You stood at attention in the palace courtyard, your crimson uniform crisp, hand resting on the hilt of your blaster. As a member of the Royal Naboo Guard, your duty was to protect the monarchy and its representatives. Today, that duty extended to welcoming the Republicâs elite clone commando unit: Delta Squad.
The low hum of a Republic gunship grew louder as it descended, kicking up dust and causing your cape to flutter. The ramp lowered, revealing four armored figures stepping out in formation.
Leading them was RC-1138, known as Boss. His orange-striped armor bore the marks of countless battles, and his posture exuded authority.
Behind him, RC-1140, or Fixer, moved with calculated precision. His green-accented armor was immaculate, and his visor scanned the surroundings methodically.
To Fixerâs left was RC-1207, Sev. His armor bore red markings resembling blood splatter, a reflection of his grim sense of humor and reputation as a fierce sniper.
Bringing up the rear was RC-1262, Scorch. His armor was marked with yellow accents, and he carried himself with a relaxed confidence.
As they approached, Boss stepped forward, his helmet concealing his expression.
âSergeant RC-1138, reporting in,â he stated, his voice modulated through the helmetâs speaker. âDelta Squad is at your service.â
You offered a formal nod. âWelcome to Theed, Sergeant. Iâm Lieutenant [Y/N], Royal Naboo Guard. Weâve been briefed on your assignment.â
Boss inclined his head slightly. âUnderstood. Our primary objective is to ensure the safety of Queen Jamillia and Senator Amidala.â
âCorrect,â you affirmed. âWeâll coordinate patrols and share intelligence. Your squad will be integrated into our security protocols.â
Behind Boss, Scorch leaned slightly toward Sev and whispered, âThink they have any good caf here?â
Sev replied dryly, âAs long as it doesnât taste like ration packs, Iâll consider it a luxury.â
Fixer, without looking up from his wrist-mounted datapad, interjected, âFocus, Deltas. Weâre here for a mission, not a vacation.â
Boss turned his head slightly. âMaintain discipline. Weâre guests here.â
You raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement tugging at your lips. âYour squad has a unique dynamic.â
Bossâs tone remained neutral. âWe operate efficiently.â
âž»
Over the next few days, Delta Squad integrated into the palaceâs security framework. Joint patrols were established, and you found yourself frequently paired with Boss. His stoic nature made conversation sparse, but his presence was reassuring.
One evening, during a perimeter check, you decided to break the silence.
âYour squadmates have distinct personalities,â you observed.
Boss glanced at you. âTheyâre effective.â
âIâve noticed,â you replied. âScorchâs humor, Sevâs intensity, Fixerâs precision. And youâyouâre the anchor.â
He paused, considering your words. âLeadership requires stability.â
You nodded. âItâs commendable.â
A brief silence settled before he spoke again. âYour team is well-trained.â
âThank you,â you said. âWe take pride in our duty.â
As the patrol continued, a comfortable silence enveloped you both, the foundation of mutual respect beginning to form.
âž»
The days turned into weeks, and the collaboration between your unit and Delta Squad deepened. Shared meals and joint exercises fostered camaraderie. Scorchâs jokes became a familiar background noise, Sevâs rare smirks were victories, and Fixerâs occasional nods signaled approval.
With Boss, the connection grew subtly. Shared glances during briefings, synchronized movements during drills, and the occasional exchange of dry humor.
One night, after a successful operation thwarting an assassination attempt, you found yourselves alone on a balcony overlooking Theed.
âThe cityâs peaceful tonight,â you remarked.
Boss nodded. âA welcome change.â
You turned to him. âDo you ever think about life beyond the war?â
He was silent for a moment. âSometimes. But duty comes first.â
You smiled softly. âAlways the soldier.â
He looked at you, his gaze intense. âItâs who I am.â
âAnd yet,â you said, stepping closer, âthereâs more to you.â
He didnât respond verbally, but the way his hand brushed against yours spoke volumes.
The city lights glittered below like the reflection of a thousand quiet thoughts. The silence between you and Boss wasnât strainedâit was gentle, natural. It had become that way over the last few weeks. You stood shoulder to shoulder, close enough to feel the warmth of his armor radiating softly through the Naboo evening chill.
His helmet was still on, the ever-present barrier between his world and yours. But something in his posture shifted, a subtle drop in his shoulders, a small exhale that sounded more like a sigh than static.
Thenâquietlyâhe said, âItâs strange.â
You turned to look at him. âWhat is?â
âPeace.â A beat. âThis planet. The quiet.â He paused, like he was deciding whether to say more. âIâm used to marching into warzones. Places that smell like carbon and blood. Where the airâs thick with ash and tension. But here⊠itâs almost too quiet. Makes you feel like⊠something could go wrong any second.â
You studied him for a moment, surprised he was sharing this. âMaybe itâs not that something will go wrong. Maybe itâs just that youâve never known anything but chaos.â
There was a pause. Then, slowly, his hands came up to his helmet. You heard the hiss of pressure release before he pulled it off and cradled it against his side.
This was the first time youâd seen his face. You had imagined itâmany timesâbut the reality was softer than youâd expected. Strong features, yes, but tired eyes. Eyes that had seen too much, too fast. He looked younger without the helmet, and older all at once.
He didnât look at you right away. His gaze stayed fixed on the skyline.
âI donât usually take it off,â he admitted. âFeels⊠exposed.â
You smiled gently. âYou donât have to explain. But thank you for trusting me.â
His eyes finally met yours then, sharp and searching, but not cold. âYouâre different from the officers Iâve worked with before.â
âGood different?â you teased softly.
He didnât smile, exactlyâbut something softened around his mouth. âReal different.â
You leaned against the railing beside him, your fingers brushing his. This time, he didnât move away. He turned his hand slightly until his gloved pinky hooked around yours.
âI donât know what happens after this assignment,â you said quietly. âBut I know Iâll remember this. You.â
He nodded once. âSame.â
The moment stretchedânot romantic in the overly dramatic way holodramas would tell it, but intimate in its honesty. The weight of your fingers against each other. The hush of the Naboo breeze. The flickering of torchlight behind you, and the way his gaze lingered on your face like he was memorizing it.
And then, with the kind of quiet confidence that came from someone who rarely acted on impulse, Boss leaned in slightlyâslowly, giving you time to stop him if you wanted. His forehead came to rest gently against yours. It was a simple thing. No kiss, no dramatics. Just contact. Shared breath. A moment stolen from the endless march of duty.
âI canât afford to be soft,â he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. âBut you make me want to be.â
You closed your eyes, forehead still pressed to his. âThen let this be the place where you can.â
His hand, calloused and heavy, rose to cup the side of your neck for a second before falling away. Not because he didnât want moreâbut because he wasnât ready yet. And maybe you werenât either. But that was okay. It was enough.
