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Snips, Snails and Puppy Dogs' Tails

Summary: When first assigned to Flotsam Squad, CT-6922 is unusually shy for a clone. Quiet, evasive, anxious, and always wringing his hands together while looking at the rest of his new brothers as if expecting to be attacked. It's the loneliness and longing in his eyes in spite of the obvious fear, that makes '85 decide that this is his vod'ika now, and that he'll protect him no matter what.

[A prequel drabble that takes place in the Sugar, Spice and Nothing Nice Verse. Essentially, Dogma's reassignment to his and Tup's squad, after having been rejected and cast out of so many others due to his size-shifting ability.]

THIS STORY IS ALSO ON AO3

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A tiny fleet of cleaning droids had been the only warning Flotsam Squad had gotten in regards to having yet another stray added to their already cobbled-together group. No formal announcement had been given during roll call. Not even a quick notification on their datapads during morning module-classes.

The droids had just waltzed into the barracks and started preparing their quarters for the new arrival.

It wasn't unusual of course, for the Kaminiise not to inform the youngest cadets of their hasty decisions. Especially in regards to when they were piecing together squads full of "difficult subjects". Good soldiers, even ones as inconveniently disagreeable as them, didn't need to be told anything beyond what to do, how to do it, and when to do it. It was a simple fact of life. Commanding officers got the debriefs. CT fodder got the meat shield work. Nothing more, nothing less.

And, honestly, it hadn't really bothered '85 all that much that he and his squad hadn't been told anything prior to the cleaning droids commandeering them away from the corner they'd claimed as their hangout spot. He was mostly just curious as to what the new vod (whoever he or she may be), would be like.

The questions he'd been rotating in his head had even been fairly simple ones. Because over-complicating this sort of thing hadn't ever really been that good of a way to spend the time. No point working themselves up over nothing, and all that...

Still, there had been a lot left to the imagination because they had no information whatsoever, and '85 hadn't felt all that put off by spending his rack time considering the many possibilities that awaited them.

Things like, whether or not Flotsam Squad would be getting someone who was as stubbornly loyal as '33. Or maybe a vod who was more nurturing and tactile like '37? Perhaps someone as resourceful and studious like '20. Or (and he had really hoped for the last option) someone who was just as energetically friendly and ambitious as '85 himself.

For the most part he'd spent his time daydreaming about it rather than actually sleeping (which had bitten him in the butt early in the morning when he'd woken up late and not been able to get first-meal). Thinking up someone that would fit in flawlessly with their band of misfits, while also wondering about what sort of circumstances might have led the unknown vod to their little corner of the 4th cycle barracks.

Flotsam Squad was known, after all, as the leftovers that no one really wanted to put up with...

In fact, it seemed like every trainer they worked with (including their squad coordinator) had something bad to say whenever Flotsam got brought up in conversation behind closed doors.

Conversations that boiled down to complaints of '33 and his infamously bad temper. A temper that got him into a lot of scraps with other vode from different squads. As well as frustrated grumbles about '37 and his inattentiveness, which often caused him to get hurt and jeopardize assignments. Or, more perplexingly, '20 and his unusual way of speaking with as little words as possible. Which apparently the trainers considered disrespectful, despite it being done for efficiency (and it wasn't like his acronyms were anything new or hard to understand...).

And, lest anyone forget, disparaging comments of '85 and his proclivity for both bouts of sudden crying and debilitating headaches. Headaches which got so bad that sometimes he ended up nearly throwing up during classes.

They were, in the eyes of many, bad batchers. The rotten apples that one ought to removed from the bottom of the barrel, in order to preserve the actual good ones that were fit for shipping and consumption from being equally spoiled.

It stood to reason that whoever was joining them soon, would be another "hard case" that the Kamiinise and trainers wanted out of sight and out of mind. That they'd need to help acclimate to the group, and show them the metaphorical ropes. That is to say, teach them on how the squad compensated for each other's inherent flaws and weaknesses.

Because, even though there were many valid complaints (and they were likely never going to stop coming), none of the trainers could actually say that Flotsam squad didn't pull their own weight. That Flotsam couldn't finish their daily assignments, even with the added obstacle they posed to each other.

