Characters: Commander Miles (Original Clone Trooper Character) x Jer Himar (Original Male Twi'lek Character)
Tags/Warnings: N/A
Project Notes: This kinda-sorta ties into my fan comic, "Ready Player 2", which I hope to release probably around when summer comes. Until then, I really hope this works!
Special Notes: I wasn't able to do this during the day because of work/washing up/dinnertime/ETC., so I kinda hope this still makes the deadline. Thank you for your consideration!
Brief Blurb:
"Hf...hf...Finally found you!"
For Jer Himar, his first meeting with the Commander officially started back in 79's during 'G.A.R. Goth Night', where he first laid eyes upon an interesting fellow in the corner who possessed both a scar across his nose and a tattoo of Queen Apailana of Naboo.
For Commander Miles, however, his first meeting with Jer Himar didn't happen until much later upon Kyorimut, for that was when the Twi'lek bartender showed up just in time to return his missing black shirt.
Cloney McCloneson, Elected Prime Minister of Bright Moon.
"Call me Mickey."
A fair and effective administrator, much loved by the people.
@baggebythesea and @jidblogger
CT-999231 was jolted out of a rare good dream by a frantic tapping on his leg. Muttering a few choice words, the clone rolled over and found himself looking into the panicked eyes of two cadets.
"What's wrong?" he asked, voice heavy with sleep.
"Show him, Jak," the older cadet fretted.
CT-999231 -- Tooth, to his brothers -- forced himself to sit up. The cadets looked scared, and that made it his job to fix whatever the situation was.
Jak, a gangly little cadet around three chronological years old, trembled as he stepped up.
"Don't be afraid, vod'ika," Tooth yawned, show me."
Jak gulped, opened his hands, and held them up. On his palms lay a perfectly normal multitool. But as Tooth and Snatch watched, the tool rose into the air and turned lazy circles over their heads.
"...what." Tooth was without words.
Snatch threw his arm around the younger cadet's shoulders. "Please help us," he begged. "We can't let the Longnecks find out he can feel the Force. They'll say he's defective! Who knows what they'll do!"
On further reflection, Tooth decided, this was a little above his paygrade.
Pairing: OC Clone/OC Human Male, Background Obi-wan/Cody
Genre: Sci-fi
Rating: M (May change.)
Warnings: Light Dom/Sub, possessive behavior, and power play.
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26389771/chapters/64281844
Summary:
CT-1547, also known as Hush, is fresh off Kamino with his surviving batchmates. How did he earn his name? Because of the frightful stutter he can't seem to get rid of. It was only with the help of an older clone commander that he survived Kamino at all. But now, in unfamiliar territory, the stutter has come back with a vengeance and he's afraid he'll be decommissioned.
With so few Jedi Generals to go around, and the Republic scrambling to accommodate their new army, Hush's battalion is assigned to a human male by the name of Ekh-ardt Ganekh, a Commodore from the Mid Rim.
The Commodore is a surprise for the troopers, who are used to disdain from most natural borns. Not only does he use their names but he seems to have the uncanny ability to tell them apart. After catching an officer verbally abusing Hush the man takes the trooper under his wing as an aide-de-camp.
Hush never thought he'd feel like this for anyone who wasn't another clone. Ekh-ardt never thought he'd find the perfect partner after a long string of relationships gone wrong.
Preview:
Standing in formation with his brothers CT-1547, also known as Hush, tried to keep his trembling contained to his hands, which were thankfully tucked behind him in parade rest. On either side of him CT-1548, Racket, and CT-1549, Puzzle, were like two barriers between him and the rest of this new overwhelming world. The man walking them down the ramp of the transport ship was a natural born human in a gray uniform and stern blue eyes. Every now and then he would turn and talk quietly to the clone walking just behind him and to the left.
Commander Dajun, someone Hush remembered from his training days on Kamino, quietly responded to the man, expression guarded but eyes showing clear surprise.
As the man came closer his unwavering gaze swept over the assembled troops. But there was a clear lack of disdain that they had become used to when working with natural born officers. “Atten-tion!” The commander shouted. In one motion he let his arms swing to his side, pulled his feet together, and stood up as straight as a ruler. Just like all of his brothers.
