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skaruresonic · 7 months

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every once in a while my feed recommends thinkpieces on the Matrix films written by authors who miss the point of said films, so I guess it's time for yet another thrilling round of "watch the films"

Did. Did you see the part where Neo wakes up in his bed thinking the interrogation was just a dream. Because. Agents wiping people's memories is an established plot point.

Also, the Architect implies in Reloaded that most people plugged into the Matrix are aware deep down that they live in an artificial reality, but they agree to live in it at that near-subconscious level because they've been given the choice to accept or reject it. He says this was the most elegant solution the Oracle created to address the problem of people rejecting the dream world en masse. As long as people are made to believe they have a choice, even the illusion of choice will suffice. It paints a rather depressing portrait of humanity and its complacency, tbh.

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No kidding.

The animated short detailing the history of the machines portrays scorching the sky as mankind's last-ditch effort to gain an advantage following a gruesome war. It wasn't something they approached lightly. Never mind the fact that mankind isn't exactly known for its long-term thinking and well-considered rationale in the face of terror (neither are the machines, for that matter; nuance whomst?). Morpheus furthermore claims that they don't know who struck first, machines or humans, but they do know humans "scorched the sky."

The original script specified the machines used human minds to boost the Matrix's processing power, but because that was a concept that would have flown over the audience's heads in the nineties, they changed it to "the machines harvest humans for energy."

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To be fair, the sequels do take Morpheus somewhat to task for his dogma. His faith gets noticeably shaken by the events of Reloaded and Revolutions. Not everyone believes what he believes, but his beliefs do not require them to.

I won't argue that Morpheus is particularly righteous or even accurate most of the time, but I do think the notion that "anyone that hasn't been unplugged can turn into an Agent and kill you at any time" ought to be taken into account. Is it a little extreme that he calls every unplugged human "our enemy"? Yes. But… he kind of has good reason to, tbh. Agents can't exactly be reasoned with. The crew were fully prepared to pop a cap in Neo's ass "for [their] protection," as Trinity says, despite Morpheus' conviction that he was the man they were looking for.

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Eh. Neo's muscle atrophy appears later, though I'm willing to suspend my disbelief for the sake of having a hard-hitting scene. Watch less CinemaSins, it's good for you. ironically enough, The Matrix is the narrator's favorite movie. lol and lmao

"Furthermore, there's an unresolved issue of why the spider-like machine simply doesn't kill him (and every other revived human) as they wake up."

Because you can't kill something you think is a corpse.

The maintenance machine removed Neo's cables because it registered him as dead… as a result of Neo taking the red pill. Morpheus says taking the red pill disrupts a person's input/output signals, meaning the connection between one's RSI and body has been severed, something that only happens if a podbound human dies. The signal disruption allows the rebels to pinpoint Neo's exact location in the real world.

While you could argue this technique potentially harbors its fair share of flaws - one can only assume human batteries die every so often, so how would they be able to pick Neo out from the unattended dead? - asking why the machine didn't kill him tells me you weren't exactly paying attention.

Things get a little more complicated in Reloaded when the Architect implies that the machines do willingly let a small portion of humans go as a sort of pressure valve to prevent the Matrix from collapsing under its own critical mass. Even then, the first film provides a coherent enough explanation that we don't need Reloaded's. You're assuming the machine believes Neo is alive when clearly it doesn't. It sees him struggle, yes, but because the red pill makes Neo emit the machine equivalent of an ant's death pheromones, the bot goes "welp, another one bit the dust" and proceeds to flush the "corpse" down the drain.

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People always act like this is some fresh new take.

Well. That's kinda the whole point of his betrayal. To make you wonder what you would do in his situation. It's all well and good to speculate on what-ifs from the comfort of the fourth wall, but the film frames an otherwise abstract moral quandary in very clear terms. Is a life of hedonistic bliss better than one where you are painfully aware of the artifice of reality and constantly fighting for your life? It's not an accident---you're meant to ponder the question.

The Matrix franchise approaches the concept of freedom from a nihilistic lens. Nihilism often gets strawmanned in movies (Smith's own views function as a mouthpiece for such edgelord flanderizations) as a defeatist attitude of "Nothing matters, so why bother living?" Rather, a more accurate portrayal of nihilism contends that, because nothing has intrinsic meaning, you are free to create your own meaning. That it is dangerous to chase meaning as defined by premade structures like religion or philosophy, because these will dictate your thinking and keep you under another's control. In so doing, you surrender your freedom to truly discover for yourself what it is that makes life worth living to you. And indeed, Neo transcends Morpheus' and the Oracle's understandings of the Matrix and what it means to be The One in order to walk his own path.

The films ask you, "If freedom felt more like prison, would it still be worth striving for? What is the value of a freedom where you stand to lose more than you gain? Does freedom have inherent value, or is it hailed because of what it represents as yet another variable within these multi-tiered systems of control?"

Tbf, Cypher's resentment towards Morpheus was more understandable in earlier drafts of the script, where it's stated that Cypher was freed from an extremely young age and Morpheus had actually wound up killing five previous candidates he'd assumed to be The One. Some speculate that Cypher is jealous of Neo on the basis of having been a previous candidate, but I don't exactly think that's strictly necessary to understand his desire for a mindlessly hedonistic lifestyle.

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Okay, I'll give you that one. Never really was sure how Cypher managed to catch the Agents' attention without getting shot on sight. Perhaps Smith recognized an offer he couldn't refuse, and, both characters being opportunists, he and Cypher leaped at the chance to strike a bargain.

It may also have something to do with Smith's ability to at least somewhat mimic human mannerisms on occasion. Agent Brown and Agent Jones are about as personable as cardboard, so it's my pet theory that Smith was designated to be the "human whisperer" of the trio. Hence why Cypher conducts his negotiations with Smith at a restaurant while the other two stand guard.

