Warnings: Anger, fear, workplace fallout, internal investigations, suspicion, mandatory leave, poor treatment from superiors, and privacy violations
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Part Eleven
The comlink rang and you let it. The only answer you gave was a glare.
The time since the apparent break-in at Senator Julgum's office had been absolute hell. Members of the Coruscant Guard had launched an investigation, led by a captain who had introduced himself as Maze.
You hadn't been important enough to know any details, but it was clear that the trooper who came to drop off the package for Julgum hadn't been who he claimed to be. You had overheard that the real Coruscant Guardsman named Chase had been across the city on the day of the visit. Whoever had come to the office, they had been lying about their identity.
That would have been bad at any other time. An unknown person having access to the Senate building? Not good. But in a galaxy at war? The break-in was devastating.
You hadn't been ignorant of the situation. As soon as you had translated that note, you had known that there something was wrong. The words on the flimsi could only be referencing your mysterious comm caller.
In retrospect, that was information you should have volunteered to Captain Maze. You had known it at the time, but you had lost all inclination to be helpful when Julgum had started shouting over his holoprojector. Apparently, the visit was considered a security breach, and according to the senator, it was your fault that the mysterious person had gotten access to the waiting area.
And when security cam footage had shown that he had sliced into the senator's office? Well, you certainly hadn't expected to have a job when you came back from a week's mandatory leave. It was been paid leave, thankfully, or the"trauma recovery" it had been billed as would be more traumatic than the actual trauma.
Even now that you had returned to the office, you were officially on probation. It probably wouldn’t end with you losing your job, especially since Julgum was so unpopular that finding a replacement would be tricky, but it still wasn’t fun. The whole experience had demonstrated exactly how bad this job actually was. At this point, you had started looking around for lawyers who could help you get out of your contract.
The comlink chimed again and you pressed the button to mute it.
Even if you wanted to stay at this job, it would be difficult. You hadn’t told anyone about your previous encounters with the intruder, and you had hidden the note before alerting the Senatorial security to the breach. In the frantic spiral of fear, you hadn’t wanted to be blamed for the attack.
And now that you had deliberately refused to give any of that information, a sudden revelation would be as good as guilt in the eyes of the investigators.
You needed to leave before anyone could put together the pieces. The call logs from Julgum’s office were recorded, but the comm frequencies were scrambled to protect caller anonymity. That was why you could never recognize the mystery caller before you answered. The only way you would get caught was if someone heard you speaking with the intruder.
Or if they watched the security holos long enough to watch you tuck away the piece of flimsi in a drawer before you called. But the night of the break-in, you had painstakingly cut another flimsi to the same size and did your best imitation of the intruder’s writing. The address you listed was a nonsensical one, leading to an eightieth-level restaurant locally know for the excellence of its kebabs.
No one had asked about the flimsi yet, so you had to guess that no one had watched enough of the security holo to see it. Or you truly weren't under suspicion and they were more worried about what the intruder had done before and after leaving Julgum's office. Honestly, Julgum seemed to be the only party interested in blaming you. The Senate employment departments had subtly let you know that your week of leave had only been pushed through because Julgum insisted on it.
Maybe you didn't have to leave, but you certainly wanted to. You had only been back for a few days and Julgum's attitude had already been markedly worse. He had never been pleasant, but so far, he had taken his own low bar and started to dig. You had started a list of the insults somewhere around your second morning back, just for sheer amusement, but it had quickly grown into something you hoped to use to get out of your contract.
A comlink ringing made you frown ferociously at the receiver on your desk. You had muted it, why was it still ringing?
But it wasn't. Well, it was - there was a blinking light that told you that it was - but the noise wasn't coming from the receiver. Instead, it was coming from the personal comlink on your wrist.
Cold fear seized your stomach. Had you ignored calls only to ignore someone calling for you specifically? Was there some kind of emergency? Was someone you loved in trouble?
"Hello?"
"Don't hang up."
Your eyes narrowed, thumb moving reflexively to the button that would end the call. "How did you get this frequency?"
"You introduced yourself to me," your caller reminded you, unnecessarily. "Wasn't hard to track you down."
A dozen curses and threats danced behind your clenched teeth. You weren't holding them back from some misplaced sense of propriety, but because you refused to let him know how badly he had pissed you off.
"Why."
The pause told you that something of your temper had come through - maybe the single-word answer or maybe the flatness of its delivery. Either way, the stranger's answer came slowly.
"I was worried."
"Not a reason to stalk someone."
"No?" he challenged. "You haven't been at Julgum's office. There was someone else answering his comms for a week. No one has answered them at all in days. I was starting to think something had happened to you."
"Something did happen to me," you all but snarled. "Someone snuck into the Senate under false pretenses and broke into Julgum's office. I'm the only one they spoke to and I didn't catch that something was wrong. So all the blame lands on me."
It was a touch dramatic, but you were frustrated beyond belief. This stranger had no way of knowing that his stunt hadn't destroyed your entire career, nor did he especially seem to care.
"There is no blame." The logical air of his voice scraped against every nerve you had. "You never saw me, but it isn't protocol to make clones remove their helmets inside a building. You told me that the Senate scrambles comm frequencies, so you had no information to give them about me. I'm very good at covering my tracks."
An edge of satisfaction crept into his voice toward the end as you stared in disbelief at the comlink. Your mouth opened and closed a few times without input from your brain before you ended the transmission and blocked the frequency.
You felt better immediately, but you still spent the rest of your shift aggressively reorganizing your desk and refusing to answer a single comm.
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Author's Note - I'm sorry again, guys! I'm not sure why I have such a hard time remembering this fic exists! If it's any real excuse, I've been doing some heavy rewrites on the next two chapters and I think that's why I forgot to post last month. I'm usually not this much of a mess!
Now, I need some honest opinions about story structure: do the shorter chapters drive you crazy? Normally, I aim for 5,000 words per chapter (easily 4x what these average), but all of their little conversations seem to wrap up in roughly a thousand words, so that's how I've been dividing the chapters. Still, I want to make sure you guys don't think they're a waste of time since they're so short, especially with at least a month's wait between each one.
Thank you for reading, thank you for your patience, and I'll see you soon with another chapter!
Warnings: Alpha being a tough trainer, insubordination, themes of being watched, discussions of genetically-controlled populations, references to scientific experimentation on children, references to cheating (as in a competition, not romantically/sexually)
The ARC-in-training groaned, dropping to the ground and starting on his punishment.
You leaned down toward your datapad, taking notes so that none of them would notice the look that was surely on your face. Web had given the wrong answer on how long it took a heavily-modified blaster power pack to explode if it had two meters of detonation tape wrapped around it. As far as you could tell from the answer another ARC-in-training gave, Web had been incorrect by roughly three-eights of a second.
"Drexl, what is the best formation to attack a tinnie base with and a four-man commando squad?" When Drexl didn't answer immediately, Alpha also provided, "Assume no organics on the base and a semi-arid environment with clear conditions and minimal ground cover."
Drexl considered that for a moment before giving a nod almost as if to reassure himself. "I would advise sending one of the commandos ahead to scout-"
As Drexl started on his pushups, Alpha looked at the three trainees still standing upright. "When would it be appropriate to send one commando to complete a task?"
"Never?" Crisis ventured.
"Five laps," Alpha instructed. "If you don't know an answer, admit you don't know. Trying to guess is a waste of everyone's time. Commandos work best as a unit, but their survival instincts are strong. Remember, most of them were trained by a bunch of old Mandos. The only time you should send a single commando is if the rest of his squad is dead or captured. Otherwise, split them into two-man teams."
When he finished speaking, Alpha stared expectantly at the ARCs-in-training. They didn't speak. Alpha sighed and made an impatient gesture. "Full-kit sparring for the next hour, then drills until it's time to go. Parjii, you were the least disappointing today. You'll lead the drills."
Parjii nodded and the ARCs-in-training paired off to spar. You followed Alpha out of the immediate training area, where he was making notes on his training datapad.
You waited until he had finished typing before you moved a little closer. "Alpha, is… everything okay?"
He nodded without looking away from the screen. "Yeah, everything is fine."
"Are your cybernetics hurting you?"
Alpha lowered the datapad to peer at you. "No, my cybernetics are fine. Why are you asking about this, neverd'ika?"
You shrugged. "You were, uh… pretty harsh with the trainees back there. I was just thinking there might be another reason for it."
His expression went carefully blank. As far as sabaac faces went, Alpha's was one of the best. Even having known him as long as you had, you weren't sure you would have noticed the change if you hadn't watched it happen.
"I'm working with this group the same way I've worked with all of the others."
His tone made it clear that he wasn't open to more conversation, so you let it go without calling out the obvious lie. With everything he had been through, he deserved some peace to come to terms with things.
Alpha's stint in the medical facilities of Coruscant had stolen a lot of training time. He had missed the second half of his time with the ARCs-in-training he had been working with before he left, then an entire training group while he was having and recovering from cybernetics surgeries. Even this group wouldn't have a full six weeks with Alpha - you had gotten back on-planet halfway through their second week.
Baqin-Khaa, the bounty hunter assigned to take over for Alpha during his absence, had been thrilled to relinquish the responsibility as soon as Alpha was back on Kamino. Come to think of it, you weren't sure how the Codru-Ji bounty hunter had managed to communicate with the troopers he was training. He must have some kind of translation software that could relay his hypersonic communications into something that could be heard by humanoids…
Your comlink rang, pulling you from the mental trail you had been wandering down. You glanced at Alpha questioningly and he signaled for you to accept the call, turning his attention back to the sparring troopers.
"Hello?"
"Are you somewhere private?"
You frowned at the comlink, eyes flying to check the incoming transmission code. It was one of the Nulls, you recognized that much, but you didn't know which one.
"Should I be?" you ventured.
"Probably, privacy pucks or not. The kaminii are always watching."
There hadn't been a scoff, an insult to your intelligence, or a backhanded flirtation attempt, so you could rule out A'den, Ordo, and Mereel. Your caller knew about the privacy pucks, so it wasn't Kom'rk or Prudii. This had to be Jaing, then.
"Give me a moment and I'll get somewhere more private," you offered, starting back toward the ARC training area. The exit closest to the office you shared with Colt was across the large room. Plus, leaving in this direction meant that you could say goodbye to Alpha.
You offered a little wave to him as you passed, gesturing subtly to your comlink and turning your fingers into a zero at your side. Alpha nodded once in silent understanding. He had been paranoid enough about his continued position on Kamino that your return flight from Coruscant had been spent planning for a variety of possible situations.
One of the ARC trainees gave a sharp shout and you all turned to look at him. Stett was standing over Drexl, clearly having just knocked the other trooper to the ground.
"Very good, Stett," Alpha congratulated, voice dripping with sarcasm. "You got a point. No need to get the attention of the entire training room. This isn't a stealth mission, but you should save your air for when Drexl gets back up."
"You're just mad because you can't fight anymore."
You stopped short at that, staring wide-eyed at Alpha, whose expression had turned to durasteel. "One more time, trooper?"
Stett hesitated for a long moment, then seemed to regain his cockiness. "I think you were injured too badly to train us, Captain. I need to know I'll be an ARC who can fight his way out of a situation, not get beaten by the enemy and patched up by a sympathetic senator."
You physically took a step forward. Since Stett was barely shorter than Alpha and broad enough to need custom armor, you weren't sure what you were going to do. All you knew was that you were going to make him pay for saying that.
Alpha's voice came low and dangerous. "New plan, men. First, Stett and I are going to spar. Then we'll do a series of to-failure exercises. I'll participate alongside you. If anyone has doubts about my qualifications after that, we'll have a conversation."
"Alpha," you murmured, too softly to be heard by the room at large.
He heard you anyway, turning to send a tight smile your way. "You can keep your appointment, Liaison. This won't take long."
You straightened, playing the role of both the prior Republic administrator and Sentient Rights liaison in hopes that it would disguise your outright fury as a concerned partner.
In your most official-sounding voice, you glanced from him to the ARCs-in-training. Your narrowed eyes ended up firmly focused on Stett. "I'm sure, Captain, but I must express my disappointment in your trainees. Questioning your qualifications means they're doubting the GAR for appointing you as the only ARC trainer for the entire army. And expressing those doubts as a frankly insubordinate challenge to their training officer forces me to wonder if these men are legitimate candidates to become ARC troopers."
The others frowned or protested under their breath, but Stett only grinned wider. "Well, as far as I understand, ma'am… you don't work for the GAR anymore. You don't work for the Republic at all. Your opinion doesn't mean much."
Alpha's expression darkened as he turned back to face Stett. You stepped around Alpha so you could see the smug trooper. With a sweet smile, you said, "True, but I made many friends during my years of service in the Republic's government and in the GAR. I hope you have friends in equally high places, Stett. Something tells me you'll need them."
Stett opened his mouth, but Alpha interrupted before he could even start to speak. "Enough. We have a schedule to keep."
You gave them both a hard look, but eventually nodded. As you turned away, you said, "I'll leave you to it, Captain."
And then you walked away, certain that - if you stayed - you would start a fight with Stett yourself. But Alpha would be able to handle him. He had put so many cocky trainees in their place, there really was no need for concern. Even so, you weren't able to push the worry away entirely.
Alpha's cybernetic implants had finished healing about halfway through your trip back Kamino. You hadn't believed Alpha when he claimed that he was fully healed, but he met every marker Ransom had told you to watch for.
Since then, Alpha had been going without his cane for ever-increasing distances. He hadn't used the crutches since you both boarded the transport (Alpha complaining all the while about a droid carrying your luggage). Other than occasional twinges when a major lightning storm was about to hit the planet, he hadn't experienced any problems.
You still didn't love it that he was physically challenging ARCs-in-training. Stett didn't seem like the type to pull punches if beating Alpha meant he could save face. Admittedly, you didn't know the ARC trainee very well, but you didn't like him. Not when he had gone out of his way to be cruel.
Abruptly, you remembered the call you were on. "Jaing, are you still there?"
"Yes," he confirmed. "What was all of that about?"
You blew out a sigh. "I'm not sure. This group of ARC trainees is giving him more trouble than the others. I don't know if it's the injury and the cybernetics, but it's never been this bad before."
"Alpha sounds like he's being more of a shabuir than usual," Jaing reasoned.
"Yeah, he's being extra tough on this group." You nodded politely to a group of cadets you passed in the hall before replying, "I'm not sure if the cybernetics are bothering him or if it's something else, but he can't back down now."
"No, he needs to teach Stett to watch himself." Jaing was quiet for a moment. "Do you really think Alpha would have challenged Stett to a competition if the cybernetics were bothering him?"
"Alpha's a stubborn man."
Jaing snorted. "Understatement, verging on a lie."
"You asked the question, I just answered it," you defended. "Speaking of questions, why did you comm me?"
"Have you gotten somewhere private?"
"Almost, hang on." You punched in the code to you and Colt's shared office, relieved that he wasn't inside. He hadn't lied to you all those weeks ago - he really wasn't in the office often. This just happened to be an incredibly convenient time for him to be gone. "Okay, now I'm somewhere no one will overhear us."
"I've been working through Ko Sai's notes and I've hit a snag."
"A snag?" you repeated. "I thought you already figured out her code. That's how we got the instructions to find the notes, isn't it?"
"No, she used a different code for the notes." Jaing blew out a heavy sigh. "And another one for the raw data set in the notes, apparently. I deciphered some of the main notes, but most of the information about the Fett gene is in another style of code. Ko Sai's a paranoid chakaar."
You mused over that for a moment. "Do you think it's a code inside of a code?"
"I hope not. That would be much harder to crack. It may just be another style of code, one more suited to hiding large sets of raw data. At least, that's what I'm hoping it is." Then it was Jaing's turn to be quiet for a moment. "Was there anything suspicious in Ko Sai's private lab? Anything that stood out as strange?"
Unbidden, memories of the clone troopers of various ages floating in green-lit bacta tanks appeared in your mind. Suppressing a shudder, you said, "There was a lot of strangeness in Ko Sai's lab. Would there be something specific?"
"Something written," Jaing determined, relaxing your frayed nerves. Other than the ages of the experimental clone troopers, there hadn't been anything written out in Basic or Kaminoan in Ko Sai's lab.
"No, nothing that I remember." You went over as many details as you could in your mind's eye, but too much had happened since you stood in that lab. "Want me to go back and get Alpha? He can remember details better than I can."
"No, if he's going to be a shab, I'd rather not ask him for any favors."
You chuckled briefly, but grew serious a moment later. "Alpha hasn't been doing too well after Fives's death. I'm not sure if it's grief or guilt."
"Sorry I missed the aay'han." The apology was more sincere than you would have expected from any other of the Nulls, but Jaing was a little better socialized than his brothers. "I might actually look into Fives and everything that happened before he got to Coruscant. Everything I know about it seems strange. Maybe it'll give me an idea of where to start with deciphering these notes."
"I doubt that incident has anything to do with Ko Sai."
"Worth checking out anyway. I've found leads in stranger places," Jaing reasoned. "I'll let you know what I find out."
"Thank you," you replied reflexively. "Good luck."
"While I've got a good connection, you and Alpha need to be careful." Jaing's voice dropped a little lower - still audible, but barely. It was as if he was worried he would be overheard. "I'm seeing signs of big things moving in the background all through the Republic. There are major forces at play here, and the longer the war goes on, the more it looks like it's someone high up in the Republic power structure."
"A senator?" you asked. "Maybe one that benefits from the war. Kamino definitely does, but there are a dozen planets who have made new and lucrative supply deals with the GAR since the war started."
"Yeah," Jaing agreed absently.
You frowned at the desk in front of you. He sounded like the was doing something, only listening to you absently. If Jaing didn't really want to talk, you could go back to the ARC training area and keep an eye on things.
"You sound busy," you said, trying to keep the hope from being audible in your voice. "Do you need to go?"
"No." As you deflated, Jaing let out a soft snort. "Any reason the kaminii think you're yaihadla?"
You didn't recognize the word, per se, but you knew enough that your face burned with heat. Belly-full. Pregnant. Besides, the tone of Jaing's voice made it clear what he was reading. Somewhere, Tohu must made a note of his suspicions. The Nulls crawled through everyone's personal encrypted data the way you scrolled through a HoloNet article, so you couldn't be surprised that Jaing had found it.
"Baseless speculation, I would guess."
Jaing positively chortled. "You can't tell me you and Seventeen aren't getting the practice in."
You didn't think it was funny in the slightest. Even if you had, the memory of the cold terror you and Nora had shared on the turbolift down from Tohu's office would have made it far more serious. "We both know that evidence of a relationship with a civilian would be a death sentence for Alpha. I would never risk his safety like that - I just got him back. So, yes, I can guarantee that we're not trying for anything like that."
"Make sure you don't," Jaing agreed, all traces of the good humor that had filled his voice now disappeared. "I've been a variable in Kaminoan experiments before and I don't recommend it. An ik'aad would be bad for Alpha, but its life would be worse than the worst death."
"I know." You scrubbed a hand down your face, realizing abruptly how tired you were of all the subterfuge. "Trust me, I know how serious of a mistake that would be."
"As it happens, I've seen worse," Jaing remarked dryly.
You thought about asking, you really did, but eventually you decided that you didn't want to know. That seemed to be the safest option where the Nulls were concerned.
"Honestly, I'm a little worried that we're on their radar in the first place," you admitted. "Alpha and I have been careful, but if a senator who isn't even on-planet is supicious of us, we aren't being careful enough."
"Maybe, but maybe not." Jaing's explanation was slow in coming, as if he were thinking over the implications himself. "The Kaminoans have a genetically-managed society. They don't necessarily see procreation as something shared between two people for any reason other than passing on beneficial genes."
Sounding far less doom-and-gloom, Jaing continued, "I'd guess that they see you and Alpha together - even innocently - and start thinking about how his genes would combine with yours. His strength and that brain of yours? No wonder they're thinking about it."
"Thanks?" You shook your head, partially in amazement at where the conversation had led, but mostly because you didn't think that was correct. "I'm not so sure, though. If you had seen the way Tohu looked at me when he asked…"
"He asked you directly?" Jaing checked. When you confirmed, he sounded wary again. "That's not a good sign. I'll keep an eye on his personal datapad files. If he records something that's more than speculation or that shows the kaminii are taking an unhealthy interest in you and Alpha's 'friendship', I'll let you know."
"Really? That's-" You paused to collect yourself before you said something that was a little too honest to be considered polite. "Thank you, Jaing. I really appreciate it."
"You're welcome." Before the moment could get too sincere, Jaing snorted. "Not like it's hard to slice into Tohu's files. You'd think the Kaminoans would have learned secure data storage by now."
You laughed, letting him deflect. Jaing was uncomfortable with sincere thanks. You couldn't blame him for it - you had learned horrible things about the way that clone troopers had been raised in the Tipoca City training facility, but everyone had told you that the Nulls had been treated even worse.
To keep Jaing from feeling uncomfortable, you said, "I should go check on Alpha. Do you need anything else from me before I go?"
Despite your best efforts, there was a pause and you heard an odd sound. You waited, worried that you had offended hiim with your abrupt signoff. When he spoke, Jaing's voice held such a strong note of amusement that you knew he must have been trying not to laugh. "Sometimes I forget you're like this. No, I don't need anything else. If you do, you know how to get in contact."
And then he severed the connection before you could ask exactly what you were like sometimes. It was probably for the best - even as one of the more tactful Nulls, Jaing still could be uncomfortably direct.
It didn't take long to get back to the ARC training area, but training had already ended by the time you arrived. The troopers seemed more deferential as they left, each one offering Alpha a salute before they left. You cast a suspicious glance at Stett, but his salute was no less crisp than the other ARCs-in-training. He even gave you a brief smile on his way past. You didn't smile back, but you appreciated the gesture.
Alpha accepted their respect with stoicism, but he relaxed almost immediately when you were the only two left in the ARC area.
You smiled at him. "Looks like you won them over."
"Popularity is my most important goal," Alpha agreed sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "They need to be respectful. Beyond that, I don't care what they think of me."
"Still, they're treating you like a brother, like someone they can learn from," you pointed out. "That has to feel nice. Even if you are tougher on them than you have been on any of the other ARC groups."
Alpha grunted.
"But why?" you pressed. "Did you hear something about these ones from their COs? Are there new requirements? What changed?"
Alpha gave you a look, explaining slowly, "I've lost another ARC. That's two in the past year. I'm not willing to take any chances that this group will end up the same way."
Your stomach lurched at the reminder of everything both of you had lost. With how upset Alpha had been about Echo - lost in a random explosion - you could hardly be surprised that he would take Fives's death just as hard. After all, the two of you had been working with Rex to save Fives. You would never know how close you had come, but the tantalizing possibility of saving him had been real enough to hurt when it didn't happen.
"Oh," you said with a pang in your chest. "I'm sorry, Alpha. I wasn't thinking."
He shook his head, glancing away. "Let's go to the mess."
You slipped your hand into his, giving it a little squeeze as you bumped your shoulder against him. Doing anything more overt would be too risky, especially with the Kaminoans potentially watching you both, but he gave you the shadow of a smile anyway.
You were almost to the mess hall when you finally picked up something strange. Alpha always drew attention from the cadets - he was an experienced soldier who had completed missions with a Jedi. He had faced down one of the major players in the Separatist army multiple times and had just survived an assault from their most famous general. In every sense, he was someone the cadets looked up to.
But this was different, somehow. They were pointing and whispering in groups, some of the younger ones staring obviously when he walked past.
You planned to ask him about it when you had sat down with your food, but when you stepped into the mess, a cadet who looked almost fully grown stopped you.
"Captain Alpha-17, sir," he said, snapping immediately into a salute. "I want to congratulate you on the new record. Very impressive, sir."
You gave Alpha a befuddled look, but he simply stared down at the cadet in silence for a moment. "Heard about that already, did you?"
"Yes, sir! We all did." The cadet shook his head admiringly. "We could hardly believe it."
"It's a record, trooper," Alpha reminded him. "It's made to be broken. Your job is to try to be the next one to break it."
The cadet saluted again and walked away, joining a group of awestruck troopers roughly his own age group.
"So," you started, looking over at him, "a new record?"
"After Stett couldn't knock me down in sparring, I joined their to-failure exercises. They got the idea to make it some kind of competition." He gave a little shrug. "I won."
You beamed. "The cybernetics aren't slowing you down, then. Not as much as you thought they would."
Alpha blew out a breath, scrubbing a hand over his hair. "If I'm being honest, I was fading. I've gotten back in shape for the most part, but I still spent months in a medcenter bed. That muscle mass takes a while to get back."
"But you won," you said slowly.
"The cybernetics kicked in," Alpha admitted. "They didn't do all the work, but… it's hard to describe. What Ransom said, though… that's close enough. They work with my muscles, kick in some extra juice when I'm wearing down. I was almost to my failure point, but then it was like starting fresh again. I set a record, but… I'm not sure I should have. It wasn't all me."
You nodded slowly, trying to look past your bias toward Alpha to see both sides. "I understand, but it was you. This is your baseline now. Doesn't it make sense to see what your current to-failure rate is?"
"Of course, but that doesn't mean it should be the new record." Alpha frowned as the droid deposited a pile of nutrient mush onto his tray. "It's not something a standard trooper could achieve."
"You could say the same thing about your build, though," you pointed out. "You were 'engineered' to be bigger, taller, and stronger than the standard trooper. So any records set by the Alpha class aren't ones that a standard trooper can effectively compete with."
Alpha looked unconvinced. As you slid into a seat and he settled beside you, you grinned. "Or you could go tell Stett that your record shouldn't count because your cybernetics helped you."
"Kark that," Alpha said promptly. "I'll keep the record, cybernetics be damned."
When you burst out laughing at his disgusted look, Alpha simply cracked a smile. Still, you caught his hand under the table and his kama, giving it a squeeze.
You were so lucky to have him.
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Author's Note - The character of Stett is lovingly dedicated to everyone who has ever complained in my asks about how I make all the clone troopers "too nice". You're right - statistically, some of them would be assholes. And not in the funny or commanding way we see canon troopers, like Wolffe, Colt, etc. I just hate writing characters that are truly assholes!
Anyway! This is coming to you with absolute minimal editing because it was supposed to be posted weeks ago and I couldn't get past the proofreading. Rather than make endless adjustments or rethink the plot a thousand (more) times, I'm just going to post it.
Now, probably unwelcome news: I'm not going to make up for the missed posting since there's a spicy chapter coming out immediately after this one. (I'll post it sometime in June 2026). The next SFW chapter will come out in July. I also still have to write the July chapter, which is why I'm not going to push it and try to post three times this month.
Thank you for reading! As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts - keysmashes and complaints encouraged! Either way, I'll see you later this month with some spice or next month with another SFW chapter.
Warnings: References to police assault, cops being assholes in any galaxy, grief, mourning, depression, mentions of mobility aids, discussions of funerals
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Nu Kyr'adyc, Shi Taab'echaaj'la (Not Gone, Merely Marching Far Away)
You were cold.
It was the only thing bringing you back to wakefulness. There was something waiting for you in the waking world, something you didn't want to face just yet. It would be so easy to stay asleep, but the chill was biting your arms and legs, marching up and down your limbs in an icy tide. Probably the aftereffects of the electric prod you had been hit with.
You were fully conscious and on your feet before another thought could drift through your mind.
Alpha. What had happened to Alpha?
Your legs went out from under you and you staggered, catching yourself on the bars nearby. Your ribs ached like you'd been kicked by a bantha and your head was swimming. Small scrapes and bruises radiated from one side of your body, the remnants of where you had fallen on the duracrete ground outside of the spaceport. But none of that mattered. You had to find Alpha.
The room was dark and you blinked, trying to orient yourself. A face appeared on the other side of the bars, inches from your fingers. You shrieked.
"It's me, neverd'ika," Alpha said quietly, and you finally recognized him.
Even in the gloom of the cells you were in, you could see that one side of his face was injured. Blood oozed sluggishly from several scrapes and cuts, partially clotting in the layer of grime on his skin. Below that, you could see the bruises that were blooming.
"Oh, Alpha," you said, reaching through the bars to touch his face as gently as you could manage. "Your poor face... But your cybernetics! Are you hurt? Can you move?"
"I'm fine. As far as I can tell, anyway. They got me with a modified prod - no permanent damage even for delicate life-forms. And they stunned you, not me." Alpha shook his head irritatedly. "But no one will talk to me. I don't know why they thought I was going AWOL or when they're going to let us out of here."
"I don't think that's the main concern-"
"What else would we be concerned about?" Alpha's brows were furrowed, mouth drawn into a grim line. "Every minute we spend here is another minute Fives is out there alone. And another minute the Coruscant karkin' Guard could be doing something stupid."
"Alpha, you need to think," you urged. "The shock troopers just happened to look for you outside the spaceport with a low-current prod? No one really thought you were going AWOL. No one outside of Ransom, Nora Czajak, and Nala Se even knows you're on Coruscant. Stars, only Ransom knew that you were on-planet and not in the GAR medcenter tonight."
Alpha blinked at you, his irritation taking on a shade of confusion. "You… think someone set us up. Who?"
"I don't have any idea," you admitted. "Like I said, not many people know you're here and even fewer know that you've recovered enough to look for Fives. Rex didn't even tell the Jedi that you were helping with the search."
Alpha's frown deepened. "Then there are only two options. Either we were being watched tonight or someone high up in the GAR wants this thing kept quiet."
"Or both," you suggested quietly. Alpha nodded once, acknowledging your point. "Something strange is happening."
"And it's an osik sign that we're being detained here," Alpha agreed. "We need to get back out there if we have any chance of figuring out what's going on."
He began systematically testing all of the bars in his cell. Even at his weakest, Alpha was far stronger than you, so you left him to it. Instead, you turned to survey your own cell.
It was an exact mirror of Alpha's and had clearly been built to house a handful of people. There was a cot on one side of the room, slightly askew from when you had leapt up off of it. A small refresher sat in the corner, surrounded by transparisteel that turned opaque when the door was locked (at least, you hoped it did). There were cutouts slightly lower than waist height in the walls, and the indentations formed rough benches that couldn't be ripped off for use as a tool or weapon.
Other than the cot and refresher, the cell was nearly bare. It was difficult to see clearly in the dim light that filled the detainment area of the Coruscant Guard headquarters, but Alpha didn't seem to have any additional tools in his cell.
Though there were other cells set to the other sides of Alpha's cell and your own, everything was empty. In fact, this whole section of the building seemed disconcertingly quiet. There hadn't been another person walking around since you had woken up.
You weren't sure how you and Alpha had ended up as the only occupants of the area, but it seemed too perfect to blame on coincidence. Something was definitely going on.
"Anything?" Alpha called, pulling your attention back toward his cell.
"Nothing," you reported. "Did you find anything?"
"No." Alpha scrubbed a hand over his face, grimacing as his fingertips pulled at the injuries they found there. He went to the front of the cell, the only place where it faced the hallway. The bars were made redundant by a ray shield that stretched the entire length of the hall, preventing prisoners from reaching out or throwing anything between the bars.
Alpha approached the front of the cell anyway, glancing either way down the hall outside and grunting in displeasure when he didn't see anyone.
"Hey!" he shouted, loud enough to make you wince. "This is Captain Alpha-17. I demand to know why I'm being held here."
"Detainees can't make demands," a trooper jeered, appearing from around a corner where he had apparently been sitting, unseen. Any doubts you had about the security of the cells were allayed by the sight of the trooper's bare face. If he had removed his helmet, the trooper was absolutely certain that there was no escape.
"They can when they outrank you in the kriffing GAR, you ori'buyce, kih'kovid di'kut," Alpha replied, voice dripping with derision. The trooper walked down the hall to stand in front of Alpha, tauntingly close. Alpha's top lip curled in a sneer as he ordered, "Get me Fox or Maze."
"They're both busy at the moment." A nasty smile spread across the trooper's face. "And as for outranking me… Guess we'll have to see. From what I've heard, you may not have a rank at all anymore. Think they'll let you pretend to train a few ARCs before they send you for reconditioning? Or maybe they don't want a broken trooper put back into the pool of GAR soldiers."
You were at the bars closest to him before you could stop yourself. Over the roaring in your ears, you heard yourself say, "Ne shab'rud'ni, hut'uun."
The trooper blinked. You were sure which threw him off more - the implied violence in your threat, the grievous insult of being called a coward, or the fact that it all had been delivered in the best Mando'a you had ever managed.
He recovered a moment later, looking you up and down with an unimpressed expression. "We don't let a guurori ganar aruetii speak here. Do it again and I'll keep you stunned until we decide what to do with you."
