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featherquilt1988 · 20 days ago

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Babes in the Field

(a Star Wars: The Clone Wars fanfiction by FeatherQuilt1988)

Rating: G

Main Characters: a Jedi child fancharacter and three clone fancharacters

Premise/Blurb: Far away from any battles, a clone trooper watches over a little Jedi. Just some sweet comfort-fluff.

Note: This scene is set in the early days of the Clone Wars, but it's part of a universe where Order 66 is going to get circumvented--Rinni and her three clone-dads will get to stay together and have a happy ending, don't worry! <3

~~~

Yellow grass rustled softly near a creek, on the backwoods planet of Baltab 5. A delicate, long-bodied insect landed on a stalk, its translucent wings glittering in the mid-noon.

“That’s a lamawing fly, isn’t it?” a small, high-pitched voice asked.

“Mm-hm. Handsome fellow, isn’t he? Just like the one on my tummy!” a deeper, drawling voice answered her.

The latter voice was becoming very well-known across the galaxy. After all, over three-million men shared it. And yet, its qualities could still vary a bit, just like the personalities behind it.

Clone Trooper 10-1010, known aptly as “Tenner,” had been referring to a tattoo on his upper midriff. It was the second he had gotten—the first had been the one on his chin, of the numeral 10, as a nod to his name. Most clones sought to distinguish themselves from their call-numbers—but when that number was something so remarkable, it became a mark of individuality itself, this feeling was oddly reversed, and they took pride in it. The same thing had happened with CT-27-5555, “Fives”—Tenner had never met him personally, being in a different legion. But one of the friendlier Kaminoan overseers had once remarked about it to him. “Oh yes, just like that little cadet from Batch 27!” They were used to the clones naming themselves by then, and the kinder ones didn’t mind.

Tenner’s second tattoo had come about because of little Rinni. He and his closest brothers, Chops and Flare, were quite attached to their “baby Jedi” now. Chops had dyed his black hair pink, to match the young Theelin’s natural color—and Flare, one of the semi-rare blonds, had mirrored her in a different way, by buzzing the sides of his head, to match her species’ growth-pattern. Tenner hadn’t done any of that, opting to keep his unremarkable black hair—cut short and neat, just like their host’s, Jango Fett’s. But he had marked his connection to Rinni in a different way, with the lamawing tattoo—even if it wasn’t usually visible, of course, with his armor on. They had been playing in a field quite like this one, on D’Qar, when that first lamawing (a species found on several planets) had landed on Tenner’s stomach, and refused to leave for quite a while, leading to Rinni absolutely laughing her head off. It was such a cute memory, Tenner had wanted to preserve it physically.

“You wanna come play with Tenner?” little Rinni now cooed to the fly, daring to move her spotted head a bit closer to it. Apparently she loved the memory so much, she hoped to recreate it, too.

Tenner chuckled softly. “I think this is a shy ‘un, darlin’. Best leave him alone.” Still, he was thankful the little Jedi had found this distraction. She had had a rough morning.

…Sometimes Tenner, Chops, and Flare still cursed Pong Krell. Idiot. Knighting a child like that, merely for the sake of passing circumstance! “Pore little thing,” Chops had cried, in the Concord Dawn accent they all shared; “she ain’t even as big as we were when we got second dose!”

First dose—the growth-acceleration shot the baby clones were given, to make them reach peak childhood in five years instead of ten; and then second dose, the even-more-accelerated shot given at the five-year mark, to bring them to full maturity at ten years. Some clones looked and acted in their mid-twenties, some even closer to thirty, by the end of that round—but they would age normally from then afterward, according to the Kaminoan doctors.

…Tenner, Chops, and Flare had been together practically since the tube. All Batch 10, bassinets in the same room—playmates in the compound. Jango Fett taught them to love their brothers, and that they did, the three of them deciding they belonged to each other especially. They even had gained a collective nickname, from their closeness—the “Peapod Squad.” Proverbial peas in a pod. Luckily, they had been deployed in the same battalion, the 719th, under Master Kerro Leesh.