The scene where Neo sneaks up on Cypher implies Cypher had been doing some hacking in order to prepare for his meeting with Smith. He turns the screens off immediately afterwards.

Moreover, Enter the Matrix implies people are able to plug into simulations without help from others. I would assume Cypher used the same kind of equipment to plug himself into the Matrix.

During Morpheus' torture, the Agents manage to figure out that Cypher has been killed, thus implying that they were counting on disposing of him all along. Because Smith orders the others to continue as planned, it's kind of obvious they never really intended on giving Cypher what he wanted.

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Petition to drop the phrase "hasn't aged well" from our collective lexicon. At best, it's a semantically null phrase. At worst, it's being deliberately obtuse towards media history as well as the creative process, a way for audiences to feel superior based on the fallacy of modernity. There have been tons of documentaries on the making of the first film, some of which are included as extras on the original DVD. I recommend you watch a few before you say stuff like this.

Admittedly, this one pisses me off a little because A.) yet again the "hasn't aged well" sentiment inevitably loops back around to overlooking the context and history in which the piece was made, and B.) fuck you, the crew worked incredibly hard on this shit.

"The most egregious offenders are scenes like the helicopter crash, where the building's windows warp unrealistically." - You can excuse people flying twenty feet through the air and dodging bullets, but draw the line at (flips through notes) glass exploding in a circle?

Imagine saying this about The Matrix of all films. The one movie that can handwave unrealistic elements through its premise alone. The film where the entire point is that unrealistic things are happening because you are not watching reality.

and then Neo was like "whoa.exe"

Secondly, the Wachowski sisters spent several months studying how glass explodes in order to achieve the ripple effect seen in the film. While CG was used to enhance the scene, the underlying framework rests on a foundation of practical effects. They made dummy rigs and ran through tons of tests to find the precise kind of glass that could accomplish what they envisioned.

The special effects director was pretty hard on himself during a watchthrough with Carrie-Anne Moss, actually. He thought some of the digital effects looked horrible, specifically Agent possessions, and said they could have done better. People saying stuff like this just makes me feel worse for him in retrospect.

Bullet-time looks unimpressive to you now because it's been parodied to death over the past twenty-five years. I fail to see how this is the film's fault.

Subjective perspective changes trying to pass themselves off as objective critique without taking any of a media's history or creative process into account are a part of the reason why I think "hasn't aged well" is a thought-terminating cliche and ultimately useless in discussions of this ilk. It doesn't effectively communicate anything of meaning. You might as well say "this film features moving pictures" or "this video game has controls" for all the information you're imparting.

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I will concede that Resurrections was a glaringly obvious cash grab and a huge waste of potential. The first half of the film nearly rivals the the first act of M1 in terms of its psychological intrigue, building a slowburn of anticipation… Only to completely shit the bed, devolving into a cynical montage of fanservice and half-baked ideas that amount to nothing more than a shrug. I'm not a Neo/Trinity fan in the slightest, so the "hook" they hoped would reel me in didn't work on me.

However, I think there is more substance to Reloaded and Revolutions than people commonly give them credit for. Perhaps not as entertaining stories, but certainly there's a lot of cud to chew on in terms of the philosophical elements they offer. And this is coming from someone who thinks Reloaded is easily the most boring film of the quadrilogy narrative-wise. The sequels build coherently upon concepts established in the original, if you pay attention.

Reloaded's "We cannot see past the choices we don't understand" is a natural extension of the first film's mantra, "Know thyself." The inability or unwillingness to "know thyself" proves Smith's undoing in Revolutions, since during his "me, me, me" phase he does not do any of the self-actualization or self-reflection that Neo undertakes on his path to achieving peace.

Smith's fatal flaw is his self-myopia. He purports to know how the world works, but he remains blind to himself. And it is because he does not understand himself that he cannot understand others, and thus cannot see his own destruction beyond the brief moment of victory he glimpses with the Oracle's vision. Smith is painfully aware of every single thing except his own inner workings, and that creates in him a void that can never be sated. His myopia explains why he cannot conceive of why Neo fights out of choice. He cannot understand any choice because he does not understand the value of free will.

The inability to see how his character evolves throughout the "forgettable" sequels is what led to galaxy brains on Reddit concluding "Smith is actually The One huehuehuehue" based on the flimsiest of evidence (and a lot of pulling shit from the deepest sanctums of anus, since, let's be real, nobody in this Chili's particularly paid attention to what M1 had to say about him either) and it's like. bruh

#matrix #long post

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eyayah-oya · 3 years

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Carry You With Me Always

Buckle up everyone, because I have three prompts today!

Cloneship Week 2021 - Tattoos - @cloneshipweek

Rex/Echo

Rating: G

Warnings: very vague references to something bad happening to Tup and Dogma in the past

Ao3 link--Ao3 has some world building notes about Tup, Dogma, and Mom Echo if you want to check those out!

Lazy days were Echo’s favorite. They always had been. Especially the days when Rex didn’t have to be a commander masquerading as a captain. (Echo still didn’t understand how hard it was to sign off on a promotion for Rex. Skywalker knew how to sign his own name.) It was the third day of leave on Coruscant, just when the duties required of the commanding officers tapered off to allow them time off just like their men.

Rex entered the officer barracks with two cups of caf and a datapad tucked under his arm. He must have recently taken a water shower, as he looked cleaner than the sonics were able to achieve. For a moment, Echo mourned the opportunity to shower with Rex but they figured there would be plenty of opportunities in the future.

“Morning,” Echo called, their voice deep and raspy from sleep.