Adaptability and loyalty to their kin were their strongest suites.

The cleanup and preparation of the bunk and locker had only taken a couple of hours max. The arrival of their new squad member, on the other hand, had taken another full day. Something which had honestly peaked their collective curiosity even more, and led to a full night of gossiping and speculation that had left them all giddy with excitement.

Especially when, during another unassuming morning roll call, they were suddenly presented with the scrawniest (skinnier even than '85 himself, who was often referred to as the runt of the litter by his ori'vode!) most tiniest 4th cycle cadet they ever did see.

The theories that had kept them up suddenly couldn't quite compare.

Were they getting a medical mishap of some kind? Had that been what had doomed the kih'vod to such an infamous squad? Some kind of health deficiency that the poor bugger hadn't been able to control? If anything, the hapless vod definitely looked the part. Quite sickly under the harsh white lights of the halls, and seemingly minuscule in comparison to the two long necks flanking their sides.

But it hadn't just been their new kih'vod's stunted height and gaunt physique that had made him look unusually small. His poorly posture, all hunched up with tired eyes cast downwards as if unable to meet theirs, hadn't been doing them any favors. Neither had the restlessness of their hands, which had been wringing each other like crazy, in a way that suggested both discomfort and uncertainty as to what to do with them.

He was, in both the nicest and meanest way possible, the definition of pitiful given human form. Like a mangy tooka kitten with a broken leg and sad wet eyes.

All at once '85 wanted to squish the little guy in a bear hug so tight it might snap bone.

"This is CT-6922." One of the long necks, the one wearing a medical officer's uniform, introduced brusquely. "Due to behavioral issue related disturbances, this is his 11th reassignment."

"It shall also be his last." The other, wearing a scientist's uniform, had grumbled in clear annoyance. Or as close to annoyance as the Kamiinise could get, since they all spoke with as much emotion as their faces could show. Which wasn't much. "No other squad will take this particular subject due to a series of unfortunate incidents. And if this one is also not an ideal fit, termination will be the only option left."

"As such, we are counting on your current track record with these more difficult allotments, to be able to reform CT-9622's poor cooperative marks into something of... Relative use."

Their squad coordinator (who had been present for the new arrival's introduction) had been the one who was being addressed. But, in the end, it had been the cadets of Flotsam Squad that had been the ones to truly take those words to heart.

The absolute seriousness of the kih'vod's situation.

It was thus decided by them right there and then, that the responsibility to take in and protect their new little brother was theirs and theirs alone. A life or death situation should, after all, outweigh whatever nonsense the long necks were on about, whenever they wrote off one of the vode as being utterly hopeless.

What did the Kamiinise know about brotherhood? About coming together to push each other to be and do better, when everyone else only saw the worst in you?

The answer was obvious: Absolutely nothing.

The long necks, as smart as they thought they were, could never really understand what it was like to be a clone or a vod. Neither could the trainers (who only saw them as their next paycheck). So yes, the Kamiinise might have been speaking to their haughty looking trainer, but it would be '33, '37, '20 and '85 who would make sure 6922 would thrive. That the little kih'vod would become the best of the best.

Even if the latter seemed to have had other plans...

The behavioral issues that had been alluded to were, ultimately, nothing quite like what they had expected in the end. With this being their new little brother's 11th reassignment, they'd sort of pictured that maybe he was the kind to get into fights and loud angry arguments (like '33 often did).

Instead what they'd immediately clocked in on after just a few hours of knowing the little fella, was the fact that '22 was just... Afraid...

Afraid and unwilling to be close to or open with any of them, to the point of remaining so quiet that they had almost thought he didn't need to breathe at all (except he did, in fact, need to breathe as the loud snores that came from his bunk pod were definitely not their imagination and the only sound they ever did hear him produce). It was almost as if he expected them to hurt him in some way if he did or said something they didn't like. And it was '85 who was the most concerned about this particular topic, since the idea of a clone being afraid of other clones was horrifying to him.