The words were unfamiliar, though you knew 'auretii' meant traitor. You could guess that the rest wasn't flattering, either. Especially since Alpha's face went pale, then darkened in rapid succession.
Alpha wrapped his hands around the bars and squeezed until his knuckles went pale. His hands were close enough to the ray shield that it started to react, turning white and throwing off the occasional spark.
The trooper's gaze fell to Alpha's hands and he smirked. "Get your hands off the bars or I'll show you why we set them up for electrification. Didn't go well for you the first time, did it?"
Alpha snarled something that sounded uncomplimentary. The trooper - having already started back toward his post hidden around the corner - turned back to say something else, but his face went abruptly serious and he straightened into a salute. "Sir."
You turned to see what he was looking at and found a procession of fully-armored Coruscant Guardsmen filing toward you. At the head of the group was Commander Fox. You almost didn't recognize him - both because he wasn't wearing his distinctive helmet and because he looked so bad.
Fox's brown eyes were wide and held the hollowness most often associated with those who were suffering severe shock. His lips were parted, breaths coming too quickly for comfort. He walked as though he wasn't truly seeing the hallway in front of him. Fox didn't even acknowledge the still-saluting trooper as he passed by.
"Fox," Alpha called sharply. "Fox, what happened?"
Fox didn't react in the slightest. The troopers walking behind him offered sympathetic looks and shrugs in you and Alpha's direction, but followed the precedent set by their commander and stayed silent.
They had passed and the trooper assigned to guard the cells had returned to his post out of sight when another trooper came in the same direction.
Alpha thrust a hand against the ray shield, throwing sparks and startling both you and the new arrival with the suddenness of it. "Stone, I need to know what's going on and I need to know now."
Stone - a commander, if you remembered correctly - blinked at Alpha in surprise. "Alpha, what are you doing down here?"
"I don't know," Alpha growled. "I was at the spaceport when a bunch of Corries showed up, accused me of going AWOL, and dragged me back here."
"AWOL?" Stone furrowed his brows. "Well, I know you weren't, but… why were you at the spaceport? You have to admit that it looks suspicious."
"I was looking for one of my ARCs." Alpha gripped the bars tighter once more. "He's been drugged and is wandering around Triple Zero with no one to watch his back. I need to find him before he gets off-planet without an antidote."
"CT-5555."
"Ye-" Alpha cut himself off abruptly. His gaze zeroed in on Stone with a precision that would have sent a lesser man running. "You know something."
Stone shook his head slowly - not in dissent, but resignation. "We found him on the lower levels. He had trapped his general and captain in a ray shield. There was concern that he was planning to hurt them."
"Fives would never do that," you interrupted, your mind's eye summoning images of Fives laughing with Echo or grinning mischievously as he made a joke about something embarrassing.
"CT-555-"
"Fives," Alpha corrected, voice tight.
"Fives," Stone amended. "He was unwell. Erratic. Kept repeating the same things over and over, things that made no sense. The Kaminoan senator said there was some virus that had affected another 501st trooper badly enough that he shot a Jedi in the field. CT-5- uh, Fives might have been exposed. There was no telling what kind of damage friendly fire could have done."
"It wasn't a virus," you countered, too softly to be heard over Alpha.
"What did you do?" he demanded, squeezing the bars so tightly that they creaked under the pressure of his fists. "What did you do?"
Stone shook his head again and your heart stuttered at the guilt on his face. "The commanding officers said that Fives was a threat. We had to stop him before he hurt anyone. The… the threat has been neutralized."
You stared blankly at Stone, waiting for more of the explanation. 'Neutralized' wasn't 'dead'. He couldn't be saying that Fives was dead, not in such an even, unaffected tone. Surely Fives had been captured, taken somewhere for treatment and eventual investigation. Stone had to be saying that. You refused to believe anything else.
But Alpha's reaction told you that wasn't the case. He bowed his head until his forehead was pressed against the bars between his fists. His face - what little you could see of it in profile - had crumpled in profound grief and he wept for the vod he had trained so carefully.
Stone didn't seem to know how to react. He watched Alpha for a moment, an expression of mingled sadness, guilt, and hesitation on his face. His hand lifted as though he had planned to rest it on Alpha's shoulder, but thought better of it when he remembered the ray shield. Instead, he murmured something to Alpha, gave you a hunted sort of look, and continued down the hallway in the direction Fox and the others had gone.
You were also crying when you attempted to convince Alpha to leave the front bars of the cell. Eventually, you coaxed him over to the 'wall' that your cells shared. He was mourning Fives as much as you were, maybe more. It hurt all the more because you had been so close. You could have saved him. You very nearly had.
All you could do was cradle Alpha through the bars of your cell.
You and Alpha were released later that day. The Coruscant Guard apologized for detaining you, but the bigger surprise was the apology from the Galactic Senate.
The Senate had received the initial report of the incident. They claimed someone had reported Alpha potentially going AWOL and had acted on that limited information. You thought the explanation was insulting to your intelligence, but when you glanced over at Alpha, his hollow expression showed that he wasn't paying attention to anything at the moment.
You and Alpha were informed that you would receive two extra days on Coruscant. The remainder of that day was your own, to "rest and recover from the ordeal of the morning". The next day, Alpha would go get his cybernetics checked.
Ransom had agreed to the schedule change immediately when you commed her. You had explained the basics of the situation to her so she knew what to expect. She promised that she would give Alpha's cybernetics an extra-thorough exam, but told you that he was likely fine as long as he was still able to walk with or without his crutches.
Alpha could still walk, leaning heavily on his forearm crutches. He would also speak and nod vacantly when someone addressed him, but he didn't do anything without prompting. Without the need to act, he simply… was. Alpha hadn't spoken since his breakdown about Fives's death. He had taken it just as poorly as you had expected he would, and no amount of comfort made it better.
In fact, the last time you had seen him so upset was when he had learned of Echo's death.
As long as you had known him, Alpha had only lost two ARCs. He had mourned both like the brothers he referred to them as. It was somehow worse that Fives and Echo had been part of the same battalion and had gone through training at the same time. Stars, if you remembered correctly, they had literally grown up together.
For the rest of the day, it was all you could do to convince Alpha to eat something and get a little sleep. Even then, he had been sleeping fitfully when you dozed off and was awake again by the time you woke up. You had been asleep for less than an hour.
After a painfully quiet dinner and some halfhearted attempts at starting a conversation - none of which were answered by him - you coaxed Alpha into bed. You woke up several times during the night, either because of his restless repositioning or, once, because he had started to weep. Each time, you held him as tightly as you could, often crying yourself.
When dawn broke, it was gray and cold and almost unnoticeable behind the neon signs that flooded the surface of Coruscant. You were awake for the slow leaching of light into the sky. Judging from his breathing, Alpha wasn't sleeping, either.
Still, the two of you laid side by side in the sterile quiet of the hotel room. You took comfort from Alpha's warmth beside you; you could only hope that he was equally as comforted by your presence.
Minutes slipped past like that, until you knew it was time to get up. Reluctantly, you broke the silence. "Alpha, we need to get ready for your appointment. Ransom gave us her earliest time slot so we have the rest of the day to get ready for the trip."
Alpha had already known all of that, of course. You had told him the day before when you made those arrangements with Ransom. But he hadn't seemed to hear you then and he didn't seem to hear you now. His features were hollow with grief even as he got to his feet, gathered his clothing, and started toward the refresher.
You took a hovercab to Ransom's office. Alpha didn't speak, but he typed out a message on his comlink. You didn't recognize the frequency when you caught sight of it, but you didn't read the message. Alpha was entitled to his privacy. He would tell you if it were important.
You were several minutes early, but Ransom was already waiting when you arrived at her office. She hadn't heard much about what happened - it had been too fresh for you to discuss openly the day before, and Ransom wasn't informed about the intricacies of GAR politics - but she knew enough that she didn't offer a smile. Instead, she gave a solemn nod and ushered you into the physical therapy area.
Ransom made the examination as quick and painless as possible. She scanned Alpha's implants, then checked them with gentle hands and specialized instruments. Everything must have been in order, because she gave a satisfied nod and instructed him to walk back and forth across the physical therapy area. There were no bars for him to support himself with, but he walked with confidence.
When Alpha got back to you and Ransom, she smiled. "Your recovery is coming along nicely, Alpha. Your implants weren't damaged in… by the stress of the other night. The two of you are going back to Kamino tomorrow, correct?"
"Yes," you answered so Alpha didn't have to. "We leave tomorrow morning."
Ransom nodded thoughtfully. "I don't think you'll need to do any additional physical therapy off-planet. Rest on your trip and make sure to stretch, but you can try navigating around the transport without your crutches."
That made Alpha look at her questioningly, the first real emotion you had seen on his face since you had left the hotel room.
"Only when you're in hyperspace," Ransom clarified. "And only when you feel you can support yourself well enough not to fall if the transport hits turbulence."
"What do you hope he'll gain?" you asked, stepping forward and trying not to look too overeager. "Could he walk without assistance someday?"
Ransom shrugged. "Potentially. At the very least, I believe he'll be able to stand unassisted and walk short distances. Maybe do some training if recovery goes extremely well."
"Potentially and maybe." Alpha's scowl was fierce. "Not much to plan a life on. Who's to say the kaminii don't send me for reconditioning as soon as I get back on-planet?"
"Me," you said firmly. "I'm saying that. I haven't been sitting around waiting for you to be fully healed, Alpha. I've been making sure the Kaminoans know that you'll return as a qualified ARC trainer, with or without a mobility aid."
"A trainer can't use mobility aids."
The snort you gave was loud and skeptical, bordering on rude. "You're the best trainer in the galaxy, Alpha. The GAR trusts you to teach their most elite soldiers how to think critically and adapt fighting styles to fit their strengths and needs. You'll figure out a way to work with whatever mobility aid you may end up using and you'll be able to teach your trainers from experience that they can overcome any obstacles they run into."
The warmth in Alpha's expression was subtle, but clear. "It's a good point. Thank you for reminding me, little one."
Ransom cleared her throat lightly, and you remembered that the two of you had an audience. "And as for daily life, I designed your cybernetics to work with your activity levels. You may need crutches for now, but you'll likely transition to using a cane when your body has finished healing."
"A cane would be convenient," you encouraged.
"More than you know," Ransom agreed. "Cybernetics are designed and implanted in ways that work with and are powered by the body, but they're ultimately mechanical and electrical. With a cane that can release trace amounts of power, your cybernetics can stay running at full strength with minimal energy draw from your muscles."
"What does that mean?" Alpha asked slowly.
Ransom grinned. "It means, when someone relying on muscle alone gets tired, they have to rest. They can push through, but doing so takes a toll on their body. When you get tired, you use your cane for a few minutes - or even just hold it - and you'll be able to keep doing what you need to do. Not indefinitely, of course, but I'd guess your stamina will be better than it ever was before the cybernetics."
Alpha eyed her closely. "What are the specs?"
"With a cane that's calibrated for your cybernetics, you'll be able to get an additional 11 to 12 hours from 30 minutes of using your cane." Ransom paused for a moment, then shrugged. "Dependent on how demanding your activity levels are in that time, of course. That estimate is if you were doing something highly physical, like training, fighting, doing manual labor… If you have downtime, the estimate would be significantly higher."
"Are you saying that Alpha needs to use the cane every day or his cybernetics will die?" Your voice was tight. You didn't necessarily envision that Alpha would go without a mobility device for that long, but you wanted to know exactly what you could expect when you got back to Kamino.
"Almost the opposite," she assured you. "The cybernetics in Alpha's nervous system stimulate his muscles with electrical impulses. Since the implants don't really on his body's power to fuel themselves, they can stimulate his muscles even after he's exhausted."
"So I can run off the cybernetics alone," Alpha summarized.
"For a limited amount of time, basically." Ransom pulled out a datapad with the specs of Alpha's cybernetics pulled up. She indicated the major clusters of implants: along his spine, running down both sides of his thighs, and on the outside of his calves just below his knees. "These all charge when Alpha holds physical contact with the cane. Like I said, 30 minutes would be plenty to charge them up for as long as you needed them, as long as you have the right cane."
"Where do I get 'the right' cane?" Alpha asked.
Ransom stepped away for a moment, rummaging through a tall cabinet in the corner. When she came back, she held a thick piece of what looked to be durasteel, studded with glowing panels along its length.
"This is the right cane." She held it out to Alpha, who made no move to take it.
He narrowed his eyes up at her instead. "How much?"
"It's taken care of," Ransom said breezily.
"We can't let you do that," you protested, watching Alpha take the cane. His expression took on a sense of interest and determination, and you knew you had to get the cane for him no matter what. "I'm sure it's expensive…"
"Oh, it was," Ransom agreed with a mischievous smirk. "But when a senator offers to pay the costs, you go all-out. I doubt he even noticed it on the bill I sent."
"And when this one breaks?" Alpha didn't even look up from the cane, busy weighing it in his hands and studying it from every angle.
"I built a few replacements into Organa's bill." Ransom caught the look you were sending in her direction and sighed. "If he notices and objects to the addition, I'll let you know. You can cover the replacements or the current cane, depending on what exactly he objects to. Better?"
"Much." You highly doubted that Organa would have a problem with providing Alpha a cane, but you didn't like leaving anything up to chance. Both of you had been burned too many times by the GAR and the Republic for any other response.
"Alpha," Ransom announced, holding out a hand. When Alpha took it, she gave a firm handshake. "It has been a pleasure. I'll send you a fully updated schematic of your cybernetics in case you need help with them in the future and can't return to Coruscant for any reason. Please contact me with any additional questions or concerns if possible - I have better insight about your implants than some backwater cyberdoc."
Ransom turned to you next, also offering you a handshake. "Keep him from pushing himself too far, especially for the next week or so. I know you'll be on a transport, but there's still a risk. Maybe keep the cane somewhere safe until he can heal a little more. Let me know if you need anything, okay?"
You nodded, feeling unexpectedly emotional at the idea of saying goodbye to the enigmatic cybernetics specialist. "Thank you, Ransom. For everything."
When you and Alpha left Ransom's office and were waiting for a hovercab, he typed furiously into his wrist comm again.
"You've been contacting a lot of people today," you commented, tone neutral. "Anything I should know about?"
Alpha paused, glancing up at you with eyes too raw, too open, too full of pain. It had been little more than a day since you had gotten the news about Fives. You were compartmentalizing, tucking away the grief until you were safe to feel it all. Alpha was grieving now, the loss too close and sudden to delay until later.
"I'm trying to get Fives's body."
"There are no cemeteries on Coruscant," you said reflexively, feeling idiotic the moment your brain caught up with your mouth. You winced when the awareness of what you'd said hit you. "Sorry."
"We don't usually get to care for our dead," Alpha said slowly. He seemed to be thinking aloud as he spoke. "I'm not really sure what to do with him if we get him. I think the old Mandos used to say cremation was a warrior's preferred method."
"I think the Jedi do something similar."
Alpha glanced at you sharply and you waited for him to say something harsh… or at least sarcastic. Instead, he nodded. "Good. Then they have facilities that can handle the process."
"I don't know if they'll let you cremate a body in the Jedi Temple," you cautioned, moving back to allow the hovercab plenty of space to land. "Especially not if the GAR doesn't want to give Fives up."
Alpha shrugged, opening the door and ushering you inside. "Can't be that hard to break in. There are only a few of those Temple Guards on duty at a time. It's sloppy. Leaves security gaps."
When you got back to the hotel room, you started packing up your things. You hadn't brought much from Kamino, having been fully focused on getting to Alpha, but you had bought enough clothes and toiletries to survive on Coruscant for the length of his treatment. You also packed up the civvie clothes and toiletries you had bought for Alpha. During his time at the GAR medcenter, he had been provided with a body glove and a PT outfit, but you had wanted him to have more comfortable clothes for sleeping. The first time he had been able to get dressed by himself after the accident still ranked high on the list of times in your life you had been the happiest.
You left out pajamas for both of you, along with travel clothes. This would be your last night on Coruscant and you wanted to be ready to make the transport tomorrow morning. If your pilots noticed Alpha's civvie clothing, you were sure they would just shrug it off as a soft-hearted civilian working too hard to make a battle-hardened soldier comfortable.
"Just thinking too hard, I suppose." You pulled your mind away from the ridiculous series of thoughts. "Any news?"
Alpha shook his head. "No one knows anything about where the GAR might have put Fives. Even Maze doesn't know, and he's high up with the Corries."
"Was he… there?"
"No." He snorted. "They pulled Maze away for some osik admin work. Time-consuming and no one will ever look at it again, but it kept him busy. I have to wonder if they did that on purpose."
Giving Alpha an excuse to suspect a grand, overarching conspiracy on behalf of the GAR hadn't been your intention, but you couldn't say that you had entirely ruled out the possibility either.
There was a knock at the door of the hotel room - three sharp taps, executed with military precision. You and Alpha glanced at each other. Reluctantly, he retreated to the refresher while you checked who was knocking - technically speaking, Alpha was supposed to stay at the GAR barracks after he had been released from the medcenter. He could hardly answer the door to a room registered in your name while you packed up his personal belongings in the background.
The cheap hotel room doors offered no way for you to check who was standing on the other side, but the door panel did let you opt to partially open it, keeping the exposed opening to a sliver. You used that feature then, peering through a gap the width of your hand to see who was on the other side.
It took you a long moment to recognize Kal Skirata, especially since he wasn't wearing his gold Mandalorian armor. Instead, he wore a bantha skin jacket and dark trousers. He looked like a harmless old man, someone you would pass on the street without a second glance.
Until you saw the look in his eyes.
Skirata's eyes were full of emotion - sympathy, grief, anger, determination. They were the eyes of a mercenary, of someone who would gladly strike first if it gave him the advantage. And maybe even if it didn't, just for the satisfaction of hurting his opponent.
He didn't speak at first, allowing you time to study him while he did the same to you. At last, he offered you a shallow nod. "Can I come in? I'd like to speak with you both."
You hesitated. Skirata wasn't trying to force his way into the room, but you weren't sure whether Alpha would appreciate you bringing him inside. You wondered briefly if there were a subtle way to close the door on Skirata, check with Alpha, and return to the door to either let him in or send him away. You doubted it.
"I have some intel," Skirata added.
From somewhere behind you, Alpha heaved a loud sigh. "Let him in and we'll get this over with."
Skirata offered you another nod as he stepped inside. You closed the door quickly, but not before you glanced around outside. You couldn't see anyone watching the room, though that didn't mean much. The Nulls had shown a remarkable affinity for following orders from Kal Skirata. With their skill set, they could be hidden just outside the room and you would never see them.
Skirata hadn't moved far into the room. Alpha had come from the refresher and you both watched the Mandalorian study the room. You and Alpha had clearly been sharing a bed - there was only one in the room, after all - but you had finished packing up everything else. It would feel more… revealing, somehow, if he could see Alpha's civilian clothes tangled with yours, heaped up from when you had returned from a laundry service.
It was bad enough that he could probably see where you had rearranged the furniture to make it easier for Alpha to get from the bed to the refresher and back.
"I heard you've been trying to recover Fives's body."
While you were still blinking at the abruptness of that, Alpha nodded once. "You knew him?"
"Knew of him," Skirata corrected. "Enough to reckon he knew something that someone didn't want him to share."
"That's what we think." You glanced between the two of them, guessing that Alpha would be too proud to ask what he clearly wanted to. "Do you know where they're keeping Fives's body?"
Skirata nodded once, the motion tense. "Not that it means much. No chance they'll release him to us. He's being "studied". The kaminii say that something went wrong with him and that they can figure out what."
Alpha snorted. "Handy little trick, that. Pretend to investigate the cause while they cover up the real one."
"Is the GAR at least going to test his blood?" you asked. "All reports indicated that Fives was drugged or poisoned before the transport got to Coruscant. Surely they'll investigate to find out what affected him so strongly."
For two men who were so often at odds, Alpha and Skirata wore exactly the same expression as they looked at each other.
"They aren't going to do any tests," Alpha told you.
You lifted your chin at him. "Then maybe I can convince them that they need to."
The muscles in Alpha's jaw flexed. "You've done enough lately."
"Alpha's right," Skirata agreed. "My boys have intercepted some communications from that chakaar Tohu's office since you came off that prison ship with a trooper."
"What did he say?" Alpha asked, eyes sharpening.
"Nothing actionable." Skirata looked back in your direction. "But you need to keep your head down for a while. Both of you should."
You made a sound of disagreement. "I don't think that will be possible. Alpha's surgeries are to be studied. If a trooper's job is specialized enough, the GAR will consider paying for cybernetic surgeries."
"I'll believe that when I see it," Alpha muttered. "Are you telling me that I should stop trying to retrieve Fives's body, Skirata?"
Skirata lifted one shoulder in a casual sort of shrug. "Just saying that it'll be a waste of your time, Alpha. You aren't going to get him back, not in the next twelve hours."
You and Alpha both visibly deflated at the reminder of your upcoming departure. You could keep working through your sources and connections to bring Fives back for a proper burial, but you were simply out of time.
"Udesii." Skirata rested a hand on Alpha's shoulder. "I can't help you get his body, but I do have something for you. Come with me. Both of you."
Skirata brought you both to a quiet platform overlooking the burning expanse of Republic City's Industrial Sector. You were surprised - and a little dismayed - to see several of the Null ARCs there, but Alpha rested a hand on the small of your back, silently reminding you that he was there with you. There was no safer place to be than beside him, on or off his crutches.
Skirata stood next to the Nulls, looking solemn. All of them removed their helmets in turn, clipping them to belts or tucking them under one arm as they stood at attention. They turned to look out over the Industrial Sector, leaving you, Alpha, and a heat-shimmering stack for an enormous furnace at their back.
At some silent signal from one of them, the whole group began to speak in Mando'a, voices pitched low and thrumming with emotion. "Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc. Ni partayli, gar darasuum."
You recognized enough of the words to understand that it was a remembrance of sorts. The Mando'a was followed by a list of names and designations, the numbers spoken with just as much reverence as the names. There were so many of them.
Alpha had picked up on the Mando'a with the others, but fell silent during the recitation of names. He looked out over the Industrial Sector, gaze pensive and somber. When the names finally stopped, he turned to glance back at Skirata.
The old sergeant was holding out a kama, angular stripes in a familiar navy blue decorating the stiff , standard-issue cloth. "I couldn't get his body back for you, son, but adding him to the aay'han and burning his kama is remembrance enough for a Mandalorian."
"He was a clone, not a Mandalorian," Alpha decreed, but his tone lacked its usual fire.
Skirata simply watched him, the lines of his face set in an expression that was almost kind. He never withdrew the kama. Clearly, he was leaving it up to Alpha whether they burned it or not.
Alpha took the blue and grey striped material, staring down at it intently. After a long moment, he extended a hand and let it flutter down into the furnace stack in front of you. As he watched it disappear, presumably burned in seconds by the immense heat of the furnace, he said, "Fives."
"Fives," everyone else echoed, sealing their litany of lost brothers with this newest name.
Alpha's eyes were brimming and he turned away, facing the glittering skyline to avoid being seen. You understood - the Nulls probably wouldn't use such an intimate and solemn ceremony against him later, but the grief was so fresh and raw that it felt better to tuck away.
Skirata cleared his throat. "You boys go make sure the Aay'han is ready for departure. We've completed our mission. Best get you boys back off of Coruscant before we start drawing attention."
He clapped Alpha on the shoulder and stepped away, allowing him a moment of privacy. You watched the Nulls leave without a moment's pause. You caught Skirata's eye at the last moment, nodding when he jerked his chin toward the other side of the platform.
When you had stepped as far out of Alpha's earshot as you could manage, Skirata leaned in toward you, voice pitched low as if to avoid being overheard. You got the sense it wasn't Alpha that he was trying to avoid being heard by.
"Something is coming."
You frowned, trying to figure out exactly what he meant. "Why are you on Coruscant?"
"I can't tell you that and you don't want to know," Skirata said firmly. "But something is coming. I don't have details and I wouldn't share them if I did. The only reason I'm telling you anything is because you're important to Alpha. When it happens - whatever happens - you try to find me."
"Where would I start looking for you?" you asked, realizing abruptly that you didn't have the slightest idea of where Skirata lived or worked. You didn't even know who he worked for. The only faction he seemed loyal to were the clones.
"You don't worry about that, just start looking for me." Skirata grinned, but it was vicious. "You won't find me, tayli'bac? But when you look, I'll hear about it. Then I'll find you."
"Did you pull me over here to give a cryptic warning, insult me, and tell me to do what I would have already done?"
"You already would have..?" Skirata trailed off, studying you curiously. "Tried to contact me?"
"Alpha trusts you," you explained, knowing the simplicity of that statement stood on its own. Alpha didn't trust easily and he never put his faith in the wrong people.
Skirata's expression softened into something like a smile. "He's a good lad. You're not bad either, for an aruetii."
You stiffened. "No more insults. I'm no traitor, Skirata."
He laughed, a short bark of it that sounded more surprised than amused. "Seventeen is teaching you? Well, tell him to get the vocab right. Aruetiise aren't necessarily traitors. Just outsiders, and you are one of those. Too many more heroics on prison ships might change that, though, provided you don't end up dead."
You glanced back toward Alpha despite yourself, remembering how worried he had been when you had fought for Dogma's release. Maybe he hadn't been overreacting as much as you had assumed.
Skirata spoke again, voice serious once more. "You two better get back to your room and rest up for your flight tomorrow. Remember what I told you."
"Something's coming," you supplied with a nod.
Skirata nodded back. "Be ready."
And then he was gone.
---
Author's Note - Happy May the Fourth! Or… sad May the Fourth? Sorry for this one. Fives's death is my least favorite of the whole series, but it had to happen here. Though you know the old Star Wars-ism: no body, no death. So there could be hope?
I apologize if the stuff with Alpha using his cane to 'recharge' the cybernetics got a little overly complex. I rewrote that part about a dozen times and I'm still not thrilled with it. If you see me randomly editing this chapter, that will be what I'm working on. From a plot/character perspective, it's important to me that Alpha is still able to do his job as the GAR's ARC trainer, but the damage done to his body can't be hand-waved away the way Anakin's (and Luke's!) replacement hands were in the movies. Mobility aids in the GFFA need to be more prevalent, so I would be editing the EXPLANATION of the cane, not removing the necessity entirely.
I'll see you soon with a chapter that's less of a beast. Thanks for reading!
Warnings: Subterfuge, misrepresentation, and lying
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---
Part Ten
It wasn’t terribly often that Mereel felt stupid, but this was going on twice in one day. He didn’t like it.
The first had been when Corr of all people had questioned his disguise. Mereel had a whole thing plotted out, a deep disguise complete with a backstory about why he couldn’t speak. He couldn’t give you the chance to recognize his voice, after all.
As he had shown the final product to A’den - the only other Null at the base - Corr had frowned. “You’re a clone.”
“Nothing gets past you, vod,” Mereel sighed, rolling his eyes. “Doesn’t mean we can’t disguise ourselves when we need to.”
“But you don’t need to,” Corr repeated. “You’re a clone. Just put on some shiny armor and melt into the million other clones out there.”
It was a tragically good point, and Mereel thew his entire disguise away to the sound of Kom'rk cackling.
An under-the-radar transport to Coruscant was a simple thing, as was landing in an inconspicuous neighborhood and making his way to the Coruscant Guard headquarters. Getting anywhere too central would have been a challenge thanks to the efforts of one Commander Fox… but slicing into equipment storage took only seconds.
Two minutes later, Mereel was wearing a brand new set of shiny armor. It was a standard Phase II set, nothing more impressive. It made Mereel feel uncomfortably stifled, like it was too small. Even commando armor was better than this, and that was bad compared to the changes Mereel had made to his own Mando-inspired armor.
He took a breath and pressed the discomfort away. There were more important things.
Like nabbing the ID tab from one of the troopers he passed.
With it fixed to his chest, Mereel was a shiny by any outer metric. He grabbed a box, tossed a few datapad components inside, and addressed it to Senator Julgum from a random address in his planet's capital city. When it was sealed, he started for the Senate Building.
The scanners outside the entrance identified him by an unfamiliar CT number, but the guards waved him through without issue. In fact, they didn’t even bother to acknowledge him as a living being. It was standard nattie behavior, honestly, but it irked Mereel as it always did.
Out of stubborn curiosity, he used the scanner embedded in his glove to scan the ID tab himself. The trooper’s name was Chase, newly assigned to the Coruscant Guard. The real Chase hadn’t even painted his armor yet, so Mereel assumed it was a very recent assignment.
Finding Julgum’s office was simple, even if Mereel hadn’t gotten and memorized a copy of the building’s blueprints. The good senator had been placed in an inconvenient section of the Senate building, tucked far away from the majority of the offices. Whether that was because of Julgum’s unpopularity or the way he seemed to attract assassination attempts, Mereel couldn’t be sure. Either way, it made him smile under the protective cover of his borrowed helmet.
Mereel paused outside of the office. The door was open and he could hear movement inside - you, he assumed. He took a moment to fully adopt his character as a wide-eyed shiny sent on an important errand for a senator who clearly thought little of clone troopers…. But that was interrupted by the sound of a soft groan from inside the office.
He had turned the corner before he could think any better of it. There was a human female inside, sitting behind an outdated desk in the cramped waiting area. Behind you and on the opposite side from the main door was another door. Presumably, that one led to Julgum’s office, since it had an expensive-looking but ultimately worthless panel set into the wall on one side. It looked flashy and foreboding, but Mereel had found them exceptionally easy to slice before.
All of that was idly registered by Mereel’s mind. The majority of his thoughts were occupied by something he hadn’t thought of before: he was finally going to meet you. In person. See what you looked like, learn your name. It made him impatient that your hands were covering your face.
“Uh… everything okay?”
Your hands whipped down from your face, exposing a bright smile that would have been lovely if Mereel couldn’t see the emptiness behind it. “Absolutely! How can I help you?”
It was a lie, and not even an overly convincing one, but Mereel couldn’t call you on it. Not without giving himself away, at least. He refocused on his shiny persona and said, “I- uh… Yeah, sorry. I have a package for Senator Joljem.”
An odd tension passed over your face, and it took Mereel a moment to figure out that you were trying to hide a smile at his pronunciation of the senator’s name. “Julgum. He’s very particular about the way that people say it.”
Finally, mispronouncing a name had worked out for him. Mereel should have guessed that you would be the one to pick up on it. He put on his best aw, shucks attitude - created entirely from watching Darman in his early days with Etain - and ducked his head. “Sorry, ma’am. I’m new to Senate patrol.”
“No apologies necessary,” you told him, and Mereel subtly let his shoulders relax. From the soft look on your face, the gesture hadn’t been lost on you. “What’s your name?”
Ah. You were introducing yourself, complete with a handshake. Mereel smiled at the niceties - a grin, really. A mocking one at that, judging the utter gullibility of nat-borns. That was why he was smiling. Certainly not because you cared about a random trooper. Caring like that would get you killed. Mereel wasn’t sure entirely how, but he was sure it would.
Finally, he reached out to accept your hand, shaking it delicately and offering the name he’d picked up from his armor’s ID chip: “Chase, ma’am.”
And you gave your name in return. The very piece of information you’d refused to give him for so long, you offered freely to a faceless trooper who you’d known a total of two minutes. It was the sweetest thing he’d ever heard.
And then you smiled for real and Mereel was worried for his heart.
“You can leave that package with me,” you told Mereel, unaware of the effect you’d had on him. “I’ll make sure the senator gets it.”
Mereel snapped into action, turning to protect the package from your reaching hands. “Sorry, ma’am. That’s very kind of you, but I have orders from my commander. The senator has to sign for it himself, or I have to bring it back with me.”
You frowned slightly, clearly off balance at his refusal. “Is it that important?”
With a meek sort of shrug, Mereel offered, “I don’t know what’s in it. I just know my orders.”
“I’m authorized to sign for it,” you wheedled. “If something goes wrong and the senator doesn’t receive it, the blame will come down on me, not you.”
You were convincing; Mereel would admit that freely. If he were really a trooper running errands - and the box held something more important than a few chunks of a datapad - he would be sorely tempted to leave it with you. It was a wonder anyone ever said no to you at all.
But handing you the box would give the game away, and Mereel was so close… “It would be easier if the senator could just sign for it himself.”
A look of wry amusement passed over your expressive face. “Yes, I agree, but-” The chime of a comlink rang out before you could offer more explanations. “Excuse me me for one moment.”