He looked up, though Echo noted he didn’t actual startle. Rex only got that jumpy when he hadn’t been sleeping, so he at least got some rest since the 501st arrived on Coruscant. That was good. Echo had been worried when Rex hadn’t shown up the past two nights to the bunk they shared when not on the Resolute.

A warm smile, reserved just for Echo, softened Rex’s face and filled Echo with happiness. “Morning, Echo,” he responded. With ease, he set the two caf cups down on his desk without spilling a drop, the datapad following immediately after. Then, with slumped shoulders and tired eyes, he fell onto the bed beside Echo and nuzzled their shoulder.

“Meetings go badly?” they mused as ran their fingers across the closely cropped blonde hair.

“Eh, not too bad. Just long. General Mundi preached about the value of life again and Gree got into an argument with General Fisto over some obscure plant the 41st found on their last campaign. I think if they’d been in the same room, it would have become a physical fight.”

Echo snorted. “That would definitely be interesting to watch. What did General Unduli do?”

“I’m 90% sure she was either sleeping standing up, or talking to General Kenobi telepathically. Kenobi kept snickering every once in a while, so I wouldn’t put it past them.” Rex shook his head as best as he could from where his face was smooshed against Echo’s shoulder. “Anything big happen with the boys?”

“Denal and Attie got arrested again. I’m pretty sure they’re trying to court the intake officer in the Corrie’s brig. I escorted Dogma and Tup around the city the first day and ended up taking them to Tatta. You know, the vod who gives the best tattoos?”

Rex hummed in acknowledgment. “Can’t say I’ve ever had the pleasure, but I’ve heard he’s one of the best on Coruscant. Did Tup and Dogma end up getting any tattoos?”

“Tup got a little tear below his eye and Dogma got a really cool one over his face. Kix is gonna have a conniption when he sees that; you know how he is with large facial tattoos,” Echo said with amusement. “Dogma struggled a bit at first, but Tup talked him through his anxiety and held his hand.”

“That’s good. I’ll make sure to pair them up on campaigns. Aren’t they twins?”

Echo nodded. While not numerous, there were several sets of twins in the GAR. Commanders Thire and Thorn in the Corrie Guard, Kix and Captain Keeli, Tup and Dogma, Lupis and Canis in the Wolfpack, and of course Echo and their twin Fives. Commanding officers tried to keep twins together as much as possible, though it doesn’t always happen, like with Kix and Keeli.

“You could have warned me they were former Corries,” Echo grumbled. “Technically I was escorting them, but it was mostly them dragging me all over the city. Although, they did take me to this diner with the most amazing nerf burgers. I’ll have to take you sometime. They’re sweet kids, but they also could use a lot more support than the average vod. Something happened to them when they were with the Guard.”

Rex sighed. “I know. Fox briefed me on their situation. I won’t tell you what happened exactly—they should do that themselves—but it was bad. We’ll take care of them, I promise.”

“Good.” Echo nodded once and wrapped their left arm around Rex’s shoulder and pulled him in closer. Rex flung his own arm back over Echo. Immediately they hissed as their right pec flared with a stinging pain.

Immediately, Rex sat up in concern. “Echo? What’s wrong?”

Echo grinned sheepishly. “Well, Tup and Dogma were really nervous to get tattoos since the Guard isn’t allowed to have tattoos. And I might have gotten a tattoo to help them be more comfortable.”

“Really?” Rex grinned. Without hesitation, he gently placed his hand over Echo’s pec, exactly in the same spot he had left a handprint on their first set of armor. He didn’t have to guess what tattoo they had decided to get. Echo arched into the touch, the sting sharp and pointed and somehow exactly perfect. “Can I see it?” Rex asked softly.

“Help me get the shirt off, and yes,” Echo answered. They surged upwards, ignoring the pain from his tattoo, so they could press a heated and soft kiss to Rex’s lips.

With far more reverence than they usually have time for, Rex slid his fingers under the hem of their loose shirt, trailing over the firm muscles and warm skin. Echo shivered deliciously and lightly sucked on his lower lip, rather than help their boyfriend in any way. Inch by inch, more skin was revealed until Rex pulled away to tug the shirt over Echo’s head. They helped, lifting their arms over their head to allow the shirt to slide free.

In the exact same placement as their armor, a handprint had been tattooed completely in a darker blue than they used for their armor. The dark blue color the Rishi eel’s blood had been. The permanent mark on their skin was a bold proclamation of who Echo belonged to. A way to inform everyone who they went home to and who they would always go back for. That day on Rishi was life-changing for both of them for more than one reason. It was the day Echo had lost their batchmates, save for Fives, and the day they had both joined the 501st. It was the day Echo had first met Rex, a young shiny who was in awe of the legendary captain. And it was the day that began Echo’s journey of falling completely in love with the man behind the legend.

Rex traced the edges of the tattoo gently, barely ghosting over the skin. It was still swollen and red from the needle, but that would go away in a couple more days. Echo didn’t mind a little bit of pain if it meant they could wear Rex’s mark in his skin as well as their armor.

“Do you like it?” they asked cheekily, already knowing the answer.

“I love it. They did a really good job. Does it hurt a lot?” Rex asked.

Echo wobbled his head from side to side. “A little, but it’s not bad. Barely noticeable, really.”

“Good.” And with that, Rex pressed his hand against the mark and pushed Echo back onto the bed until he was leaning directly over them. “Because I need to show you exactly how much I like it.”

They eagerly reached up and wrapped their arms around Rex’s neck, pulling him down against them, though they both were careful not to dislodge his hand from its place on Echo’s chest. Echo pressed their forehead against Rex’s, letting them bask in the peaceful moment instead of the hurried seconds they only managed to snatch while out on the front. Eventually, the keldabe shifted to the more traditional type of kissing, their tongues tangling together languidly. They had all day and the rest of the tenday to relax and enjoy. They could take their time, and Echo couldn’t be happier.

