion. “They should be good all across the galaxy.”
“This is too much, Baze. We can’t take all this.”
“You think I’m going to let you give it back?”
I’m certainly not about to pick a fight with this guy.
“No. But what about the other refugees?”
“They’ll have an easier time earning them. You and the two younglings must stay hidden until you come up with a plan. Once the dust settles, you may be able to earn your own, but until then, that will hopefully help keep you and them fed and fueled.” He shifted onto the balls of his feet. “Take care of them. Keep them safe.”
Chuckles swallowed hard, meeting the large monk’s piercing gaze. “I will.”
Baze nodded. “Outer Rim worlds are supposed to be a little safer from everything we’re hearing. Stay off the beaten path. Find a world where resources are limited. The Empire will have little interest in places like that.” He sighed, and for a moment, he looked more like a weary soldier than a monk. Chuck knew that look all too well; many of his brothers had worn it. “Chirrut seems to think the Empire will allow us to continue growing kyber, but I’m certain they’ll come for it eventually. We will be plundered to feed the machine one day,” Baze said quietly. His gaze grew distant, somewhat pained. “I suspect the days of the Guardians of the Whills are numbered.”
Chuckles shifted on his feet, searching for the right words. “I hope that day won’t come.”
Baze’s eyes found his, and some of the fire reignited in his irises. “Whatever the Force wills, we will adapt.” He stepped past Chuckles, clapping him roughly on the shoulder. “May the Force be with you, pilot.”
Chuckles gripped his wrist, stopping the monk in his tracks. He worried for a moment that Baze was going to slug him. His tongue darted out to moisten his lips. “Thank you again. Seriously.”
Baze grunted, slipping from Chuckles’s grasp and continuing on his way. Chuckles watched his back recede into the distance for a few moments before turning and striding into the ship. Arni was halfway through putting the supplies away already as Chuckles set the last crate down, but Nita was nowhere in sight.
“Where’s the little one?” Chuck asked, striding to the pilot seat and starting pre-flight.
“In back putting some of the food in the kitchenette,” Arni replied. “Although I’m pretty sure I heard one of the snack bags rip open a few minutes ago.”
Chuckles grinned as the ship’s hatch closed and the engines sputtered to life. “She knows how to prioritize.” Carefully, he lifted the ship into the air.
Damn thing still feels like a bantha trying to do a Toydarian impression.
“Where are we headed?” Arni asked, moving one of the empty crates off to the side to be dealt with later and opening a new one to begin emptying.
“Back to the nebula to plot our next move. Baze recommended we choose an Outer Rim world, so I want you two to help me pick where we try to set up shop on a more permanent basis.”
“Isn’t that dangerous?”
“Might be. We’ll play it by ear. But I don’t think we can just keep hiding out in space forever. Need to find a place where I can find work and keep you both fed. Especially with the rate Nita’s going through food back there.” The grey of Jedha’s atmosphere faded to the black of space as Chuckles leaned over to program the coordinates for the nebula into the hyperdrive computer. A few minutes later, he punched the confirmation button, and the ship leapt into hyperspace. Spinning the pilot’s chair, he watched Arni for a few moments before heaving a deep sigh. Something had been weighing on him, and he’d been pondering how to bring this up with Arni the last few nights and still hadn’t come up with a good way to do it, so he figured he’d just press forward.
Better to fumble a bit and know than to be unintentionally hurting the kid. Just be honest. This is important to get right.
“Arni, I need to ask you something.” The young Twi’lek paused, looking up at him.
“Yes?”
Chuckles rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “I… ever since I met you, I’ve been referring to you by ‘they’, because I never did figure out how you identify.”
Arni nodded at him, their face not betraying anything or giving him an idea of where to go next. Chuckles felt his apprehension grow.