As you turned away to deal with the caller on the other end of the line, Mereel set to work slicing into the panel of Julgum’s office door. As he had suspected, the panel was flashy and imposing-looking but offered little resistance to slicing. Of course, Mereel had never met a panel that could keep him out, but a cadet could have sliced that security panel. He was inside Julgum’s office before you could even see him enter.
When he did get inside, all Mereel could do was stare around in disbelief. There were no datapads. Standard issue for the Senate building was a max-storage datapad set into the desk itself and a few laid into the walls for projection and security purposes. Julgum’s office was bare of almost any kind of technology, barring a simple intercom system and a digital calendar/address book that looked like it had been manufactured fifty years before.
This couldn’t be it. It couldn’t. Mereel had tucked a small area scanner into a pocket of his body glove and he used it to scan Julgum’s office for hidden tech. On his fourth scan, Mereel was forced to admit the truth: the office had only minimal tech, and none of it originated from outside of the Senate.
Wherever Julgum was storing his information, it wasn’t here.
“Chase-?”
Mereel swore lowly, too quiet for the mic in his helmet to pick up, and hid the scanner just before you walked into the room behind him.
“The door was locked..?”
He shrugged, turning in place to see your confusion. “It opened for me.”
The frown line between your eyebrows didn’t disappear with that answer and Mereel braced himself for a quick exit when you started toward him. “I’m sorry, Chase. The senator isn’t in the office today. Like I said, you can leave the package with me and I’ll make sure he gets it.”
The senator’s office was large, much more so than the tiny waiting area where your desk was stationed, but Mereel could still work out that he needed to leave through the only door. No, the only reason he allowed you to steer him from the room was that he was distracted by the feeling of your fingers guiding his elbow.
You were back in the small outer room before you spoke again. Your eyes searched his even through the visor of the helmet and Mereel found himself raptly attentive when your voice lowered to a soothing register: “You really can leave that package with me if you want. It’s my job to accept packages on the senator’s behalf.”
“Maybe-” Mereel paused to swallow, and he hoped it sounded nervous rather than unsteady. “Maybe you could tell me where to find the senator? Or a private comlink frequency?”
“Are you..?” The quickness of your head snapping up toward him made Mereel want to take a step backward, but he held his ground despite the way your gaze had turned sharp and searching. “You’re not…”
Osik. “Everything okay, ma’am?”
You studied him a moment longer, and Mereel felt bare despite the layers of clothing and plastoid between you. “Have we met before? Your voice sounds familiar.”
It was all Mereel could do to keep from swearing aloud. Instead, he tried to turn the tables, make you feel stupid. “I’m a clone. We all sound the same. Any trooper you’ve spoken to before has the same voice.”
He was concerned when you didn’t immediately brush off your suspicions, but you eventually gave a small laugh that eased him. “Of course. Unfortunately, I can’t give you any further information about Senator Juglum’s whereabouts. But if you’ll write down the details about how he can arrange to get the package later, I’ll make sure he gets it the next time he’s in the office.”
You handed him a stylus and a piece of flimisplast and Mereel set to work. His Binary was a little rusty, but Nulls never forgot anything they had learned. He put two neat folds in the flimsi and gave it back to you.
The smile you offered wasn’t nearly as comfortable as the earlier one had been, but it was still a smile. “Thank you. Please tell your commandker that the senator will be in contact within the next week. Have a wonderful day.”
“You too,” Mereel told you. And then, because he was nothing if not daring, he added, “It was nice to meet you, ma’am.”
Ah, there was the smile he wanted. Two times seeing it and Mereel was already glad for his perfect memory.
But he picked up his pace as he left the turbolift on the ground floor of the Senate building and retraced his steps to the GAR headquarters. He had armor to return and it wouldn’t take you long to decode what he had written down.
It would have been far wiser to write down a dead-end comm code and leave it at that, or give Commander Fox’s information. Hiding wasn’t his style, though. Really, what was the point of all of this if you didn’t eventually learn that he had been in your office? Especially since you had never managed to see his face. It was a delicious master stroke, and Mereel decided to buy Corr a drink as soon as possible.
The shiny armor was returned without incident and Mereel was well on his way back to his transport when he caught sight of plastoid armor. Even from his peripheral, he recognized the trooper in question: Captain Maze.
Mereel didn’t necessarily have a problem with Maze, not like Ordo did, but the captain seemed to think that all the Nulls were trouble. And they hadn’t necessarily done anything to convince him otherwise.
Maze was standing with another trooper as they surveyed the teeming crowds on the street. Mereel vaguely recognized the trooper as Ink, one of the medics with the Coruscant Guard. Maze noticed Mereel an instant after Mereel had noticed him and Maze instantly let out a loud curse.
“What is a Null doing on Triple Zero?” he asked, fully knowing that Mereel could hear him. “This can’t be good.”
Mereel knew Maze was following him even without looking back. Ink was apparently walking along with him. “How do you know he’s a Null trooper? He could just be one of the Guard on some downtime.”
“Look at his walk,” Maze said loudly. “What trooper do you know who does that dayn taab walk?”
Osik. In his excitement and hurry, Mereel had forgotten to check his walk. Dayn taab was a Mando’a term translating roughly to ‘out-foot’. It had started from Kal’buir as a teasing name for the way the Nulls all walked - backs arched to compensate for the heft of their weapons, a heavier gait to make up for the increased weight of their altered armor, and a little more sway to their hips from the kamas.
Well, since he was already made…
Mereel turned, offering a broad smile to the troopers following him. Maze looked unimpressed while Ink looked taken aback. “Captain Maze! What a coincidence.”
Maze gave a skeptical grunt. “What are you doing here.”
“I was hoping to find a helpful member of the Coruscant Guard,” Mereel said, giving his best innocent face. It clearly needed more practice, since both of the troopers looked suspicious after seeing it. He held up Chase’s ID tab. “I found this and was hoping to return it to its rightful owner.”
Ink, now frowning fearsomely, grabbed the tab from Mereel’s hand. “Where did you get this?”
“I told you, I found it,” Mereel said. After all, it wasn’t entirely a lie. “But I don’t have time to track down the trooper who owns it. Is it one of yours?”
The medic used a scanner in his vambrace to read the tab, then nodded. “Yes. I’ll get it back to him.”
“You know we’ll be able to track where that tag went,” Maze pressed. “It’ll be easier if you tell us what you were doing with the ID tab.”
“I’m planetside on an unrelated mission.” Mereel raised his hands palm-out in innocence. “Just trying to do something nice for one of my brothers on the way.”
“Yeah?” Maze stepped closer, trying to loom over Mereel. The Alpha ARCs were big, but Mereel was difficult to intimidate. “And what mission was that?”
“Sorry, Captain,” he apologized with a bright grin. “You don’t have the clearance for that intel. Ret’!”
And then Mereel let himself be caught up in the crowd’s frantic pace, swept far out of sight in an instant.
---
Author's Note - Ret' translates to "see you!", or any extremely casual goodbye. I'm sure that was evident through context clues, but I always like to cover my bases!
This is roughly the point I got to before I forgot this story existed, so everything from here onward is fresh writing.
Warnings: Feelings of hopelessness, self-doubt, misrepresentations, and allusions to inhumane treatment of clone troopers
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Part Nine
“Pick a direction you think will get you out of there. Then you keep going until you make it out… or die.”
The advice had been echoing through your mind since your barely-anonymous commer had delivered it a few days before. You had started lining up other opportunities, accompanying Julgum to various events. Well, that was technically part of your job, but you made a point of networking rather than sulking in corners or finding the nearest source of alcohol.
If you could last two more years, you would be able to get out of Julgum’s office. Or, in the best case scenario, if you drew another senator’s interest strongly enough, they could request you be transferred to their office instead. They would have to like you enough to bargain for the release of your contract, but hey. You were allowed to dream. You had to dream.
Your mysterious conversational partner still commed every day, at least once per day. You knew his voice, even if you still didn’t know his name, but it was more than that by this point in your acquaintanceship.
You knew his laughter, the way he sounded when he was needling you. You knew the way he could switch from teasing to unexpected depth in a moment. You knew that he got worried when he couldn’t reach you right away. He was… growing on you.
Bad. That was bad, right? You didn’t know who he was or what he wanted. Because he had to want something, didn’t he? People don’t just hit it off with someone and call back every day because they enjoy speaking to them. That was the stuff of holofilms and daydreams, not real life. Especially since your first conversation had been anything but pleasant.
He had been very clear about what he wanted: to speak with Julgum. All the rest was him softening you up, acting sweet until you felt like you shared a friendship. Then you would actually agree to patch him through…
That theory was slightly dismantled by the fact that he hadn’t asked to speak with Julgum in a long time.
You groaned softly, burying your face in your hands.
“Uh… everything okay?”
The voice from the doorway made you drop your hands and straighten immediately, pasting a smile on your face. “Absolutely! How can I help you?”
The clone trooper looked skeptical… at least, you thought he did. He had his helmet on, and you had never been much good at deciphering facial expressions through the protective plastoid and transparisteel.
“I- uh…” He shifted uncomfortably, glancing around the room and finally landing on the small box he held in his hands. “Yeah, sorry. I have a package for Senator Joljem.”
“Julgum,” you corrected gently, trying not to smile at the way the poor trooper had pronounced the name. “He’s very particular about the way that people say it.”
“Sorry, ma’am,” he apologized, ducking his head. “I’m new to Senate patrol.”
“No apologies necessary.” The assurance made the trooper’s shoulders relax slightly and a fierce protectiveness washed over you. “What’s your name?”
From the tilt of his helmet, the trooper looked down at your hand for a long moment before he gingerly shook it. “Chase, ma’am.”
You introduced yourself in return, smiling at his hesitant attitude. “You can leave that package with me. I’ll make sure the senator gets it.”
To your surprise, Chase turned slightly, as if he were hiding the package behind the protection of his body. “Sorry, ma’am. That’s very kind of you, but I have orders from my commander. The senator has to sign for it himself, or I have to bring it back with me.”
“Is it that important?” you asked, feeling a frown sprout on your face. If Julgum had something that sensitive coming to the office, it would either have been ordered by you or he would have let you know so you would be here to accept it.
Chase shrugged, shrinking into himself. “I don’t know what’s in it. I just know my orders.”
“I’m authorized to sign for it,” you explained. “If something goes wrong and the senator doesn’t receive it, the blame will come down on me, not you.”
“It would be easier if the senator could just sign for it himself.”
“Yes, I agree, but-” you started, smiling at the idea of Julgum voluntarily making life easier for anyone but himself. You were interrupted by the office comlink chiming. “Excuse me for one moment.”
The comm was about a minor issue - most of them were - but the person on the other end wanted you to reassure them over and over that the situation would be handled. By the time you cut the connection, Chase was gone.
“Chase-?” you called, confused. Then you spied the open door.
When you went to the doorway of Julgum’s office, you saw the trooper standing in the middle of the room. He seemed bewildered by the empty chair behind the desk, fingers twitching on the package tucked under his arm.
“The door was locked..?”
“It opened for me,” he told you with a shrug.
That didn’t seem right - you always made sure the door to Julgum’s office was locked when you had the door to the reception area open. Leaving it unlocked would be strange for you… but you had also been more distracted than you usually were. Maybe you had been careless. What was the alternative explanation? That Chase had managed to slice an incredibly complex panel in the ten seconds you hadn’t been watching him?
“I’m sorry, Chase,” you apologized, walking purposefully toward him. “The senator isn’t in the office today. Like I said, you can leave the package with me and I’ll make sure he gets it.”
Chase let you steer him out of the room with only the slight pressure of your hand on his elbow. Honestly, you couldn’t even be certain that he could feel the touch through the thick plastoid, but he went willingly enough.
When you were both back in your office, you repeated, “You really can leave that package with me if you want. It’s my job to accept packages on the senator’s behalf.”
“Maybe- Maybe you could tell me where to find the senator? Or a private comlink frequency?”
You glanced up at him sharply. “Are you-? You’re not…”
“Everything okay, ma’am?” he asked.
“Have we met before?” you asked instead of finishing either of your previous questions. “Your voice sounds familiar.”
“I’m a clone,” Chase explained slowly. “We all sound the same. Any trooper you’ve spoken to before has the same voice.”
“Of course,” you said, giving a small laugh as if to cover up the odd suspicion that had crept into the back of your mind. “Unfortunately, I can’t give you any further information about Senator Julgum’s whereabouts. But if you’ll write down the details about how he can arrange to retrieve the package later, I’ll make sure he gets it the next time he’s in the office.”
Chase accepted the flimsi and stylus you handed to him, using the box as a desk while he scrawled out a quick set of instructions. When that was finished, he folded the note neatly and handed it to you.
“Thank you,” you said graciously. “Expect the senator to be in contact within the next week. Have a wonderful day.”
“You too,” Chase replied. “It was nice to meet you, ma’am.”
You smiled and he was gone before you settled behind your desk once more.
Senator Julgum wasn’t just out of the office, he was off-planet. With the apparent importance of the package in mind, you decided to transmit Chase’s instructions to the senator immediately. Maybe he could comm the Coruscant Guard and give permission for you to retrieve the package yourself before he returned planetside.
When you unfolded the flimsi, you frowned. It was written in Binary. It was a good effort, and you couldn’t fault Chase for assuming that the senator would use a droid to do menial tasks for him, but Julgum also wouldn’t be pleased if you transmitted a bunch of Binary for him to have a droid translate.
So you set to work.
Letter by letter passed slowly as you worked your way through the message, your rough Basic scrawl looking particularly messy underneath Chase’s polished Binary. It seemed… odd, but every time you rechecked a letter, it was correct.
When you had finished, you frowned down at the flimsi with a sinking feeling in your gut.
I knew you were a liar. Talk to you soon, beautiful.
---
Author's Note - Uh oh. Or, alternately: Finally! Either way, things are getting ready to change for our two conversationalists.
For those who have read some of my other works, Chase is usually the generic shiny Coruscant Guardsman I use when convenient. He's not supposed to reference any canonical trooper.
Thanks for reading and I'll see you soon with the next chapter!
Warnings: Descriptions of physical therapy, references to past injury and surgeries, references to nonconsensual drugging, mentions of physical attacks, themes of tension and time limits, Star Wars equivalent of police brutality
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Striilir (Track)
"Take a few steps this way, Alpha," Ransom instructed, looking as steady and certain as ever.
Alpha grunted in assent, sweat beading across every plane of his face. Muscles trembled in his arms and torso as he gripped the rails on either side of his body, almost as if he were using them to keep himself upright and moving forward. But he was walking, and most of his weight was being supported by his legs. The cybernetics implanted along his spine traced over his legs as well, glowing a muted blue where they rose toward or even broke through the surface of his bronze skin.
When Alpha had reached Ransom, she nodded. "Sit here and I'll make some of the final adjustments."
And she meant final. You and Alpha had been on Coruscant for almost two months now. There had been an interim trainer assigned to the ARCs-in-training on Kamino, and you had been doing your job planetside. The only time Sentient Rights had contacted you about it was when they asked whether it was wise to leave the troopers on Kamino alone for so long. You had confidently responded that Alpha was the most likely person to have their rights infringed upon, so it would be best for you to stay with him.
They had given you their blessing without further question.
Alpha sat heavily in a chair, straddling the seat so that his bare back was exposed to Ransom's special cybernetics tools. You handed him a small towel and he wiped his face gratefully.
"How much longer is this going to take?" he grumbled.
Ransom's confidence was clear in the surety of her movements. "Not much longer. I want to increase the response time of your left knee joint. You favor your left side and the extra weight is making it move more slowly. Not enough to be immediately noticeable, but enough to throw off your balance over time."
You rested a hand on Alpha's forearm, offering an encouraging smile. His eyes warmed, but the strain was clear on his face. Weeks of near-constant surgeries followed by interminable rounds of physical therapy had been hard on him. Still, both of you could tell that you were close to the end. As soon as Alpha could walk on his own, he could leave the medcenter. You would both return to Kamino the moment the GAR could arrange a ship.
"Okay, let's try it again," Ransom announced, placing the cybernetics tools back on a small tray at her elbow. "This time, we're going to try without the parallel bars."
When she swiped a code into the data pad embedded into the wall beside the door, the rails Alpha had been using to keep his balance sank into the floor, leaving a plain stretch of floor. Alpha frowned harder, opening his mouth as if he were going to ask Ransom what she was thinking.
Before Alpha could say anything, Ransom crossed the room and wheeled around, indicating a line on the floor. "Cross this and we'll consider your physical therapy complete."
The muscles in Alpha's jaw firmed, dancing as he offered a single nod.
When he took his first step, it was hesitant - as wordlessly braced for pain and struggle as every previous step had been. But to everyone's shock, including Alpha's, he moved easily.
The cybernetics along his spine and down his thighs glowed slightly, appearing in a regular rhythm as his muscles worked in an easy walking stride. Alpha reached Ransom in seconds, a clear change from the three minutes it had taken him the previous time. He crossed Ransom's invisible line, turning to face you with pride burning across his face.
"I'd say they're fully dialed in," Ransom summarized, clearly satisfied with her own work.
"That's it?" you pressed, trying to sound as cool and detached as an impartial Sentient Rights representative should. "He's all good to go?"
Ransom grimaced slightly. "Almost. The change I made impacts every cybernetics we've implanted up to this point, and they'll need some time to adjust to the new settings. Alpha, I'll need to see you for one more session tomorrow so I can make sure everything is responding to the change and performing the way we expect them to. But if you take it slow tonight and let your body work on healing, you both should be able to return to Kamino the following day."
After you had set an appointment time for early the following morning, you and Alpha left the medcenter. Alpha had gone back to using the forearm crutches that helped him keep his balance. He often moved faster on them than you did on your feet… and he wasn't shy about using them to hit people who stepped into his way.
You didn't fully relax until you and Alpha reached the cheap hotel room where you had been staying. Alpha had visited only once before, when he had reached a major milestone in his treatment and had gone to 'get used to' his crutches. You had both eagerly seized the chance for some time alone in your room. A lot of that time had been spent holding each other and crying, if you were being honest. Alpha had been in so much pain and you had both been so scared for so long, but trying to hide it. That stress and fear and pain had to come out somehow.
But since you had both already bled off the tumultuous emotions, you were looking forward to nothing more than a solid night of sleep for you both. Alpha was weary from his physical therapy and had to take it easy anyway, so you paid for a hovercab for the two of you. With a few extra credits, you convinced the droid driver to stop at a restaurant you had grown fond of during your time on Coruscant.
You and Alpha shared a peaceful dinner in your room, chatting idly about what it would be like to return to Kamino. Alpha had only scoffed when you asked if he was homesick for the rainy planet, but you had to imagine he was. After all, he had spent nearly his entire life on Kamino. Surely it would feel strange to be somewhere else for so long. And the familiarity of the surroundings might help restore a sense of normalcy…
You were broken from your thoughts when Alpha's face contorted, eyes squinting and mouth twisting strangely. You watched, concerned and enthralled, as he unsuccessfully fought back against the biggest yawn you had ever seen.
"I'll clean this up, Alpha," you offered, already gathering the empty waxed-flimsi containers and swiping a few stray crumbs into them. "You get ready for bed."
"I can help," he insisted, but you wouldn't have it. Even still, he hesitated.
"Is there a reason you don't want to go to sleep?" you asked, glancing from him to the bed and back. A realization struck and you frowned. "Are you worried that I'll jostle your back while we're in bed? I can sleep on the couch…"
"No, neverd'ika," Alpha refused instantly. "Nothing could keep me from being close to you tonight. But… if the implants start to hurt you…"
"They won't." Alpha didn't seem impressed by your casual reassurance, so you tossed the empty containers in the garbage can and turned your full attention to him. "Alpha, I promise. The implants are not going to bother me. And, as long as you don't lay on top of me, they're certainly not going to hurt me."
"But if they do, you'll tell me."
You only rolled your eyes a little as you agreed. Alpha squinted at you suspiciously before he went to brush his teeth and change into the pajamas you had gotten for him.
You had been reading on your datapad for a few short minutes when Alpha started to snore beside you. As hard as you tried, you couldn't keep from giggling aloud. Alpha snorted awake, peering blearily over at you. A small smile curved his lips, sleepy and a little rueful.
"Shush, little one. I haven't slept this well since I left Kamino."
"Is that right?" you asked cheekily. "You're a very efficient sleeper; I think you've been out for about five minutes."
"That's what spending time with you does to me," Alpha answered, letting his head fall back to the pillow. His blinks grew longer every moment, eyes clearly wanting to stay closed.
"Tires you out?" you teased. Alpha grumbled something at you and you chuckled again, leaning over to kiss his cheek. "Goodnight, Alpha. Get some rest."
The peace of the quiet evening was shattered around one in the morning. A comm call came through on Alpha's comlink, and he answered it before you could silence it and let him keep sleeping.
From what you managed to overhear - which was nearly everything, since Alpha had only his wrist comlink and not his helmet - it was Commander Cody. If you hadn't been awake before that point, you jolted to full wakefulness at that. Commander Cody was the one in charge of your boys.
Fortunately, Alpha was on the same wavelength, and Cody was quick to assure him that the Batch was fine. The issue was Fives. Apparently, there was nothing for Alpha to do, but Commander Cody wanted to keep him informed of a developing situation.
A clone trooper named Tup had seemingly snapped, killing a Jedi general on a battlefield. Tup had died, but Fives had found an anomaly in Tup's brain. Fives had brought the sample of Tup's brain tissue to Coruscant, where he had an appointment with Chancellor Palpatine.
"Did the utreekov not believe him?" Alpha growled, his protectiveness over his ARCs rearing up.
"No," Commander Cody reported, "but you can't blame him. By the time Fives reached Palpatine, he was… wrong. Not himself. Kept spouting a bunch of osik, didn't make sense to anybody. It was like he was drugged."
The muscles in Alpha's jaw clenched. "Wouldn't put it past the kaminii to poison him. Couldn't have the Republic knowing that they sold a defective product."
Cody sighed. "I wouldn't know. I only caught a few pieces of the explanation myself. All I know is that Fives booked it out of the Chancellor's office before anyone could detain him. Rex is out looking for him now. Intel says that Fives is somewhere on the lower lev-"
The sound of an incoming message emanated over the connection. When Cody spoke again, his tone was urgent, suddenly deadly serious. "That was Rex - situation's changed. Some of the GAR higher-ups have gotten the Corrie Guard involved. They're saying Fives is a danger to civilians."
"Fives would never hurt a civvie," Alpha replied vehemently. The sound of the next room's occupant calling for him to be quiet came muffled through the wall.
"I know, but- Wayii, Alpha, they ordered the Guard to take their blasters off stun."
"Kark that!" Alpha barked, swinging his legs off the mattress as if to lunge to his feet.
You caught his shoulder gently. "Careful, Alpha. You have to take it slow. Your body is still healing."
"I can't leave Fives out there with no protection."
"She's right," Commander Cody told him. "You've got to take care of your injuries. I didn't call to have you personally interfere-"
"Doesn't matter." Alpha had snagged his forearm crutches and was moving quickly for the refresher. As he left, the sound of the comlink on his wrist faded as well, but you still heard Cody cautioning him to limit his involvement.
You knew Alpha well enough to guess his next move, and you were lacing up your shoes by the time he emerged from the 'fresher. He caught sight of you and his already-furrowed brow dove into an angle you had never seen before.
"You're staying here," he announced. "I need you to get in contact with any of your rights people who will listen."
You interrupted him with an impatient wave of your hand. "Already working on it. But if you think I'm going to let you wander the lower levels alone, you're wrong. And if you think I wouldn't want to be involved in the search for Fives, you don't know me very well."
Alpha seemed to know that he wouldn't win this argument - or at least, knew that he would be wasting valuable time by pushing - so he simply nodded.
His armor had been damaged so badly in the fight with Grievous that it had been taken by the GAR for destruction. They hadn't issued him a new set yet, not until they confirmed that he was recovered enough to need it. The idea of him going into Coruscant unarmored and helmet-less made you unhappy. You could acknowledge the irony - you never wore armor, but you didn't put yourself in situations to need it nearly as often as Alpha did.
It was all you could do to keep up with Alpha. Even using the forearm crutches, he tore through the lower levels with a ferocity you hadn't seen from him since the Separatist attack on Kamino. He cleared every alley and side street in seconds, brutally efficient, but still managed to use his comlink to send flurries of messages to every Coruscant-based contact he had.
"Who is that?" you asked when his comlink beeped for a third time in as many minutes. "Maze?"
"Negative, Maze is out of contact," Alpha said, absently slipping into GAR jargon with his focus on the wrist comlink. "Rex is messaging when he can. He's with Skywalker."
"Do either of them have any intel that could help us find Fives?"
"Rex knows about as much as we do. And as for Skywalker…" Alpha shook his head. "Skywalker doesn't know we're looking for Fives, too."
You frowned at that. "Why? I thought Skywalker was trustworthy. You even said he was… among other things."
"And I meant all of those things," Alpha muttered, clearly remembering the same string of half-compliments and complaints you were. "But someone is trying to keep Fives from talking to Palpatine. Until we know who that someone is, we're keeping everything as quiet as possible."
"So what are the messages?" It was a far easier question than any that had been raised in Alpha's explanation, though you wanted to delve into that at another time.
"Rex is keeping me informed about where they're looking," Alpha explained, glancing at his comlink again. "Apparently, Skywalker can sense Fives in the Force or some osik, so they're clearing quadrants much faster than we are. He tells me what they've searched and I'm doing the same so we can maximize the search area."
You nodded and followed him back to the turbolifts. Apparently, with the general and commander searching the lower levels of the city, Alpha had decided to keep an eye on the surface level. The lift moved torturously slow for a few seconds, then Alpha punched in a code and it took off quickly enough that you felt as though you had left your stomach behind.
He caught your look of surprise and a faint smile curved his lips. "Maze taught me a few useful things about life on Triple Zero."
When you got off of the turbolift, Alpha immediately began scanning the surrounding area. There were no troopers anywhere, not even the familiar red armor of the Coruscant Guard. Even in the quiet hours just after midnight, there were crowds in Coronet City. Perhaps not enough to need the typical Corrie Guard crowd control, but it still seemed odd not to see them. The Guard was conspicuous in their absence.
"Surely they're not all looking for Fives?" you mused quietly.
Alpha glanced at you, then looked around again. "If someone in the GAR is claiming that Fives is a danger to civvies, they would deploy all officers to find him. Dangerous waste of resources, that."
"Makes you wonder who's keeping the city safe from the real threats," you agreed. letting your eyes follow an inter-planetary transport as it started rising out of Coruscant's atmosphere. "Alpha, do you think he would leave the planet?"
Alpha instantly understood what you were saying, his eyes tracking to the spaceport as well. He hummed thoughtfully. "Maybe. I reckon he would have figured out by now that he's not getting his meeting with Palpatine. He may have decided that he's better off leaving the planet and circling back later."
"Going AWOL would be his best chance," you mused softly. "Maybe we should just let him go, if we think that's what he's doing. The GAR isn't going to let this go, and I don't know if Tohu will let me save another trooper without a fight."
"No, we have to stop him," Alpha disagreed sharply. "I don't know what the kaminii would have given him to make Fives 'not himself', but I'd bet it was a toxin of some kind. They wouldn't want to keep him quiet long enough to keep him from alerting Palpatine, they would want to shut him up permanently."
"So, even if Fives managed to leave the planet…" You trailed off, unwilling to finish the statement.
Alpha nodded. "He could die."
You glanced at the spaceport, watching another transport speed toward the entrance to the nearest hyperspace lane. "Do you think he's actually going to get on a ship? That was just a guess on my part."
"No way to know for sure." That wasn't what you wanted to hear, but Alpha only shrugged. "Most troopers wouldn't leave the planet, but Fives is an ARC. I trained him to be unpredictable."
"Should I go watch the spaceport?" you offered. "That way, you can keep looking for Fives here."
"No, we stay together." Alpha glanced around, clearly weighing the options. "We'll do a sweep of the main terminal. If we don't see anything suspicious, we'll leave again."
You agreed and let Alpha lead the way to the spaceport. The main entrance was up a short flight of stairs and you wanted to assess how well he was moving. Alpha hadn't said anything or given any clear sign that he was tired or in pain, but… how could he not be? The two of you had been marching around Coruscant for hours, and Alpha had gone through physical therapy just that afternoon. Stars, his last surgery had been only a few days ago.
Alpha took the stairs three at a time, planting his forearm crutches and swinging himself between them in smooth, powerful motions. You struggled to keep up, and he had to wait for you at the top of the stairs.
He had turned to face you, stern expression softened into a wry smirk. He was going to say something jokingly rude to you - probably mock your fitness level compared to his - but the tease died on his lips when he saw the concerned confusion on your face.
Two Coruscant Guards were rushing close behind Alpha, blasters out and aimed. Others were running at a different angle of approach, clearly positioning themselves to intercept your path to the spaceport doors.
Alpha turned sharply, and you saw his shoulders twitch with the unexpected strain on his still-healing muscles. "What is this?" he demanded.
"Captain Alpha-17, stand down," one of the Guards ordered, drawing his blaster rifle closer to his helmet's viewport.
It wasn't often that Alpha didn't know what to do, but you saw him hesitate at the command. He was simply standing at the top of the short staircase, forearm crutches braced against the ground. He wore no armor and was dressed entirely in civilian clothes. If he had a weapon, he had hidden it well enough that you didn't even know about it. There was no way for him to stand down any further from where he already was.
The fully-armored troopers seemed to sense Alpha's hesitation as well. The one who had not been speaking holstered his weapon and - before you could relax at the decreased hostility - withdrew a baton from somewhere on his person. He activated it with a motion you hadn't quite seen… but the crackling glow of electricity at the tip was impossible to miss. He was a shock trooper.
"Stand down, Captain," the other trooper warned. "Or we'll be forced to stun you."
Alpha's voice was tight with rage as he asked, "What have I been accused of doing?"
"Going AWOL."
You took another few steps forward before the shock trooper raised his prod threateningly in your direction. "Stop there, civilian."
"He's not trying to go AWOL," you explained. "We've been on Coruscant so he can be treated for injuries sustained in fighting General-"
"Ma'am, are you attempting to incite a panic?"
You frowned. "Of course not. I'm just trying to exp-"
"Failure to obey orders will get you stunned as well." The troopers were well-coordinated - the blaster-bearing one delivered the warning while the shock trooper brandished the baton in your direction.
"You can't threaten a civilian," Alpha gritted out. "She has nothing to do with whatever's going on here. Let her leave."
"I'm afraid she'll be coming with us to the Coruscant Guard station," the trooper told him, holstering the blaster. "We've been instructed to bring you both."
"Who instructed you?" you asked. "Where did you get any of this information?"
"We're not going," Alpha said at the same time. "We have things to take care of here. I'm not going AWOL and that's all the defense I need."
"Put her in binders," the main trooper ordered, and one of the other Coruscant Guards came forward to do as he said. To the shock trooper, he said, "I think the Captain will be less trouble if he's stunned."
"No," you refused loudly.
Alpha was supposed to be resting. His cybernetics were nearly dialed in, but the process wasn't finished yet. His muscles had to heal so the ports could end up in the correct places to work with his exterior cybernetics. It was a precise, delicate system.
Not only had Alpha been walking around all night, the Coruscant Guard was going to stun him. Who knew what that would do to the cybernetics in his back? And if the shock trooper hit him with the baton..? It could short out all of the cybernetics. There was a chance that it could even undo the progress he had made, taking him back to the beginning of the healing process or even putting him in a worse starting position.
Just a chance, but more than you were willing to risk. Especially when the shock trooper advanced with the baton brandished, aimed squarely at Alpha.
Everything seemed to happen at once. You rushed forward, clearing the last of the steps with ease, and managed to position yourself between Alpha and the shock trooper.
The next instant, you were seized with pain. It was enough to hold you in place, muscles dancing as your body tried to figure out what was happening. No other function of your body would work appropriately, not even the nearly overwhelming need to move away from what was hurting you.
Dimly, you registered that you were still looking at Alpha. Seconds seemed to stretch into hours. You watched him begin to shout, starting toward the shock trooper with menace packed into his every movement. There was another Coruscant Guard behind Alpha. He was aiming a blaster, but Alpha was too focused on you and hadn't seen the additional threat.
The electric charge stopped as suddenly as it had started and your body fell to the duracrete ground, muscles still crawling with the memory of such recent pain. Your arms were levered behind you, binders circling your wrists and holding them tightly together.