“I love you,” they whispered between kisses.

“I love you, my eyayah. My Echo with my mark,” Rex answered before diving back into their mouth and showing them exactly how much he needed and loved them.

Echo shivered with delight, the intimacy of the moment barricading everything else from the Captain’s quarters. For a time, they existed in a bubble, cut off from the galaxy and perfectly at peace together.

Then, the bubble popped.

“Does the Captain really have to know? I mean, it’s not like he’d be surprised.”

“Fives, don’t be an idiot. You know he always needs to know when we brawl with the Wolfpack so he can keep Commander Wolffe from killing us.”

“But if we go in there, Echo will kill us.”

“I’d rather die by Echo’s hand than by Commander Wolffe’s! He’s scary!”

“Oh, lighten up, Jesse! I wouldn’t mind fighting with the Commander!”

“ . . . Hardcase . . . “

“What? It’s true!”

“I’m gonna tell him!”

“Fives, don’t you dare!”

With matching, heavy sighs, Echo and Rex broke apart and turned to the door. Yes, Echo loved lazy days. But those days never lasted long, and they loved their brothers just as much.

“I’ll go deal with Hardcase’s unacknowledged romantic feelings for Commander Wolffe. You need to get some sleep,” Echo said, giving Rex a soft kiss on the cheek as they grabbed their t-shirt. “Think I can make Jesse prefer he’d faced the Commander?”

Rex smirked and flopped down by Echo’s side instead of on top of them. “I know you will. I’ll be here when they’re all suitably punished. Come back and we can finish what we started.” His eyes were dark with hunger and love, sending a shiver through Echo. That was a promise they wouldn’t pass up for anything.

“I’ll be back after I finish wrangling the children. I’ll probably drag Dogma and Tup along so they can laugh at Fives, Jesse, and Hardcase,” Echo said with a grin. They pulled their shirt over their head and climbed over Rex to stand up. “They could use the enrichment.”

Rex only laughed. Lazy days really were the best.

#clone/clone #recho #rex/echo #captain rex #arc trooper echo #clone trooper echo #mentioned tup #mentioned dogma #rex and echo really are concerned parents #mom echo #non-binary echo #cloneshipweek2021 #day 3 | tattoos #cloneshipping

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catsnkooks · 4 years

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Beach Craze

Hardcase x reader x Jesse

summary: The Clone Wars had finally ended. The Republic had won. The whole galaxy was filled with the same exhilaration of victory, and everyone seemed to be celebrating. To celebrate, you were on a girl’s getaway with your two best friends. The three of you had planned it many years ago, as your office job on Coruscant could get boring at times, but travel was dangerous during the war. But now that it was over, you could enjoy the sultry beaches and open bar that the hotel you were staying at on Scarif boasted.

rating: PG-13

warnings: some mentions of Sexy Times but thats abt it, mostly fluff

word count: 4,187

a/n: this was meant to be out a month ago but here it is!! canon never happened, nope, everyone lived (except sheev). inspired by @notreallybeccab and @suddenly-clones beach fics and @suja-janee beach times art :’)

here it is on ao3!

The warm winds that made Scarif famous blew through your hair as you sat on your colorful beach towel, the soft sound of the waves of the calm water echoing beside you. You buried your feet in the soft, warm sand. You laughed along with your beautiful Twi’lek friend, Torva’ris, as your other friend, Narei, told you the story of her latest romantic escapade.

“So as I'm talking to her,” Narei continued, flipping one of her twin braids across her shoulder, “some guy comes up to us and says, ‘No need to fight ladies, I can share.’ And she says, ‘I'm a lesbian, jackass.’”

The three of you burst into laughter again. You lifted your head, your mouth and heart singing with the exhilaration of being happy and free and at peace.

The Clone Wars had finally ended. The Republic had won. The whole galaxy was filled with the same exhilaration of victory, and everyone seemed to be celebrating. To celebrate, you were on a girl’s getaway with your two best friends. The three of you had planned it many years ago, as your office job on Coruscant could get boring at times, but travel was dangerous during the war. But now that it was over, you could enjoy the sultry beaches and open bar that the hotel you were staying at on Scarif boasted.

Torva rolled her eyes beside you, wearing a white two-piece that accentuated the deep blue hue of her skin. “Ugh, men.”

Narei snorted on your other side, sheltered underneath her large umbrella, and you knew she was rolling her eyes under her dark sunglasses. She had already applied sunscreen to her pale skin liberally, but she said she wasn’t taking any chances. Her natural green, high-waisted bikini showed off her petite frame. “Tell me about it. I don’t know why I'm still attracted to them.”

You laughed at Narei’s frustrated comment. You leaned back on your own beach towel, admiring the way it complemented the color of your swimsuit—your favorite color. Your eyes traveled up the stretch of the beach to where another large group of people rested. You noticed a group of six men looking in your direction, nudging and laughing at each other.

“Don’t look now,” you began, nodding your head in the direction of the men, “but I think we might have attracted some more of them.”

Torva and Narei turned to look in the direction you indicated. Narei peered over the rims of her sunglasses. “Hm, looks like clones.”

“Oh?” Torva asked, raising her eyebrows appreciatively.

Narei studied them closer. “Looks like the 501st, 212th, and 104th from their colors.” You then remembered Narei worked as a secretary in one of the GAR offices. “I had a night with a guy from the 327th once. I hope he’s not here.” She paused. “Actually, I do, because General Secura is kinda hot.”

“Well, I guess we’ll find out,” you said, settling back on your elbows as you also studied the men coming towards you.