“Is… is that correct? For you? I haven’t met many Twi’leks in my life, so I’m not sure how that goes culturally. I’ve… you always wear the cap, so I’ve never been able to tell if you’ve got…” He tapped his ears, figuring non-verbal communication made it less likely for him to screw up the terminology. Arni chewed on the inside of their cheek, the muscles underneath their tan birthmark twitching for a few seconds before they nodded as Chuckles continued. “And I know that doesn’t necessarily point me in the right direction either, since anatomy doesn’t always match with how you identify, but I just…” He sighed, feeling like he was flailing. I’m certain I’m screwing this up royally. “I… I just want to make sure I’m doing right by you, kid. You’re not necessarily the type to correct me if I’ve got it wrong when it comes to things about you. Technical stuff, sure, you’ll tell me I’m an idiot, but this is different. In fact, I suspect you’d endure me getting it wrong until the day I die, but that’s not alright with me. So, I just want to make sure I’m… honoring who you are. That’s important to me.”
Arni stared at him for a moment, clearly deep in thought before their tongue darted out to wet their lips. They took a deep breath. “You’ve had it correct. But to be honest, I’m fine with anything. I don’t… I don’t feel like I’m one or the other really, if that makes sense, but nothing feels wrong necessarily. I’m just… me.”
Chuckles nodded. For reasons he couldn’t explain, it did make sense. Arni was just Arni, and in his opinion, Arni was pretty great. “Alright kid. I’ll stick to what I’ve been doing then, but if anything with you ever changes to where you feel a particular way about who you are, you let me know so that I can adjust accordingly, ok?”
Arni gave him a small smile. “Ok.”
“Ok then.”
Chuckles watched the young Twi’lek for another few moments as they finished unloading the crate. He wasn’t sure if he was imagining it or not, but some of the tension that the youngling seemed to always carry in their shoulders appeared to have vanished, as if having that understanding and acceptance had taken a burden from them. Maybe they were worried about it too. That I wouldn’t care enough to ask or make sure I’m getting it right.
Arni set the now empty crate aside, climbing into the bunk that they and Nita shared. Chuck watched as they carefully pried a panel loose in the back corner just above the mattress. The clone pilot stood, crossing the hold of the ship to peer into the bunk. “Whatcha got there, kid?”
Arni looked up at him nervously. “A hiding spot. Is that ok?” They fidgeted with the panel in their hands as if they were worried Chuckles was going to scold them for pulling the ship apart. “There’s no wiring or anything in the compartment, and I thought I should hide… some things.” Looking past the Twi’lek, Chuckles could see the younglings’ Jedi robes folded and tucked into the space. A glint of metal caught his attention, and he realized Arni had also pushed their lightsaber in the gap to hide it. His heart fell a little.
Such an important part of each of them, and they have to hide it.
“You know, I think that’s really smart, Arni. It’s a good idea.”
The young Twi’lek nodded, a small smile of relief crossing their face. Reaching into the pouch at their waist, they withdrew Nita’s kyber crystal, wrapping it carefully in part of Nita’s silver Jedi tunic before replacing the panel and bolting it back in place.
Just then, Nita came around the corner, a bag of fried snacks in her hand. She paused at the sight of Chuckles, who raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re gonna ruin your dinner,” he teased.
“Nu uh.” She didn’t appear to feel the need to further her argument beyond that, continuing to crunch away.
“Alright, well then you’d better share with the rest of us,” Chuckles growled playfully, scooping her up and digging a hand into the bag before popping one of the snacks in his mouth. He readjusted his grip on the little Pantoran, tipping her over so the bag was aimed at Arni. “You too, kid.”
Arni smirked as they reached into the bag, helping themselves to one of the snacks.
—
A few hours later, they were back to being parked near the nebula. Chuckles had made some noodles for dinner with some of the fresh vegetables they’d picked up at the market in Jedha City. It hadn’t been an especially difficult meal to pull together, but he was proud of himself nonetheless.
Cooking definitely wasn’t a thing they taught us how to do on Kamino. Just something some of us kind of figured out on our own.