The shock trooper had moved on to Alpha, and you screamed as the prod touched him. While you had been frozen in place - aware but utterly unable to move - Alpha went down immediately. He was unconscious, not dead… at least, that's what you told yourself over and over. You screamed again as Alpha's body crumpled to the ground, drawing attention and questions from the passersby who had been observing the situation.
"Stun her!"
You had just enough time to register the barked order, watching the Coruscant Guard's blaster pistol raise in your direction. Then there was a blue flash and everything went dark.
---
Author's Note - So weird that Alpha would be accused of going AWOL without any real evidence or reason behind it. Almost like someone didn't want him actively working to find Fives… Sorry for the cliffhanger, but otherwise this chapter would have been about ten thousand words long.
Thanks for reading! I'll see you next month with another update.
Warnings: Discussions of cybernetic augmentations, plotting Kaminoans, mentions of pregnancy, dehumanization, discussions of and references to surgery, references to paralysis, themes of being expendable due to acquired disability.
Heavy warnings, guys. Please watch out for them!
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Duumyc (Approval)
It hadn't been a surprise that Nora knew someone who knew someone who had a contact in the underground world of cybernetic enhancements. Not all cybernetics specialists were criminals, of course, but most of them had what Drift would call a healthy disdain for the law.
It had been a surprise that the trail of Nora's connections led to one of the famous cybnernetics specialists that Doctor Fher had mentioned: a woman named Ransom. She had an office in a surprisingly respectable part of Coronet City, and you felt confident in going there without Maze for backup.
The contact had set you up with an appointment. Your wrist chrono had just updated to the minute of your appointment when the handsome receptionist - bearing a series of beautifully intricate cybernetic implants that traced along one cheekbone and around his eye - called for you to go into the office.
A woman you assumed to be Ransom sat behind a desk in the office. The emotional chaos of the past week hit you all at once as you glanced at the receptionist closing the door behind you, then back to Ransom. All that you could get your mouth to say was, "Your work?"
Ransom's eyes darted to where the receptionist was disappearing from view, then one corner of her mouth quirked as if she had abruptly realized what you meant.
"Ah, Kirresh? Yes, he was rapidly going blind in one eye. Genetic disorder. His vision was devolving too quickly for medical technology to repair. So he opted for another type of medical technology."
"You must have made quite an impression if he agreed to work with you afterward."
Ransom's lips tugged again and you caught a hint of a dimple in her cheek. "Not exactly. Kirresh couldn't afford the surgeries, so I asked him to help out here a day or two a month. When his full-time job allows for it, of course."
You nodded slowly. Cybernetic eyes were helpful technology, of course, but they were hardly rare. Even clone troopers were fitted with replacement eyes if one was damaged or lost, but you thought it may be less than flattering to say so to Ransom, especially since you were asking for her help.
Instead, you said, "I rarely see a cybernetic eye that looks so natural."
Ransom looked blank for a moment, then broke into a real smile. "Ah, I have misled you. That is Kirresh's natural eye. The cybernetics are keeping the degenerative disorder at bay until medical technology can repair it." She leaned forward slightly, giving you an intense look. "I believe that technology is most effective working with the body instead of replacing parts of it."
Your eyebrows shot upward. Replacing an eye was one thing - impressive tech,but not exactly cutting-edge. But to use cybernetics to work with the body and allow medicine more time to invent another solution? You had never seen anything quite like it. You were suddenly more hopeful that you were in the correct place. Floored by the casual demonstration of her skills, you said faintly, "I agree."
"I thought you might," Ransom said with a knowing look, sitting back in her chair once more. "From what I hear about your friend's case, you've brought me a challenge."
"More challenging than stopping a degenerative disorder?"
"I would say so." Ransom started ticking items on her fingers. "The injury is centered around Alpha's spine, notoriously difficult to work with. He is larger than most humans, so the cybernetics will have to be capable of holding his weight. He has a very active job, so they'll need to offer full movement and short response times. And troopers age faster, so his bone density is likely to change faster than most non-clones. An interesting case."
"So far, Alpha is interesting and a challenge," you repeated, sitting a little straighter. "Ransom, I don't want to waste your time and my own is limited, so forgive me for being blunt. Is this possible? For anyone on Coruscant, even if not for you?"
To your utter relief, Ransom seemed thoughtful rather than offended by your questions. "On a technical level, Ugnaught specialists are more skilled than I am. However, their history of enslavement means they're less likely to work for someone they don't already know and trust. I don't think you have months to convince them that you're safe to work with. Besides that, they tend not to work with human biology often. I hope you'll take this with the honesty and humility I mean it with when I tell you that I am likely the only one on Coruscant who can help you do what you want to do for Alpha."
You believed her.
"Then what's our next step?"
Ransom handed you a datapad with a set of schematics already pulled up. "You look over my preliminary designs and tell me what you think. If you have holoimages or medical files that detail the extent of the injuries, that would be helpful. Then, you go to the GAR to get approval for Alpha's surgeries while I make the final tweaks to the design. We'll start as soon as we can."
"How long do you think Tohu will keep us waiting?" Nora Czajak asked, curiously glancing around the waiting area.
Lon Tohu's office - like most senatorial offices on Coruscant - was large and filled with light. Someone had even considered him important enough to get an office above the line of airborne traffic that left most offices with an unimpressive view.
However, Tohu had put the usual Kaminoan touches on it. He had ordered the walls to be painted in what looked to most like a flat white, but special Kaminoan paint had been imported from his home planet. As far as anyone could tell, Tohu's office was colorful to his eyes. Simple white furniture and a single plant served as decoration. The assistant who had checked you in, a male Klatoonian, looked both terribly out of place and tremendously bored in the sea of white waiting room.
"We came in unannounced," you reasoned. "He'll have to wait until he can fit us into his schedule."
"Mmm, leaving out the part where you threatened to never leave?" Nora chuckled. "He's probably not motivated to find time for us after that, but it was my favorite part."
"The Kaminoans are willing to sign off on Alpha's surgeries if we get permission from Senator Tohu," you reminded. "I'm not willing to wait for senatorial scheduling to get that permission."
The fact that the Kaminoans had been willing to let Alpha undergo cybernetic surgery at all was surprising. As soon as you had explained to Nala Se that Bail Organa would pay for the work, she was fine with it.
"Alpha-17 is a remarkably effective trainer," Nala Se had told you. "Casualty rates are low among the ARC troopers and our internal specialists often credit him for that. Kaminoan flash training is the single largest contributing factor for that, of course, but there is something to be said about Alpha's delivery of our advanced training regimens."
But being a typical Kaminoan, before you severed the connection, Nala Se had gone on to add, "If cybernetic implants could help us retain Alpha-17 as a trainer, the consensus is that we proceed. That is true even if Alpha-17 never recovers his previous abilities. Having a damaged clone as an instructor would prevent us from pulling a fully functional one from the field."
You had ended the call as soon as possible after that.
"I still don't understand what Tohu has to do with Alpha," Nora muttered to you, glancing at the assistant, who was scrolling idly on a datapad.
You grimaced. "He's one of the only Kaminoans on Coruscant, so he acts as an extension of them here. Besides, Nala Se told me he has taken a 'special interest' in Alpha's case."
Nora frowned at the view of Coronet City's skyline through one of the windows. "Not a good sign."
"No, it isn't."
"The senator will see you now," the Klatoonian announced, pressing a button to open the door into Tohu's office.
You and Nora rose quickly to your feet, trying to appear composed and professional as you stepped into the office. Tohu sat behind a white desk in another white room, nodding graciously to you both as the door slid shut behind you.
"Senator Tohu," you greeted. "Thank you for taking time from your busy schedule to speak with us."
"Of course," Tohu agreed with another dip of his head. "Though I admit I do not have a great deal of time to speak with you today. What may I help you with?"
"As you know, Captain Alpha-17 - the only ARC trainer for the Republic troops - was badly injured while protecting Senator Bail Organa from an attack by General Grievous," you started. "With his current healing trajectory, it is unlikely that he will ever walk on his own again. I have permission from Nala Se and the other heads of the Tipoca City Training Compound to set up surgeries for him."
Tohu waited until you paused to ask, "Surgeries of what nature?"
"Cybernetic implants." You watched for any hint of disapproval in Tohu's face, but his expression was difficult to read, even among Kaminoans. "I contacted a cybernetics specialist and she was confident that implants in his spine and other key regions could help him regain his mobility."
"You have already spoken with someone?" Tohu's head bobbed slightly backward, a clear intimation of surprise. "Perhaps a bit presumptuous."
Your heart sank and you glanced over at Nora in hope that she had something helpful to add. Leaning forward slightly in her chair, Nora fixed Tohu with an intense look. "Does that mean that you will not sign off on Alpha's proposed treatment?"
"Not necessarily." Tohu said, somehow speaking even more slowly than usual. "However, my name is attached to Alpha-17's case. I must ensure that my interests are represented."
"Interests?" you repeated, utterly lost.
Nora, by contrast, looked as if she finally understood what was happening. "Of course, Senator Tohu. We want to reach an agreement that is acceptable to all parties. Our goal is to get the proper treatment for Captain Alpha-17 as quickly as possible. What interests would you like us to take into consideration?"
Tohu silently swayed his head back and forth in thought. "I would like certain guarantees that my next request will be fulfilled."
Nora nodded. "Am I to assume that your next request will come sometime after Alpha's treatment?"
"Yes."
Nora looked to you for your answer. There was no way to get around it, but signing yourself up for an open-ended favor to the Kaminoan senator seemed like a supremely bad idea.
"I feel I should point out that Alpha was only hurt because he agreed to a favor for you." Your tone wasn't openly disrespectful, but it definitely bordered on harsh. "To accompany me to the prison ship for my interview with Dogma."
"Yes, that was the agreement we reached," Tohu agreed. His voice took on a sour note as he added, "Though the resolution to that situation was hardly one I found satisfactory."
You gritted your teeth to keep from saying something regrettable. Tohu had to be looking for revenge; there was no other reason he would draw this out. He was upset with you and was willing to jeopardize Alpha's continued health to make you suffer.
"If I agree to honor your next request," you said slowly, "it must be something you would ask of me. It cannot require me to use my position with Sentient Rights or to ask additional favors of people I have connections with."
Tohu mused over that for a moment. "I find those terms acceptable. Do we have an agreement?"
"If you'll sign off on the surgery, I agree to comply with the next request you make within the boundaries we discussed."
"Very well, I approve Alpha-17's cybernetic enhancements. I will draw up an official Kaminoan contract that you may show to anyone who needs my approval to proceed."
"And when can we expect to receive that contract?" Nora pressed.
Tohu inclined his head. "Before you depart my office today. Excuse me for a moment while I instruct my assistant on the specifics of the document."
When he had left, Nora blew out a breath. "That's a relief, right?"
"Not really." You offered a wan smile when Nora looked concerned, but you couldn't keep it on your face for long. "He's being too helpful. I can't help but feel suspicious about that."
Nora snorted. "Good instinct."
When Tohu returned, he said, "My assistant requires a few minutes to finalize the document, then you may proceed with the captain's treatment."
"Quick work," Nora remarked. "I would have expected generating a contract like that to take more time."
Tohu surveyed her coolly. "This situation was anticipated well in advance. I began work on the contract several days ago."
You fought to keep from saying anything that could break the fragile peace, but you weren't sure if you had succeeded, especially when the tension made the air in Tohu's office feel thick and close.
"Alpha-17 was not created sterile."
The statement - utterly unprompted and unexpected - came from Tohu. He dropped it almost casually into the silence of the room, as though it needed no response.
You gave one anyway. "I don't see how that would impact the cybernetic surgeries. Why do you mention it?"
As far as you knew, Kaminoans weren't capable of expressions like disappointment or wry amusement, but Tohu managed to project both of those as he studied you. "The Kaminoan race has not reached our elevated place in society by ignoring the obvious. If a child results from a union between you and Alpha, the Kamioan government would be the clear owner of it."
It. The casual dehumanization of something that didn't exist yet - and may never - was chilling enough that it robbed you of whatever response you might have scraped up.
Nora countered him, saving you from answering. She even chuckled as she said, "Categorically untrue. Sentients are considered free beings anywhere in the Republic and cannot be owned by a government, planet, or other group."
"The Kaminoan laboratories own the biological rights to Jango Fett's genes. He signed all the necessary documentation himself before his untimely death. Those genes that were used to breed every clone."
The way Nora's jaw tensed at that made something tighten in the pit of your stomach.
Tohu hadn't finished, apparently. "Alpha-17 may look human, but he is humanoid at best. The possible number of species he could breed with is unknown. And as there are clones stationed across the galaxy, the Republic would be extremely interested in knowing the possible outcomes to a clone-human pregnancy."
"There is precisely no possibility of a pregnancy between Captain Alpha-17 and I," you said as firmly as you could manage. "And if that was a veiled hint at what type of request you may make in the future, please know that is wildly outside the realm of what I would be willing to do."
"That was not a request, merely a warning," Tohu denied. "Several of the techs in the Tipoca City labs have remarked that you and Alpha-17 seem… close. Your strong interest in his health has reignited the speculation and our interest in such a possibility."
"This is part of my job with Sentient Rights," you reiterated. "I do not need a relationship with any clone trooper - sexual or platonic - to care about their health, especially when they were injured in the line of duty."
Tohu's eyes narrowed slightly, but before he could try to push for information any harder, the door opened. Tohu's assistant seemed to realize something was wrong, stepping inside and glancing back and forth between you and Tohu. There was a small stack of flimsi in his hand, the front page stamped with an official-looking seal.
"I have the… document," he started, eyeing Tohu carefully.
"I'll take that," Nora announced, snatching it from his grip before he could try to stop her. "We'll contact you if we need anything further for Alpha's treatment, Senator. We appreciate your assistance with this matter."
And then Nora dragged you out through the door. You didn't stop until you reached the hallway outside Senator Tohu's office. Tohu held eye contact until the door to his office closed between you.
Nora didn't speak until you both were safely alone in the turbolift.
"Do you have your..?" She trailed off meaningfully, holding the fingers of her free hand in a partial circle.
You stared at her blankly until she pointed to a security holocam in one corner of the turbolift. You nodded. "Disruptor puck. And yes, always."
"Are you pregnant?"
It would have been a laughable question, but you were still shaken by Tohu's cold certainty that you and Alpha had a relationship. "No."
"Are you sure?" Nora pressed, leaning closer.
That didn't even take thought. You and Alpha had been careful for as long as you had been sleeping together. Besides, your implant would be good for at least another five years unless you had it removed. "Absolutely sure."
Nora relaxed slightly, and you realized how much tension she had been holding. "As your lawyer - and your friend - I strongly suggest you keep it that way. And if you can't, get the hell off Kamino before anyone can point a med-scanner at you."
You nodded. The ever-lowering numbers ticked down on the turbolift's screen, counting the moments until you reached the bottom floor, but you didn't really see them. Visions of the greed in Tohu's eyes held your attention, and you shivered.
By the time you had returned to the military hospital facility, your nerves had settled and you had sworn Nora to secrecy. Getting Alpha upset about the accusations Tohu had made wouldn't help him through the surgery.
With the permission from Tohu, the entire process would move much more quickly. You had alerted Ransom while you were in Tohu's office and she had brought her designs and materials to the military medcenter. The facility had generously agreed to let her use one of their surgical bays and an assistant droid, and the surgery could take place as soon as all the pieces fell into place.
When you returned to Alpha's room, it was bustling with activity. You had to dodge a handful of medical assistants and a vaguely familiar Senatorial aide before you could get through the doorway.
Bail Organa was standing beside the bed, speaking with Alpha. Alpha's color was still off, his obvious pain tinting his natural skin tone with a sickly undertone. Still, he was replying to the senator readily enough. His eyes were bright and alert, and he spoke with a confidence you hadn't seen since he had left Kamino.
"He's looking strong," Ransom remarked, appearing silently beside you. "If you have permission from Senator Tohu, we should proceed with the first surgery today. I don't want to risk him losing strength again."
You nodded. "I have a document giving full permission for the surgeries. We still need Alpha to give his final approval for the cybernetics you have planned. I know we showed him before, but he didn't have as much to say as I expected. Alpha is nothing if not opinionated."
Ransom smiled and led the way to Alpha's bedside. "Excuse me, Senator, but we need to get Alpha's feedback about the surgical plans."
"You are… Ransom?" When she nodded in confirmation, Organa sized her up. Ransom accepted it with cool ease, cocking a brow when he finished. "I expected an underground cybernetics specialist to be… bigger."
Ransom's mouth twisted into a wry smile. "Would you be offended if I said I expected a renowned senator to be shorter?"
Organa stared at her for a moment before a loud laugh burst from him. "Fair enough. I'll leave you to speak with the Captain. I see a fellow Coruscant public servant I can speak with."
You followed his path with your eyes until you saw Organa greet a bemused-looking Maze. When your attention moved back to Alpha, you found that Ransom was holding a datapad up for him to see. Alpha was studying it gravely.
When Ransom finished pointing out various pieces of the design, he glanced at you and then to her. "And this will make me walk again?"
"I can't promise that," Ransom countered. It was the same response you had gotten from every medical specialist over the course of your entire life. You understood that they couldn't guarantee any specific result, but it was still frustrating.
"What I can say," Ransom continued, "is that I believe this design is your best chance to regain mobility."
She didn't vow full mobility - couldn't offer that, really - but any movement would keep him in the GAR and off of the Kaminoan reconditioning list.
Alpha nodded slowly. "I approve."
Ransom nodded. "We'll start with the spine implants first, then. We can adjust them as needed once they're in place, but we need to get them embedded before any nerve damage becomes permanent."
Your stomach tightened with stress. "When can we do the spinal surgery?"
"Immediately." Ransom was already making notes on the datapad. "Alpha, we'll start moving you to the surgical bay in the next few minutes."
As if the words had summoned it, the surgical assistant droid appeared at Alpha's bedside. "Nora Czajak has submitted the appropriate documentation and I have stocked a surgical bay. We must get Alpha-17 prepared for the procedure."
Your gaze flew to meet Alpha's, immediately noting the crinkle of apprehension between his brows. "I'll walk with you," you volunteered
One of Ransom's brows arched, but she nodded. "His bed is fitted with lifts, so we'll use it for transport to the surgical bay. I'll program it and go prep the bay while you two talk. Press this button when you two are ready."
When Ransom left the crowded room, Nora loudly cleared her throat. "C'mon, everyone! I'll show you where the lounge is. Anyone who wants to stay until after the procedure can wait there."
You sent a grateful look across the room and she winked back.
The crowd thinned quickly. You leaned down to ask, "How are you feeling today, Alpha?"
"I've felt worse."
That was roughly what you expected to hear, but you had learned to listen a level deeper with Alpha. His wounds must hurt since he hadn't specifically dismissed the idea of them hurting.
"Ransom thinks the spinal surgery should relieve some of the pressure on your back," you explained. Ransom was very good about treating Alpha as the decision-maker instead of a recipient of treatments other people chose, so she had probably already told him that. "Hopefully that will make you a bit more comfortable after you've healed."
Alpha nodded, but there was a tightness around his mouth that spoke of nervousness.
"Alpha, talk to me." You leaned in, using the pad of your thumb to rub away the stress lines around his mouth. "What's wrong?"
"I can't feel anything below my waist." The quiet admission made you blink, but Alpha continued. "I haven't been able to since they brought me here. I told Ransom when she was in for one of the early consultations. I figured she might need to know, but… if anyone in the GAR finds out, they'll decommission me. No one has any use for a trooper with no legs."
"Troopers lose limbs all the time," you countered through lips that had gone nearly numb with fear. "The GAR often gives them cybernetic replacements."
"That have to be wired into existing nerves." Alpha shook his head. "I don't know if those nerves are still alive in my hips. If there's nothing to wire a cybernetic into, that wouldn't be an option."
"Let's get through this surgery and see what happens," you suggested. "Worst case scenario, I steal you away and we go live in Wild Space. That was your plan if Brid's trial went bad, right?"
Alpha's lips quirked slightly. "Yes. I was going to be a water-watcher."
"Of course you were," you agreed, wishing you could kiss him. "And you would have been the best at it. Still could be, if it comes to that."
His gaze was steady as he said, "Might take you up on that, neverd'ika. Don't like the idea of relying on the mercy of the GAR."
"I'd never leave you to them."
Your fervent declaration made Alpha's brows raise in surprise, but he nodded once. "Then let's get me to the surgical bay. I have a future to figure out."
You couldn't risk a kiss, not when the med center probably had holocams everywhere. Instead, as you leaned in to press the pre-programmed buttons that would take Alpha's bed to the surgical bay, you murmured, "Kar'taylir darasuum, ner karta."
Alpha smiled, the most honest smile you had seen from him since the accident. "Kar'taylir darasuum, little one."
The walk to the surgical bay was short, but you treasured every instant. The droid stopped you at the door as Alpha's bed hovered inside. "I'm sorry, but you cannot continue any further. You are wearing outside clothes that have the potential to introduce dangerous bacteria and particles into the surgical bay."
"K-493, please prepare the patient for surgery," Ransom ordered. "We will begin momentarily."
The droid hurried to do as she asked, making minor adjustments to where Alpha's bed was sitting and drawing a large overhead light down closer. Ransom leaned in while the droid was away. "I'll get him back to you as soon as I can."
You smiled at her, though you were already beginning to cry. "Thanks, Ransom. Let me know if there's anything I can do."
There would be nothing, of course. You were hardly a surgeon and what you knew about cybernetics could be summed up in a few minutes of conversation, but Ransom tactfully agreed to call you if she needed anything. Then the door slid closed, the windows went opaque, and you left for the waiting area.
When Ransom came back out, most of the day had passed. Maze and Senator Organa had to go back to their respective jobs a few hours earlier and the room was far emptier without Organa's collection of aides. Nora was dozing in a corner, her head resting gently against the wall, but she sat up when you leapt to your feet.
"How is he?" you demanded.
Ransom smiled reassuringly, her demeanor serene. "The surgery went well. The spinal cybernetics are placed and the nodes are set up for connection to the leg augmentations we have planned. Alpha is still coming out from under the anasthesia, but I expect that he'll be fully awake in the next half hour."
"Can we go into his room?" Nora asked, before you could.
"Of course," Ransom agreed. "I'm sure he would be happy with some company, and holding a patient's hand has been proven to help them wake up more quickly."
That was bantha shit and you all knew it, but you also knew why Ransom had said it: the lie gave you a convenient reason to hold Alpha's hand as he woke up from the surgery.
Her estimation was nearly perfect. At the 25 minute mark, Alpha's grip tightened slightly and his eyelids fluttered. You and Nora had been chatting back and forth just to let Alpha know that he wasn't alone, but you broke off to speak to him directly.
"Nora and I are here when you finish waking up, Alpha."
"Yeah, we have water and some snacks in case you want either," Nora agreed. "But no rush. You've had a good nap."
"Ransom said you may feel a little queasy from the anasthesia, so take it slow." Your thumb rubbed gentle circles against the back of Alpha's hand. "She has some medicine she can give if you feel like you need it for nausea or pain."
Alpha took a few minutes to finish waking up. When his eyes sharpened back into the watchful gaze you knew, his torso twisted like he was trying to sit up.
"Lay back down," Ransom ordered, stepping back into the room. It was the first time you had heard her sound anything other than relaxed and in-control. "Yes, you can move your torso now. No, you shouldn't move your torso now. Your body has a lot of healing to do and it needs time and rest to do so. We'll work on finding out your adjusted range of motion tomorrow. For today, you need to stay as still as possible as your nerves and muscles start to grow around the cybernetics."
"Understood," Alpha agreed, settling back against the stack of pillows with only a slight wince. You were feeling a touch faint thinking about Alpha's nerves and muscles, so you focused on anything else.
"How do you feel?" you asked, leaning over to look directly in Alpha's face.
"Claustrophobic."
The word made you withdraw, pulling away in wry embarrassment, but Alpha didn't let go of your hand. "Not from you, neverd'ika. I haven't been able to move in a week. I want to stretch."
Ransom made a noise of warning behind you, but Alpha shook his head. "I won't, I just want to. I feel claustrophobic from lying here so long without moving."
"Just a few more hours and we'll put you through your paces," Ransom assured him.
Alpha nodded, his expression tightening as he turned his head away from the door.
"I need to use the 'fresher," Nora announced, giving Ransom a significant look. "Ransom, can you show me where it is?"
Ransom looked relieved. "Yeah, it's a little tricky to find. I'll just walk you…"
When they had left, you smiled at Alpha. "Subtle, aren't they?"
"Wouldn't have guessed a thing," he agreed wryly.
"Do you feel okay, though?" You vainly tried to fluff the flat, stiff pillow behind Alpha's shoulders. "Are you in pain?"
Alpha shook his head. "I'm still feeling the painkillers from the surgery. I just…"
His voice cracked and your hand rose toward his face. Alpha caught it, holding it against his cheek for a moment before pressing a kiss to your palm. "I'm going to walk again, neverd'ika. I never thought that could happen."
You hummed soothingly, wishing that you could disable every holocam on the floor without arousing suspicion. "We've both seen Ransom's plans, Alpha. You're going to do a lot more than that."
Alpha choked out a laugh and squeezed your hand, relaxing for the first time you'd seen since the accident.
---
Author's Note - Hey everyone! Sorry for another late chapter.
Not to get too personal, but as some of you know, I suffer from seasonal affective disorder that always seems to come to a head during January and February. I went to a really great concert in late January and then got so depressed that I lost my appetite for six weeks. That's a first for me and it had me very freaked out. Now that it's March and daylight saving time has started, I'm feeling much better and I realized that I forgot to post a chapter in February.
All of that is to say: thank you for reading, thank you for your patience, and thank you to anyone who has ever left a comment on this story (or any of my stories). I know I don't answer them as often as I should, but rereading those comments kept me going during some rough times. You can expect another chapter from me this month to make up for the missed one.
Warnings: References to field work, references to near-death experiences, nihilism, discussions of being trapped in a job
Previous | Next | Masterlist
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Part Eight
A series of missions and crises kept Mereel busy for two days. He didn’t have time to call you, though that didn’t keep the thought of you from crossing his mind occasionally. Sporadically. Too often, honestly, but the memory of your conversations helped him stay sane, so what was really the harm?
When he got to a safehouse, Mereel collapsed and slept soundly for the better part of a day. It wasn’t enough to regain what he had lost and he could have gladly gone back to sleep for the rest of the day. But something was missing.
He wasn’t even consciously aware of dialing the familiar comlink frequency, but after a moment of listening to the line ring, there was a click.
“Senator Julgum’s office. How may I help you?”
Ridiculously, Mereel had to swallow against a sudden lump in his throat. He hoped he hadn’t picked up some kind of bug in the field. The troopers were engineered with high metabolisms and strong immune systems, but a bad enough cold could affect even them.
“Hello?” you asked, sounding curious and slightly impatient.
“Hey, it’s me.”
There was a beat of silence in which Mereel began to feel very stupid. What if you didn’t know who ‘me’ was? There was a chance you wouldn’t recognize his voice. After all, how many calls did the senator get in a day?
“There you are,” you said at last. The knot in Mereel’s stomach loosened and he felt like he could float - especially at the slightest possible edge of relief in your voice. “Thought you might have died.”
If only you knew how close he had come… Would you be relieved that he was okay or regretful that he’d managed to skirt death?
“I’m touched that you were worried about me, laar’ika.”
Osik. Mereel hadn’t meant for that to slip out. All he could do was hope you somehow hadn’t heard it.
A tired-sounding sigh came over the line. “I don’t even want to know what that means.”
Osik. Okay, Mereel would settle for you not being able to identify it as Mando’a. There were several conclusions you could draw if you figured it out, none of which would work out in Mereel’s favor.
“Maybe I was trying to give you time to catch your breath,” he said playfully. “You know, before I came back to keep charming you off your feet.”
“This is you being charming?” you asked, so disbelieving that Mereel was almost offended. Almost. He was too busy laughing.
“This is extremely charming!” he protested through his own laughter. “C’mon, tell me I haven’t won you over yet.”
“You haven’t won me over.”
“Yeah?” Mereel asked. “Prove it.”
In retrospect, he really should have expected the line to disconnect.
After the previous heavy mission load, Mereel was happy to grab his downtime with both hands. Not least because it gave him the chance to talk to you more regularly.
By this point in your conversations, he had learned several of your favorite and least favorite things, including animals, food, music, and hobbies. He had started moving on to different topics out of necessity. And fervent interest, but necessity was what he told himself.
He decided to jump right in as soon as you picked up his next call. “I think you’re scared of being a disappointment.”
“What if someone else had answered the comlink?” you asked, sounding appalled. “The last thing I need is someone thinking that I’m making personal calls at work.”
Mereel thought about pointing out that the calls were essentially personal by that point, that he hadn’t asked to talk to Julgum in the better part of a week. But he didn’t, guessing that would be a quick way to end this conversation. Even quicker than every other conversation he had ever shared with you.
“I have to talk quickly with you,” he pointed out. “You’re always hanging up on me.”
You sighed, and Mereel grinned at the irritation in it. “Because we have nothing to talk about. You want to speak with Julgum without an appointment and I won’t let you. There’s nothing else to say.”
Mereel hummed. “Agree to disagree, sweetheart. By this point, I think Julgum is the least interesting person in that office.”
“If you’re going to be sarcastic-”
“I’m sarcastic a lot, but not this time,” he argued. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”
“You’ve never even met me,” you countered. “And you never will. Now, if that’s all?”
“No, it isn’t,” Mereel interrupted quickly, dreading the beep of a severed connection more than anything else in that moment. “And you still haven’t told me whether I’m right. Well, I am right, but you know I like to hear you say it.”
“About me being interesting?”
“No, about your greatest fear.” Mereel paused for a moment to consider it. “Though if you also want to admit that you’re interesting, I would listen.”
With nothing more than the faint sound of you sucking in a breath, Mereel knew he had pushed almost as far as you would go before you cut the call short. “C’mon, you know you want to tell me. What are you afraid of?”
“Heights.”
Mereel mulled that over for a second, considering it from every angle before he ultimately discarded it. “That’s not a fear, that’s an evolutionary respect for something that could kill you. What are you afraid of? What keeps you up at night, makes you feel like you can’t breathe when you think too hard about it?”
“What are you afraid of?” you countered.
“Letting my brothers down,” Mereel answered. It probably wasn’t wise to reveal so much of himself - especially since that actually was his greatest fear - but he figured he was safe. That was anonymous enough to avoid suspicion.
“You have brothers?”
“I do,” he confirmed. “And they are everything to me. Not that I would tell them that, of course. The surge of confidence would kill us all.”
You laughed - not a chuckle or a snort, but a full-fledged laugh - and Mereel’s heart stuttered in his chest. He’d never heard that sound before, but now he wondered how he had managed to live without it.
Ignorant of the effect your laughter had on him, you said, “I see that egotism is a family trait, then.”
“In varying degrees, but yeah.” The quiet felt peaceful. Intimate. Mereel cleared his throat. “So, what’s yours? I’m still gonna guess disappointing people.”
“Not disappointing people,” you scoffed. “Disappointing myself.”
A dozen jokes about egotism sprang to Mereel’s lips, but he pushed all of them away. It wasn’t the time. And, besides, it wasn’t true. Truth seemed more important than jokes just then. As much as that wasn’t Mereel’s style.
“That’s a good fear,” he said instead. “How are you going to avoid disappointing yourself?”
“By finding a time machine, apparently,” you admitted with a sigh. The quiet statement was backed by a shrill creak that made Mereel think you had slouched back in your chair.
“The job is bad?”
“Worse than you would believe.”
“I have some experience with bad careers.” Well, the GAR was closer to servitude than a career, but Mereel felt he could sympathize. “Sometimes, you just have to pick a direction you think will get you out of there. Then you keep going until you get out… or die.”
“Dark,” you commented. “But solid advice. Thank you.”
“Anytime.”
And then, because the mood had started to feel a little too intimate again, Mereel put his best sly tone into his voice. “Y’know, if you really want to thank me for the advice…”
“I’m not telling you my name,” you shut down instantly. You sounded tired, but Mereel was fairly certain the tone was for effect, just as his own had been. You sounded lighter than you usually did.
“I wasn’t going to ask your name!” Mereel protested. “I was going to ask what you look like. I need some way to picture how irritated I make you.”
“I’m not telling you that, either.”
Mereel sighed dramatically. “Fine. But I still bet you’re beautiful.”
“Goodbye.”