They were made for fighting, that much you could tell. Toned, defined muscles lined their torsos and arms. Bronzed skin tanned even deeper by a short time in the sun. Your eyes traced the V of their stomachs as it disappeared below the band of their swim trunks, colored to what you presume were their battalion colors: blue, gray, and yellow. They all had different hairstyles and facial markings, which, you supposed, was the only way you could tell them apart.

“Why didn’t you hook me up with one of them sooner?” you muttered to Narei, still letting your eyes wander appreciatively over the six men who were almost at your spot.

“You never asked,” Narei huffed.

“You ladies mind if we join you?” said the one with the Republic symbol over his face.

You shook your head and patted the sand beside you. “No, we don’t mind.”

They all seemed to grin at your words and sat down beside the each of you, introducing themselves. Beside Narei sat Boost and Sinker from the 104th, beside you, Jesse and Hardcase from the 501st, and finally, Boil and Waxer from the 212th beside Torva.

“Did you see Tup brought a metal detector with him?” Hardcase said to you left, grinning at Jesse who sat to your right. You also noticed the way his eyes subtly roamed over your figure before coming up to wink at his brother.

Jesse rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I did. I'm surprised Dogma didn’t chew him out for bringing it.” He picked up your hand and rubbed small circles into your palm with his thumb, looking into your eyes and smirking. “He’s a big stickler on illegal contraband and everything.”

“I agree with Tup,” said Boost. Sinker was too busy checking Narei out to contribute to the conversation, his fingers dancing over her thigh. “You can find some interesting things with a metal detector.”

“Well, the only thing I'm interested in is getting some sun,” Torva said, flipping one of her lekku over her shoulder. Waxer reached up to smooth it along her back.

You nodded emphatically and groaned. “Ugh, yes. I missed it after being in an office for so long.” You lifted your arms, not missing the way Jesse and Hardcase’s eyes followed them. You let them fall back down with a sigh, laying one back in Jesse’s grasp. “It’s been way too long.”

Narei snorted. “Speak for yourself.”

Sinker finally looked up from where his eyes were trained on her thigh. “You allergic to the sun or somethin’?”

“You could say that,” she replied, gesturing to all of her protective measures. “I don’t tan, I burn.”

Boil let out a bark of laughter and grinned at Waxer. “Do you remember when we were on Ryloth and General Kenobi got that awful sunburn?”

Waxer laughed. “Yeah, I remember how Cody gave him so much shit for that.”

Torva perked up at the mention of her home world. “You’ve been to Ryloth?”

“Oh, I’ve been all over the galaxy, baby,” Waxer murmured, brushing a finger over her jaw.

Boil puffed out his chest. “Yeah, we were there for the Battle of Ryloth. Took out a whole battalion of droids there.”

Hardcase scoffed. “Those are rookie numbers.” He positioned his arm behind you and leaned in so his breath tickled your shoulder. “I couldn’t tell you how many of those clankers I’ve blown up.”

You giggled at his claim and the way his breath on your shoulder combined with Jesse’s incessant touch sent a rush of giddiness through you, leaving you feeling breathless. “Oh, really?”

“Oh, yeah?” Sinker snorted. “I bet I took out three battalions of clankers on Cato Neimoidia and that damn Viceroy’s personal ship.”

Narei ran her fingers through Sinker’s stark white hair, who leaned into her touch. “Oh, that sounds scary.”

“Nah, me and Sinker are the best shots in the 104th,” Boost said, sitting up straighter and grinning at her.

“You know you shouldn’t tell lies, Boost.”

Your group turned to look at the two men who had walked up to your spot. Narei detangled her fingers from Sinker’s hair and waved at them.

“Hi Master Kenobi, Master Plo,” she said. “Enjoying your visit?”

The two Jedi masters nodded.

“Yes, it has been quite relaxing,” said Master Kenobi.

“Though I think some of us might be enjoying it too much,” said Master Plo, who had spoken earlier. “Eh, Boost?”

Boost rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks tinged a little pink. “I wasn’t lyin’, sir, just…ah….”

“Embellishing?” teased Jesse. Boost glared at him as you and Torva stifled your giggles.

The two generals chuckled at their trooper’s antics.

“Anyway,” Master Kenobi continued, turning to Narei, “the reason why we are here is because Padmé wanted to know if you wanted to meet the twins. She brought them down where we are stationed.” He motioned farther down the beach where you could see more people sitting.

“Oh!” Narei gasped, standing and disentangling herself from Boost and Sinker’s grasp. “Oh my goodness, yes! I would love to see them!” She pulled on your and Torva’s arms, pulling the both of you up. “You have to come see them! They're so cute!”

You didn’t notice the audible protests from your group of admirers as the three of you rushed off to see the babies. Boost and Sinker pouted, putting their heads on their hands, while Boil, Waxer, and Hardcase glared at their generals for interrupting their flirting. Jesse huffed and kicked at the sand.

“Beat by a kid that can't even walk yet,” he muttered, crossing his arms.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Obi-Wan teased, patting Jesse’s shoulder. “You’ll all have your chance soon enough.”

---

The babbling of the two infants mixed with the sound of the wind and the waves. You held a giggling Leia on your hip with Torva beside you making faces at her. Narei was cooing at Luke who was in Padmé’s arms.

“I'm sorry I couldn’t come see them sooner,” Narei said to the former senator. “You know how it gets at work sometimes, especially now that we’re at the end of everything.”

Padmé laughed. “Oh, yes I understand. Sometimes I do miss being in the Senate, but it is nice to come home and relax.”

“I bet these two are a handful,” Torva said, taking Leia from you and bouncing her on her hip.

“Oh, Anakin is worse than the both of them,” Padmé sighed, rolling her eyes. She looked over her shoulder where her husband was playing in the water with two others. “I suppose it’s a good thing he cares so much, but I didn’t think he was going to leave their sides.”