“Thank you, Commander.” The man gave the clone standing next to him a small nod that, while not outwardly looking like much, was more respect than they had ever seen shown to one of their commanders. “I am Commodore Ganekh. You will refer to me as either Commodore or Sir. From this day forward I will be in charge of your battalion.” The man quietly assessed them for a moment. “I may not be a jedi,” there was a faint look of amusement in his eyes, “but I have seen my fair share of conflict. I have heard tales that you are all brave, strong, warriors.” A hint of fire entered his voice as he stood almost impossibly straighter. “Only time under fire will tell if this is true.” His eyes swept over them, looking for something though Hush didn’t know what, before the Commodore turned to regard his commander for a moment. “Before I dismiss you there is one thing I would like to make perfectly clear.” Hush wasn’t the only brother giving off a sense of nervous energy.
Was this the point where the man told them he thought they were nothing more than meat-droids? Was this where he called them abominations? Or said they should never have existed?
“If you have a name you prefer to be to referred to by, be sure to assign it to your current designations in the access system. If you do not yet have a name and wish for one, know that you may change your designation at any time in the records. That is all. Dismissed!” More than one brother had a hard time containing their surprise at this sudden twist, including the commander who stood there with a slack expression on his face.
A faint smile ticked the man’s lips upwards and Hush could tell he was amused. “I said dismissed!” As one he and his brothers replied with a quick ‘sir, yes, sir!’
Trying to disperse after a speech like that was difficult. None of them had caught their bearings immediately, except for the commander who quickly hurried to convey the commodore’s orders. From there it was all standard procedure. But Hush couldn’t help watching the intriguing natural born as he turned to argue with one of the other natural borns.
“Are you okay, Hush?” Turning to Racket and Puzzle he fidgeted a moment but nodded.
“Th-that w-w-was unec-unex-uh… s-surprising.” His brothers waited patiently for him to finish speaking, even if his stutter made him slow.
“We’ll have to put our names in, see if anyone actually uses them. Hey, do you think it’s some kind of trap? Like he’ll use our names against us somehow? Or is he actually going to be a decent CO? His eyes were really intense and-” Puzzle slapped a hand over Racket’s mouth and gave him a look. Racket grumbled but stopped talking, glaring at him. Hush looked at the ground. They knew why Racket rambled, but it wasn’t always convenient if he went on a long tangent.
“We’ll have to wait and see. So far he seems okay for a natborn. But let’s not hold our breath.” Hush nodded along with Racket. Puzzle had always been the smartest among them, even if he could be confusing at times.
He crouched behind a stack of empty cargo crates, disregarding the squalor around him as he watched and waited. The troopers would pass their hiding spot soon, and they only had a small window of time to get into the cargo cruiser about to finish loading.
"Alright." Sev kept his voice low and shifted ever so slightly. "We have fifteen seconds until they pass us. What we have to do is keep low and move fast. Not gonna be a lot of time for questions, so you'll have to stay quiet, got it?"
He frowned and risked a glance over his shoulder. "Are you even listening to me?"
The Gungan toddler burbled something unintelligible and patted Sev's cheek with a cool, rubbery hand.
"Yes, alright, you're very cute. Okay, let's move."
With a short sigh, the renegade reached over and slipped the little girl back into the improvised sling he'd made out of a discarded Jedi's robe -- tattered and burnt and filled with blaster holes and -- when he'd found her.
CT 477277 had seen the reports. He knew what the orders coming over his comm were saying. It just...didn't make any sense.
One moment he was chasing down a spy with a stolen data chip in the lower levels of Coruscant, then falling from a moving speeder and getting knocked out for who-knows-how-long. The next thing he knew, the Jedi temple was burning and there was talk of an assassination attempt against the Supreme Chancellor. The brothers Sev had encountered since then seemed...odd. Like they were moving on autopilot, or on some kind of "factory setting". It had unnerved him enough that he'd been tempted to avoid them entirely.
They'd joined a group searching the area around the Temple for escaped Jedi, and the wrongness building in Sev's chest had moved to claw at the back of his throat, climbing up his brain stem to fill his mind with a steadily rising scream. What was going on? Why were his brothers shooting down the Generals? The children? They weren't part of this, surely?
They hadn't even noticed when he fell behind. Sev had stayed in the hangar, staring in horror at the dead Jedi and younglings, trying to make sense of it all. This wasn't protecting the Republic. It couldn't be! He couldn't- he wouldn't be a part of this.
Good soldiers follow orders, a poisonous voice, as familiar as the Kaminoans' hissed in his mind.
"No." Sev's voice had been choked, and raw, and it cracked as he tore off his helmet and tossed it to one side. "I am a person. I have a choice. I can't do this."
That's when he'd realized someone was still moving. Out from under the edge of the fallen Jedi's robe, a tiny figure in the clothing of an initiate crawled. She couldn't have been older than two, frightened and confused. Sev dropped to one knee and stared at her. There was no way she'd survive on her own, Jedi baby or not.