What could any of them do to help their new little brother feel welcomed into the squad, if he was too afraid to approach them? Too afraid of them to even accept that he needed their help? How did they reach out to him when he always stared at them as if they were going to bite his head off?

And what caused that fear to begin with?

Had '22 been attacked by other vode in the past? Had he been reassigned because he was a target for in-squad bullying? He was certainly not very strong looking. All skin and bones and shorter than he should be at their age group.

And it wasn't uncommon for the less agreeable trainers to make their squads of cadets fight amongst each other, if they thought one of the members was a bit of a weak link. '22 having been harmed by other vode wasn't too farfetched if it potentially involved outside influence, but it was still against the very nature of a clone to hurt another vod so much that he'd become so timid and skittish around others...

Unfortunately, only one person really knew the right answer. And said person wasn't really willing to share it with him. At least not at the moment. '85 had always been fairly patient for his age though. He could play the long game.

Especially after having decided that '22 was HIS vod'ika.

Sure, the little guy had promptly become Flotsam Squad's collective kih'vod (how could he not? he really did look like a bit of a pathetic sopping wet tooka that needed to be coddled), but he was '85's vod'ika in the same way that '33 and '37 had proclaimed that he was their vod'ika.

'22 was '85's and no one else's. It was a bit hard to explain to someone who wasn't aware of this particular clone sibling dynamic, but also not. An oxymoron of sorts. And, even if '85 was a bit too young to be anyone's big strong older brother that they could look up to with the utmost admiration (like the Alphas), something about those big sad eyes... It just seemed right for him to be '22's ori'vod.

Like it was meant to be.

Now if only his new vod'ika would understand this. That he could come to his brand new band of ori'vode and feel safe among them. Especially around '85 who had decided he would move mountains if it meant '22 would unclench his jaw just a little, and maybe even smile...

Breaking in the newbie (as '33 put it) was ultimately a lot of work. A lot of arduous heartbreaking work that revealed just how much of '22's fearfulness was truly ingrained in him. Even so, they did what they could to work around it.

'85 did what he could.

As days passed, a new sort of team dynamic formed. One where, as usual, Flotsam did what they could to help each other out during both practical activities, tests and module course work.

But now there was also '22 who, remarkably, seemed to be rather brilliant on his own. For all that he was smaller and weaker in constitution, '33, '37, '20 and '85 were astonished to discover that he was fantastic at getting assignments done without the need of any outside help.

What he wasn't particularly good at was acting as a part of the team.

Which was... A problem. Not because he was making it harder on any of them (far from it, he made himself rather scarce to them actually, but his methods were fairly easy to follow from just watching him and the group actually got their work done faster because of him), but because he would be expected to work with others once they all graduated and got put into a much larger battalion.

And if '22 couldn't be a part of a team, a member of a cohesive and cooperative battalion, he was as good as dead. Or worse...

So '85 redoubled his efforts to show him he could trust the rest of the squad just as much as they were trusting his methods. Spent days, and then weeks, and then a good part of '22's first month with Flotsam, making sure he was as approachable, friendly, generous and gentle as possible whenever '22 was around.

And in spite of the resistance he was initially met with, there had been a few promising results that proved he was on the right track with his flighty vod'ika.

Like how '22 began to gradually feel comfortable enough to sit down in the rest of the squad's presence without closing his bunk pod, just so he could catch up on some light reading. His frightened and frantic eyes darting less and less from the screen of his datapad to the group, as the minutes slowly ticked by. The tight knots of his tensed muscles slowly relaxing as he got into whatever it was he was reading.

Or how '22 started joining the group to eat, even if he still put as much distance between them and himself as it was physically possible while sitting at the same table. He'd even begun to set aside the things he did not like to eat (and he seemed to dislike a lot of food stuffs, which maybe explained why he was so small), only to then push his nearly empty food trey towards them, so that they could each have an extra serving of their own favorite treats. Treats that he seemed to have memorized them liking the most.