The comlink beep wasn’t quite as devastating as Mereel remembered it being. Or, if it was, the effect had been softened by the farewell.
---
Author's Note - Well, slightly faster update this time! I've slowed down on working on this story (brain worms from another fandom are taking over lol), but I'm still working on it. Plus there are a solid number of completed chapters ready to go.
Let me go ahead and warn you all that my work is getting busy again, unfortunately. That means I'm probably not going to update more than once a month, which feels a little like cheating since these chapters are so short. Thank you for your patience, and to everyone who was so excited to see this story return!
Thank you all for reading. I'll see you next month!
Warnings: Worry, references to traveling through a war zone, injuries, dehumanization
Previous (SFW) | Previous (NSFW) | Next | Masterlist
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Chaab (Fear)
“I miss you,” you murmured into the comlink, cupping your hand a little closer around it.
Alpha chuckled. “Miss you, too, neverd’ika. But I’ll be back soon.”
The timing was less than convenient for both of you. You were in the small office you shared with Commander Colt and Alpha was on a compact ship with Senator Bail Organa. But he was about to cross into a galactic zone that had been crawling with Separatist activity recently. Communication would be more dangerous in that zone, so you had agreed to have a comm call before he got there.
Fortunately, Colt wasn’t in the office when Alpha called.
He had never said anything too direct, but Colt had dropped hints that he knew about you and Alpha. He didn’t seem unhappy about it, but you thought he would probably draw the line at sitting by while you and Alpha chatted lovingly over your long-distance comlink.
“How is the senator?” you asked.
“Determined as ever to end this war with a conversation,” Alpha replied. You could hear the eye roll that accompanied those words. “Politicians are always idealists, no matter which side they’re on.”
“Organa is one of the good ones, if I remember correctly.” Your time in the Republic Senate had predated most of the war, but you and the other Senatorial aides had spent a lot of time comparing notes about which senators were kind and which ones looked down on the members of their staff.
Alpha sighed. “He’s fine, I suppose. Keeps wanting to talk to me when I’m flying the ship.”
“You’re flying the ship?” you repeated, startled. “It should have autopilot capability.”
“It does,” he agreed. “But every time I turn on the autopilot, Organa wants to talk.”
You laughed despite yourself. Alpha did a good job pretending to be a miserable grump, but you secretly thought that he didn’t know how to handle honest social interaction without putting on a front. It made him feel safe, kept expectations low.
“Maybe you should just talk to him. After all, we won’t be able to talk for at least two days.”
Teasing him about it abruptly felt hollow. You were dreading these two days, even if Alpha and Senator Organa were just going to visit a neutral planet. With any luck, they could convince the planet’s government to join the Republic and come back to Republic-controlled space, but you had your doubts. It wouldn’t be easy to convince any planet that had remained neutral this far into the war.
“Breathe, little one,” Alpha soothed, apparently reading into your silence. “This is an easy mission. Not too far from Kamino, and I don’t need to do anything more than act as Organa’s muscle.”
“I know,” you replied automatically. Then, with a smile at your own dramatics, you said, “I just don’t like the idea of not speaking with you for that time. I don’t like that we’ll be out of contact, I mean.”
“We could still speak, it would just be a little more dangerous.”
You stared at the comlink in dismay. “No, we could not! It would make your mission even more dangerous, and that’s not something I’m willing to risk. Even to talk to you.”
Alpha laughed, the sound crackling through the tiny speaker of your comlink. “Fine, neverd’ika, we don’t have to talk. Just reminding you that it’s technically an option.”
“Not as far as I’m concerned,” you insisted stubbornly. “I want you safe.”
“I will be, I promise.” There was a moment of quiet and something in your gut tightened. When Alpha spoke again, his tone was filled with regret. “We’re almost to neutral space. I should probably…”
“I know, Alpha,” you agreed quietly. “I love you.”
“Love you too, little one.” Alpha paused again and you could see through it: he was just as reluctant to sever the connection as you were. The idea made your heart ache. “I’ll contact you in two days.”
“If you’re off the planet by then.”
“I’ll contact you,” he repeated, insistent, “in two days.”
“Okay, Alpha.” Then, just for good measure, “I love you.”
“I love you, ner karta,” Alpha told you, voice warm. “Two days.”
Before you could say anything else to prolong the goodbye, he severed the connection. You lowered the comlink, trying not to think about how empty the office - the planet, really - felt without knowing that Alpha was nearby.
After a moment of worry and self-pity, you forced yourself to take a deep breath. Alpha was the most single-minded person you had ever known. If he was determined to get back to you - and he was - nothing would keep him away. He would come back to Kamino and back to you. You could be certain of that.
And so you threw yourself into work.
While you didn’t have a goal as concrete as a Senatorial report in your new job with Sentient Rights, there were still things you needed to get done in a day. There were processes to track, reports to investigate, and you were working to set up frameworks for large-scale changes on Kamino.
So that was what you did, working consistently to while away the hours until Alpha could comm. Or, better yet, until he would be back on Kamino.
You pushed away the knot in your stomach when you didn’t hear anything at the two-day mark.
You couldn't keep the worries away at the three day mark.
At four days, you were doing your best to focus on work at all. Alpha was all you could think about. He was in your every waking thought and you dreamed of him every night. Phantom comlink chimes had your hand darting toward your opposite wrist at least a dozen times every day only to fall away disappointed.
In the early afternoon, you found yourself sharing the small office with Commander Colt. Colt was fully occupied with his datapad, and - even from across the room - you could see that it held some kind of report. Occasionally, Colt would let out a little sigh and mark something down on the ‘pad, or type out something new. Once, he consulted a stack of notes before making an addition to the report.
Dimly, you wondered whether he would notice if you stood up and began pacing aimlessly around the room. The breath-stealing tension of the last few days eased slightly when you were moving. The more strenuous movements were better, but pacing was better than nothing.
A comlink chimed.
Your hand whipped toward your wrist, accepting the call, but the chime came again. It hadn’t been to your comlink at all, and Colt gave you an odd look as he accepted the comm on his vambrace.
“This is Colt.”
“Commander,” a familiar voice greeted. “This is Bail Organa.”
Something in your stomach eased at the sound of Senator Organa’s voice. He wouldn’t call Colt if he and Alpha were in trouble on the neutral planet, and he would comm if they were still in Separatist space. He and Alpha had to be in Republic-controlled space by now. That meant they were only a day and a half away at most.
All of that logical reasoning took place in a millisecond, and Colt replied, “What can I do for you, Senator?”
“Alpha and I were attacked by General Grievous while we were traveling through Separatist space,” Bail Organa reported. You didn’t remember leaping to your feet, but Colt motioned for you to stay back while the senator continued speaking. “We got assistance from a passing Republic cruiser.”
“Were there any injuries?”
“I’m fine, but Alpha was injured badly. The cruiser took him to a medstation. They wouldn’t let me stay with him. I’ve been ordered to return to Coruscant with the 104th Battalion.” Senator Organa was quiet for a moment while you struggled to keep your breathing even. “Commander, Alpha is in bad shape. I’m not sure how much they’ll be able to do for him.”
You made a pained sound, high and sharp enough to make Organa ask, “What was that sound? I think our connection may be having trouble.”
“No, sir, that was the noise of me moving my chair,” Colt excused. “Which medstation was Alpha taken to?”
“I don’t know.” The only thing that kept you from screaming was that Organa sounded frustrated and heartbroken by that. “They said it was outside of my security clearance to get any details. I’m a senator and Alpha was assigned to my protection. Nothing should be outside of my security clearance in this situation.”
“I agree, but you’ve already been more help than you realize.” Colt took out a pen and began jotting notes onto a spare piece of flimsi. “When did you drop off the captain?”
“Earlier this afternoon. Probably 30 minutes ago - no more. I contacted you as soon as we got back in range for a civilian comlink.”
“30 minutes,” Colt repeated as he wrote it down. “Thank you, Senator Organa. I’ll get this information to the right people. They’ll make sure he’s taken care of.”
“Have them contact me directly,” Organa instructed. “I’ll do everything in my power to help Alpha recover. Just tell me what he needs.”
“They’ll be in touch. Be safe, senator.”
You felt like the room was tipping around you, like the platform was falling off its support and you were sliding into the sea. There were several seconds that you seemed to have missed entirely - Colt was suddenly across the room and gripping your shoulders.
“Deep breath,” he reminded, gaze boring into yours. His voice was so level and firm that it seemed entirely natural for you to nod and do as he ordered.
A breath made you feel like your feet were back on solid ground. A second breath brought back your peripheral vision. A third breath gave you back some semblance of thought.
“Colt, what are we going to do about Alpha?” The return of your brainpower meant that your ability to think about the situation had returned as well. Unfortunately, the logical reasoning that had so impressed Alpha in the past was gone.
Stars, Alpha. Would you ever see him again? The Kaminoans weren’t interested in saving a trooper’s life unless there was a clear benefit for them. And you hadn’t exactly endeared yourself to them. They might even find a reason to recondition Alpha simply because they knew the two of you were close…
“-come back.” Colt gave your shoulders a little shake. “Stay with me. We can find him, but you have to keep yourself together. Can you do that? For Alpha?”
You were nodding before you could fully parse that. For Alpha. You could do anything for Alpha.
“What-” You paused to gulp a breath and set your cracked lips. “What can I do? I don’t have access to the details of Alpha’s trip and there are hundreds of medstations across the galaxy.”
“We know that Organa and Alpha were picked up by the 104th battalion,” Colt laid out all of the information for you - a plain trail you could follow even in your shaken state. “And we know that they left the medstation roughly half an hour ago. If we can access the Wolfpack’s location now, we can chart their maximum travel distance to half an hour in every direction, then cross-check that against the full list of medstations.”
You stared. “Colt, you’re wasted on Kamino.”
“Don’t I know it.” Colt tapped the long-abandoned datapad lying on the desk in front of you. “Come on, we need to get the 104th’s location. The longer we wait, the more likely it is that they’ll be in range of multiple medstations.”
Medstations were a highly secretive part of the GAR. Everyone knew they existed, but their locations were top-secret and changed often. Each ship held dozens or even hundreds of injured troopers at any given time, and their defensive capabilities were famously limited. They were a prime target for any Separatist ship that could find one, so the Republic tried to make sure no one could accidentally give away the location of any medstation. Even you, with all your top-level security access, couldn’t easily find a medstation. Finding a specific one should have been impossible.
However, with Colt’s suggestions, you easily tracked the 104th’s path. If you tracked the flight path of the Solidarity - the Star Destroyer helmed by General Plo Koon - you could calculate the difference between where the ship currently was and where it had been thirty minutes before. The ship’s next destination was Coruscant, but the flight path’s proximity to Separatist space had left it unable to enter hyperspace. That was the only thing that made your calculations possible.
You pinged the coordinates where you thought the medstation was, and your comlink tried to connect to a router in the area. There was something there, and your heart leapt. “I think I found it.”
Colt straightened quickly, walking to your side of the office. He had been silent through the long minutes it had taken you to track down the coordinates you needed.
“Then we need to comm someone with Sentient Rights,” he urged. “We know where he is, but they can help you push to find out how he is. We need to know…” An odd look crossed Colt’s face as he trailed off. When he spoke again, his voice was gentle. “We need to know how bad his injuries are. And if he can leave the medstation.”
Your breath caught at the reminder that there was no way of knowing how badly Alpha really was injured.
Well, that wasn't quite true. Senator Organa had said Alpha was injured quite badly. Badly enough that he wasn't sure how much the medstation could do for Alpha.
Your fingers flew as you worked on your data terminal, composing a proposal. It was difficult to work when you couldn't stop crying, but you managed. The words poured out from your fingers, spinning grand phrases that you hoped would strike a chord with the Sentient Rights advocacy team.
-the only ARC trainer for the entire GAR, with remarkably low casualty numbers for troopers who underwent his training process-
-injured in the line of duty while protecting a prominent Republic senator returning from peaceful negotiations-
-could mark a turning point in the way injured clone troopers are treated with respect to their individual health and quality of life-
-recommend immediate contact with the medstation to prevent covert reconditioning and transfer to a Coruscant-based medical facility as soon as feasible-
When you finally sat back, you glanced over at Colt. He had been sending messages from his comlink, but was immediately aware of the fact that you had finished writing your proposal. “What can I do?”
You pushed the screen of the terminal toward him, motioning for him to step closer. “Can you read over this? I think it all makes sense, but I can’t tell anymore.”
When Colt had pronounced it coherent, you sent the message to your supervisors.
“Direct it to General Ti as well,” Colt urged you. “She wants to discuss it with the Jedi Council so they can weigh in. That can only help him.”
You nodded, sending a copy to Shaak Ti’s terminal address. With that done, you sat back, struggling under the crushing weight of worry. Colt, clearly having seen your struggle to keep calm, rested a hand on your shoulder. “You should go back to your quarters for the day. There’s nothing else you can do right now, and it’ll be impossible to work with this hanging over you.”
Halfway to the door, you paused. “Do you think the Kaminoans know?”
“I’m not sure,” Colt admitted after a moment. “Senator Organa will have to make an official report eventually, and so will the medstation. But if there are troopers in charge of it? They’ll delay as long as they can. Alpha is well-regarded. People will take risks to protect him.”
That was a slight comfort to you, but most of your attention was fixed on the man you loved and your limited ability to get help for him as quickly as possible.
Less than a full day later, you had gotten on a ship and left for Coruscant. Alpha was being moved there as soon as his condition was satisfactorily stable. It had taken hours for you to even hear that much about him.
From what you were able to glean from your short conversation with a trooper who worked on the medstation, Alpha had been slashed by one of General Grievous’s lightsabers. Grievous had ambushed their ship in an attempt to kill Senator Organa. Alpha protected the senator, injuring Grievous as he did, but the Separatist warlord had gotten behind him somehow, slicing brutally across Alpha’s back.
There had been damage to Alpha’s spine, severe enough that he hadn’t been able to walk without help from Organa. The pain had put him close to unconsciousness. Alpha was still able to fire off a volley of bolts to keep Grievous at bay, but the situation had been dire. In fact, if they hadn’t received backup from the 104th, Grievous would very likely have killed both men.
Sentient Rights had pulled some strings to get you on a transport with permission to use hyperspace lanes. The three-day travel time was agonizing, even with the distraction of setting up all your Coruscant contacts. You didn’t have terribly many left, but you still had friends at the Senate and you had told Nora Czajak that you would be planetside with an injured Alpha. You weren’t counting on committing a crime, but you weren’t going to say it was impossible. The list of crimes you would commit to keep Alpha safe was long and growing.
His transport would arrive on Coruscant over a day before yours, a fact you begrudged with every second it took to get there. Nora had promised to keep him safe, even if Bail Organa wouldn’t or couldn’t. The senator would do everything in his power, you didn’t doubt that for a moment… but Nora was wily. It wasn’t a quality you took lightly.
The instant your feet touched the surface of the landing pad, a familiar figure raised a hand as if to guide your searching gaze.
“Maze,” you greeted, rushing toward him. “Where is he?”
You weren’t sure you had ever appreciated the brevity of the clone troopers as much as you did in that moment. Rather than ask any silly questions or distract you with empty pleasantries, Maze simply indicated the direction with a tilt of his head.
“Follow me.”
You trotted behind him like an akk hound puppy, but you couldn’t have cared less how you looked to outsiders. You and Alpha were on the same planet, and nothing was going to keep you from him a second longer than necessary. At least you knew that Maze would get you to his brother, no matter what obstacles came.
Something in Maze’s stance or movements must have clearly broadcast his exceptional lack of patience, even to civilians. Beings of every size and race scattered ahead of him, no matter how important their own tasks seemed to be. And when he had passed, the two halves of the crowd were slow to merge behind him. If you wanted, you could have followed at a much larger distance and never lost sight of a single piece of his armor.
Alpha was in a towering gray building in the middle of Coronet City’s Military Sector. Small windows dotted the walls you could see, but the glass was fogged and discolored by the exhaust from the Coruscant traffic overhead. This was a military hospital - that much would have been clear even if it was in the heart of the Political Sector and not disconcertingly close to GAR headquarters.
Unlike every other hospital you had visited, this one had very little in the way of greeting. Maze scanned a chip in the vambrace of his armor and the front door slid open. He walked directly past the droid at the reception area without bothering to tell it Alpha’s trooper designation. You followed after a moment of eye contact with the droid. One of its eye sockets was failing, and the blinking light threatened to send you into a migraine.
The turbolifts were tucked around the corner, exactly where you knew they would be. Maze led you there unerringly and pressed the correct button to send the hololift zooming upward.
You took the quiet moment in the lift to steady yourself. Alpha needed you. You knew that he was going to be in bad shape. The Kaminoans hadn’t even fought to keep him on the medstation. Much as you wished that meant they knew he wouldn’t get the help he needed there, you knew it was likely because they didn’t expect him to survive his injuries.
Armed with that knowledge and those reminders, you followed Maze to a nondescript door in a line of dozens of nondescript doors. The room was unremarkable, from what you noticed, but your attention was fixed so firmly on Alpha that the room could have been made entirely of transparisteel and you wouldn’t have known.
In books and holodramas, you had always heard how small someone looks in a hospital bed. Alpha didn't look small. His muscled bulk seemed as large as ever, but there was clearly something wrong. His limbs lay still, slack in an unnatural way.
Alpha was lying on his stomach on the… well, it wasn’t quite a bed. The surface was made of several different levels of cushioned boards, held at appropriate heights by a collection of extendable supports. The aim was clearly to keep Alpha’s spine straight while alleviating as much pressure from it as possible. His face was turned toward the door, eyes closed, and you noted how harsh the lines of his expression were etched.
You had never seen Alpha openly in pain before - not for longer than it took to reset a broken nose - but he was clearly suffering.
Before you could think better of it, you had crossed the room and bent to press a kiss to Alpha’s cheek.
His eyes fluttered open, the sharp line between his brows smoothing slightly when he caught sight of you. “Neverd’ika.”
“Hi, ner karta,” you greeted back, smiling as warmly as you could manage. “I heard you had to save a senator from the most notorious Separatist general in the galaxy.”
“You know how useless senators are.” Alpha reached to take your hand, but froze with a pained grunt when the movement shifted the powerful muscles of his back. You slipped your hand into the loose fist of his fingers, glancing uncertainly back toward Maze.
“It’s time for your next dose of pain meds,” Maze supplied. “I’ll go find the med-droid.”
Alpha didn't say anything in response, his eyelids fluttering closed. When he didn't reopen them, you allowed your gaze to move to his injuries for the first time.
His back was a mess. Even the far stretches of his skin were red, bruises forming in places where you bet he had fallen. His armor had protected him from the worst of the impact, but it couldn't prevent him from hitting the inside of the plastoid itself.
But nothing compared to the center of his back. From the space just above his shoulder blades to the small of his back was a mess of blisters and skin that almost looked like it had bubbled. The worst were the slashing lines across his skin. The thin cuts would seem almost minor compared to the rapidly forming burns if they weren't so devastatingly deep, crossing his spine at an alarming frequency.
Your eyes brimmed and you fought to keep your grip light in Alpha's hand. “Bad shape” Organa had said. If nothing else, it convinced you that he didn't know how extreme Alpha's injuries were. Maybe he hadn't been able to tell under the remains of Alpha's armor.
"Please step away from the patient."
You automatically moved to one side, allowing the med-droid to get as close to Alpha as it needed to. You kept your hand in his, though. They could accuse you of whatever they wanted, but you weren't going to let Alpha feel alone for another moment.
Despite the pleasant female voice it had been programmed with, the droid didn't speak directly to Alpha as it administered a shot into the delicate veins in the back of his hand. With that done, it performed a quick scan of his vitals before moving as if to leave the room entirely.
You stepped in its way. "I need to speak with the doctor."
The droid watched you for a long moment. "There is no doctor assigned to this case."
"Impossible," you denied immediately. "Med-droids are not allowed to diagnose or treat patients outside of a doctor's supervision. I need to speak with that doctor."
"There is no doctor assigned to this case," the med-droid repeated. "An offsite physician studies case files built in our medical headquarters and determines what treatment each patient will receive. I cannot allow you to speak with the doctor, as there is no doctor on the hospital premises."
Rage coiled in, a familiar warmth in your belly. When you spoke again, your voice was tight with it. "Then I require the physician's address. I will go speak with them personally."
"I cannot disclose the physician's personal address-" the droid started, but you interrupted before it could finish.
"Then you should bring the physician to this medical facility," you advised. "If I cannot speak with a qualified medical professional about Captain Alpha-17's case in the next hour, I will submit the paperwork for a full-scale audit of this place and how the administration is spending Republic tax dollars in the treatment of clone troopers. I hope the facility also uses administration droids. The audit process can be quite thorough. They tend to last for months. I've seen some take years."
The droid did not move. It was facing you, visual intake ports aimed blankly in your direction. At last, it said, "A physician will be with you shortly."
You nodded, murmuring your thanks. You only vaguely heard the droid whirring away as you studied Alpha's face. The terrible tension in his expression had melted away, but he still seemed to be in pain. You could see it in the set of his jaw and the ridge of his brow. His lips - slightly slack where his face pressed into the surface below it - were surrounded by a thin web of lines emanating from the scar Ventress had given him.
"Hold on, cyare," you entreated softly.
There was an odd tension in the air, and you remembered Maze's presence. You heard him shift his weight from one foot to another and you remembered abruptly that he had a job he was required to do.
"If you need to leave, Maze, you can," you assured him, twisting to look over your own shoulder rather than release Alpha's hand. "I don't want you to get in trouble. I'll stay with him."
"No, I have a few more minutes," Maze denied, glancing down at his wrist chrono. "I want to be here when the doc visits, but then I'll have to leave."
"I understand." You smiled back at him. "Thank you, Maze. Thank you for being here for him."
Maze's jaw worked, but he gave a shallow nod instead of answering you aloud.
When the doctor came in nearly ten minutes later, he wasn't what you had expected. He was a slender human male who appeared slightly out of breath. He looked incredibly young as he glanced around the room, clutching his clipboard as if it were a shield.
You nodded graciously at him, introducing yourself. "It's nice to meet you. I understand you're in charge of the treatment decisions for Captain Alpha-17. I'm here to represent his interests, on behalf of Kamino and the Sentient Rights organization. Can you tell me about his diagnosis?"
"I'm Dr. Fher," the man offered. You were somewhat surprised that his voice didn't crack. "The captain is suffering from extreme damage to his spine. I've made him as comfortable as possible, but it's likely he'll never walk again."
You blinked, caught between shock at the diagnosis and disgust at the blunt way it was offered. "You're not much for bedside manner, are you, Dr. Fher?"
To his credit, Fher looked abashed. "I'm sorry. I'm not used to speaking with patients or their fam… uh… With anyone else, I mean. I usually just analyze the data the droids collect, then formulate a treatment plan and send it back to the droids. I am rarely here personally."
"Well, that's something to keep in mind," you said slowly, trying not to start shouting. "What can be done for Alpha?"
Fher blinked at you. "Nothing can be done. Not here, and not for a clone trooper. If he had access to high-level cybernetics and the best surgeons, Alpha-17 could perhaps regain his former position as an ARC trainer, but according to the Kaminoan standards-"
You were incredibly disinterested in hearing about the Kaminoan standards. You knew them already - no treatments that could not guarantee a 95% rate of effectiveness when compared with the trooper's previous performance, and no treatments that took more than one month to administer and heal from - so you cut him off.
"Dr. Fher, Alpha was injured saving the life of a Republic Senator," you explained as patiently as you could manage. "That senator has agreed to pay for any treatment Alpha may need. I will worry about the Kaminoan standards. I just want to know how you would go about treating Alpha if credits were no object."
"Oh, I-" Fher seemed embarrassed again. "I don't know much about cybernetics. You would need a specialist."
"And they would need to work with a surgeon?" you checked.
Fher nodded. "Of course, but the best cybernetics specialists usually have a short list of surgeons they work with. They don't trust anyone else."
"And do you have any suggestions for the best specialist?"
"Outside of my knowledge, I'm afraid," Fher admitted. "The only ones I know are the famous ones - Holvi Sikis, Gulninu Rugg, Ransom…"
None of the names were even slightly familiar to you, so you just nodded. "Thanks anyway. I'll see if I can find anyone with contacts in cybernetics. I appreciate your time, Doctor Fher."
Fher glanced from you to Alpha, his eyes lingering for a moment on the captain's visible burns before pulling himself away. "Good luck."
Maze snorted behind you as the doctor left. "Useless neverd."
"At least he seemed to care about Alpha's health by the time he left," you replied, trying to fight back your own surge of irritation at the lack of real direction Fher had offered.
"If they only see us as people when we have a nat-born to vouch for us, they don't really see us as people at all." Maze didn't give you time to respond, which was probably on purpose. "How are you going to find a cybernetics specialist for him?"
Your eyes followed the jerk of Maze's chin toward Alpha. That painful strain around his eyes and mouth made you feel like you would take on the galaxy to get him help. "I was hoping you knew someone, honestly."
Maze laughed joylessly. "Cybernetics specialists are usually rich or criminals. Or both. Not groups known for talking with the Corrie Guard."
"Then I'll have to ask someone else," you decided. "I still know a few people here."
"Let me know if you find anything," Maze instructed, "especially if you have to meet up with someone scummy. I'll come along myself if I can, or I'll find someone else to be your backup. Triple Zero's gotten worse in the past few months, capital of the Republic or not."
"Go," you insisted, risking a short hug before he left. To your surprise, Maze wrapped his free arm behind your back, holding you close for a split second before he let go and left the room without a backward glance.
You took a moment in the quiet medbay room to collect yourself. Matching your breathing to Alpha's was helpful, though the sedatives in his system meant you weren't able to keep up the slow pace for very long.
When you turned your attention to your comlink, there was only one real option for a person to call. "Nora? I need some advice."
---
Author's Note - I cut it a little close, but I still got this posted in January, so I'm going to consider that a win!
Looking back on it, I'm pretty sure writing this chapter was my way of coping with a similar situation that happened with a loved one in my past (specifically the medical emergency when you're too far away to get there quickly and no one knows where the emergency transportation is). But that one worked out okay and this one will, too. I promise!
Warnings: References to seduction, manipulation, and flattery
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Part Seven
It took just a day to finish creating his plan of attack. The assistant had shown some personality after all, and Mereel didn’t miss that you had participated in an actual conversation with him. There was hope for this plan - not only to get any real information from Julgum, but to have a contact inside of the Senate.
There was really no way to put it other than the truth: he needed to seduce you.
Not necessarily romantically, much less sexually, but a seduction all the same. You needed to ignore whatever reluctance you had about sharing information, and that would all be easier if you considered Mereel a friend.
It would be even easier if you considered Mereel a potential romantic partner, though.
Mereel wasn’t against the idea. Far from it. You had ended up being quick-witted and funny, with a dry sense of humor that tickled him. He had even asked what you looked like. Mereel wasn’t picky about looks, but he had suddenly wanted to know. Besides, the way people answered questions about themselves often told him more than the actual answers did.
And your flat refusal of his guess that you were pretty gave away more than you had ever intended it to.
But Mereel pushed all of that away even as he reached for the comlink he always kept in arm’s reach those days. He had the number for Julgum’s office memorized. His eidetic memory meant that it didn't take any real effort, but it was still something he hadn’t anticipated.
“Senator Julgum’s office. How may I help you?”
The familiar greeting made him smile. “Still don’t recognize my frequency?”
There was a slight pause, but - to your credit - you recovered quickly. “The Senate prohibits the tracking or recording of any incoming frequencies. It’s seen as an invasion of the caller’s privacy. It’s the same reason I’ve never asked for your name.”
“And here I thought you just weren’t interested.” It had actually started to bother him, simply because it was a startling lack of professionalism from someone who was so perfectly professional. “Do you want to know my name?”
“No,” you refused instantly.
Mereel frowned. He couldn’t have given you his real name, of course, but he had more than a few aliases in rotation at any given time. “You could have pretended to think about it for a minute. You’re going to bruise my ego.”
"Think of it as me being fair," you said instead. "I'm not going to give you my name, either."
Ah. That had been a consideration, but Mereel wasn't going to admit it.
"I didn't realize you hadn't said it," he breezed. "Isn't that part of any standard office greeting?"
"No," you said flatly, then sighed. "Well, yes, but not in the office of Senator Julgum."
Mereel hadn’t held any real opinions about the senator when he first called the man’s office. Julgum potentially had information the Nulls needed, and that was enough to make him a person of interest. But the few things he had heard from Julgum's secretary - no, his assistant, someone who should have been considered nearly a partner - Mereel wasn’t impressed by the man.
“That sounds about right,” he told you. “Isn’t that common among politicians? Or is he particularly bad?”
“He-” The hiccup made Mereel lean forward, tantalized with his interest, but there was no real answer incoming. “This is neither the time nor place to discuss the conditions in this office. Do you have an appointment?”
“Come on,” Mereel complained. “I thought we were having an actual conversation there.”
“I don’t get paid to have conversations on the Senate’s time. Actual or otherwise. Do you have an appointment to speak with Senator Julgum?”
“We both know the answer to that.”
“Goodbye.”
Mereel left you alone for the rest of the day, but he was back at it by mid-morning on the next day.
“Senator Julgum’s office. How may I help you?”
“Hello, maybe you can help answer a question for me,” Mereel said, not bothering to disguise his voice. “I believe I offended someone in this office yesterday. Would you be able to check on that for me?”
“That depends,” you said, voice wary. “Were you trying to offend them or was it just a happy accident?”
“I would never try to offend someone who is just doing their job,” Mereel told you. It was even truthful… well, assuming the person’s job didn’t interfere with something he needed. “Especially not someone who’s been so interesting to speak with.”
“You didn’t offend me,” you told him. Ridiculously, something inside of Mereel’s chest relaxed at that. “But the senator came back early from a meeting. I needed to speak with him rather than stay on the line with you.”
Mereel hummed, letting the smile on his face carry into the sound. “Thank you for that. Almost a full day with a depleted ego was hard on me.”
When you sighed, Mereel could hear that you weren’t smiling in the least, which only made him grin wider. “I didn’t say that I wanted to stay on the line with you.”
“No, but you did want to,” he concluded smugly. “And don’t bother denying that. I may not know your name or what you look like, but I know enough not to fall for that.”
The irritated sound you made brought such a surge of satisfaction that Mereel could have laughed aloud. Instead, he kept talking before you could sever the connection. “Let’s keep that momentum going, yeah? What’s your favorite color?”
“My- What?”
“Yes, you. Your favorite color. What is it?”
“I… don’t know?” You were clearly bewildered. “I haven’t thought about that since I was a kid.”
“Sad,” Mereel commented. “But now’s as good a time as any.”
The silence stretched. Even Mereel’s sharp hearing couldn’t hear you on the other end of the line and he was starting to get suspicious. His comlink would alert him when the call was disconnected, but you could have put him on hold. That would actually be quite clever…
Mereel decided to give up, end the connection, and call the office again. As his finger moved to press the button, he heard the slightest intake of breath and paused.
“I like blue.”
The call disconnected, but Mereel was smiling anyway. You had given him something important - that small piece of information was akin to giving him a part of you. But more than that, you had as good as told him that you were willing to form a connection with him.
---
Author's Note - Hi, friends! In the unlikely chance that anyone has waited two years, a month, and two weeks for an update, I'm back! @gloriousinthebattle commented on this fic and it made me realize that I had written additional chapters and never posted them because I thought they were terrible.
Upon rereading? Not as bad as I thought! And then I got hit with brain worms, so we're looking at another six chapters or so with maybe more to come.
Anyway, shout-out to gloriousinthebattle for reminding me that this story exists! Not sure about the update schedule for this one, but I'll be back with more parts with a much shorter wait lol. Thanks for reading and I'll see you soon!
Warnings: Distrust, political machinations, references to genocide (not in so many words), descriptions of a prison, grief, blackmail, unwise career moves.
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Mirci't (Prisoner)
Lon Tohu was a sight to behold, even over a long-range holoprojector. He was expressive, especially for a Kaminoan. Privately, you wondered if that was how he had gained the nomination as Kamino’s senator - if he could emote more strongly than most Kaminoans, he had a better chance of earning the trust of other galactic government organizations.
It would have seemed ridiculous bordering on paranoid for any other group, but your time on the planet had given you a unique insight into the way Kaminoans worked. They considered every angle before acting. Often well before, often making plans and contingency plans years before any given situation occurred. Surely they had thought of something as simple as their own senator becoming a traitor in the eyes of the Republic.