He'd initially meant to find someone in the lower levels to take her in, someone who would take care of the toddler. He couldn't risk being seen with her. He had to escape! And yet here they were, three days later, trying to get offworld together.
Sev pulled the hood of his jacket up, and covered the toddler's head with the edge of the robe. "Alright, Lil' Bit," he murmured, "Now or never....may the Force be with us, I guess."
Whether it was the Force, or just very good timing, Sev managed to avoid the patrol and roll under an antigrav sled before the droids loading it noticed. After several harrowing seconds, they were in the cargo hold, and the engines were warming up. Sev didn't want to count his nunas before they hatched, but the worst seemed to be almost behind him.
"Go home?" the toddler asked quietly, peeking out of the sling.
Sev shook his head. "Nah. We ain't going home, Lil' Bit. You and me, I don't think we have a home anymore."
He settled into the compartment he'd found for them to hide in, and leaned back against the wall. Absentmindedly, he brushed a hand over the satchel hanging from his other shoulder. Inside were three days' rations, a blast pistol, a knife, and the lightsaber he had taken from the fallen Knight.
"You 'kay?" the newly christened Lil' Bit asked, frowning.
"Yeah, sure I'm okay," Sev huffed, "Why wouldn't I be?"
"You scary dark?"
The clone squinted and tried to puzzle out the babytalk. "Wh-? No, I'm not scared of the dark. Look, we're gonna be fine, kid. I'll figure something out. Just...I dunno, get some sleep or something."
He had no plan. Well, outside of "Run fast, fly far, and never look back", anyway. He didn't know what he was going to do about Lil' Bit, or how he was going to feed her. But anything was better than staying on Coruscant. Something had gone badly wrong in the war, and Sev didn't plan on sticking around to find out what.
"Day 12," Ricochet ran a hand over his face and sighed.
Nobody was going to hear this. They probably assumed the clankers had gotten him. Still, if he didn't hear a voice of some kind, he was going to be left with nothing but quiet and his thoughts and whatever the heck kept making that ominous rumbling.
Ricochet was not a fan of the rumbling.
"It has been twelve days since I was knocked out of the transport and I still have not been able to establish contact with any sentients. The rations have run out, but there is a clean water supply about a day's hike from where I landed. So. Could be worse."
The stranded clone trooper slung his rifle over his shoulder and made for the rocky dropoff that marked the edge of his current base camp.
"I've watched some of the animals around here long enough to figure out what I can eat. Not necessarily what tastes like food, but, y'know. It won't kill me. A side note for the log: by the time this is over, I am probably going to have a beard to rival General Kenobi's."
The ground beneath his feet trembled as the rumbling began again. He missed his squad. Ammo would probably know what was making the ground shake: he liked seismic things and rocks and stuff like that. And Sev would fuss at him for not rationing his ammunition as meticulously as he would've. And Five-Red and Five-Blue would be looking for more weird insects to collect, most likely.
An earsplitting roar shook the air, and Ricochet froze halfway down the hill.
"Alright," he said, not really caring if he was recording or not, "That's new."
Every fiber of his being insisted that this was a horrible idea, but he decided to go and investigate the source of the noise. He'd seen some pretty big -- and pretty menacing -- creatures on the planet so far. But during the skirmishes, they'd kept clear of the Separatist base the platoon had been attacking. The electrified shield probably had something to do with it. It wasn't until getting stranded further up the mountain that Ricochet had spotted some of the huge, reptilian animals.
This was the first time he'd seen the giant hairy primate-thing, though.
Summary: You somehow get dragged into a snowball fight with the 21st Nova Corps.
Words: 1059
**********
“Incoming,” Patience yells from his lookout in a nearby tree.
You tuck yourself against the snow barricade as a volley of snowballs goes flying overhead. Commander Bacara is crouched on your left side with Rothax behind him. D’zan is on your right with Kanlinn and Jol’i.
“Stay down,” Patience calls. The sniper lobs a few return snowballs as Keller’s team pops up from behind their own fortifications to throw more snowballs.
“Got Brolliv and Catch,” Patience reports. “Maybe one of these days Catch will stop trying so hard to live up to his name.”
D’zan and the other Novas chuckle.
“Glad you’re on our side, Pay,” you call up to Patience.
The sniper gives you a thumbs up, then hurls another snowball. “Ah, just missed Commander Keller’s pretty face.”
“You know he’ll put you on ‘fresher duty for the rest of your life if you actually hit him, right?” Bacara says.
Patience smiles. “Why do you think I missed?”