…But then Kerro Leesh had died, cut down by a droid’s blast that never should have happened. They weren’t expecting a battle—that was why Kerro’s newly-appointed Padawan, Rinni, had even been allowed along. Fourteen-year-old Padawans were allowed to see the fringes of battle, but ten-year-olds like Rinni were only sent on missions of peace and aid. Rather like Kerro Leesh himself, who wasn’t widely-known as a battlefield expert, and was usually sent on less firepower-heavy missions, wherein his clones could easily cover what little resistance was found.

Pong Krell and his clones had also been sent along on this one, and Krell had gruffly remarked, “The Republic promised the Dogans that two fully-fledged Jedi Knights would meet them, in this peace talk—and so two they shall have!” and had promptly knighted the still-sobbing and terrified Rinni on the spot. His lightsaber blade had even singed her old cloak on the shoulder, barely missing cutting her flesh itself, he was so harsh and careless in the motion. …Clones were taught absolute respect for the Jedi, but Flare had come very close to socking Krell, that day. (Chops had grabbed him around the shoulders, reminding him that insubordination would only make things worse for Rinni, and for them, and even for Krell’s own, notoriously-mistreated clones—the Besalisk was one of the extremely few Jedi who insisted on using their call-numbers, instead of their names.)

It had certainly been a harrowing experience for all of them, but it had come with a silver lining. Out of all the 719th battalion, Tenner and his two special brothers had played the most with Rinni. Many clones had soft spots for children—something about having to rush through childhood themselves, and seeking to recapture it—and the “Peapod Squad” were no exceptions. And Rinni had absolutely loved them! Luckily, neither Kerro Leesh, nor the crechemasters Rinni had been close to on Coruscant, had been overly-strict about the Jedi notion of detachment. Rinni had adopted Tenner, Chops, and Flare as her “clone dads” in all but contract. And the three of them were tickled pink (Chops quite literally, it might be quipped) to reciprocate. She was their world.

…And the silver lining had been—as perhaps the youngest Knight on record—the former Padawan had used her newly-given authority to make the “Peapods” her clones. Her personal guards and attendants. She had stamped her foot and insisted, to the Jedi Council, who—with a little prodding from the bemused Crechemaster Jinn—had obliged. (A good man, that Jinn—assigned out of the field and onto duty with the Younglings at the Temple, after he’d lost his leg in a fight with a Sith on Naboo. Now the rest of the galaxy was looking for the Sith’s mysterious master, and his new apprentice Dooku, of course.)

Now Rinni and her three clones—still bearing their 719th armor, with its lilac-colored stripes—were assigned to the Aid Corps. That had been the solution suggested by Mistress Yaddle (Rinni’s other closest Jedi friend from Coruscant). To strip the little Theelin of her new title would have been unprecedented—no Jedi had been “un-knighted” except by being cast out of the Order, and she certainly didn’t deserve that. Yaddle and Qui-Gon Jinn would still teach her unofficially, when they could (Krell having destroyed her chance for proper tutelage with an official master). And while all Knights had to be committed to the war effort in some way, now, assigning her to the Corps of Aid would keep her safe from battle, as she was still so young.

Usually, it was only Jedi and clones with majorly-inhibiting injuries, who were assigned this duty—to ferry supplies and give other assistance to struggling planets, after the Separatists had been chased out of their perimeters. With any luck, after the war, the Aid Corps would become the Reconstruction Corps, and it would include more veterans without disabilities as well—but such things were still dreams at this point, sadly. The war raged on.

…Tenner, Chops, and Flare might have felt guilty, about not being on the front lines anymore, shooting clankers—when they were all still able-bodied, unlike the majority of the Aid Corps—but part of them prayed thanks for their deliverance, all the same. And most of all, they just wanted to keep Rinni happy and safe now, and to support her however they could. Non-Force-sensitives though they were, perhaps the clones could aid Mistress Yaddle and Master Jinn in teaching her, all the same. …So many of their Jedi friends reminded them that the Force flowed through all living things, after all, and they were Its children too.

They couldn’t teach her specifically Jedi arts, but they could teach her about life, such as they knew it, and about the Force’s simple love. They learned from Rinni, and Rinni learned from them. And they all four had a family now, in each other. …Four little peas in a pod. It was a good arrangement, especially in such a harsh galaxy.