Even if they hadn't, Tohu was doing his best to look pleasant and utterly nonthreatening. It wasn't working very well; your every instinct was screaming. Something was wrong.
“How are you settling into your new role on Kamino?” Tohu asked, smiling graciously.
The skepticism broiling inside of you surged, but you carefully controlled your facial expression. “Very well, thank you. And you? How do you find the Republic Senate? It can’t be easy - not with the allegations against Dralnulo.”
“Klaanuc Dralnulo has not been officially convicted of any crimes.” The unfortunate thing about having such prominent eyes was that Tohu’s eye twitch was especially noticeable.
You smiled gently. “Of course not. But then, how could he be? No one has seen him since Akridia Brid reappeared and made her claims in court.”
Tohu’s head bobbed gently on his neck as he stared at you through the lens of the holoprojector. “I should think that you, of all people, would be quick to remind others that the claims of Akridia Brid are nothing more than her desperate attempts to blame her crimes on others.”
You inclined your head at that one.
“In answer to your question, I find the Republic Senate… interesting. Many opinions, naturally. Coruscant, however…” Tohu’s chin scrunched slightly, and you recognized it as a sign of disgust when he said, “Coruscant is nearly intolerable. Such rudeness and noise! I cannot be surprised - an unplanned population is nothing more than an invitation for such things.”
It was suddenly more difficult to keep yourself from reacting. The Kaminoan population ‘planning’ amounted to little more than genocide. You were itching to say so, to show Tohu rudeness if he really wanted to see it, but you bit back your retort with effort.
Instead, you cleared your throat. “I’m sure you’re in a hurry to get back to your work, Senator. How can I help you?”
Tohu tilted his pale head, eyes glittering at you through the screens and light years separating you. Something about the motion seemed self-satisfied and tension made your shoulders scream.
“There was an incident in the clone army,” he explained. “A clone disobeyed the programming he was given. In the past, we would consider this a sign of a defective product and reprogram the product in question. However, you have since been appointed to Tipoca City and you are uniquely qualified to handle the situation.”
“You are correct in one thing,” you agreed. “I was appointed to Tipoca City. My job is to guard against rights violations committed by the Kaminoans to the clone troopers. My job is not to launch investigations of behalf of Kamino.”
“My apologies - I was under the impression that you wished to take part in protecting clones across the galaxy, not merely on Kamino. But perhaps the, ah… Riptide incident was an isolated case.”
You let the silence rest until it almost rang, your mind whirring. Tohu wasn’t backing you into a corner, not quite. But this was the beginning of the Kaminoans trying to limit the power your position held. If you agreed to investigate, you could be pulled off of Kamino any time there was an ‘incident’ in another part of the galaxy - opening the troopers to unobserved abuse from the Kaminoans.
And yet, if you refused to investigate, the Kaminoans could claim that any trooper issues that happened outside of Kamino itself were not under your jurisdiction. You could be locked out of any good you could do them.
“I’ll have to speak with my supervisors at Sentient Rights.” The gritted tone of your voice said more than you would like. That was apparent by the way Tohu’s eyes crinkled at the edges with barely-suppressed gloating.
Your supervisors hadn’t objected, of course. They weren’t supervisors in the sense that they were truly in charge of you. No, they were simply your main points of contact with the rest of the organization. They also had the Senate contacts to get you out of trouble if you stopped responding and they suspected foul play.
They were, frankly, delighted at the idea of you being asked to spearhead an investigation into a rogue clone trooper incident. It would legitimize your efforts, they assure you. And it could only be a good thing that the Kaminoans were willing to have you perform an investigation instead of keeping you in the dark while they reconditioned the poor man.
It was A Good Thing, they told you - A Step In The Right Direction. They repeated it over and over until you almost believed it yourself. But you couldn’t help the bone-deep suspicion and skepticism that you had learned to use whenever the Kaminoans were involved. Tohu hadn’t asked this of you because he believed you had any value. If anything, he viewed you as being just as expendable as a clone trooper. More so, actually, since you couldn’t earn Kamino any money.
While you had discussed the opportunity with Sentient Rights, Senator Tohu’s office had sent over a brief that outlined precisely what your role in the investigation would be: to decide whether the trooper was too dangerous to be left alive.
If you investigated the situation and found that the trooper was innocent, you would be expected to give a briefing to the GAR headquarters, including several representatives of the Jedi Council. Your findings and recommendations would have to be well-documented and thoroughly researched. If you found him guilty, he would be considered defective and sent for reconditioning.
And worst of all, if the trooper was guilty and was sent for reconditioning, you were to act as a witness to the process. The Kaminoans wanted someone to verify that they had ended the trooper’s life in a humane manner. That tipped the scales for you; it was clear that Lon Tohu had intended this to be a punishment of sorts. He was trying to make sure that you would never speak out of turn again, even to save trooper lives. It wouldn’t work, but you had to admit that the attempt did sting.
It was both a relief and a problem to tell Alpha about the situation. His dark brows had come crashing down immediately, a fierce scowl twisting his features into a mask of displeasure.
“The kaminii are sending you off to some dark pit of a holding cell for an unknown trooper with no further details and no way for someone to find you?” He shook his head, the tightness of his jaw almost disguised with the motion. “No. Not happening.”
“It is happening,” you argued, though your tone was utterly without heat. You sounded tired, even to your own ears. “Tohu’s setting up the transport as we speak. But at least it’s not a holding cell in some undisclosed sector. They’re taking me to one of the Republic prison ships.”
“Thanks,” Alpha said dryly, “I feel much better about it now.”
“There’s not much for me to do other than go. Maybe I can help save a life, if I’m lucky.” Your shrug must not have been too convincing, since Alpha’s expression didn’t change.
“Gotal’ur gar jate’kara.”
You blinked at him. “We must not have covered that one in our lessons so far.”
One corner of Alpha’s mouth twitched up. “It means you make your own luck. I’ll be right back.”
He wasn’t entirely correct. Alpha was gone for the better part of an hour, but when he came back into your quarters, he wore a smug smile.
With a smile of your own, you asked, “You found some luck, then?”
“For both of us,” he confirmed. “I’m coming with you. I’ll be acting as your security detail.”
“How did you manage that?” You interrupted whatever he was going to say with a hasty, “And if you say ‘luck’, I’m going to leave.”
The amusement in Alpha’s expression faded quickly. “I had to agree to take an extra mission.”
“Oh.” You grabbed his hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “Oh, Alpha. You shouldn’t have done that.”
As an instructor, Alpha didn’t have to go on missions very often. Once every six months, the Kaminoans could send him out into the field, but they didn’t always take advantage of that. He was far more valuable to them as the main ARC trooper trainer than as a captain on a mission for the GAR.
To agree to go on a second mission in six months… That was a sacrifice that far outweighed the reward. At least, in your opinion.
“How could I have done anything else, little one?” The amusement didn’t come back to Alpha’s face, but at least the solemn expression was softened by love. “I couldn’t risk you going out to some Republic prison ship and never coming back. You know as well as I do that the kaminii would take any chance to get rid of you.”
“Don’t spare my feelings,” you huffed out, caught somewhere between offense and laughter. “Fine. Let’s hope that your presence is enough to keep them from setting up my transport to malfunction. And… thank you, Alpha.”
“Always, neverd’ika.”
The Republic prison ship was dismal. You had seen that even before your transport docked at one of the bays along the ship’s main body. The ship itself was clean and well-built, it’s hull unmarked by blaster fire or the odd dust that coated most things that had been traveling through open space for more than a month.
But there was something overly impersonal about it, almost sterile. That should have been a good thing for a place meant to house dangerous criminals, but you couldn’t help thinking that it looked too industrial to belong to the galaxy’s largest government.
Your impression of the ship didn’t improve when you were onboard. Long gray halls gave excellent vantage points to the guards at the front and back of the ship, and security holocams studded the ceiling at regular intervals. The cell doors were darker gray, blast-proof without windows or numbers. You couldn’t have possibly known how many cells there were, but you would estimate that the ship could hold more than a thousand prisoners.
There was no way of knowing how many of the cells were currently occupied.
The guards didn’t give you the opportunity to explore, leading you quickly to the area that had been set aside for your use. You were relieved to find that it wasn’t a cell, but a small office. The guards disappeared - one to take up a position outside of the door and the other to bring the prisoner to you.
When you were alone in the room, Alpha stood behind the seat you had chosen. You were facing the door, and had assumed (correctly) that he would want to do the same.
When he was close enough, you grasped at his hand, giving it a slight squeeze. “Thank you again, Alpha. I wouldn’t have liked being here alone.”
“I don’t like being here at all,” Alpha admitted, after a slight pause.
You thought he must have done what you did when you first stepped inside: scanned for any security holocams inside the room. You didn’t see any, but you had your disruptor puck and you knew Alpha didn’t go anywhere without his. Your conversation would be private.
“The guards are natties,” he remarked.
The observation seemed casual, but that made you think about it again. Alpha didn’t do casual observations. “Meaning?”
Alpha cracked his neck before settling back into place, hands crossed in front of him. “Meaning that, whoever or whatever they have imprisoned on this ship, they don’t trust clones to keep them here.”
You knew that Alpha’s posture meant the guard was returning, so you had time to settle in and school your face to disguise your feelings about that.
“CT-6922,” the guard announced, guiding a clone trooper into the room with a firm hand between his shoulder blades. “Sit at the table and place the binders on the magnetic strip on the surface.”
The trooper paused for a moment, eyes flicking between you and Alpha before dropping firmly to the ground. He only moved when the guard behind him gave an impatient sigh. When the trooper had done as he was ordered, the guard pressed a button that magnetized the binders against the table, effectively locking the trooper in place.
“Knock when you’re ready to leave, ma’am,” the guard instructed you. “Or if you need something. Though with an ARC as your guard, I think you can take care of yourself.”
And then the guard had left, the door sliding closed behind him.
Outside of the guard’s overbearing presence, you eyed the trooper. Your first impression was of his dramatic facial tattoo, but you were used to the troopers having their unique appearance quirks. Beyond the tattoo, you noted that his hair had been cut and styled in a neatly regulation-following way despite having been aboard the ship for nearly a month. He had come directly here from the battlefield where the incident had taken place.
“It’s nice to meet you, CT-6922,” you said as warmly as you could manage. The trooper lifted his gaze to meet yours, and your heart panged at how young and frightened he seemed. “Is there a different name you prefer, or do you go by your number?”
That had been a glaring omission in his file. You knew almost everything else about him, but there had been no mention of a preferred name. It was, you thought, entirely what you should have expected from the Kaminoans.
“My brothers call me Dogma, ma’am.”
You frowned, sensing the tension in the room ratchet upward. “Dogma…”
“Names are against regulations, but my batchers won’t stop calling me that.”
The memory rose unbidden, but solid. “We’ve met before, haven’t we?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Dogma confirmed. “When I was still on Kamino, I asked Captain Alpha-17 about his experiences in the field.”
“I remember,” you said softly. “Can you tell me what happened? The report says you executed a Jedi general.”
“I executed General Krell after the Battle of Umbara, ma’am,” Dogma said, jaw twitching. “I can’t say he was much of Jedi.”
You nodded, setting up your datapad to allow for easy note-taking. “Please, go on.”
The story came out piece by horrible piece; a tragedy made worse for being revealed in Dogma’s clipped, professional tone. He reported nothing more than dry facts and it was still enough to tighten your throat.
When Dogma fell silent, your datapad showed notes that were, quite frankly, unbelievable. A Jedi general - though you had to admit that Dogma was correct in refusing to grant him the title of Jedi - sending troops to their death in numbers large enough to raise your eyebrows, even when compared to the war as a whole. Gross incompetence reigned on Umbara, and you couldn’t stop wondering why no one had thought to stop Krell. Surely one of the Jedi whose troops Krell commanded should have thought to check on them…
But you knew the truth behind that. There were so terribly few Jedi to lead the troops that no one had time or means to investigate their performance on the battlefield. No one would think of speaking to the troopers who served under them, of course. Why ask the opinion of someone you considered to be little more than a product?
It had been an oversight in the system, a blind spot so minuscule as to be considered inconsequential. And yet it had ended the lives of thousands of troopers. It could have ended more if not for the trooper sitting across from you, binders magnetized to the table as though he were a dangerous criminal and not a survivor of one of the most brutal massacres you could imagine.
“I have my recommendation,” you said, breaking the silence as you switched off the datapad’s screen. If nothing else, you couldn’t bear to keep reading your account of Dogma’s report. “I’ll need to corroborate your story with other members of the 501st and 212th, but I don’t see any reason that you shouldn’t return to the field.”
Dogma sat back in the chair slightly. It was the first time you had seen his posture anything other than that of a perfect soldier, and you glanced at him sharply. He wore a stunned expression. “I- return… to the field? Ma’am?”
“Yes,” you agreed slowly, fighting the tension that started to rise in you. There were probably better ways you could have broached the topic. The man had just survived an incredibly traumatic experience on a battlefield and you were talking about sending him to another one. Not just talking about it, even. You were positing it as the best possible outcome. “That is… Would you want that?”
“Yes, please.” The intensity in his voice made you straighten unintentionally.
Dogma noticed your surprise and offered you a sheepish smile. “Sorry. I just meant that… Well, I never thought I’d get to go back. I figured that executing Krell would have been a guaranteed court martial ending in reconditioning. I would have done it anyway, even if I knew that’s how I would be punished. He had to be stopped.”
“That’s exactly what I’m going to tell the GAR and the Jedi Council.” You folded your hands on the table in a mirror of Dogma’s bound wrists. “The fact that Krell was unopposed for as long as he was, having clearly moved away from Jedi tenets, is a black mark on the entirety of the GAR. You executed him because no one else had stepped in before things got as bad as they did.”
“You did what any soldier should do when their commanding officer is a traitor.”
Dogma’s spine straightened, eyes flicking from Alpha’s helmeted face to your unconcealed one. You met his eyes, and you shared a look. It would have gone unnoticed by anyone other than a clone trooper, but there was a rage seething behind every syllable that came from Alpha’s mouth. You had recognized it simply by merit of having known Alpha as long as you had.
“I’m going to make a few calls,” you announced, standing from the table. “I want to get some additional witness accounts before I contact the GAR. I’ll push for that to happen before we leave here. If at all possible, I want to bring you back with us today.”
Dogma lowered his head, staring intently at his binder-clad wrists. When he spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. “Thank you.”
You walked to the door, blinking rapidly in an attempt to keep your own tears at bay. Just before you knocked, you turned back. “I don’t work for the Senate anymore and I never worked for the GAR, but on behalf of every non-soldier in the galaxy: I’m so sorry, Dogma. I’m sorry we failed you and I’m sorry you were put in this position. I’m going to do everything I can to get you out of here.”
“We both will,” Alpha promised, leaning across the table to clasp Dogma’s shoulder.
Dogma offered a nod. “I believe you.”
You rapped smartly at the door. When one of the guards opened it, you gave him a stern look. “I need a quiet room, a flimsi pad, and the best communications connection this ship can receive.”
Finding witnesses for the Battle of Umbara and its aftermath was easy. The most difficult part was getting them to talk with you. They had no problem going on-record, but their emotional distress was significant. You grew to dread the waver of uncertainty and remembered grief that entered every voice when you asked about Umbara. When you asked about Krell, that grief turned to hatred and bitterness. You couldn’t blame them for that, either.
Captain Rex of the 501st Legion was one of your highest-ranking witnesses, and he had readily agreed to speak before the GAR if necessary. Marshal Commander Cody had been taken off-planet with General Kenobi before Krell put his plan into place, but he put you in contact with some of his men. Trapper and Woolly were particularly good resources.
As a final touch, you had gotten the casualty reports from Kix and Shatter, the medics for the 501st and 212th, respectively.
You suspected that the guards on the prison ship had contacted someone at GAR headquarters to warn them about you. When you commed the frequency Lon Tohu had given you, you found that all necessary parties had already been gathered. The call had gone through as a holoprojection, and you found yourself looking at a group of roughly ten people.
“Yes, Investigator?” Tohu asked, voice even in that distinctive Kaminoan way. “Have you drawn your conclusions from your interview with the prisoner?”
“I have, Senator,” you agreed. “I believe that CT-6922, or Dogma, should be cleared for an immediate return to active duty.”
“You cannot be serious,” a man in a GAR uniform snapped.
“Not only am I serious, I recommend that Dogma be given an official GAR recognition for his bravery.” You watched that land with the subtlety of a bomb before adding, “I also recommend that the Jedi order hire an external analyst to look over casualty numbers correlating to each general. Weighted for total number of battles and numbers of trooper commanded, of course.”
Even the Jedi seemed displeased by that, though they were less vocal about it than the GAR officers in the group.
“Investigator, this is beyond the scope of your assignment,” Tohu hissed, stepping closer to the receiver so you would be sure to hear him. The remainder of the room ignored the quiet argument. “You were merely to report on whether you found the clone too defective to live.”
“Unfortunately, Senator, that wasn’t my complete assignment.” You drank in his expression - easily the most shocked you had seen on a Kaminoan. “When you gave me the investigation of Dogma’s case, you set a precedent that I - as a third-party contractor - have the right to make decision on the physical and mental capabilities of clone troopers across the galaxy. My assignment was to interview Dogma, make my decision, and deliver my recommendations to GAR and Jedi officials.”
“I gave you no such power.” Tohu’s continued argument with you was beginning to draw the attention of the room, though he hadn’t seemed to notice it yet.
“I came here on your orders, Senator,” you reminded. “You consulted me as an expert on the cloning process. In the communication you sent to order the transport and get me onto the ship, you referred to me as an expert on clone trooper physiology, psychology, and capabilities. You also stated that my decision would determine the outcome of Dogma’s case.”
The skin about Tohu’s eyes drew closer together - a Kaminoan frown. “I believe I made it clear what outcome we believed preferable.”
“Either you trust me as an expert and give credence to my conclusion that Dogma is not defective, or you falsified my qualifications as a pretence to get me on a Republic prison ship,” you summarized flatly. You had the attention of the whole room now, something Tohu seemed to realize as he straightened and took a half-step back from the receiver.
You regarded the room through the poor medium of a holotransmitter crossing light-years of empty space. “Let me restate my findings: Dogma is not defective. The GAR or the Jedi Order should have grown suspicious of Pong Krell long before Umbara. The fact that they didn’t is a black mark on the Republic as a whole. Dogma and the other soldiers of the 501st Legion and the 212th Attack Battalion were forced to pick up where the rest of us failed. None of them should be punished for doing so.”
“We cannot allow a clone trooper who executed a general to return to the field undisciplined,” one GAR officer insisted. “It could set a dangerous precedent.”
“As we discussed previously, reconditioning is the best option,” Tohu suggested.
You did your best to school your expression into one of anything other than the hatred you felt toward Lon Tohu. “Or treat him the same way you would a nat-born soldier who entered a dangerous situation. Change his designation, have him sign an agreement not to speak about Umbara, and move him to another duty station.”
“It would hardly send the correct message to the other clones,” Tohu said, head bobbing atop his thin neck.
“When is the next casualty report made available to the public?” you asked innocently. “Next week, correct? And the numbers from Umbara will be included. I’m sure such a dramatic increase from typical casualty rates will draw some attention. With how many sources I contacted during the course of this investigation, there is every possibility that someone intercepted the signal. I would hate to see this issue appear in a HoloNews article…”
“We are at war,” the most senior GAR officer reminded you stiffly. “Casualties are to be expected.”
“Very true,” you conceded with a nod. “However, there were a lot of soldiers lost in that battle. Umbara has few resources needed by the Republic, and it is hardly in a strategically important location. With the high cost of manufacturing a single clone trooper - paid entirely by the galactic taxpayers, of course - such a high number of casualties for an unnecessary battle seems like something that would draw the ire of citizens. Voting citizens.”
You shrugged. “However, I’m not an expert in politics, just clone troopers. You have my recommendation. If you decide to clear Dogma for active duty, he can return on my transport when I depart. You know, to save fuel costs.”
“Have a suggestion, do you, on where to relocate Dogma?” a diminutive Jedi asked.
After taking a moment to decipher his strange speech pattern, you hummed in thought. “I hear the Coruscant Guard is always looking for more troopers. Contact Commander Fox. I’m sure he could tell you if there is an opening with him.”
Beyond the holoprojected figures, you could see Alpha typing briskly at his long-distance wrist communicator. He was outside the range of the transmitter and couldn’t be seen by anyone on the other end. You would have bet everything you owned that he was sending a quick message to Fox, warning him that he may be contacted by the GAR about a new trooper.
The senior GAR officer sighed. “Bring CT-6922 back with you, investigator. He can come to Coruscant while we figure out a permanent place for him. But an official recognition is out of the question, no matter how much blackmail material you have.”
You gave him a shocked look, pressing a hand to your chest. “Blackmail, sir? I would never. That is completely unethical, not unlike sending a man to kill his brothers at the behest of a megalomaniacal would-be Separatist.”
“Good day, Investigator,” Tohu said, severing the connection before anyone could reply to your thinly-veiled accusation.
You shook your head in irritation at their short-sighted heartlessness, but the motion was interrupted when you were seized by the arms and pulled into a tight hug. You found yourself crushed against the cool plastoid plates of Alpha’s armor, relaxing into it as soon as you realized what was happening.
“Alpha, what’s going on?” you asked, voice distorted with the way your cheek and lips were smushed against his chest plate.
“Never do that again, neverd’ika.” he admonished.
You pulled back far enough to glare at him. “Do what? Save a trooper’s life after he did nothing wrong?”
“Antagonize a group of Jedi and GAR officers when you’re aboard a Republic prison ship with no way out,” Alpha emphasized. “The Jedi are one thing, but the GAR? There was enough chest candy in that room to choke a sarlaac and you threatened to write a karking article about their incompetence in battle. I thought my heart was gonna pop.”
“Alpha!” You frowned up at him, noting the way he had pulled off his helmet sometime between the end of your call and him hugging you. “I came here to save Dogma’s life. How can you be surprised when that’s what I did?”
“Not surprised. Never surprised with you, little one.” Alpha let out a breath and you felt a twinge of guilt when it trembled at the edges. “Just… maybe lay low for a while. You’ve made some enemies in that group. I don’t think the jetii will hold it against you, but the officers definitely will.”
“Good thing I’m not in the GAR, then,” you teased.
Alpha patted your cheek, making you flinch and then glare at him again. “Small favors.”
You shook your head at him. “C’mon. Let’s get Dogma and get out of here before they change their minds.”
“Best thing you’ve said all day, neverd’ika.” Alpha followed you closely, jamming his helmet back on his head. “I’ll be happy to leave this place behind.”
---
Author's Note - It irritates me that we never found out what happened to Dogma. I like to believe he was sent out somewhere else. In a just galaxy, that would only be fair after everything he went through!
This was, as usual, supposed to come out weeks ago. The next chapter will be spicy, so be ready for that! I'll try to actually have it posted in next week, though I'm hesitant to make promises at this point!
DISCONTINUED, but I wrote so much of the story that I wanted to share it. This will stay unfinished, but there are about 25,000 words that I'll post over the next few days.
Written as a Captain Rex x fem!oc story, but cuts off before any romance actually happens
Word Count: 2,200
Warnings: Disjointed story ideas collected from notes and vague memories of my writing life six years ago. This is essentially a draft, so there are some sections that are super vague and bird's eye, while others are more of a beat-for-beat account of what would have happened
Previous | Masterlist
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Plans for the Future
The 501st would have gone back to Coruscant. Palpatine would have wanted to speak with the embedded reporters immediately since he has important Senate business the next day. Keaton almost misses it, having only just started eating lunch. (The foods are unfamiliar, but the joy of eating actual food instead of nutrient paste makes it the best meal of her life.)
Palpatine addresses the assembled journalists - a group both larger and smaller than Keaton had expected. They are each given a different room assignment, where someone will discuss their work and reveal whether their contracts have been extended or not. They can also choose not to accept an extended contract and will be taken back to their home planets. When they know who is staying, the Jedi generals can choose to take on a different journalist or keep the one they have. The journalists must make a decision that day and will receive an updated assignment the following evening. They ship out to their assigned groups the day after. They will spend tomorrow enjoying Coruscant and everything it has to offer. They will also be paid for their month of work.
When Keaton gets to her given room for feedback, she meets Mas Amedda (Palpatine’s advisor from the prequels). He asks how she’s enjoying their galaxy and how it compares to hers. She is polite but openly unsupportive of the war. Amedda remarks that she made quite a stir with her story. It wasn’t propaganda like the citizens were used to seeing. It humanized the clones. Keaton stiffly responds that she was trying to do exactly that, but Amedda waves that away. “We have chosen to offer you a contract extension.”
She may have denied it at first but ends up taking the position anyway. (Maybe they need time to repair the tech they used to bring her to Coruscant in the first place?) Mas Amedda reminds her that her language tech needs to be replaced and she has an appointment with a medic at the GAR the next day. He gives her the credits she earned. She looks at the unfamiliar money - why would anyone make money in stick form? - and is revolted by the idea of it, remembering the slackness of Notch’s face as his brothers carried him away.
(Maybe insert Palpatine POV - Keaton’s piece was both popular and unpopular with the general public. Some people thought the clones were heroes and were angry at their fellow citizens for not supporting the army. Others thought the clones had been given a bad lot and were angry at their fellow citizens for not voting to use a droid army as well. Everyone was mad at the Senate. No one was mad at Palpatine. It was perfect. He was going to keep Keaton around as long as possible since the instability she caused was so useful.)
The whole thing takes so long that she gets to 79’s super late. Everyone else is near-trashed and, though they’re excited to see her, Keaton is a little worried about leaving them to their own devices. She gets a drink and dances a little bit, but mostly keeps an eye on the 501st. They tease her for being up-tight and she’s offended, but as she drags a few troopers to the bar for a round of shots, 79’s announce last call. Keaton has to satisfy herself with one more drink.
She’s staying at a cheap hotel close to the GAR headquarters, but walks the 501st back to the barracks before she goes. When she gets there, she lays out everything from Earth to get an inventory so she knows what she needs to buy. A wave of homesickness crashes over her and she thinks wearily of another month spent away from home, witnessing tragedies she could not imagine, would not forget, and could never successfully fight against. All she could do was watch it all happen and write about it so the people of the galaxy could pretend they knew what was happening without ever being in true danger. She lays down, frustrated, but quickly falls asleep in the comfort of a bed that isn’t moving through hyperspace.
—
More battles, more stories, growing familiarity with the troopers of the 501st, and more hints of battle droids gathering intelligence on the journalists. They occasionally work with other squads and battalions. Obligatory Wolfpack cameo (Plo Koon’s journalist is a complete chaos gremlin, simultaneously amusing Plo Koon and being the bane of Wolffe’s existence).
They’re on a joint mission with the 212th. Obi-Wan and Vak are on the Resolute, planning battles with Anakin and Ahsoka, when the ship is attacked by Grievous’s armies. The generals, commanders, and captain board Grievous’s ship, but leave Vak and Keaton behind on the Resolute since the scene is too dangerous.
However, they don’t know that Grievous has boarded the Resolute and has been sent to capture the journalists. Palpatine wants them killed, giving the war incredibly bad publicity and undermining the public’s faith in their armies. (Maybe Keaton wrote a particularly impressive piece that started conversations about making peace with the Separatists and he needs to make a move.) Additionally, this would push Anakin closer to the dark side since being unable to protect those around him is A Thing.
Vak and Keaton are captured by Grievous and taken to his ship. He threatens them, trying to get information. Even as the smell of her own burning hair fills the room where Keaton is shackled to a chair, she notes that he doesn’t seem particular interested in the information he claims to want. Keaton mouths off to him eventually. As a reward, Grievous wraps his sharp metal claws around her leg at the mid-thigh. He casually digs in, piercing layers of skin and muscle before drawing those claws down in a twisting motion. Keaton watches it, noting with interest the pretty spiraling pattern of the slashes. Then the pain hits her and she gapes, slumping forward in her chair as if she can protect herself from how badly it hurts. Grievous leaves her to think about his offer (the offer being that he’ll kill her quickly if she tells him everything he wants to know).
The Resolute appears out of hyperspace, having located Grievous’s ship. Grievous loads Keaton and Vak onto an escape pod and sends it into space. Through the intercom system, Keaton hears Grievous address Kenobi and Skywalker: He has deployed all of the escape pods, but they have a limited amount of power. Keaton and Vak are on one. Grievous’s ship then jumps into hyperspace as the Resolute’s fighters fire ineffectually at it.
When Grievous’s ship is gone, the fighters start searching the dozens of escape pods that were sent out into space. The air is already growing stale as they use the small first aid kit to patch up Keaton’s leg. (It’s barely making a dent.) Keaton asks Vak if there’s anything they can do to signal the Resolute that they’re in this pod. He says they normally could, but ships can override the power banks of escape pods and siphon energy from them. Grievous did that to these escape pods. They’re in low-power mode and there’s no way of knowing how long the life-support systems will last.
By the time a fighter finds them, they’re so short on oxygen that Keaton is nearly delirious. She knows logically that it’s not true, but her brain keeps screaming that there’s air outside the pod if she would only open the door. There’s a jostling thud and she cranes her neck to look out of a small window - the fighter deployed some kind of a tow line attached to the pod with a magnet and was pulling them back toward the Resolute.
Keaton and Vak are both gasping for air by the time the pod settles through the air lock and they’re too weak to open the hatch themselves. Vak pulls Keaton away from weakly scrabbling at the latch and a lightsaber makes a decisive circle in the pod’s hull, the interior of the circle being ripped away an instant later. Vak rushes to the makeshift door, gulping in heaving breaths. Keaton tries to follow him, but her injured leg gives out and she falls painfully to the grate floor of the pod. Her oxygen-deprived muscles are too weak for her to push herself back up, and she sits in a push-up position for a moment, arms wobbling, until arms close around her. A hand brushes against the bloody ribbons of her leg and she hisses. Rex soothes her, telling her that they’re going to the ship’s medbay. As they leave, Keaton hears Ahsoka pointedly ask why Vak isn’t injured.
He stays with her the whole time she’s being treated (clip stitches and bacta patches, mostly) and helps keep her calm when the pain gets too intense. When Kix cuts the leg of her pants off, Keaton can see how badly Grievous messed up her leg. Even with Kix’s expert hands, her leg is a mass of clip stitches and bloody bandages. He warns her that they cannot keep it from scarring. Keaton isn’t terribly vain, but the idea of being permanently marked (physically and psychologically) by her time as an embedded reporter bothers her deeply and she starts to cry. Kix excuses himself quickly while Rex tries to console her. He ends up carrying her back to her room and giving the pain meds that Kix prescribed. He stays with her for most of her recovery and they become much closer, hanging out even after she’s healed.
Later, Keaton learns that Vak did give Grievous the information he wanted, though Kenobi hadn’t shared enough details for it to be significant. He goes under investigation by both the GAR and the embed program, and he is pulled back to Coruscant while they try to figure out how much of a liability the embedded reporters are. The 212th is unhappy about this, and Kenobi asks Keaton if she would speak to the investigators on Vak’s behalf. She begrudgingly does so.
In another battle, Keaton is working with Kix in the makeshift medbay on the battlefield. The area is well-protected, surrounded on three sides by steep rocky cliffs. The unprotected side faces away from the battlefield entirely. She takes off her shield, giving it to one of the troopers that Kix patched up and is sending back out. It saves his life and the lives of several other troopers that he’s fighting with.
After the battle, Rex is furious. He demands to know what she was thinking, reminding her that the shield is there to keep her safe. If the droids managed to fire into the medbay - which hasn’t happened before, but could - the shield would keep her alive. She’s a civilian with no training, no weapon, and no reason to be there other than the embed program. She argues back with him, insisting that she was safe. Besides, if the shield saved four people and she died without it, the law of numbers says it was a worthwhile sacrifice. She doesn’t managed to finish the sentence before he kisses her.
It’s an angry kiss, full of fear and desperation. Rex pulls back sharply, expression filling with surprise and dismay, but Keaton kisses him again. It’s softer that time, something bright and pure and filled of promise. He’s called away by Anakin and leaves without a second glance. He ignores her for as long as he can get away with and Keaton gets frustrated. Ahsoka and the troopers have noticed that they’re not spending any time together - a big difference from how they had been since her leg injury.
