Summary: Ordnance training does not go well for a clone trooper. At least the rest of the EOD training squad has their back. Well, everyone save the new guy. Alternatively: Words has a bad day in Ordnance training
Thanks @kaasknot for the betaing and the Mando’a help! I really appreciate it!
2:30
2:29
2:28
2:27 CT-18-5037 frowned at the timer as she ran her fingers through tangled mess of wires that connected the charges before her. Two black wires, four green wires, one red wire, a yellow wire and brown wire formed an impossible snarl. Which one was she was supposed to cut?
2:20 She had already traced the black and green wires to their sources. They were superfluous, there only to confuse. That had narrowed down her choice to one of three: red, yellow or brown.
2:15 Deep breath. Let it out. Her arm ached and she could feel the forming bruise on her hip aggravated by the pressure of her gear. The Kaminoans must have thought that they were close to making a breakthrough in mapping her mutation otherwise they wouldn’t have been so overzealous collecting blood and marrow samples. The more she thought about it the more she could feel the rage building. A strange thudding echoed oddly through her bucket and it took a moment to realize that it was her heartbeat instead of anything external. Her vision narrowed to the explosive before her as she glared at the damned thing. She palmed the pair of wire cutters next to her, grip tightening to painful levels as she futilely attempted to ground herself. For a moment, she contemplated just cutting any kriffing wire to get this over with. No. She would not do that. She had things to prove. CT-18-5037 forced herself to relax her grip on the wire cutters and let the breath she hadn’t been aware she had been holding out in a slow hiss. She had to stay in active training and every time the longnecks attempted to mess with her genetics things went wrong. Calm down. Deep breath. Let it out. Push the pain back. No thinking about that now. Another breath. Analyze what you know.
2:05 The exercise was meant to take place on a planet where the native sentient population could not perceive the color red. Unlike other forms of color blindness, if an item was red it was as if it simply did not exist. As far as the natives would be concerned, there simply would not be a red wire at all. The planet was also home to a variety of fliers that would attack anything was unfortunate enough to be any shade of yellow.
2:03 Yellow was out. It wouldn’t do for the enemy to deploy explosives that could be triggered by an angry flying frog. That left red or brown.
CT-18-5037 hesitated for a moment then moved the wire cutters away from the brown wire to the red wire instead. If the locals couldn’t perceive the color red, then it stood to reason that the enemy would make the trigger wire red to ensure the bomb couldn’t be disarmed.
It had to be that one. 2:00 left on the clock. One more survey of the casing, a quick double check of the wires, ensuring that she knew exactly where they led. A deep breath, and then the she snapped blunted blade of the wire cutters around the red wire, cleanly bisecting it.
CT-18-5037 breathed out in relief - only for a shrill beeping and a loud pop echo through the small room. A plume of purple dust erupted from the device, liberally covering the front of her armor. She sighed in frustration. Something had gone wrong. She had failed, now she had to deal with the consequences. It was going to be hell to get this osik out of the plastoid.
The training sergeant spoke from behind her. “As you all can see, CT-18-5037 failed to successfully disarm the device. Would anyone care to try to see if they can spot the error CT-18-5037 made?” His tone made it clear that this was not a request and CT-18-5037 stood, braced to take whatever virtrol the trainer would spew at her about her performance today.
“I don’t understand why you’re still here.” CT-18-5037 looked up from the armor she was attempting to clean. If she was not quick enough then it would stain creating yet another difference between her and the rest of her vode. One of the newer members of the squad was addressing her. CT-16-0634 formerly of Neon Squad if she wasn’t mistaken. “You know they’re never going to let you off planet to fight. They think you’re defective.”
CT-18-5037 shrugged in response, suddenly very tired as she returned to the armor before her. She didn’t start cleaning again either. Instead, she sat there, armor in her lap, very aware of CT-16-0634 standing above her. He was clearly intent on getting some sort of response.
She had no idea what CT-16-0634 expected her to say. She wasn’t one for talking much to begin with, unless there was no other option. Besides, it was an open secret that she would never leave Kamino, even when war came. She had been the only one of her batch to pass into basic training, so the longnecks had allowed her to live as they attempted to figure out what had gone wrong in the cloning process that had caused her batch’s particular mutation.