Rinni sometimes cried—terrified of what might happen when she turned fourteen, and she and her guardian trio would be “sent to fight the clankers again.” …And then terrified of what some of the harsher Council members might have thought, if they had even heard her saying that—how they would no doubt decry her apparent “fear of loss.” “Maybe the war’ll be over by then, darlin’,” Tenner had shushed her, kissing her purple-spotted forehead. “Maybe we won’t even have t’ worry about it.” Of the three brothers, he was perhaps the best at calming her down.

…This particular morning, Rinni had of course not endured a trauma nearly as bad as losing her master, but she was still a bit upset. Tenner didn’t blame her. The Baltabins had been acting very friendly and appreciative, for the aid the Republic had sent, but then Rinni had committed a grave error. She had brushed away some spiderwebs in a temple they had passed through, not knowing the Baltabins considered them sacred animals, and their threads a blessing. Rinni had gabbled out frantic apologies, tears running out of her teal eyes, while Ambassador Woolla Reeves, the Republic’s other (non-clone) representative on the trip, had attempted to smooth things over. Woolla had kept looking uncomfortably over at the repentant-but-hysterical child—making frantic eye-motions to the clones, suggesting that she feared Rinni’s tears were doing more harm than good. Tenner had promptly lifted her in both strong arms and run off the premises—leaving the Ambassador, the other clones, and the Baltabins to all blink awkwardly, and continue with the peace talks.

“‘M sorry I did so bad today, Tenner,” Rinni suddenly choked, slumping near her friend. “W-what if Baltab doesn’t even join the Republic, because of me?!! What if they go over to the Separatists instead?!!” her hysteria seemed to be rising again. Bless her, Jedi were supposed to have better control over their emotions, but she was so young, that was the thing! Tenner remembered sobbing when messing up simple training exercises at five—ten—whatever it was—as well.

“Aww, you’re blowin’ it all outta proportion,” he managed a chuckle, for her sake. “We’re just in a li’l hamlet-cluster that got hit anyway. ‘S’not like this is the capital an’ you offended their king. Everything’s gonna be fine.” His deep drawl was soothing, and he rubbed her arm comfortingly with his glove.

Rinni wiped her nose with her overlong robe-sleeve, and sniffed again, but began to smile. She scooted closer to her clone guardian. His own smile turned broader, but was interrupted by a small noise.

Grrrrrk.

Tenner and Rinni both giggled, as they realized it had come from Tenner’s stomach (a little lower than the lamawing tattoo). “Aww, we’re missin’ lunch,” Rinni’s giggle faded, in favor of apology, again. The others would be eating in the town square now, with Woolla and the village leaders. …Chops was probably one of the clones doing the cooking. And he was the BEST cook. (Everyone knew that was where he got his name—he might say it was from “chopping through battle droids,” but he was even better at chopping vittles.) Just thinking about HIS food started Rinni’s tummy rumbling too!

“We’re brave foragers. We’ll find somethin’,” Tenner didn’t let this get him down. Still holding his helmet under one arm, he tugged Rinni’s little spotted hand with his other one, leading her further down the creek-side. Then he jiggled it encouragingly, as he saw something already. “Look! Wild peppers.” He knelt to pick one.

Rinni’s tiny mouth twisted up. (Just because she was a Knight now, didn’t mean she was any more fond of raw vegetables than she had been as a Youngling.) Still, she had to melt softly as her “clone dad” bent and washed the green pepper off in the stream for her. She couldn’t help but cough, though, as she bit it. “It’s so bitter….”

Tenner grabbed a different pepper—the only yellow one—off the bush, then. “Look, this one’s riper. It’ll be nice.” His smile deepened the lines of his copper cheeks.

“But you like the yellow ones,” Rinni peeped, in sweet concern.

“I like the green ones too,” Tenner lied, kneeling to wash the yellow now, and trading it with her. Rinni accepted, and the two of them sat down to eat, underneath a nearby tree.

Despite the bitterness of the green pepper, Tenner’s gentle, fatherly smile never left his face. He watched Rinni nibble the yellow one, thankful she at least was getting her vitamins. He took the sole, cylindrical ration-bar out of his belt, then, and split it with her too. They bit their halves without complaint, and at least his stomach stopped growling.

Rinni leaned and wrapped her arm around her clone friend’s torso. He took this as a cue to remove his outer armor—shucking it down to the black undersuit, so she’d have something softer to lean against. “Come ‘ere.” He smiled and offered both arms now—helmet, breastplate, and other white-and-lilac armor pieces pushed aside. Rinni smiled too, and snuggled closer.