The three of you laughed at the image of the tall Jedi master worrying over the more than capable senator.

“Well, I’d say he’s got his work cut out for him,” you laughed, squeezing Leia’s plump baby cheeks.

---

You, Torva, and Narei finally said your goodbyes to Padmé, promising to come visit again some time. Your group of admirers met you halfway to your spot, and asked if you three wanted to play in the water, now that the sun was at its hottest and highest peak. You and Torva agreed while Narei declined, opting to sit and relax in the shallows. Hardcase waved over the togruta that was with Anakin earlier, Ahsoka, so you all could have a three-way chicken fight.

“You guys are gonna get destroyed!” Ahsoka threatened from Hardcase’s shoulders, the both of them grinning.

“I don’t think so!” you threatened back from atop Jesse’s shoulders. You felt the rush of giddiness again as Jesse’s warm hands encircled your thighs and you grasped at his broad shoulders.

Torva laughed from Boil’s shoulders, flipping her lekku behind her back. Waxer remained off to the side as the referee.

“Ready?” he asked. All of you nodded. “Alright. On your marks, get set, go!”

Jesse charged directly at Boil and Torva. You and Torva locked hands, squealing and laughing while trying to push each other off-balance. You pushed her back a little hard, causing her to sway off balance and Boil to take a few steps back, but then they came right back for you. This time, instead of grasping hands, you went right for the roots of her lekku, where you knew she was ticklish.

Torva squealed. “No fair!” Caught off guard, you pushed her again, this time causing her to fall down into the water, pulling a startled Boil with her.

Too caught up in your victory, you didn’t notice Ahsoka and Hardcase sneaking up behind you until you felt her hands on your back.

“Whoa! Sneak attack!” Jesse exclaimed, turning you around to grapple with Ahsoka.

You locked hands with her and tried to match her, but with her Jedi training, she was too strong for her. Soon you found yourself falling backwards, yelling, holding onto Jesse’s shoulders, and dragging him down in the water with you.

The salty water rushed around your ears as you bobbed up to the surface, gasping and laughing. Jesse surfaced beside you, and you swam over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck to keep you floating.

“Looks like they were right, huh?” Jesse chuckled, nodding to Hardcase and Ahsoka who were celebrating their victory by hooting and splashing in the water.

You sighed, setting your chin on his shoulder. “Yeah, we never stood a chance against a Jedi.” You looked in the opposite direction to find where Torva, Boil, and Waxer went.

“Well, there is something that I know that a Jedi couldn’t do,” Jesse murmured.

You turned back around to find that Jesse had turned himself to face you in the water, one arm supporting you by your waist. He raised his eyes from where he was looking at the way the cold water lapped at the tops of your breast and gave you a crooked grin. You raised an eyebrow, your lips curling up in a sultry smile, and caressed his cheek.

“Oh, really?” you asked. “You’ll have to catch me first!” You pushed off from his leg with a laugh and swam away, headed for Torva, who had acquired a donut floaty. You could hear Jesse splashing behind you to catch up.

You swam up to Torva’s floaty, wrapping your arms around it opposite of her. When you settled, she motioned behind you with a nod of her head. You looked behind you where Narei was sitting in the shallows with Boost and Sinker. One of her hands played with Sinker’s hair, who was asleep in her lap, while the other stood at a right angle on her knee, supporting her chin. She was listening to Boost talk, who had placed an arm behind her, leaning in close to her, a flirtatious smile on her face.

You sighed. “She’s really good at that.”

“Yeah,” Torva sighed also. Then she grinned at you. “At least there’s lots of them to go around, huh? We might still have a chance.”

You rolled your eyes at her, but you had to admit she was right. “At least we got separate rooms at the hotel.” And you hoped Jesse and Hardcase would see yours tonight.

---

You and Torva swam with the boys from the 501st and 212th and Ahsoka for a while after that. Jesse and Hardcase had a contest to see who could hold their breath the longest. (Hardcase won, but only after you pulled him up a minute after Jesse resurfaced). Then they tried for a splashing contest against you girls, until Ahsoka almost washed them away with a wave she created with the Force. (Which they called cheating, but it was four against three, so you thought it was fair.) Now, you held Jesse’s shoulders, giggling, as he lazily dragged you around in the water, with Hardcase swimming behind you, trying to grasp gently at your legs, a playful look in his eyes. Torva floated on her donut floaty somewhere beside you, her lekku dangling and swaying in the water, Boil and Waxer floating beside her. Ahsoka had rejoined Padmé with the twins.

You made Jesse pause when you heard your name being called from the shore. Narei was standing in the shallows, waving at you to come to her.

“I wonder what she wants,” you mused, mostly to yourself. Torva was already headed that way, Boil and Waxer following along.

“I’ll race you there,” Hardcase said, still grinning at you. He dove under the water, quickly heading for the shore.

You yelped when Jesse took off after him, clutching at his shoulders tighter as he raced through the water. You made it to the shore just a few moments after Hardcase.

“I don’t know about you two, but I'm pretty hungry,” Narei said.

You placed a hand over your stomach as you felt the familiar pang of hunger as well. You hadn’t noticed it with all the excitement.

“Ooh, yeah, I want to check out that sushi place by the hotel,” Torva said. She and Narei started walking back to your stuff still lying in the sand.

“I’ll be there in a minute!” you called after them. You turned back to Jesse and Hardcase, still in the shallows, grinning and jabbing at each other.

“What's up?” Hardcase asked.

“We’re going to get something to eat,” you replied, jerking your thumb to where Torva and Narei were packing up their things. “We’re pretty hungry after a long day at the beach.”

“So, you’re leaving for the day?” Jesse asked. If you didn’t know any better, you would almost say he looked like a sad puppy.