Fortunately for him, Crater and the rest of his squad had occasionally been able to round up enough supplies to pull together a meal that didn’t consist of ration bars. Being pilots afforded the 28th a bit more freedom at times, so when they had a long distance to fly, they’d normally stop over at a planet’s market or some place where they could grab real food, and every once in a while, they’d typically empty their stashes onto a table in the barracks and pull together a meager banquet to share amongst themselves. Those had been some of Chuck’s fondest memories, his brothers cackling as they struggled through instructions on packaging in various languages that none of them spoke. There had been experiments and disasters that came out inedible, but at the end of the day, there had been smiles and laughter. Those nights, it felt as if the war melted away if only for a moment as they passed bowls around the small metal table. He’d missed the camaraderie, and when Arni had leaned over to supervise and occasionally make suggestions while Nita snuck small bites here and there for “quality control,” he’d had to swallow the rising lump in his throat at the familiarity of it all.
Their pilot. My family.
Now, as he and Nita cleared away the dishes and stored the leftovers in the refrigeration unit, Arni pulled out their datapad and began poking through a list of potential planetary candidates for them to settle on, making suggestions periodically for Chuckles to weigh in on.
“Taul?”
“Isn’t that place acidic?”
“What about Klatooine?”
“You ever met a Klatooinian?”
“No.”
“You don’t want to. Trust me.”
And so it went for another half an hour. Eventually, Chuckles pulled out a holopad with a star map, placing it on the table so that they could cross reference Arni’s suggestions with planetary locations. They weighed different worlds based on their systems, their habitability, their proximity to hyperspace lanes, and other factors. Nita perched on the bench next to Arni, leaning on the table and watching intently, her eyebrows furrowing in concentration as she tried to follow Arni and Chuckles’s rapid exchange, offering opinions here and there when she felt she had a contribution to make.
“What about Akiva?” Arni asked.
“No go. That’s a Seppie planet. Plus, big bugs.”
Nita nodded decisively. “No big bugs. I don’t like them.”
Chuckles glanced at her, trying to stifle the giggle that was threatening to rip from him at Nita’s firm expression. “Right. Absolutely no big bugs then.”
Another half an hour dragged on before Arni sat up excitedly. “I’ve got it! What about Sorgan?”
Chuck scratched at the scruff that was starting to grow in along his jawline. He’d never grown his beard out before and it was starting to itch. He searched out the planet on the star map, tapping it to zoom in. “This place habitable?”
“The only habitable place in the system.”
“Population?”
“By all accounts, looks minimal,” Arni replied, poring through the information on their datapad. “No major settlements are logged. Not even minor ones really.”
Chuck hummed, ticking through the checklist in his head. “Any reason the Empire would be interested in this place?”
“Not unless they want to build something from the ground up. But no major natural resources are listed. A bit of agriculture maybe, but nothing super valuable. Climate seems pretty hospitable. Lots of green.”
Nita was leaning further on the table, her eyes shining as she spun the holo of the planet. “It’s pretty.”
Chuck felt the corner of his mouth twitch as he took in the two younglings. Arni was trying to remain neutral and unbiased, but he could see by the way the kid’s eyes were sparkling that they were just as excited as Nita at the prospect. He considered it for a few more moments.
If it’s green and has wildlife, there’s things I could hunt to feed us if bad comes to worse. That bit of agriculture Arni mentioned would help keep us fed too. If it’s a small enough settlement, they may still use a barter system rather than credits. I could maybe find work in one of the villages or smaller settlements.
He smiled.
“Alright. Sorgan it is. We’ll head out first thing after we sleep.”
Nita cheered, waving her hands in the air excitedly. Arni just smiled silently, clutching their datapad to their chest.