Flare was the best singer—he’d be crooning some lullaby right now, if he was the one cuddling Rinni, Tenner thought. He still wanted to soothe his little Jedi, his daughter in all but name. But really, just holding her was all he needed to do, to accomplish that. He breathed contentedly, petting her hair-stripe and pressing her face against his heart, where she could hear it beat.

Bree-eep. “Pod Company calling. Tenner, where the krispysticks are you?!” Flare’s loving-but-irritable voice crackled through the comlink, on Tenner’s cast-off vambrace. (“Krispysticks” was a child-friendly euphemism for “kriff”—and Chops, ever the “mom-friend,” had started insisting Flare use it, once their “Peapod Squad” of three had enlarged to four.)

Tenner reached over and grabbed the comlink lazily. “We’re over by the creek, Pod Company.”

“What creek?! Be more specific.” Despite their voices sounding virtually identical to outsiders, Rinni and Tenner could tell Chops was leaning over Flare’s shoulder, now, to chime in.

“We ran outta the village to the north,” Rinni leaned further over her guardian’s stomach, and peeped rather timidly. “I dunno where we are. It’s all fields.”

“Idjits.” That was Flare again.

“I think there’s a belltower or somethin’ at the edge of the town,” Tenner finally put in semi-helpfully. “I can just see it from here. We’re under a tree, next to a creek, due northeast o’ it.”

“All right, we’ll come and getcha, right after Woolla finishes up all this handshakin’ with the Baltabins,” Flare only half-grumbled, now.

“Did it go good?” Rinni’s worry found its way back into her voice, now. She had leaned very far over Tenner’s tummy, right into the comlink, which he still held very lazily in one hand.

“Yeah, it went good, darlin’,” Chops’ hearty voice reassured her sweetly, then. “Woolla cleared things all up. We may even have a Republic base on this planet before long!”

Rinni grinned in relief, and Tenner ruffled her pink hair, still smiling lazily.

“Will ya be okay stayin’ there for a couple more minutes?” Flare asked again.

Tenner leaned luxuriously against the tree, enjoying the feeling of his and his brothers’ little one tucked safely against his chest. He tickled one finger fondly under her chin. “Don’t rush,” he whispered to the comlink, not even bothering to look at it.

Apparently, the fatherly chuckle was very obvious in Tenner’s voice, as Flare then barked through the static—playing up the irked quality of his own voice, if only to tease. “Greedyguts, you’re keepin’ all the snuggles to yourself, aren’t you?!”

“You two can cuddle each other,” Tenner teased back. Of course, they often did, as did he. Clone troopers on the whole were prone to “puppy piles,” when off-duty; again, part of their tendency to find the comfort of family in each other, having little else to turn to at first.

“We just might do that,” Chops was leaning in and declaring matter-of-factly, the same rather self-satisfied tone to his voice. “But you still save some hugs for us, y’ hear Rinni?”

Rinni’s grin was complete now. “I will, Choppy,” she giggled and leaned in. “And Flare,” she made sure to add kindly, for her third clone-dad.

“Atta girl,” Flare’s rough voice was at its sweetest again, in his triumph. He turned the comlink off.

Tenner let his own comlink fall back to their sides, into the pile of his armor again. This freed both of his arms to hold his little treasure. They both smiled. They may have been outside, but everything was so blessedly comfortable, here under this scraggly little tree. Well, almost.

“Mind the headspikes, darlin’,” Tenner whispered, as lazy-lovingly as he had into the comlink.

“Oop! Sorry,” Rinni peeped, resituating her little cranium—so that her species’ distinctive three points on each side didn’t scratch her guardian’s chest. Sometimes it was easy to forget, as of course he, like his brothers, was never bothered by them when he had his armor on.

“Shhhh…” Tenner acknowledged his thanks by petting her hairstripe, still leaning back with complete contentment.

When the transport ship came to pick them up, Rinni was curled into Tenner’s torso, sleeping soundly. It was only his sense of duty as a lookout that had kept him awake, meanwhile—one brown eye open softly, for the rest of Peapod Company.

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