As such, she was in the lab more often than not while the longnecks poked, prodded, collected samples and observed her behavior. She suspected that she had only been allowed to continue training because one of the psychologists had assessed that it would be more detrimental to her health and their attempts to figure out what had gone wrong, had she nothing to do.
And even that allowance seemed to be coming to an end. As of late, more and more of her assigned tasks had separated her from squad training and shifted towards maintenance work. Her most recent failure to disarm the ordnance would probably be just another tally mark in the column of why she wouldn't be allowed to serve. Still, until they physically prevented her from doing so, she could and would keep up with the rest of her vode. She had a duty to the Republic to be in the best shape that she could be. Privately, she had her own reason for continuing on, although she wasn’t sure how to communicate that to the vod in front of her. She wasn't sure that she wanted to, either. It was private. She owed it to her batch to prove that they were not all failures. She owed it to them to see that the chance they had given her would not be wasted. How could she explain that to a vod who had just implied that that was what she was doing?
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” CT-16-0634 demanded, interrupting her thoughts. CT-18-5037 blinked up at him. She frowned, struggling to come up with anything to say that would allow her to get rid of the tangled knot of words sitting in her throat. Again she was interrupted, this time by the squad Sergeant who pressed her datapad into her hands and then whapped CT-16-0634 across the backside of the head. She nodded her thanks to her sergeant who nodded back then turned to CT-16-0634.
“‘37 doesn’t speak much. We do not force the issue. And we do not make any vod talk about those who are marching far away if they do not wish too. Am I understood?”
CT-16-0634 frowned, clearly not happy with that answer, but eventually he said “Yes Sergeant.” CT-18-5037 rolled her eyes. She appreciated the sergeant stepping in so that she wouldn’t have to speak, but CT-16-0634 was new to Powder Squad. He would have learned on his own. Eventually.
Still, the sergeant wasn’t done. “Besides, ‘37 has managed to complete every one of the maintenance tasks assigned, the random health osik the longnecks keep demanding and keep up with the rest of us from the start, so you can keep your rude observations to yourself vod. And it’s not like we all don’t know there’s nothing wrong with ‘37’s technique.”
“But they got the wrong wire!” CT-16-0634 protested
CT-18-5037 frowned as the sergeant threw up their hands in exasperation. “And that doesn't seem fishy to you? That the red wire is the wire that causes early detonation during a simulation on a planet where the native populace can't see red?! No,” he continued “it’s pretty damn clear that someone is sabotaging stuff. ‘37, your technique was exactly right. You did good vod'ika.”
“But why wouldn't the detonation wire be red?” Xand questioned.
“Di'kut,” another brother, Chime, said, staying true to his namesake and chiming in. “Weren’t you listening? The natives can’t see anything red!
“No I heard.” Xand said and CT-18-5037 didn’t have to look at her brother to know he was rolling his eyes “The natives are pacifists to the point of ridiculousness. They’d have to get an offworlder to disarm the bomb and there’s no guarantee that the offworlder would have the same limitations.”
CT-18-5037 smiled softly at the debate that broke out over different tactics and likely lifeforms in that part of the galaxy. The sergeant’s praise warmed her heart, and she pulled the next piece of armor into her lap. Despite CT-16-0634’s disbelief in her abilities, she was staying as long as she could, especially since she had the rest of the squads support. Still, if she wanted her squad to keep their faith in her, she needed to get this done before completing whatever new maintenance task had been set for her.
I am starting to see a woobifying of Xander. I know it’s in response to a lot of Xander hate, so I understand. The fact he had challenges in his home life isn’t unusual. But I find one challenge that I’m surprised to see even regarded as a challenge.
Here’s a tip - janitors and fast food worker’s aren't something to be regarded with shock, horror and disdain - unless you are Cordelia. This is what makes Xander uncomfortable - the being teased part.
But I’m seeing more people agreeing to the notion that having these relatives are also somehow proof of his bad home life. The fact that Xander has a relative who sweeps floor or sells burgers does not really make it a bad life. The fact that people tease him doesn’t make it a bad life either because everyone gets teased.
His parents are assholes, verbally abusive alcoholics - that is what makes it a seriously bad life. Please stop conflating a mild class difference with his real problem.
Verbally abusive parents are not a phenomenon found only in one social class.
