hey..on a scale from Ayala Secura to Yodas order 66 ordeals how was sofitis deal with that whole entire mess? 😰💦
I uuh felt like writing and had a few minutes to kill so enjoy your answer below the cut :)
“Commander!”
The sergeant shifted, waiting for an answer. He craned his neck, inspecting the far away branches of a Mammoth tree in search for his, naturally, perfectly camouflaged jedi commander. His fingers restlessly drummed against the bucket under his arm, the one with two, four fingered hand prints smack on the dome. One on either side of the fin. He thought he remembered the bubbly giggle the commander had made with her hands dipped in paint, when a rustling above his head accompanied the noise.
He bent his neck as far as the plastoid armour would let him, spotting a wide, toothy grin in between burgundy leaves.
“Nooo, turn back around you can’t find me yet. I have to throw these Mak-nuts at you.”
He snorted, “You have to stop laughing if you want to sneak up on me, sir.”
The padawan sighed before proceeding to make her way down the branches.
“Adept observation, Sergeant Wampa”, she muttered as she landed smoothly by his feet, offering some of the alleged assault munition in the palm of one of her quadrodextrous hand.
They were horrendously sour, her favourite. He should have known better.
“Found anything on your scouting trip, sir?” he groaned around the snack before deciding that swallowing would be more merciful and added “Outside of these.”
“A whole lot of nothing” Sofiti replied, looking through the forest as if she could spot something miles away, not before sparing a knowing smirk for him. “A small crew of Klint but they were already heading to the nearest safe-point.”
Her small nose scrunched up as her teeth ground down on a particularly hard piece of nut. The sergeant remembered the entire Battalion’s fascination with the locals as they touched down several weeks ago. Every clone had encountered Twileks, humans and various other species meddling in the Galaxy by now, but the Klint inhabited such a small moon on the very edge of the Outer Rim, that their kind rarely made their way to the heart of the Republic. And how often do you get to compare your commander to their own people, and possibly tease them about the off color of their hair or how particularly small they were, even compared to their peers within a race that reached 1.7 meters tops.
Wampa chuckled heartily, and a little achingly at that before gently bumping his bucket against her head.
“You should rest until Master Tui returns, sir. You need to be in top shape before we commence the offense against the seperatists.”
Sofiti mumbled a response, and turned slowly before she trotted along after him, back to the tents. The sergeant could see Caff and Foxtrot in a push up competition all the way from a standard yard away. He motioned for the commander but she seemed distracted. Usually she would pounce at a competition with either of the hyperactive vods, now, her little face was still scrunched up.
“Is everything alright sir?”
Big yellow eyes flickered worriedly at him before a slight nod.
“Just a weird feeling, Wampa.”
She halted abruptly, turning towards the edge of the forest again. “I can’t really pin it down. I hope they haven’t begun the attack on the civilians yet.”
Grumbling she threw the last of her snack in her mouth and decimated them noisily, muttering to herself.
“I have to ask Master Tui again whether she’d be willing to help me meditate. I’m lacking.”
Wampa nodded in acknowledgement, but Sofiti was still staring off into the distance. He figured that between being dropped on her homeplanet on top of the loss of her master, mere months ago, and possibly the loss of her Jedi status, the only thing she had ever known, a kid was allowed to be a bit gloomy about things.
The sergeant wasn’t too worried about her Jedi status though. He had interviewed Master Tui thoroughly when he had been given the chance - and explicit order - by Quinn, and even if he still wasn’t quite sure he fully understood how the Jedi order worked, he was more than sure their little Commander would find another Master before the ‘cutoff age’. After all she still had a whole year left and her particular fighting style made her a promising candidate for knighthood, that was as far as Master Tui had re-assured him.
He almost didn’t notice his CO stepping up to their spot, up until Quinn brushed past him, bucket firmly on and just tucking away a mobile holo comm. Wampa watched with the same casual ambivalence with which he had just been considering to dedicate a pouch on his belt to Mak-nuts, as Quinn stopped just next to the commander.
He observed in silent approval as his vod tapped the little [Traitor] on the shoulder with his Blaster, gently placing it between her eyes and pulled the trigger.
Objectively, Quinn could have just shot [the traitor] from behind. That would have been much more effective. But in the end it happened so fast he could have almost missed the brief moment of devastation in the [traitors] big eyes.
He blinked when Quinn rapped his knuckles on his chest plate.
“Prepare for the offense, we have to close in on [traitor] Tui.”
Wampa nodded and jogged the last few meters to the camp, where the other vods had stopped to see what the blaster shot was about. He was met with annoyed faces, some more irritated than others and Foxtrot looked a little angry.
Understandable.
When lifting his bucket to put it on his head his eyes stopped on the purple handprints. A part of him thought he’d have to scratch them off when he had the chance to. He never turned around to look at the purple heap in the teal grass again.
Later that night he’d find Quinn standing there, looking lost.
Now the lone commander of the 403rd.