Or even how he'd cock his head in their direction, to listen in on their more outlandish ideas of how to solve some of the puzzles and problems they were given without a set of explicit rules to work with. Granted '22 never went with their bizarre ideas when he solved his own puzzles, but he seemed almost amused listening to some of the wilder takes. Even if he wouldn't do something quite like that himself.

Seeing him roll his eyes and his lips twitching ever so slightly upwards, had been the highlight of '85's day when he'd first seen it happening. It was hard work, but he really felt like he was getting somewhere.

Which, of course, made him really question why the other squads had found it so hard to work with his vod'ika... Surely being a little shy and independent shouldn't have lead to '22 being tossed out from 10 separate squads. Especially considering just how darn smart, attentive, considerate and resourceful he seemed to be.

It wasn't even that he didn't want to be a part of the team either

Seeing as '85 could tell just how much '22 wanted to engage. How his eyes followed them sometimes, not because he was scared, but because he wanted to join in on one of their free-time activities. He was just a little guarded! Guarded and unsure of how to meet them at the middle.

It made no sense... Until it did...

The true reason behind '22's reserved nature and difficulty integrating into other squads, had only come to light during an obstacle course of all things.

Now, obstacle courses weren't as difficult as combat, blaster and battle tactics training. There was not as much risk of injury, or room for arguments, when all you really had to do was get from point A to point B with only a few hurdles in between.

Except, as 4th cycle cadets, Flotsam squad was ready to be bumped up onto a new difficulty level that was outside of their comfort zone (the 3rd cycle courses were as easy as uj cake, for rambunctious and energetic boys like them).

And, with the hardness cranking up significantly, came something they were ultimately not prepared for: Practice fire to simulate their group getting shot at in the battlefield.

If you thought about, there was certainly a method to the madness. If clone cadets learned early on to be more attentive out in the field, then they would more likely survive their first deployment as fully fledged soldiers without losing their lives or limbs. But without any sort of warning or any real idea that they should be expecting more resistance than usual, Flotsam had ended up getting surprised in the worst way possible.

Which had less to do with learning a valuable lesson, and more to do with the trainer in charge of the exercise... They really didn't like trainer Bric.

Unsurprisingly, it had been '33 who had been the first to find out about the course's alteration. One moment he was rushing forward as he would any other round in the course, and then the next his startled yelp rang out so loudly that it had nearly drowned out the volley of stun shots suddenly zipping over their heads.

'37 had gotten hit trying to pull his twin to cover. His own cry of startled pain causing '85's heart to hammer in his chest, as '20 called out for him and '22 to stay put behind one of the obstacles they'd ducked behind of for safety.

There had then been a long break between the next shots actually hitting anyone. '20 had ducked and weaved expertly and as quickly as he could while running across the course to grab both '33 and '37, and he'd nearly made it all the way back with both of them if not for the fact he'd tripped and then gotten hit square on the leg.

And then '85 had made a mistake of his own. He'd gotten so worked up that he'd gone out of cover to try to help all three of his ori'vode, despite the entire exercise being more than a lost cause at this point...

In the end, he hadn't even seen '22 getting shot. He'd been too busy trying to rescue the rest of their team. But the pained whimper and the proceeding thud of a fallen body, were indication enough that his vod'ika had reluctantly followed him before getting hit himself.

And that should have honestly been the end of it... Until '22's whimpers turned into agonized panicked gasps.

The next few minutes had been... Perhaps chaotic was the better word for it. A cacophony of Bric yelling all kinds of expletives over the sound of tearing fabric, shredding flesh, breaking bones, grotesque gurgling, splattering fluids, and horrific wails.

If you were to ask him later about what he'd done when confronted with the situation, '85 wasn't quite sure how he'd initially reacted to the whole affair. This near-impossible gorefest of an event that he hadn't been able to fully comprehend at the time. All he knew was that he'd turned around to look at '22, and then suddenly he was at the far corner of the training room, squeezed between a trembling and wide-eyed '33 and '37, while '20 held his hand in a vice-grip.

Bearing witness to a vod who used to be smaller than average slowly become big enough to possibly hold their trainer in one hand, had been extremely traumatizing. For all of them.