“Yeah, but we’ll be back tomorrow probably,” you said. You thought for a moment, the crossed your arms over your chest, sauntering toward them. “You know…there is a bar in the hotel....” You uncrossed your arms and placed a hand on both of their chests. “Meet me there later?”

Both of the men looked at each other, sharing a lopsided grin before turning back to face you. “Sounds like a plan,” Hardcase said, winking at you as they left.

A thrill ran up your spine as you watched them walk away. You turned to grab your things further up the beach with Torva and Narei. Now you had something else to look forward to tonight.

---

The bar was packed. Everyone was celebrating, as you had anticipated. Lights and music pulsed all around you, and it would almost be too much if not for the liquor already coursing through your veins. The three of you were sitting at the bar counter, drinks in hand, and waiting for the boys to show.

“Do you think they’ll come?” you asked, biting your lip and glancing again at the door.

Narei rolled her eyes and downed her drink in one gulp. “Not if you keep looking like a lost puppy.”

You sighed and glanced down at your drink, taking a sip of it. The sweet liquid burned its way down your throat, giving you a little boost of confidence. You looked back up and straightened your shoulders.

Torva laughed on your other side. “See? We don’t need them to have fun. It’s our girl’s vacay anyway!” She slid off of her stool and tugged at you hand. “C’mon! Dance with me!”

You laughed with her, letting her tug you off your stool and drag you to the dancefloor. You held her hand and swayed to the music with her, laughing and letting the giddy feeling of the alcohol and the music flow through you. She held your hand up and you twirled around her, letting your feet slide you out of her grasp. You bumped into someone and you gasped, turning around to apologize. “Oh! I'm sorry—!” You gasped again when you realized it was the two clones you were waiting for. “Jesse! ‘Case!”

“Havin’ fun without us, princess?” Hardcase asked, his hands sliding to your waist.

The strong liquor running through your bloodstream made you feel braver than usual. Your hands went to his cheeks and you leaned up to give him a quick kiss on his lips. You giggled at the surprised look on his face.

“What took you so long?” you giggled, turning to Jesse behind you.

“’Case had to make sure he looked good,” Jesse said. He put his thumb on your chin and pulled you to his lips.

You hummed and leaned into his touch. You rested a hand on his chest, leaning up slightly on your tiptoes to reach him, and broke away from him with a smile. You looked down to observe their outfits and hummed appreciatively again. “You dressed all fancy for me?” They were wearing, what you could assume, their gray military uniforms.

Hardcase tugged on the hand you left resting on his cheek and grinned. “Dress to impress, baby.”

You turned to face him completely, placing your hands on his shoulders. You liked the way their uniforms accentuated their broad chests and shoulders. Theirs had blue stripes, just like their swim trunks had.

“How much have you had to drink, baby?” Hardcase asked, pulling you closer to him. You noted the slight tinge of concern to his voice.

You rolled your eyes. “Just one! Narei was buying!”

“How ‘bout we buy you all the drinks you want?” Jesse murmured into your ear, pulling you toward the bar.

“No!” you exclaimed, pouting. “I want to dance! Dance with me!” You pulled both of them further onto the dance floor, laughing.

You didn’t know how long you danced with them. You could have danced all night with them, with the pulsing lights and music, with the alcohol coursing through your veins. It was only until Hardcase’s grip on your hips and sides became tighter, pulling you in for more heated kisses, and Jesse’s gaze became more intense and his mouth twitched up into an even cockier smile that you thought you might want to take things to your room.

“I think it’s time for a change of scenery, don’t you ‘Case?” Jesse asked. He nodded in the direction of the bar’s exit.

“Wait! I need to tell my friends!” You turned around to find Torva and Narei within the packed bar. You saw Torva in a booth sitting in Boil’s lap with Waxer’s lips attached to her neck. Narei sat at the bar with Boost and Sinker’s rapt attention. You huffed slightly in annoyance.

“I think they’re in good company,” Hardcase said behind you.

You turned back around to face them, a grin on your face. “I’d like some good company for myself.” You took both of their hands and led them out of the bar and up to your room, giggling with anticipation.

---

Soft breaths tickled your nose. You scrunched and wiggled it, squinting your eyes open. Your eyes were met with the rich brown skin of Hardcase, sleeping next to you. You smiled and traced the blue geometric lines down his face. His lips twitched and he let out a small puff of breath.

“G’mornin’,” he muttered, not opening his eyes.

You giggled and placed a kiss to his lips. “Good morning.” You tried shifting to face him, but then realized Jesse was still sleeping on your chest, his soft snores tickling the skin of your neck. You bent your head to give a quick kiss on his forehead and traced the tattoo covering the left side of his face.

Hardcase yawned and peeked his eyes open, stretching slightly. “How much did I drink last night?”

You laughed softly, so as not to wake Jesse. “I think I was the only one who drank last night.” You stretched your arms up and over your head, trying to wriggle out from underneath Jesse. “And now I have to go to the ‘fresher.”

“It’s alright if you’re a little rough,” Hardcase said, chuckling. “Jess’ don’t wake up for nothin’.” He shifted over and up slightly to let you wriggle out from underneath Jesse. Jesse just grunted and snuggled deeper into the blankets.

You stood up and grabbed your phone off the bedside table. You turned back around to give another quick kiss to Hardcase, who had flopped over to the other side of the bed. “I’ll be right back.”

You padded into the refresher. The hotel soaps were still in their packaging with your tooth cleanser and other toiletries stacked with them. You turned on the tap and splashed some warm water on your face, scrubbing it with a cloth. You grimaced at the marks on your neck and around your collarbone. That was going to be hard to explain.