Eventually, Keaton decides that her next piece will be a profile of a clone trooper, specifically Rex. She floats the idea to Anakin first and gets his approval, though he specifies that Keaton can’t follow Rex around on the battlefield. (Even with her shield, there’s too much risk in her being literally on the front lines.) But she plans to write about his daily life aboard the Resolute, his training regimen, his pre-battle routines, and all of the paperwork he has to do after the fighting has finished.
Rex is less than thrilled, but Anakin thought it was such a good idea that he passed it along to Obi-Wan and now most of the embedded reporters are doing a piece on the commanding clone officer of their specific units.
During the time they spend together, Keaton and Rex skate around mentioning the kiss(es) that they shared, but they get closer and closer all the time.
Long-term themes:
Keaton’s reliance on alcohol is reduced, maybe elimated
She and Rex start dating seriously. Ahsoka figures them out almost immediately. Obi-Wan has strong suspicions formed in the brief time he sees them together. Anakin probably doesn’t notice at all
Keaton continues forming closer and closer bonds with the rest of the 501st
The Republic sentiment toward the clone troopers start to grow warmer
Palpatine keeps orchestrating situations in which the embedded reporters are put in danger. Eventually, one dies on the battlefield and everyone is given the option to terminate their contracts immediately. Many choose to
After a reporter dies, the 501st gets ridiculously protective of Keaton. She despises it, especially since they don’t need another distraction when they’re actively fighting battles
Rex teaches her how to defend herself - at least blaster training, maybe some hand-to-hand
---
Author's Note - So that's it! Like I said at the beginning, these are the collected notes of what I planned to do with this story. I found some old notes and enjoyed reading over them, then I combined them with what few memories I have of my long-term plan with this story.
You can see where I incorporated a few ideas into other stories (most notably Gar Cabur/Gar Cyare, my Alpha-17 x reader fic), but there are a few ideas I might use in later stories.
Overall, thanks for reading! I've been very open about this being a discontinued fic, but I loved writing it back in the day and it's been fun reading back over it as I prep it for sharing. I'm glad that this work gets to see the light of day in some shape or form!
DISCONTINUED, but I wrote so much of the story that I wanted to share it. This will stay unfinished, but there are about 25,000 words that I'll post over the next few days.
Written as a Captain Rex x fem!oc story, but cuts off before any romance actually happens
Word Count: 2,400
Warnings: The aftermath of a battle, minor injuries and their treatment, hints of future plot
Previous | Next | Masterlist
---
Chapter Eight
"Keaton!" Kix barked, and she turned away from the battlefield to look at the medic behind her. They had worked out during her first battle that she could use her shield to protect him and his patient from unfriendly fire. Now, in her third battle, it was standard procedure for her to stand in front of the medic and fallen trooper, arms splayed as she watched the droid army to report advances.
"Yeah?" she asked inelegantly, half-turning in an attempt to see both him and the battlefield.
Kix gestured at the trooper he was working on. "It's bleeding pretty heavily, but it's not a serious wound. Keep pressure on it. When the bleeding slows, apply this bacta patch."
Keaton stared at him for a moment. Kix had been oddly insisting on teaching her basic first aid, especially how to apply bacta patches. If he was going to start letting her help treat injured troopers, she understood why.
Realizing that she had been staring at him for far too long, Keaton grinned and knelt beside the trooper. "Yes, sir!"
He nodded at her and moved further along the battlefield to treat another man. As she pressed on the trooper's injury, Keaton studied the battlefield with her limited (but growing) understanding.
This was a small battle. The droid troops were few here, not enough to fight off the Republic troops. A few troopers were getting injured, but nothing compared to the first time Keaton had seen a Separatist army.
The trooper moved uncomfortably under the pressure she was putting on his outer shoulder. "Just a little bit longer," she said apologetically.
"It's fine," he said with a small smile. "I'm just lucky you aren't Kix."
Keaton laughed aloud at that. In the time since she had met him, she had learned that Kix cared fiercely about the men and their health… which led to him being a bit of a hard-ass when it came to their well-being.
When the trooper's bleeding had slowed, Keaton applied the bacta patch with a bit of guidance from the trooper himself, then helped him up and went to find Kix.
She was shielding him again as he worked, this trooper's injury looking far more serious, when the sound of approaching footsteps made her tense. Captain Rex slowed his stride as he moved closer to Keaton and Kix.
“It’s Rex, Howell,” he said slowly, hands raised away from the dual blasters strapped at his hips. “The battle is over. We forced the Seppies back. They retreated off-planet.”
“Good,” Keaton answered with a decisive nod. “Kix, do you need the captain to call for a stretcher?”
“Yes,” he said tightly. Rex called immediately, and two troopers came jogging over with a repulsorlift stretcher in less than a minute. In an impressive display of balance and steady hands, Kix continued working to save the trooper’s life as the stretcher moved toward the Resolute.
“So,” Rex started, “you’re treating troopers now?”
“How have you already heard about that?” she asked, not even truly surprised. What with the in-helmet communication systems, the clones were worse than schoolgirls where rumors were concerned.
“Gurr has been showing off his bacta patch to anyone who will stand still long enough. He’s making sure that everyone knows you applied it yourself.” Rex reached up to remove his helmet, revealing a slight smile. For him, it was the equivalent of deep belly laughter.
Keaton rolled her eyes, but couldn’t fight a smile of her own as she pulled the headband off to deactivate the shield. “It was just a Band-Aid. Not exactly a medical miracle.”
“What’s a Band-Aid?” Rex asked, mystified, but shook his head before she could answer. “Never mind. Anyway, it meant the world to him. Now, you’ll have a line of troopers following you around, asking for you to take care of their injuries.”
With a shudder, Keaton said, “Not gonna happen. I don’t even like dealing with my own medical stuff. Outside of a battle, you couldn’t pay me enough.” They walked in silence for a few moments, Keaton studying the outside of the Resolute carefully so she could avoid looking at the fallen troopers. Three battles in and she saw images of fallen men every time she closed her eyes.
“Where are we headed to next?” Keaton asked, mostly to distract herself. Every time she asked that question, she got the same answer: it was classified information.
“Coruscant.”
“I know, you can’t tell- Wait, what? You actually told me?” Keaton frowned. “Hang on, isn’t that, like, your capital planet? Why are we going there?”
“Every month of missions means a week of planetside leave,” Rex explained. “We have to go back to Coruscant for it, but it means seven days off duty.”
“Five days, actually,” Echo explained, falling into step with them, Fives on his other side. “Once you take a day for docking and debrief, and one for launching again.”
“It gives us a chance to stock up on supplies, pick up new men we’ve accepted into the 501st, patch armor, repair the Resolute, and so on,” Rex told her.
“Plus we go to 79s,” Fives said. He still wore his helmet, but Keaton could hear the grin in his voice.
Already feeling as though she were walking into a trap, Keaton asked, “What is 79’s?”
“How can you not know what 79’s is?” Fives asked, incredulously.
Echo punched his shoulder. “She’s from another galaxy, Fives. Cut her some slack.”
“Surely someone mentioned that 79s is the most popular clone club on Coruscant!” Fives argued.
“I’m pretty sure I would have remembered that,” Keaton disagreed, and couldn’t help mumbling, “And don’t call me Shirley.”
Rex frowned at her. “That isn’t what he meant. Are your language drops still working?”
“It was a joke, ripped off from a movie,” Keaton sighed. “My wit is wasted here.”
“If quoting holovids is wit, I’m the cleverest man alive!” Echo replied with a chuckle. Keaton laughed as well. The clone trooper did have an uncanny knack for repeating things word-for-word, even if he had only heard a line once.
“Anyway,” Fives cut in, slinging an arm around Echo’s neck. “You’re lucky we’re going to escort you back to Coruscant, Keaton. Most of the other journalists have to take civvie transports in.”
“What do you mean?” Keaton asked with a frown. “Why are all the journalists going back?”
“Your first month is over,” Rex explained slowly. “It’s time to renegotiate contracts or arrange for the journalists to return to their home planets. After a debrief, of course.”
“Do you know if you’re going to stay on?” Echo’s question was carefully casual, but the silence from the other troopers made it clear that they all had been wondering.
Keaton couldn’t blame them. She had been fairly vocal in her hatred for battlefields, and more than one trooper had knocked on her door in the early hours of the morning after her nightmares had disturbed the men sleeping in the barracks just beneath her floor. This assignment wasn’t getting any easier.
“I honestly don’t know yet,” Keaton admitted. “I’ll have to think about it on the way to Coruscant, I guess.”
“Well, you’ll have some time on-planet no matter what you do,” Echo said consolingly. “At least a few days to see the sights.”
“Fives! Echo!” Jesse called from the middle of a group of men working to move a stack of heavy-looking crates. “Come help us load up the extra munitions!”
“See you later, Keaton!”
“Bye, Captain!”
When the pair of rowdy troopers had left, Keaton found herself sharing a companionable silence with the captain. Her relationship - insofar as it could actually be termed as one - with Captain Rex had improved markedly since her first battle. While the two weren’t exactly friends, they had grown to have a certain respect for each other.
In an effort to keep things courteous and professional, Keaton asked, “How did the forward assault go? Did Skywalker do his-,” she broke off to wave her arms around in an approximation of the Jedi general, “-thing?”
Rex grinned openly. “Yeah, he did his-” he mimicked Keaton’s movements, though he put a lot less effort into his version, “-thing. It worked okay. A couple of droids got some lucky shots, but casualty rates were a lot lower than they would have been if the Jedi weren’t here.”
Keaton shrugged at that. Yes, the Jedi were excellent fighters - though it helped that they could literally sense when and where blaster bolts were going to hit - but she still didn’t understand a lot of the political motivations behind the war. Honestly, Keaton would have been offended that the whole affair was called the ‘Clone Wars’. Who really had less to do with the Republic than the men who had been engineered and unwillingly pressed into service for it?
With no verbal response to Rex’s remark that wouldn’t have sounded like she was picking a fight, Keaton stopped at the shrug. The captain said nothing else, however, and she glanced over to find him watching her with a thoughtful expression on his face.
“What?” she asked, smoothing her hair where the headband had sat.
“You really should come to 79s with us,” Rex said without preamble. Keaton could only blink up at him in befuddlement at the sudden subject change. He gestured around the battlefield. “I mean, you’ve had to see all of this. You should get a chance to see the other side. See what it is we’re fighting for.”
“You’re fighting for a dance club?” Keaton asked stupidly, before she could think through the ridiculousness of her question. She grimaced as the words came out of her mouth, waiting for Rex to get offended by her trivialization of the loss of his brothers’ lives.
To her surprise, Rex only rolled his eyes and gave a little huff. “No. The Republic. You should see all the troopers and the civvies hanging out together. It’s a bunch of nat-borns and clones, not caring about how you were made, just how well you dance or hold your liquor. Or both.”
“Well, I love to dance and I can hold my liquor,” Keaton replied with a mischievous grin. “Sounds like fun, honestly! But will everyone else be okay with me coming along? I don’t want to crash a guys’ night, you know?”
“A guys’ night? Howell, that’s ninety percent of all nights in the GAR… ninety-five when the Commander isn’t around.” Rex shook his head. “I promise, everyone is fine with you tagging along.”
“Okay, cool!” Keaton said, already excited - though the feeling fell flat when she caught sight of a fallen trooper who had clearly just made it out of the ship when he caught a droid blaster bolt. She cleared her throat, looking away. “Give me the details later.”
Rex patted her consolingly on the shoulder and went to collect the numbers lists from the unfortunately-assigned troopers.
Across the battlefield, a droid’s disembodied head ended a transmission.
---
The trip to Coruscant was thankfully short. At this point, Keaton had learned to tell without looking when the ship had entered hyperspace. The feeling was similar to flying on a large jet plane. Even without gravity, turbulence, or most sources of friction, there was a feeling of movement that made it difficult for Keaton to sleep.
Even so, the Resolute arrived at Coruscant early the next morning, docked and ready for the troopers to depart. Keaton, having just fallen into actual sleep when they descended through the atmosphere, was grouchy when the knock at her door rang out.
She pulled it open, scowling ungraciously at Ahsoka. "Whoa," the teenager commented, looking amused and impressed. "You look like a bantha and a mynock got into a fight with a wookiee."
"I don't know what any of that means," Keaton grumbled, throwing some last-minute items into the small backpack she had been given when she left this planet the first time.
Ahsoka watched her, face falling slightly. "Does that mean you decided to go back home?"
Keaton shrugged uncomfortably. "I haven't decided yet, but I don't want anything to happen to my stuff. I don't trust the captain not to come smash my phone into bits."
"He wouldn't do that!" Ahsoka denied, starting to chuckle immediately. "Or maybe he would. He really hates your music."
"I know, that's why I play it around him so often," Keaton told her with a grin. She shouldered the backpack, took a final glance around the cabin, and turned to the young commander. “Where are we off to first?”
“Debriefing.” Ahsoka rolled her eyes. “It’s going to be a dull morning, but we’ll get some actual food. No nutrient pastes planetside.”
“That’s the best news I’ve had all week!” Keaton said excitedly, stepping past Ahsoka in pursuit of something that wouldn’t make her feel like she was eating the world’s blandest smoothie, served on a plate for some inexplicable reason.
Ahsoka shook her head, but followed gamely as they left the Resolute.
It was nearly five hours later that Keaton was finally willing to admit that she had been overeager. Debriefing was boring. Seriously. Officials from the GAR wanted to parse through every detail of every battle, apparently uncaring that some of the action had taken place several weeks before. After she had been unable to answer yet another question, Keaton begrudgingly realized that there was a reason the commanding officers had to fill out so many forms and reports. They would probably need them just for the explanations they had to give.
When lunch finally came, however, it was almost worth the wait. It looked like some kind of sandwich, served cold alongside diced vegetables that Keaton had never seen before. It was all great, despite the unfamiliar flavors, but it was topped off by the best news Keaton had gotten all day: "The afternoon is for commanding officers. All non-officer personnel are dismissed."
The flood of troopers leaving the area was immediate and awe-inspiring. They were such a mass of people that Keaton just stopped and watched for a few minutes before standing to gather her things.
"Keaton!" Jesse greeted, dodging through the crowd to approach her. "Captain said you might come to 79's tonight?"
“Yeah! I need a night of drinking and dancing.”
---
Author's Note - And that's as far as I got before I moved on to another project. If you notice, I did add a Next option at the top of this chapter. I did not write any more - nor do I plan to - but I am going to add a final 'chapter' that summarizes what I saw happening in the rest of the series. Feel free to catch that if you're interested! I hope to post that sometime in the next few days.
Thank you for giving this discontinued fic a chance!
DISCONTINUED, but I wrote so much of the story that I wanted to share it. This will stay unfinished, but there are about 25,000 words that I'll post over the next few days.
Written as a Captain Rex x fem!oc story, but cuts off before any romance actually happens
Warnings: Aftermath of a battle, character death, mourning, grief, helplessness, vomit, guilt
Word Count: 2,600
Previous | Next | Masterlist
---
Chapter Seven
It was over. All of the fighting, the shouts, and the terrible cries for a medic. Kix had worked faster than anyone Keaton had ever seen, but his success rate hadn’t been high. The bacteria present on this planet were hostile toward human and humanoid species, he had told her just before the battle, displeasure plain in his voice.
Kix had saved a few men, but Keaton could tell it wasn’t enough for him. His shoulders were hiked toward his ears as he packed up the supplies he had left. She didn’t speak to him, though. For one thing, he didn’t seem like he was in the mood to welcome conversation. More importantly, however, she was absorbed in stroking her fingers down Notch’s slack face.
No matter how hard or fast Kix had worked to save him, Notch had slipped away. Worst of all, Kix had been forced to move on to the next cry of, “Medic!” Only Keaton had been there to wait with him for the end. She had closed his eyes, had wept over him. It was something few of the men had, and that realization made her cry harder.
Her sobs had settled now, had faded into slow tears that rolled occasionally down her cheeks, but she couldn’t stop them.
Notch’s cheek was growing cool. Dimly, Keaton realized that she had been sitting there too long. Kix had long since left, too focused on berating himself to look after the helpless journalist that had been forced on him.
There was movement around her. The men were working still. Keaton wanted to move away from Notch, to help them, to forget, but she couldn’t make herself stop watching him. She could see his laughing face so clearly, it seemed like he should open his eyes and chuckle at any moment.
Behind her and off to the left, Keaton heard Rex order the surviving men to help ‘collect the numbers’ of the fallen troopers so they could track the clone casualties of the battle.
There was an odd beat of silence after Rex's order, and the captain asked, “Problem, soldier?”
“No, sir,” a slightly-shaking voice answered. “I just- I haven’t dealt with many dead brothers before.”
“You will,” Rex said. Despite the harshness of his words, Rex’s voice was kind and Keaton heard a sound that she was willing to bet came from him resting a hand on the trooper’s shoulder.
Then, the captain stepped around in front of her and crouched, barely keeping his knees out of the blood-soaked dirt around Notch. Keaton couldn’t look at him. How could she? She had said that she could handle this, handle being in an actual war… Now, she was sitting, covered in blood and worse things, with blood-stained fingers that had finally come to a stop on a dead trooper’s jaw.
“Keaton,” Rex said softly, in what was easily the gentlest voice she had ever heard from him. She made an inquiring noise in the back of her throat, eyes fixed on her own fingers. “Keaton, General Skywalker needs to speak with you. I’ll take you to him.”
Keaton didn’t answer. If she stood, walked away, Notch would be here alone. She would have to come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t coming back, that this was all real. How would she survive it?
“Keaton,” Rex repeated, voice still kind. “At least look at me. Can you do that?”
With more effort than she had ever put toward anything, Keaton shifted her gaze away from her fingers on Notch’s jaw and looked at Rex. He gave a small, encouraging nod and the world seemed ready to settle once more when Keaton’s attention was stolen by a trooper being unloaded from a stretcher. He must have died before he could be transported to the Resolute. Now, he would be left here.
Seized with a sudden, manic energy, Keaton ripped the band from her head. As the shield’s purple light faded away, she pulled at the other bands, tearing at them until they were removed from her limbs. “Why do you do all of this, Rex? What’s the point?”
“If we don’t fight for the people, who will?” he asked in return, seeming to instinctively understand her question.
She shook her head and gritted her teeth until they ached. “Take me to the general.”
Rex silently led her across the battlefield, graciously pretending not to notice that she followed him too closely. It was easier to focus on his dirty armor than her grim surroundings. When they reached General Skywalker, he was already discussing the next battle with Ahsoka. Keaton’s stomach twisted at the thought of going through this again.
Fortunately, when the general caught sight of her, he cut himself off. “Keaton. I just got some news from Coruscant. Your deadline has been moved up. Chancellor Palpatine needs your article sent by tomorrow at the latest so it can be translated and formatted for publishing.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Keaton asked, voice bland despite the profanity. “I’m just supposed to go back to my room and write? After all of this?”
Captain Rex’s gauntleted hand came down on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “This is how you help the men, Howell. This is where you use your training.”
Keaton watched him for a moment before giving a tight nod. “Can you take me back to the Resolute?”
“One of the other men-” Skywalker started, but he was interrupted by Ahsoka.
The Togruta pointed at the map, quickly interrupting whatever Skywalker had been ready to say. “But what if we landed over here instead?”
With the general distracted, Rex grasped Keaton’s elbow lightly and began leading her back toward the ship.
“Are you okay?” he asked eventually.
In answer, Keaton leaned over slightly and vomited into the dirt. Rex stood beside her until she was done, then passed her his mostly-empty canteen. Keaton emptied the contents into her mouth - careful not to touch the canteen to her lips as she wasn’t a complete monster - and spat the water onto the ground. She still wanted a toothbrush, but the rinse had made a world of difference. Keaton handed the canteen back with a grunt that could have been ‘thanks’.
The next thing she knew, Keaton was staring at the door to her cabin. She didn’t remember much of the trip or how long she had been standing there, but shook herself and met Rex’s concerned eyes.
“Thank you, Captain,” she said wearily. “For everything.”
“No first battle is easy,” he responded, frowning. “If it helps, you did very well.”
“I vomited,” Keaton countered.
“But at least you weren’t wearing a helmet to vomit in,” Rex said, consolingly.
Keaton smiled a bit at that, though the expression felt odd on her face, heavy and unnatural. “Yeah. I have some writing to do. See you later.”
Rex gave a single nod and left her to go into her empty cabin. There was a small desk in the corner, one that she had previously used to store random odds and ends that had been accidentally brought with her from when she had left. She settled at it and opened the largest drawer to grab her backpack.
Keaton pulled out a notebook, flipped past all of her messy notes about plant molecular, cellular, and developmental biology, and found a blank page. After a short session of staring at the wall, she unearthed a pen and, gripping it with fingers stained with Notch’s blood, began to write.
---
It is dark. No one ever mentioned how dark it would be. The blackness of the planet surrounds us like water around a drowning man and I wonder, briefly, if it will fill my lungs when I open my mouth to scream.
Only a few lights cut through the gloom. The bioluminescent plants and creatures that have adapted to life on this planet of perpetual night appear in flashes of green and blue that appear almost ghostly to the eye, though their appearance does draw attention to the constant trails of stars shooting across the sky littered with pinpoints of light. The planet would be beautiful - it is beautiful - except for the war.
The Separatists are clever to stage a battle here. Their mechanized soldiers have no eyes, thus have no need for the weak beams used by the clone troopers to illuminate the battlefield. It will be a difficult battle for the brave soldiers of the Republic.
It seems the battle has just started when a new form of light emerges: lightsabers. One blue - countered by a set of yellow and green - arcs gracefully across the field, leaving red-hot cuts bisecting freshly disabled droids. Wherever the Jedi go, the blaster bolts seem to surge as though they troopers are bolstered by the very presence of their General and Commander.
The Republic troops fight well, but not without casualty: as I watch, a fresh-faced trooper called Notch falls from multiple blaster wounds to the chest, having taken the bolts to protect two of his brothers as they battled a jammed blaster. I follow a clone medic known as Kix to Notch’s side, offering my shield to allow a moment of safety for Kix’s efforts.
Though the medic is skilled and works faster than any healer I’ve ever known, Notch is dying. The blood trickles from his wounds and his mouth. I am close enough to hear Kix mutter, “Blood in the lungs,” before he begins to work at an even more rapid pace.
“It’s okay, Kix,” Notch offers, pushing the medic’s hands away. He’s in pain, I can see it in the lines of his face and the involuntary tears that roll slowly into his hairline, but he smiles wide enough to expose the chipped tooth that gave him his name. “My brothers are safe, and that’s enough for me.”
Kix swears at him roughly, orders him to stay awake, but what is rank compared to the call of the next life? The light fades from Notch’s eyes as his lips fall back over that chipped tooth for the last time. He is gone.
When the battle is over - they tell me we’ve won - the soldiers have no time to bury their dead. They must rush off to the next mission, hurry to keep the safety of the Republic intact, but they remember the names of their fallen brothers.
In the quiet hush of hyperspace, they hold a memorial. The losses are few, they say, but remembering Notch’s playful grin, I still think them too great to be borne. The soldiers’ names are repeated, along with a Mando’a memorial one soldier was kind enough to translate: I’m still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal.
These men - for they are indeed men - are incredible. They fight, they bleed, they die, they grieve... all for a public who receives them as coldly as the metallic enemies they face. Step up, Republic citizens. It is time to claim these incredible men as your own. Protect them as best you can; they are certainly doing their best to protect you.
Recognize them as the heroes that they are.
---
Keaton left the room as the last line was read. She had been nervous from the moment the clones had first found the newly released first volume of ‘Tales from the Battlefield’. The articles had been published in no particular order, and the troopers eagerly read Vak’s account of his first month with the 212th as it came early in the article list.
Vak had submitted an edgy, hard-hitting piece about the battle he had witnessed. For all that Keaton disliked him on a personal level, she had to admit that his writing was strong. She could almost see the battlefield from his vivid descriptions, and it was an image she hadn’t appreciated. More importantly, Vak had made the troopers of the 212th out to be invincible superheroes, detailing their heroics and those of General Kenobi.
She cringed at the thought of the 501st troopers being disappointed in the article she had written. She hadn’t included a thing about their battlefield heroics, only briefly touched on the Jedi presence, and had written several points about the unreliability of their equipment. She hadn’t planned to stay after the first month, but there would be a certain indignity in being asked to leave...
Keaton found herself on one of the lower parts of the ship, near enough to the hangars that she was surrounded by large viewports. She occupied herself in watching the stars lazily drift past.
When she heard steps behind her, she didn’t turn. Didn’t have to, really. Since the battle, Captain Rex had become something like a shadow. He didn’t trust that she was okay, though she always assured him that she was doing well whenever he asked. Rex thought she was weak after she had fallen apart. That didn't especially bother her; Keaton was comfortable enough to understand that she had pushed herself to a whole new level. She didn't need anyone else to see that.
“How are you?” Rex asked, coming to stand beside her.
“You keep asking me that,” Keaton observed with a slight laugh.
“You keep telling me that you’re fine,” he replied simply.
Keaton thought for a moment of joking that she was definitely fine, but that slang probably wouldn’t translate particularly well. “I do. It’s a lie. You know that. I’m trying to be fine, but I’m just not.”
“I’m sorry about Notch,” Rex offered.
“I’m sorry about Notch,” she echoed.
Even not looking at him, Keaton could see his dark brows crashing down into a furrow over his eyes. “You feel responsible?”
“Not really, but I’m guilty all the same. I’m alive and he isn’t. I know it makes no sense, but it doesn’t stop the guilt.” Keaton laughed and it scared her. Surely that dry, joyless sound hadn’t come from her? “Sometimes I’m so guilty, I can’t breathe.”
Rex put a hand on her shoulder. “If you take every single thing on your own shoulders, you’ll never take a full breath again. You were there for Notch until the end. He didn’t die alone on an alien planet. And now, he’ll be remembered.”
“Be honest: how disappointed were the men?” Keaton asked, mostly because thinking about Notch was making her tear up.
Blinking at her, Rex asked, “Disappointed? In what?”
Keaton shrugged. “I didn’t write an action-filled article about how badass you all are. I didn’t even write much about the men. It seemed like they wanted to be written about like the 212th was. I mean, some of it was from inexact translations, but I didn't write the kind of story they wanted.”
Rex turned to face her directly, waiting until she had half-turned as well before saying slowly, “The men are all grateful to you for the work you did on that article. We all saw how difficult it was for you to witness a battle, and you still chose to honor one of their fallen brothers the way you did. You’ll always have friends in the 501st.”
“Oh,” Keaton said weakly, biting back more tears. “Okay, then. As long as they liked it.”
“I promise you, they did,” Rex assured her. A moment later, a grin spread across his face - the most honest expression Keaton had ever seen on him. “Now, come with me to the mess. Kix said your scans still show you losing weight and he’s going to personally supervise your dinner.”
Keaton groaned dramatically, but let him guide her along to the mess hall.
---
Author's Note - This was meant to be the end of the first 'story'. I had started working on the first chapter of the second story when the inspiration left me, but I'll post what I finished of story two tomorrow.
The planet they battled on was based on Umbara. I didn't want it to be, but I guess I was as traumatized by the Umbara arc as everyone else and it came through in my writing!
DISCONTINUED, but I wrote so much of the story that I wanted to share it. This will stay unfinished, but there are about 25,000 words that I'll post over the next few days.
Written as a Captain Rex x fem!oc story, but cuts off before any romance actually happens
Word Count: 3,400
Warnings: Nervousness, dramatic backstory, and growing intimacy
Previous | Next | Masterlist
---
Chapter Six
“Notch,” Keaton called, then louder, “Notch!”
Notch, caught in laughing conversation with two other troopers, took a moment to respond. After a confused glance over one shoulder, he turned fully and gave a broad smile. "Keaton!" he greeted happily, adding to the others, "I'll catch up with you guys later."
Keaton smiled and nodded to the two men as they continued down the corridor, shooting curious stares over their shoulders.
When they were alone - or as close to it as they could get on a busy cruiser - Notch said, "So, what's going on? I haven't seen you since that night in the mess- oh. I'm sorry about that, by the way. I wasn't trying to make bad blood between you and the commander…"
Keaton stopped his apology. "It's fine, Notch. It wasn't your fault. Besides, everything is all sorted out now.”
“Glad to hear it!” he said, grinning at her. “Er, Keaton, is there something in particular that you needed?”
“Notch, have you ever been in a battle?”
“No, this will be my first!” The trooper’s grin was, if possible, wider now than it had been before.
“Are you nervous?”
“Are you kidding? I’ve been waiting for this my whole life! Years of training and battle theory and simulations… Finally, I get my chance to prove that I’ve earned my way into the 501st. Everyone think I just lucked into it, but I know I’m good enough to belong.”
“But what if you… You get…”
“Killed?” he asked. Keaton nodded. “You can’t think that way. If you’ve put in the work to prepare for combat, your instincts just take over-”
“What are you talking about, shiny?” another trooper asked. Keaton vaguely recognized him as Ronto, a cheerful trooper with hair that was shaved down to his scalp on the sides and allowed to grow long atop his head. He wasn’t an officer, but everyone in the 501st knew that he was on the list to move up eventually and treated him with deference.
“Battle instincts,” Notch replied simply.
“You have no instincts yet,” Ronto told him with a chuckle. “New troopers always think you rise to the occasion and that isn’t true. In battle, you fall back to the level of your experience. You’ve been trained and done simulations, sure, but you’re going to freeze at least once in battle. Shinies always do.”
“What is a shiny?” Keaton asked curiously.
“Someone who’s never been in battle,” Ronto told her.
“Am I a shiny, then?”
Ronto narrowed his eyes at her, considering. “Maybe? Normally, shinies are soldiers. It describes their armor. After a couple of battles, it gets stained and scuffed, no amount of polishing can make it shine again. You’re… an honorary shiny, at best.”
“An honorary shiny,” Keaton said proudly, turning to Notch. “Did you hear that?”
“I don’t think it was a compliment, but I heard it,” Notch grinned, nudging her with his arm. “And who knows? Maybe you’ll get some armor, too.”
“Maybe,” Keaton agreed, expression falling as she remembered why she was so nervous in the first place. “Good talking to you, Notch.”
“You too, Keaton!” he said happily, chatting with Ronto as Keaton ambled in the opposite direction.
---
“All right, men,” General Skywalker said to the gathered troopers. “We’re scheduled to arrive early tomorrow morning, but don’t expect much sunlight. This planet is dark for its entire rotation this time of year, so night vision is a must. My first five landing crews, follow Ahsoka and I to the bridge so we can talk strategy. Everyone else, refer to Captain Rex for further orders.”
“Double-check your packs, clean and prep your weapons, and get a solid night of sleep,” Rex told them, stepping to the place the general had just vacated. Though the troopers departing with Skywalker and Ahsoka had made a bit of noise talking amongst themselves, he was glad to see that he had everyone’s undivided attention. Kaminoan training methods had given them a sharp focus on what mattered.
In his glance around the room, however, Rex had also discovered that Keaton stood just inside the door. Her gray-green eyes were wide with apprehension, but no less focused than his men. Actually, her gaze might be too intense. He half-worried she would burn through the skin of his face with how intently she stared.
He cleared his throat. “This is a cut-and-dried landing mission. The planet is already prepped and is loyal to the Republic by all accounts, so we should have civilians fighting on our side. Steer clear of anything not made of metal. We take down the clankers and let the Jedi sort out who is who, except if they start shooting at you. This is a simple, textbook mission, boys, but don’t let it make you sloppy. Any job can turn bad fast enough if you start taking it for granted. Last thing, we have a civilian with us.”
Rex nodded at Keaton and several of the troopers turned to glance at her. More than a few gave nods and small waves. It seemed she was finally making a place among them. “She’ll be on the battlefield with Kix, helping with the wounded. Keep an eye out for her and sing out if you see something wrong. Dismissed.”
Most of the troopers left, off to repack bags and get in a few more rounds of blaster practice before going to their bunks, but there were still a healthy few who crowded around Keaton. They chattered the way troopers normally did before a battle, bragging and making bets about how many clankers they would take down before the action ended.
He approached in silence, reveling in the way his men subtly stood straighter when they noticed his Jaig eyes helmet. “Howell, we need to fit you for the shield.”
Keaton nodded and Rex noted that she had yet to say a word, despite the friends surrounding her. When they called goodbyes, she only lifted a hand and gave a weak smile.
The silence stretched until they arrived at the gym. By that point, Rex couldn’t stand it any longer and asked, “Howell, are you going to be able to do this?”
She blinked at him, half-smiled, then frowned harder than she had been. “I think so.”