All at once it had made too much sense. '22's resistance to showing any sort of vulnerability around them, aside from the obvious longing in his big sad eyes. Heck, '85 wasn't sure he himself would have been comfortable approaching anyone if he could... Do something like what '22 had just done in front of them...

It was cool. No doubt there! Like a superpower from those stories that some of the older vode illicitly acquired from sources unknown. But it was also...

It had sounded like it hurt. It had looked like it too.

Watching his giant-sized vod'ika slowly shake off the pain, only to then clumsily back away from their squad while looking at them with a horrified expression (clearly on the verge of crying, as well as becoming even more distressed every time either of his hands or feet crushed one of the obstacles on accident), everything really did click into place for '85. It wasn't really '22's behavior that had set him so apart. It was the fact that he was most definitely different from the other vode. Uniquely alone in his own personal plight.

And honestly that had made '85 burst into tears right there and then. Which of course seemed to set off '22's own waterworks...

Between just how much it had clearly hurt him to get so big, trainer Bric's continuous yelling, his new squad huddling away from him as if he were some kind of monster, and then the brother who'd tried so hard to include him starting to cry at the sight of him?

Yeah, '22 hadn't been having a good day at all...

So '85 had done the only thing he could think to do at the time. He'd shrugged off his ori'vode's grip on him and ran forward.

Now, '85 couldn't call himself the bravest of the bunch. He could be bold if he thought he had the advantage, no doubt there. But honestly he got spooked quite easily at times. He still slept in '20's pod when the storms got too loud sometimes!

Being so close to a literal giant was scary, incredibly so, especially one who was currently bawling his eyes out and sobbing so loudly that it made his ears hurt a little. But while '85 wasn't fearless he was still a softy.

And his vod'ika being so huge did not make him any less worthy of comfort. And stars knew he could have used some right then.

So he'd put his hand on one of '22's huge knees, and he'd started the most long-winded word vomit of a ramble he'd ever spat out in his entire short life. It wasn't the most eloquent speech, or even all that cohesive, but he'd hoped it was distracting enough to get '22 to stop crying. To his immense relief (and surprise) it had actually worked.

'22 had gone from curling in on himself crying his (not so) little heart out, to sniffling quietly while watching him with curious and slightly puffy eyes. Seeming almost unsure if he believed what was happening. Honestly '85 could hardly believe it himself, but he was at the very least happy to help his frightened vod'ika calm down.

"See? It's all good!" He'd grinned up in what he hoped was a confident manner, as he reached up to pat his brother's splotchy red nose, instantly trying not to grimace or shudder visibly in disgust when his hand came into contact with (a lot) of snot. "We're all ok! You're ok."

Or as ok as a giant nude cadet could be after wrecking an entire obstacle course. But really who could argue with him at the time? He was the one comforting said giant, acting brave when he was this close to peeing himself. And he was very thankful that he hadn't, in fact, peed his scrubs in the end. Mostly because 99 didn't deserve to have to deal with something so childishly pathetic... Speaking of which.

The janitorial clone had come through the door just as trainer Bric disappeared through it. He was steady-footed and self-assured, despite the rather astronomical nature of the situation.

Almost seeming unsurprising by '22's dilemma.

In fact, he seemed all too aware of what to do to deal with it. To both help them all relax and see that there was no danger to be found, as well as calm '22 enough that he could safely shrink back down. Which was equally as horrifying an event as him growing to giant size. Very gross too. It made a pair of soiled scrubs look like a walk in the park.

'85 really had not envied the mess that 99 had been left with to clean up, while Flotsam quietly ushered their shivering and naked kih'vod back to the barracks so he could get dressed. Nor did he envy the next group of cadets who would have to deal with whatever bullying tactics Bric might have in store for them (after being so suddenly humbled by the sight of a starship sized 4th cycle cadet).

They'd been told to help '22 dress, sneak him some food and water, and then wrap him up in all of their blankets so he could sleep a little better. 99 had been very explicit in his recommendations as to how to care for their little brother after he shrank back down. He'd even used his stern ori'vod voice, which was a very big deal!