—
“Well, boys, I did it. Or, I’m doing it. We’ve got a place to go.” Chuckles wrapped the blanket further around himself as he leaned back in the pilot’s seat and rested his feet on the freighter’s control console, careful not to bump any important buttons. He had a mug half full of the mystery booze clutched in his hands, and he took another sip, exhaling sharply at the burn that bloomed into warmth in his chest. “If only you could all see me now, you’d hardly recognize me,” he teased the stars. “Especially you, Crate. You always said I couldn’t take care of a rusty bolt if it was tied around my neck, but now, I’m doing it. I’ve got the kids, we’ve got a plan. In spite of all of it, I think maybe we’ve got a chance.” He heard a rustle from behind him and cast a glance over his shoulder to ensure the bunk door was still closed.
Nita must just be rolling around again. That kid is a hell of a restless sleeper. Always seems to wake up half a klick from where she started.
He smiled into his cup as he took another sip. “You all would love them, you know. They’re… they’re special. Arni is a little genius, at times too smart for their own good. I’m still not entirely sure how old they are, but regardless, they’re advanced for their age. And Nita is just the sweetest, but Maker alive she’s going to be something to contend with when she gets older. She has no doubts about what she wants and is absolutely not afraid to tell you what she thinks. If the Jedi were still around, she’d have made the Council before she turned eighteen. Would have put the fear of the Maker into Rancisis and the like for sure.” He paused at the thought. What are they both going to look like in a few years? Will we still all be together? Will the Empire still be around? The thought sobered him. Never really stopped to consider how permanent this may be. Looking down, he swirled the amber liquid in his cup, watching the liquid waver in the dim lights of the cockpit.
“I’m not sure if everything I’m doing is right,” he admitted quietly to the stars. “But I’m doing my best. And I think that’s all I can do.” He sighed deeply. “Whatever it takes. For as long as it takes. I’ll keep them safe.”
Baze will hunt me down if I don’t. And honestly, Chirrut might too.
He grinned into his cup again. Crater’s star seemed to twinkle a little brighter for a moment from its spot in the upper right portion of the nebula, right in the middle of one of the brighter clumps of magenta gas clouds. Chuck raised his cup to it in a silent toast.
“One step at a time, right Crate? That’s how we’ll take it. And maybe, just maybe, we’ll make it out of this alright.”
Finishing his drink, Chuck set the cup down next to him. His eyes flicked to the DC-17 in its holster, but tonight, he left it untouched. He wrapped the blanket around himself a little more and soon drifted off.
For the first time since Order 66, he didn’t dream of death and fear. Instead, he dreamt of a teenage Pantoran girl with large golden eyes and her older, taller Twi’lek sibling sitting in a sunny forest and laughing with one another. Their bare feet were covered in dirt and their toes wiggled in green grass that fluttered in the breeze. The Pantoran turned to him, her eyes finding his before she called his name, beckoning him to come sit with them as her long, silver hair fluttered around her. He felt himself smile before he stepped into the sunlight, the ground warm beneath his feet.
Alone in the cockpit, Chuckles smiled in his sleep.
Alright... so like I said, I apologize in advance.
Kamino’s waves raced up towards his trainer as the ship plummeted downwards in an uncontrolled spin. His hands fumbled for the eject cable. He pulled. Something was wrong. He pulled again. The eject sequence started. But his cockpit viewport didn’t budge. The ejection charges under his seat ignited. His cockpit was just beginning to open. His helmet wasn’t on all the way yet…
How did he get his name? What does he love about being a pilot?
Chuckles got his name early on in training. He's very prone to getting the giggles (and refused to let his name be Giggles). He also laughs when he's nervous/scared/in pain as kind of a coping mechanism. So if shit's hitting the fan in the middle of a battle, Chuckles is very likely cackling like a fiend on comms.
He loves flying. He was never really good with a blaster, but the first time he climbed into a cockpit (when he definitely wasn't supposed to), everything kind of changed for him. He loves the freedom that comes with it and the perspective it brings being up in the air or out in space. Honestly, he'd rather be dipping through Bespin's clouds at sunset than fighting a war, but he's got a duty to his brothers.
Flying just provides a different view from what a lot of his brothers get, and he appreciates it immensely.