He handed her a gray belt. “Put this around your waist.”
Keaton began winding it around her torso, though her motions were uncoordinated and fitful. He didn’t want to push her, but if she were going to break, it should be now rather than somewhere that death could be the consequence.
“Battlefields aren’t really a good place for thinking,” Rex pressed on. “You have to know that you can do this, that you aren’t going to freeze. These go on your ankles.”
She took the smaller gray belts, but made no move to fasten them. “Rex, what if I can’t do this?”
He shrugged. “We’ll tell the general and you won’t go out tomorrow. We’ll send you home when we get back to Coruscant.”
Keaton nodded but bent to place the smaller belts around her ankles. Straightening, she admitted, “I don’t know if I can go through with it.”
Rex waited, but she didn’t give any further information. “Do you need a pep talk or should I go get the general? These go on your wrists.”
She took a deep breath and began speaking so frantically that he only grasped bits and pieces of what she was saying, but he recognized a panicked tone when he heard one. Luckily, she paced rapidly around the gym as she was speaking and didn’t seem to need any response from him. Rex could see from the mirror placed along one wall of the room that Keaton was crying and his own face looked stunned. When she began repeating the same few facts he had already heard, Rex stepped in and cut her off, placing his hands on her shoulders when she didn’t so much as glance at him.
“Howell.” Still nothing. “Keaton.” That made her eyes finally meet his own. Rex did his best to sum up everything she had been saying. “So your father was a soldier who was killed in action and your mother died a few years later. You’ve had enough of death and only did this so you could save a few of the men, but now you’re worried you’ll have to watch them die. Am I understanding you correctly?”
She nodded, tears still rolling down her cheeks. She didn’t seem to notice. “Do you want me to get the general so he can take you out of his plans for tomorrow?”
Slowly, she shook her head and Rex wanted to groan. She was fragile, delicate, and this breakdown had reinforced it for him. Was she going to insist on following them into the battlefield anyway? “Then what do you want to do?”
Keaton pulled away from him, sitting on a nearby weight bench to begin fastening the gray belts on her wrists. Her hands were shaking, making an already-difficult process impossible, and Rex heaved a silent sigh.
Rex approached slowly, then took a knee next to the bench and pulled the belt she was struggling with out of her hands, then placed her arm so that her wrist was easily accessible and set to work. “I was scared my first time in battle.”
She glanced at him questioningly and he nodded. “It’s true. I was so scared I thought I would vomit in my helmet. And when you’re a soldier in this army? There’s no living that down.”
“You’re making that up,” Keaton told him with a hint of a smile.
Pulling an exaggeratedly insulted expression, Rex shook his head. “I would never. In fact, I need you to keep this to yourself so that the men don’t find out.” She chuckled lightly and Rex smiled down at the band he had looped around her wrist. “Too tight?”
“No, it’s fine,” she said, pulling the wrist away so she could scrub the tears from her face.
Tugging her other wrist into place, Rex pretended not to see. “Anyway, every soldier is scared the first time they see action. A battlefield is a scary place. Too tight?” Keaton shook her head and he stood up to give her room. “And any man who tells you that he wasn’t, is lying.”
“But you guys all had training,” she countered, not incorrectly. “I’m going out there not knowing how to do anything.”
“Because you won’t be doing anything,” Rex answered after a moment. “You’re a journalist. Your job is to take in as much information as possible so that you can write about it afterward. You did your training when you learned how to write a good story, and your real work happens after the battle. If you’re determined to go out there tomorrow, you’ll stay back by Kix, watch the action, and keep out of trouble. No training required.”
A small smile sprouted on Keaton’s face. “Keeping out of trouble isn’t my best thing, especially when you’re not around to lock me in my room.”
Rex thought about apologizing for that, but dismissed the idea. He wasn’t actually sorry. She was a civilian, not even one from this galaxy, and he had been trying to keep her safe. Instead, he strove for a light tone. “How about this? When you make it through this battle, we’ll work on training you to keep your head down.”
“Like that’ll stick.” Keaton stood and stretched her arms out to her sides, testing the belts. “Chopper was right, you are a good person to talk to about this stuff.”
Rex felt his face heat. “Chopper’s a good man. Sometimes he likes to talk to drown out the voices. He’s a dedicated soldier, and if he takes a liking to you, you have a friend for life.”
“I’d say you have a friend for life, then,” she told him before waving her arms around. “How does this shield work?”
“You need the last piece,” he told her, holding out one final band. “It goes around the top of your head.”
“Are you serious?” she asked and he nodded. She sighed and pulled it down until it fit snugly. “I hope this thing works against insults, because I’m going to be the weirdest-dressed person on that battlefield!”
“You’ll be fine. Move the bands a bit to help the shield calibrate.” Keaton made a face at him and waved her hands around, kicking her feet in rhythm so that it looked like a crazed dance. He chuckled and she looked at him sharply, but the shield flickered to life, stealing her attention.
“Whoa! This is cool!”
Rex tried to see it from her eyes, but couldn’t manage to think of the translucent purple shield as anything other than enemy tech, an advantage to protect the droidekas that caused such problems for his men. There were ways around the shield, however, ways that he should warn Keaton about.
“Keep an eye out for anything slow-moving,” he warned. “The shield is designed to repel objects traveling at a dangerous speed, but it will let slow ones in.”
“Why is that?” Keaton asked, waving her arms around and twirling in place.
“So that you can walk. If it kept out everything, you would bounce off of shrubs, benches, and whatever else was in your path.”
“You’re saying that I could run at that wall and bounce off of it if I’m going fast enough, but if I walk, I would just smack right into it?” Keaton grinned, obviously amused by the image.
“Yes, but then you would have to explain to Kix why you walked into a wall,” Rex answered dryly.
“That would be a wonderful first impression,” she said cheerfully, then sobered. “I should probably meet him before the battle, right?”
“Probably,” Rex agreed carefully. “So you’re going to go through with it? Not too late to talk to the General.”
“No,” Keaton refused, jaw setting. “I’m going to do this.”
"Then we should take you to meet Kix," Rex said with a sigh, "And you'll need to get some sleep before tomorrow."
---
Author's Note - Sorry, meant to post this literal days ago, but life got really busy. As far as I can tell, there should just be two more chapters of this before we're done. I'll get those posted without any more delays!
DISCONTINUED, but I wrote so much of the story that I wanted to share it. This will stay unfinished, but there are about 25,000 words that I'll post over the next few days.
Written as a Captain Rex x fem!oc story, but cuts off before any romance actually happens
Word Count: 2,700
Warnings: References to alcoholism (oc), references to war, heavy-handed character backstory, past parental death
Previous | Next | Masterlist
---
Chapter Five
When any strange and conflicting feelings had been crushed beneath a punishing workout in the Resolute’s onboard gym, Rex finally returned to his office. His gray workout gear was stained darker with sweat though he had toweled the worst of it off. He was two steps inside his cramped office before he realized it was already occupied.
(office is also his bunk. Made to house at least two men, but without the secondary furniture and belongings, has enough room for just him and a small office.)
Stupid, CT-7567, he mentally berated himself. Stupidity did not deserve the name he had worked so hard to earn.
“Can I help you with something, Howell?”
Keaton glanced over from where she stood rifling through a stack of datapads. “Yeah, a few things, actually. Would you rather change before we get started?”
“Is this going to be a long conversation?”
“Longer, if you keep avoiding questions,” she returned challengingly.
Rex growled in frustration and stomped around the room, slamming drawers sharply as he gathered clean clothing to change into. “I’m going to shower,” he announced, glaring at Keaton. “Five minutes. Don’t go through my office.”
It came as exactly no shock to Rex when he emerged from the refresher to find Keaton rifling through the sheets of flimsi he had meant to shred but had instead left piled on a table in the corner. He would be concerned if he thought she could actually read the language. Hell, with all of the GAR acronyms and trooper slang, he wasn't sure that it was even considered basic anymore.
“I told you not to do that,” he pointed out, but she only shrugged. He shook his head and moved to sit behind his desk.
He watched her for a bit longer before asking, “Did you actually need something or were you just unbearably curious about my office?”
She stopped exploring and sat in one of the chairs facing his desk. She spent a moment adjusting the way her GAR-provided shirt fell to the fabric of her pants, obviously gathering her thoughts. “I wanted to thank you for whatever you said to Ahsoka. It’s nice to have a friend again.”
“I didn’t say anything she wouldn’t have realized in another day or two,” he hedged uncomfortably.
“Still, thanks.”
He waited for there to be more, but she seemed content to sit and watch him in silence. Maybe it was the close scrutiny, but the niggling guilt Rex had felt over the past days grew to a boiling point. “I’m sorry for saying that the men don’t respect you. I didn’t think they were capable of seeing a female as a friend without wanting more. I was wrong. I underestimated them and I underestimated you. I apologize.”
She nodded with a smile. “It’s okay, I needed to be less open with them.”
He couldn’t argue that, but was saved from coming up with a tactful response when she went back to sorting through his office. “What are you looking for?” he asked, a bit more snappishly than he had originally meant to.
“Alcohol! Do you know how long it’s been since I've had some?”
He stared at her, studying everything about her now compared to when he had first met her. She did seem steadier now, but seemed to be constantly searching for something - though in less blatant terms than she was doing now. “You’re an alcoholic,” he observed, keeping any sort of judgement from his voice.
“Everyone has a coping mechanism,” she said with another shrug. He was beginning to understand that it was the only form of embarrassment she would allow herself. “Not everyone can deal with their trauma through exercise and shouting.”
“What trauma are you coping with?”
With a grave expression that was belied by her twinkling eyes, Keaton said, “I’m sorry, that’s a level five friendship question. We’re only at a level two.”
“We’re friends?” he asked, only half-joking.
She scoffed, bringing a smile to his face. “Cold, Rex. Very cold. Anyway, this isn’t what I came here to talk about.”
Rex frowned fiercely. “You still haven’t gotten to the point?”
“Nope,” she popped with relish. “The 501st is a planetary landing squadron and we’re approaching the planet we intend to land on. I want to pick your brain about how we expect this battle to go.”
“Ignoring the fact that you aren’t supposed to know which planet we’re landing on...” he started with a hard glare at her. She ignored him in favor of picking at the end of the thick braid she had woven her hair into. “How do you know there is going to be a battle?”
“Because no creature would allow a group of potentially-hostile soldiers to land on the surface of their planet without a fight?”
“It’s been infiltrated by the Separatists,” he argued.
“Exactly. Good odds say that they’ve already spread all kinds of unflattering propaganda about you and your men. It’s standard procedure. Make the enemy look bad enough and you’ve cemented yourself as the better option.”
“Based on past experience, the natives of that planet are being mistreated, despite how good the Seppies want to look.”
“Better the devil you know, though.”
Rex picked that over for a long moment, but couldn’t make sense of her statement no matter how he puzzled it. “I’m sorry?”
“Better the- Oh. That expression doesn’t exist here, does it? Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t? It just means that you’re almost always better off with an enemy whose tactics and strategies you know than one who could show up with something entirely new to you that you have no defense for.”
He shrugged after a long moment of consideration. He was a soldier, not a philosopher. He had been ordered to lead the men into landing on a Separatist-controlled planet, and he had been bred and trained to follow orders. “Still, we’re going to land there and make sure the other squadrons have a fighting chance. What do you want to know?”
“Everything,” she replied simply. He raised an eyebrow and she elaborated, “How are we making sure I don’t get shot? Is there a specific way we intend to land and start fighting? Wait, I’m not fighting, am I? My aim isn’t bad, but it’s not the best. Do you guys try to advance in waves or by the individual? Do certain groups go to the front lines first?”
And he had thought she was being dramatic by saying she wanted to know everything… “Okay, stop. Let’s do this step by step. You’re going to be protected by a shield.”
“A shield? What’s a shield going to do?”
“No, this is new, cutting-edge tech. You’re going to have an energy shield around you, one that will block out anything that approaches too quickly. You’ll be protected from blaster bolts and shrapnel, but able to move freely. It’s expensive stuff, based off droideka armor…”
He cut himself off mid-explanation, catching sight of Keaton’s expression. She was smiling, but her eyes made it clear she didn’t understand a word he was saying. “I… I guess you don’t know much about any of that, huh?”
She shook her head, still smiling. “No, but it’s nice to see you so passionate about something.”
Rex rubbed the back of his neck, uncomfortably warm all of a sudden. “It doesn’t matter. All you need to know is that you’ll be safe, you and a sphere stretching roughly three feet in every direction.”
“Armored bubble, got it. But where will I be? On the front lines, or maybe tailing the General?”
“Negative,” he replied sharply. “You’re a civilian, armor or no. You’ll be with Kix.”
“The medic? Why?”
“He’s the safest. The Seppies don’t have much battlefield honor, but they still try to avoid killing medics. Besides, you’ll see the real cost of the action back there.”
Keaton sighed, then squared her shoulders for a moment before they slumped again. “I really didn’t want to have to see anyone die.”
“But you wanted to be on the front lines?” he questioned, pasting a smile on his face in an attempt at levity.
“Not really. I don’t want to be anywhere near this fight, honestly. I’ve gotten to know the men, gotten attached to them. I know some of them won’t live through this battle and I’m not ready to witness it.”
Rex considered that, really considered it. He and his vod’e had been bred for this, raised from the moment of first awareness to know that they could - and probably would - die on the battlefield. There was no shame in it, and very little sadness. Instead, every clone felt an odd sense of pride in his brothers who had sacrificed everything and a determined kind of understanding that it could be his future as well.
“You were brought here to do a job and I know you’ll see it through. The important thing is that the men know you’re doing this for them.”
He could clearly see that this didn’t comfort her enough, but there was little else he could say. She had been conditioned by the standard of life on her planet to think opposite of him on nearly every topic. There simply wasn’t enough common ground between them to offer comfort in any of the ways he would for a typical civilian.
Instead, he rested a hand on her shoulder and returned her questioning stare with a solemn nod. “You’ll survive, Keaton. This is the first step toward making sure that no clone ever has to die in battle again.”
To Rex’s shock, she seemed to take heart from this more than any of the other platitudes he had offered. “Thank you, Rex,” she said softly, sincerely. “I won’t let you all down.”
Then she was gone from his quarters, leaving behind only an odd melancholy and the memory of her skin’s warmth under Rex’s fingers.
---
It really wasn’t a surprise that she couldn’t sleep. Insomnia had become a constant companion since Keaton had set foot on the Resolute, and after the night’s conversation with Rex, there was no chance of getting any solid sleep.
What she wouldn’t give for a rum and coke!
Keaton paused at that, even in her own thoughts. Was she an alcoholic as Rex had claimed? Probably. Between college culture and fighting her own demons, there were more reasons for Keaton to abuse alcohol than not to. However, now that she was cut off from her drug of choice, Keaton couldn’t pretend she wasn’t feeling better. Her mind was more clear and her head didn’t ache nearly as often. Her appetite was still hit or miss, but Keaton had a feeling that was more to do with the disgusting food here than with her stomach.
Of course, it could be her impending experience with an actual warzone. That wasn’t going to be fun and Keaton’s stomach turned even as she thought about it. The memories surged up and whacked her in the face before she had a chance to defend against them and Keaton sat down against the wall, feeling a touch lightheaded.
Her father had been a soldier, killed in battle when Keaton was nine. She had been close with him and his death devastated her nearly as badly as it had her mother. Keaton's mother had been a proud supporter of her husband, working as a nurse in the hospital on the military base. She had died when Keaton was fourteen. There had been an anti-military demonstration outside the gates of the base and she had swerved to avoid a protester, hitting a roadblock. Keaton had bounced from one relative to another for the next four years. At least she hadn’t been sent into foster care. There was no way she would have been adopted. Teens never were.
No, Keaton had seen both sides of the war effort by the time she had gone off to college and had wanted to steer clear of anything vaguely resembling war ever since. That was why her major was Plant Sciences rather than anything more hard-hitting. The fact that she didn’t care about plants and killed every green thing she touched didn’t matter, or that she hated all of her classes… She did feel a twinge of guilt, though, thinking of the plant projects she had left behind. Were they adopted by another student or had the class simply watched them die?
You’re going to watch someone die, a nasty little voice told her. Or maybe you’ll die yourself. Wouldn’t that be nice? No one will ever know what happened to you. Not that you have anyone who would care…
“Shut up,” Keaton said out loud, burying her head against her knees.
“You alright?”
The voice forgotten in the wave of embarrassment, Keaton looked up at the source of the question. It was a soldier, no shock there. Everyone on this ship was a soldier in one sense or another, except for Keaton. However, she didn’t think she had seen this particular man before.
His hair was shaved down to the scalp, exposing a network of scars that traced along one side of his head. His eyes were two different colors; the one on the side with the scarring was noticeably lighter than the other, but that was as far as Keaton got before she paused at the look in the trooper's eyes. He seemed uncomfortable in the extreme to be talking to her and avoided looking directly at her face, but he was still standing there, waiting for a response.
“Yeah, I guess. The voices in my head just won’t shut up today,” she said with a weak laugh.
To her shock, he nodded sympathetically. “I have those days.”
Keaton stared up at him and he met her gaze for the first time, extending a hand down to her. “Chopper,” he said simply.
She gingerly took his hand, “Keaton.”
Rather than give her a handshake, he hoisted her easily to her feet. “Find someone to talk to,” he advised. “Whoever you want, but the voices can’t talk to you if you’re talking to someone else.”
“Thanks, Chopper,” she said sincerely, asking before she thought better of it, “Who do you talk to?”
Chopper remained silent for a stretch, long enough that Keaton almost apologized, but he revealed, “The captain. He’s a busy man, but he’ll make time for you if you need him. Plus, there’s no one I trust more.”
“Ah,” Keaton said slowly. “Well, I actually just came from talking with Captain Rex. Maybe I’ll see if I can find Ahsoka.”
“The commander’s off doing Jedi stuff with the general. Secret training. They practice it every night about this time.” Chopper shifted his weight from one leg to another, rubbing at his scarred face. “Maybe I can help you?”
“Oh, I don’t think…” Keaton trailed off. From Chopper’s posture, he was more offended than relieved that she didn’t want to confide in him. “I’m just worried about being in a battle. I guess it seems silly to someone who’s fought in so many of them, but I- I can’t help but be nervous.”
“Good,” Chopper said shortly. “You should be nervous. Nerves keep men careful, keep them alive. War isn’t a place for civilians and none of us are happy to be taking one in with us, but we’ll make sure you get out alive.”
“I’m more worried about all of you getting out alive,” Keaton admitted.
Chopper blinked at her for a long moment. “Death is one thing the men don’t worry about.”
“How can they not?”
“Well, if you live, great. If you don’t, you don’t have anything to worry about. It isn’t your problem anymore.”
“That’s the most pragmatic thing I’ve ever heard anyone say,” Keaton told him with a laugh.
“There are worse things than death,” Chopper said, tone as dark as his expression. She stared at him until he flinched a bit. “I have to go. If I may be excused, sir?”
Keaton shook her head. “I’m not a commanding officer, so you’re definitely free to go. Thank you for the advice, Chopper. I’ll give it a shot.”
He nodded, but said nothing more, rubbing at the back of his close-shaven head as he continued down the hallway. Lost in thought and deciding to follow Chopper's wisdom the next day, Keaton returned to her quarters and fell into a fitful sleep.
---
Author's Note - I love Chopper so much. He was only in the Clone Wars for one episode, if I remember correctly, but I've written so many stories where he shows up. I was pleasantly surprised to find this appearance! I don't remember writing that scene, but it's nice to see that my appreciation for Chopper existed back then.
Also, I did leave a note for myself in there. I was planning to work the detail about Rex's quarters also being his office into the story itself, but I obviously didn't get that far.
I'll be back tomorrow with another chapter! Not very many left now, so remember: when we're out of chapters, the story is done. Thank you for reading along anyway!
DISCONTINUED, but I wrote so much of the story that I wanted to share it. This will stay unfinished, but there are about 25,000 words that I'll post over the next few days.
Written as a Captain Rex x fem!oc story, but cuts off before any romance actually happens
Word Count: 2,400
Warnings: More teenage mean girl vibes, awkwardness, homesickness, complaining, gossip, misunderstandings
Previous | Next | Masterlist
---
Chapter Four
When Rex finally tracked down the commander, she was in the small gym aboard the Resolute. When she saw him, she beamed, sheathing her lightsabers and clipping them to her belt before approaching.
“Hey, Rexster! Haven’t seen you in a while. What’s going on?”
“The usual, solving disputes and whatnot,” Rex sighed, needing exactly no acting skills to make it sound weary.
“Uh-oh,” the commander said with a smile. “Which troopers are fighting now?”
“It’s more awkward than that. Some situation with a commanding officer and a journalist?”
In a heartbeat, Ahsoka’s expression went from interested to utterly flat, a clear sense of drop it emanating from her. “It’s nothing that needs your expertise, Rex.”
“I wish I could, Commander, but I have to do what’s best for my men.”
“And you think that Howell is what’s best for the men? How so?”
“Not her, specifically, sir,” Rex explained, wishing he could be literally anywhere else. “Just a journalist in general. I think Keaton deserves a chance, but even if you’re determined to chase her off, it could be hard for us to get a replacement if she feels unwelcome.”
The commander’s eye markings were drawn into a completely straight line. “You don’t understand. She looked my people up on the Holonet. She researched the Togruta just so she would be able to impress everyone.”
“Is that why she said she did when you asked her?” Rex asked innocently.
From the commander’s darkening lekku, she hadn’t done any such thing.
“I think I see,” he offered. “Is it possible that you didn’t ask why she researched you?”
“I don’t see how that matters!” Ahsoka snapped. “She researched me, Rex. Like I’m some kind of exhibit, like- like…”
“Like she’s a human who’s never met someone of another species and wanted to learn more about them?” Rex supplied.
“Would you stop that?” she snapped. “Stop sounding so… reasonable!”
“It is my greatest failing,” he blandly agreed.
“I suppose you think I should talk to her.” Ahsoka sounded put out by it. With a sigh, she admitted, “I don’t like her, Rex.”
“Because she’s new, because she’s different, or because you think she’s a threat?”
“You really aren’t pulling punches today, huh?” she mused. “I’m not threatened by her. She doesn’t even know how to take care of herself. Besides, she’s not Force-sensitive, so I could always use that against her...”
“Commander.”
“Fine, okay. I don’t like that she’s here. She’s allowed to care about the men in a way I never can.” Ahsoka ran a hand over her montrals thoughtfully. “I guess I’ll talk to her next time I see her. I could at least get the real story.”
“Commander.”
“Fine! I’ll go talk to her now! I hope you’re happy, Rex,” she said grumpily as she stomped off, leaving Rex alone in the abandoned workout room.
Happy wasn’t quite the way he would put it.
---
Keaton was just in the middle of a choice moping session when a knock came on the door. She rolled from her bed to her feet in half a second, the usual amount of time it took for a trooper to burst in, but no other sounds came.
She walked to the door, pressing the button that would allow it to whoosh open dramatically. Ahsoka stood on the other side and Keaton frowned. “Commander. Something else you wanted to add? I think you covered your feelings pretty thoroughly earlier, but…”
The blue on Ahsoka’s lekku darkened and Keaton frowned at the reaction. Embarrassment? “I said some things I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry. Can I come in?”
“I guess,” she said less than graciously, stepping back to allow Ahsoka in. The girl stopped short just inside the door and Keaton blushed. “I know it’s probably not as neat as you’re used to.”
Keaton’s clothes were strewn in the general vicinity of a corner as she had never managed to work out where the laundry was. A spare blanket - probably meant for the upper bunk - had been spread across the floor in front of the bed in an act of defiance against the cold bite of the metal floor. A couple of other belongings were spread out in the room in a sad attempt to make it feel more like home, but it hadn’t worked and just served to create an impression of sloppiness.
“No, it’s fine,” Ahsoka said, recovering admirably. She lowered herself to sit cross-legged on the makeshift carpet. After a long moment, Keaton joined her. “I just- It was pointed out that I was unfair to you in the mess hall earlier.”
Keaton shrugged. “You were blunt, but honest. I don’t belong here.”
“Maybe you do,” she disagreed, but didn’t offer any further explanation. “What did you mean when you said you wanted to help me?”
With a wince, Keaton admitted, “I- Well… On my planet, girls tend to stick together, especially when there’s a ton of guys around. The troopers all seem great and you can definitely take care of yourself, but sometimes… Do you ever just wish you had someone to talk to?”
“I have my Master for Jedi stuff, or if there’s something about strategy, I can always go to Rexster.” She glanced over at Keaton and clarified, “Rex, I mean. We’re pretty close friends.”
“I assumed from the nickname,” Keaton said with a smile. “Well, never mind, then. Maybe it’s just an Earth thing. Glad you’re getting along okay out here. And if you ever need to talk about something they wouldn’t understand - whatever that might be - I’m here. Sometimes it helps just to have someone to listen.”
Ahsoka was studying her intently and Keaton busied herself picking lint from the blanket-rug. “Are you okay?”
Frowning at the accurate but random question, Keaton shook her head. “No, yeah, I’m fine. Why do you ask?”
“I sense a lot of confusion from you. And loneliness.” Her blue eyes widened slightly. “You miss your home, don’t you?”
“I mean, yes, but it’s not really a big deal… Anyway, thanks for dropping by-”
“I thought you said you talked things over on your planet?” Ahsoka asked pointedly.
Keaton settled back to the floor, grimacing slightly. “Fine. I miss home. And my friends. I haven’t gone this long without talking to my friend Jacey since I met her. I want to go back, but I don’t have much to go back to, really. But here, I’m going to have to live on a battleship flying through space and what if the hull gets breached? Suffocation is not the way I wanted to go and none of my friends would ever know what happened to me. Besides, even if I live, I’ll have to watch troopers die and then what? Even if I go home, I’ll never be the same. Nothing will ever matter more than this, but all I can think about is how I don’t want the responsibility.” Keaton’s voice cracked and she sniffed unattractively. “And I miss real food, stuff that tastes good!”
Ahsoka smiled slightly in the wake of Keaton’s outburst. “Feel better?”
Flopping back to lie on the floor and stare up at the ceiling, Keaton heaved a relieved sigh. “Yes, infinitely so. You sure there’s nothing you want to talk about? You don’t have to be an island.”
Still chuckling slightly at Keaton’s antics, Ahsoka joined her in lying flat on the blanket. “I can’t form attachments,” she admitted eventually.
“Like, can’t-can’t, or you aren’t supposed to?”
“I shouldn’t, as a Jedi,” she explained. “It’s against our rules.”
Keaton snorted. “Well, that just isn’t possible.”
“It is, and it’s expected,” Ahsoka told her morosely.
“Hate to break it to you, hon, but you already have attachments. Your master, Rex, all the men… You’re attached to them, but it’s okay, because they’re attached to you, too.”
“I know,” she groaned, and Keaton frowned over at her. “I’m a terrible Jedi.”
“If it makes you feel any better, you’re my favorite Jedi.” She didn’t seem comforted, so Keaton tried again. “You care about the men and it makes you work harder for them, right?”
“I suppose.”
“Then how can it be a bad thing?” Keaton asked.
“Because I think I would choose to save them over completing a mission!” she burst out.
“Oh, no!” Keaton fake-wailed. “That makes you… Well, human has a different connotation now, but it makes you a normal being. I could never sacrifice a group of people - or one person - in order to complete a mission. I don’t think anyone could.”
“A good Jedi could,” Ahsoka countered. “Jedi are supposed to look at the big picture.”
“Okay, but you’re still in training, right?” Ahsoka hummed an affirmative. “Then you still have time. For now, play to your strengths. You want to do what you’re told, but you want to keep your men alive. Therefore, you’re going to work harder to make sure both of those things happen. It’s a good thing.”
“That’s not the right way to look at it,” Ahsoka lamented, though Keaton could hear the smile in her voice. “But thanks.”
“Anytime,” Keaton said, content for the first time since she woke up in that hangar. “And thank you for talking to me. I missed having a conversation that doesn’t revolve around where things on this ship are or which trooper pissed off Admiral Yularen.”
“Ooh, did that actually happen?” Ahsoka asked with interest, leaning up on one elbow to stare intently at Keaton.
Keaton laughed. “Girl, get this…”
---
“So, you two seem to be friendly now,” Rex commented to Ahsoka the next time they were both in the mess on the Resolute. The females had yet to eat a meal separately and Ahsoka had been spotted teaching Keaton a few forms of hand-to-hand combat in the on-ship gym. Their sessions seemed to have been filled with more laughter and good-natured insults than anything useful, but Rex was glad that Keaton was finding her place on the ship.
“Yeah, she’s not as bad as I thought she would be,” Ahsoka admitted with a grin over Rex’s shoulder. He half-turned to catch a glimpse of Keaton busily stacking scraps of her dinner atop Fives’s gauntleted fist. Every time she added another chunk, the entire table would burst into cheers.
“I can see the two of you are a wonderful influence on each other,” he said dryly.
"This was all your idea, Rex," she reminded.
"Yeah, yeah. Did you ever find out why she looked you up?"
"Apparently females on her planet find it helpful to talk to each other rather than males. About some stuff, anyway.” Ahsoka shot him an unappreciative look. “Did you know that? Is that why you pushed me to talk to her?”
He barely held back a snort, certain it would be against some regulation somewhere. “Commander, I hardly speak to females on planets in this galaxy. How would I know about the traditions of some planet I’ve never been to?”
“Just trying to figure out why you were so set on making peace between us.”
“We’re getting ready to bring a civilian into an active war zone. Things will be dangerous enough without having to worry about keeping the two of you civil.”
She hummed noncommittally. “Funny thing about the Force: it can differentiate between the truth, a lie, and a partial truth. Want to try again?”
Rex sighed, rubbing at his shaved head. Why had he gotten involved in any of this? Especially this latest conversation? “She seems like a decent person. I didn’t think she had done anything out of malicious intent. Didn’t make sense to have you upset with her and her upset about being disliked when it could all be fixed so easily.”
Ahsoka whirled to face him completely, blue eyes wide and sparkling with excitement. “You like her! Don’t you? What if she likes you back? What if the two of you fall in love?”
“Calm down, kid,” he urged, hoping no one had heard her excited outburst. “Just because I don’t dislike her doesn’t mean I love her.”
“Yet,” Ahsoka told him with a grin.
Rex fought back a groan, knowing it would just encourage the exuberant padawan. “Let’s just say for the moment that you’re right - not that you are - but just say. We fall in love or whatever kriffing thing you’re so set on. Then what? I’m a soldier and my life belongs to the GAR. She’s from a different galaxy and seems determined to go back after her required month is over.”
She fell silent, face serious as she seemed to consider various scenarios. Rex chuckled and patted her on the shoulder. “Forget it, little’un. I have everything and everyone I need. I’m perfectly happy being the captain of the 501st and nothing more.”
“But you are more than that, Rex,” she asserted softly, gaze piercing. “You’re so much more.”
He dropped his own eyes, unable to meet hers any longer. “Thanks, Commander. Now, you should go rescue Fives. He’s going to move before long and Dogma already looks like he’s gonna explode over the broken regs.”
As he looked on, Ahsoka marched over and put a swift stop to the construction of the food tower - good thing, too, as it was nearly level with Fives' eyes and was threatening to create a rather spectacular mess.
While the troopers grumbled half-heartedly about the end of their entertainment, Keaton glanced up, caught Rex's eye from across the room, and dropped a wink, all in rapid succession, all the while beckoning for him to join them.
Rex's (well-behaved, perfectly conditioned) heart skipped a beat and thunder to make up for it at the expression of soft welcome on Keaton's face. His mind - trained to record even the smallest detail - obligingly played back the conversation he had just finished with Ahsoka and he flushed before he could fight it back. Keaton caught the change in expression and her smile widened into a grin as Rex cursed to himself. Was this how Fox had felt when she harassed him so mercilessly in the GAR hangar on Coruscant?
Thinking of the clone commander soured Rex's mood even further and his frown deepened into a scowl. He turned on his heel and retreated from the mess, though not before catching the bewildered look on Keaton's face.
---
Author's Note - Told you that the Ahsoka mean girl phase wouldn't last long! I think I said that in the last author's note. If I didn't, I definitely meant to.
Chapter lengths are going to be a little inconsistent for the rest of them. I'm trying to keep things ordered in a way that makes sense, but it's really bugging me that the chapters aren't split for even word counts. (I might be a little picky.)
Anyway, just another reminder that this is a discontinued fic! When it's done, it's over and there will be no more. Thank you for reading it anyway!