And it hadn't been hard to see why he made sure they were well aware of how important it was to care for '22, after he'd gone through such an ordeal.

The poor kih'vod had barely been able to walk back on his own, and he'd practically been asleep with his eyes open as they pulled an extra set of undershorts and sleeping scrubs on his frail body. Had even proceeded to flop over like a boneless nuna once he'd had a quick bite and a few sips of water.

Growing and shrinking had drained him. Enough so that he'd not even remembered to be afraid of his squad. Instead curling up in the blanket cocoon while resting his head on '85's lap. Allowing him to run his fingers through his hair, like how he himself liked to have done when he had his headaches.

Soaking up the warmth of all four of his brothers curling around him protectively.

It had been both endearing and a little sad to actually have him seeking comfort in them. To show them so much vulnerability after something so traumatic. Especially when, after he'd waken up from his nap, he'd finally spoken to them just to ask when they'd be sending him away to be destroyed.

Even after they'd made sure he was comfortable, '22 expected to be kicked out. And that had made '85 seethe with anger at every other squad that had failed to be a good brother to his vod'ika. That had left him feeling so worthless and unwanted because of something he clearly couldn't control (and 99 had made sure they understand he couldn't control it).

Never again.

All four of them told him as much, and insisted on it once they were met with a look of disbelief. '22 hadn't believed them, but they would make sure to drill it into his head that he was stuck with Flotsam squad now. For better of for worse he was one of them now.

It was hard to ignore the spark of hope in his tired eyes.

In the end, size-shifting wasn't really all that big of a deal once they knew that's what they were dealing with. It'd taken a while to adapt and work around '22's lack of control of it, sure, but they'd compensated by making several contingency plans for it.

And a nice bonus that had come along with his unusual condition, was just how nice it was to have a bit of a trump card against the nastier trainers.

Nothing instilled the fear of the Manda in those natborn bullies, quite like being stared down by a cadet who could easily kick them all the way from Kamino to Rishi Maze. If they so much as got it in their heads to threaten any of Flotsam squad with violence, '22 only had to stare at them in a certain way to get them to back off. Bric had, after all, not remained quiet about what had happened with the obstacle course. And the fact the training room their little brother had accidentally wrecked had to be closed off for repairs for several weeks, had certainly left a lot of space for interpretation of just what exactly '22 was capable of.

The rumors that unfortunately rang loudest came from the vode who had actually repudiated '22. Those were also the ones that got 99 absolutely miffed whenever he caught wind of them (the ones from trainers got a twitch of the brow at best, but he never discouraged them because he too thought the natborns needed a healthy dose of fear to keep them in check around the younger cadets). And by proxy a miffed 99 usually meant a very pissed off Alpha-17 or Fordo on the prowl for snakes in the grass. Which ended with several disloyal small-minded brothers getting taught a lesson in brotherhood that was most definitely needed.

Aside from realizing just how many actually had their squad's back, it was genuinely also kind of nice to have a brother who was so very great to cuddle with after they were all done with course work, because he could very well serve as a heated bed. Even if '22 did kind of have a snoring problem.

Sure, the cuddling sessions were never really planned ahead of time. They sort of just happened anytime '85's vod'ika lost control of his ability. But who could say no to a vodpile after a long hard day of training? And if it got '22 a little more comfortable at his bigger size, that was a plus all on its own.

A win-win sort of deal.

If anything, it had just made it easier for the once skittish and very timid cadet to finally open up to their affections. Which was ultimately what '85 had hoped for since the very day he'd laid eyes on his baby brother. The future could only get brighter for them. Of that, 85 was sure.

Now if they could all just agree on a naming theme for all five of them, that'd be the icing on the cake... He really didn't fancy something corny like Teardrop or Softy, just as much as '22 would rather they not call him Bigman or Vodzilla (they were cool names too, but alas back to the drawing board it was!).

Maybe something about strength and perseverance? A true reflection of their positive attributes? Only time would tell.

#eps this is so so cool!!!!!!!!!#i love the wild and detailed backstory and lore you come up for characters!!!!!!!#this was such a fun read and such a cool idea!!!!!!#sw: tcw

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