D’zan takes your hand, drawing your attention. “I think we ought to go do some recon, don’t you? Just in case Keller sent some men to try and flank us.”
You bite your lip to hold back giggles and nod.
“If we get hit from behind because the two of you are making out, I’m going to be very disappointed,” Bacara says.
D’zan grins at his commander and flips him a rude hand sign before dragging you away from the barricade and into the surrounding trees.
“We are going to do some recon, aren’t we?” you ask.
“Of course,” the CMO says. “I wouldn’t leave my men high and dry like that.” He pulled you close to his chest. “But there’ll be a little making out too.”
Your laugh is cut off by D’zan’s mouth settling on yours. You sigh into the kiss and wrap your arms around his neck. Before you can get too caught up in each other, there’s a soft, out of place sound that draws your attention.
“Scouts,” D’zan whispered.
“Probably,” you whisper back. “Think they’ve seen us?”
“Only one way to find out.”
D’zan bends over and gathers snow into his gloved hands, forming a compact ball. He hands a couple to you, then makes a couple more for himself.
“Guess they haven’t seen us yet,” you say.
“Or they’re waiting to get a good line of sight,” D’zan says. “Come on.”
The two of you move deeper into the trees in the direction of Keller’s fortifications, eyes scanning for any sign of the enemy. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot movement. Without thinking, you hurl a snowball in that direction. A startled deer bounds away leaving you staring at another trooper. His hand is cocked like he’s ready to throw. Before he has the chance to move, a snowball disintegrates against his chest.
The trooper, who you recognize as Crit, mutters a soft, “Kark, taken out by a medic,” and sits down in the snow to play dead.
You grin over at D’zan who smiles back at you. The two of you head over to Crit’s side.
“You ever disparage a medic again, vod, and I’ll make sure your next physical is one you’ll never forget.”
Crit laughs good-naturedly and takes a swipe at D’zan’s legs, which the medic nimbly avoids. D’zan holds his hand out to you, and you accept it.
“Come on, my dear. Let’s go find Tally and take him out.”
Tally and Crit are almost always partnered together on scouting missions.
“You’ll never see him,” Crit says, grinning, and lays back in the snow with his hands behind his head.
You do, in fact, see Tally a few minutes later. Mostly because his snowball whizzes past D’zan’s head as the head medic stoops to gather more snow for a snowball of his own. There follows a brief but intense snowball fight, which you and D’zan win by pelting Tally with snowballs to the torso.
“I yield,” the scout says, sitting down.
“You can’t yield,” you say, imperiously. “You’re dead.”
“Bleeding out from a gut wound, I’d imagine,” D’zan says helpfully.
“Any other scouts out and about,” you ask.
“I’ll never talk,” Tally says. He grabs his chest dramatically and falls back into the snow, tongue sticking out in his approximation of death.
“Good try, cyare,” D’zan says. “We’ll work on your interrogation skills later.”
The two of you follow Tally and Crit’s tracks and quickly find yourselves at the edge of Keller’s camp. You and D’zan belly crawl to where you can see the other team. The ‘dead’ are playing a game of sabacc while those still among the living are lobbing snowballs at Bacara’s group.
“I think we could end this right now,” D’zan whispers.
“There’s too many of them,” you say. “They’d take us out.”
“Just don’t miss,” D’zan says.
Then he stands up and walks toward the enemy camp with his hands raised in surrender. You try to grab him, but he eels away from your grasp.
“Dank farrik,” you growl.
A couple of Keller’s men notice D’zan and call for their commander. Keller walks over, mostly blocked by D’zan’s body.
“’Don’t miss’ he says,” you mutter. “Hard to miss when you can’t even take the shot.”
The two men talk for a moment, then Keller turns to the side so his men can take D’zan into ‘custody.’ The commander is in profile, a smaller target than you’d like, but he’ll move any second now, and you’ll completely miss your chance. You stand up and take a breath in, ignoring the shouts of Keller’s men, then breathe out and hurl your snowball.
It impacts against Keller’s face as he’s turning to find out what all the fuss is about.
Silence hangs heavy in the air.
You stare in horror-tinged glee at the shock on Keller’s face.
“Sorry, commander,” you say in a small voice. “Didn’t mean to get you in the face.”
Keller drags a hand down his face, wiping the snow away.
“I guess that means we win,” D’zan says, cheekily.
Keller frowns at the head medic, then looks toward the barricade your team is sheltering behind.
“Bacara, come get your CMO and his neverd before I decide I have the authority to put them both on fresher duty for the foreseeable future.”