Once you were done, you checked your phone. You bit your lip to stop smirking. Two unread messages on your group chat with Torva and Narei. This was gonna be good, you thought.

torva 🤘: so uhh

torva 🤘: wild night huh guys 😂 😂

You snickered. Yeah definitely 😂, you texted back. I'm gonna have to go out in a turtleneck now 😂 😂

torva 🤘: same 😂 😂

You sighed and rooted through your makeup bag that you had brought with you. You could probably cover it up with some foundation and concealer, as long as you didn’t stay too long in the water.

You looked back at your phone when you heard it ping again. Narei had sent a photo. You opened it and gasped, covering you mouth to control your laughter. She had taken it from the neck up; her hair was wild and she had a hand covering her forehead. The thing that stood out the most was the large bite mark on her neck, where you noticed Sinker’s platinum hair peeking in at the corner.

narei 😏: do either of you know how to cover a bite mark?

torva 🤘: YOU DIDN’T

torva 🤘: MOTHER OF MOONS 😂 😂

narei 😏: they're not called the wolfpack for nothing

You leaned against the refresher sink, your body almost collapsing from holding in your laughter. It seemed all three of you had some explaining to do today.

131 notes · View notes

ryder-s-block · 4 years

Text

Jaig Eyes (Ch 65)

Jaig Eyes (65/?)

Summary:

Kida, a former slave who now thrives as a bounty hunter, finds herself sucked into the war she advised Jango Fett against. Now that she’s involved, she has to finally mourn the loss of Jango, seeing his face in the clones that man the GAR. What happens when she allows herself to get attached to one, not for his resemblance to her former mentor, but for his heart?

————————-

Chapter Sixty-Five: Carnage of Krell

We were stripped of our armor and weapons, any withholdings I had now gone to the wind. I’d snarled and shrieked, hurling curse after curse towards the pompous Jedi. But in the end, my beskar was peeled away as I looked away, ashamed.

We were bound, our hands tight behind our backs in cuffs designed for Jedi and Sith alike---there was no using the Force to get out of those. The brig was circular in design and beneath the ground, meaning that each level had its own cell.

I shared mine with Jesse and Fives, both looking rather disheartened. I sat in the corner, steaming silently over my lost gear.

“Relax, Kida,” Fives chimed gently. “We knew a court-martial would be waiting for us. But Krell’s just threatening us to get in our heads. General Skywalker will help us out of this once it's all over.” He leaned lazily against the cell wall. “For now, we wait for our brothers to finish the mission.” He glanced at me, lifting his shoulder. “And Rex will be fine. He knows how to handle himself.” I knew that. That didn’t mean I wouldn’t worry.

I swallowed, but said nothing. The Force was moving darkly on this planet and even more so around Krell. I’d sensed a feeling of mystery when he’d first arrived, as well as felt the darkness ripple when his anger rose. But when we’d entered the command room...it was like stepping into a pool of ink.

Even below ground in our tiny cell, I could feel the darkness that moved around the General above. But there was something different this time. Not just his general black demeanor….but there was the essence of death. Like how the Force moved around one who was about to kill.

My senses prickled when I felt Rex approaching the brig. He seemed….more than worried--which was a feeling I was getting used to sensing on him. Instead, he felt….terrified.

I stood abruptly, hearing the hydraulic doors hiss open somewhere high above us. The sound of the elevator engaged. “Something’s going on,” I announced quietly, watching as the two clones moved closer to the ray shield at our door.

Through the blue tint, I watched the armored feet of fives clones appear. As the elevator descended further, it revealed Rex, accompanied by guards. My heart dropped when Rex wouldn’t meet any of our gazes.

Finally, the captain looked at us, his helmet at his hip. “Fives, Jesse.” He swallowed, glancing at me. “Kida. I’m sorry. General Krell has ordered your execution immediately.”

My head fell back gently to rest against the wall. I was confused by my own reaction while I listened to Fives and Jesse protest angrily. I was angry. Engraged, even. Enraged that Krell would do this and that he could get away with it. I was sad that I wouldn’t be seeing Rex again. Or feel his arms around me. I’d never get to feel the beat of the music vibrating across my club’s bartop again. I’d never wield the lightsaber I’d become so fond of again.

But I wasn’t afraid.

“He can’t do this!” Jesse yelled through the ray shield.

“He has authority to render punishment during combat,” Rex sighed, defeated.

Jesse didn’t accept that. “I can understand a court-martial and locking us up in the brig. But executing us?”

“I tried to convince him that it’s my fault, but he wouldn’t let me.” I stared at Rex from behind his brothers, my gaze not giving any emotion away. Then again, I wasn’t really sure what I was feeling. Sadness that he wasn’t fighting for me? Understanding why he wasn’t? Pity that he felt he couldn’t choose?

So I said nothing and stood with my eyes on the captain. Thinking. Meditating. And trying to memorize every sharp line of his face so I could maybe remember him when I was gone. When I was….one with the Force, as Bendu had stated.

“Rex,” Fives pleaded desperately, “You have to face it. He’s been using you. He needs your loyalty to control the others.”

Rex glanced down before sighing sadly with a shake of his head. He stepped back, the other clones coming forward to disengage the ray shield. “I won’t let him get away with this.” Hmm. It seemed he already had.

“Eh, don’t beat yourself up about it,” Fives tried, walking out of the cell with Jesse.

One of the guards turned to me, pointing his blaster at me. “Let’s go.” I said nothing, fixing him with my best icy stare that I’d perfected over years of bounty hunting. I stepped past without a word, standing beside Jesse.”

“We made our choice,” Fives continued, “We knew what the price was.”

Jesse cast him a look. “Yeah, speak for yourself.”

Fives only chuckled, still trying to keep the mood light. “Still got your sense of humor, I see.”

“He wasn’t joking,” I whispered softly, earning a surprised look from Jesse. They all seemed to understand eventually though--I’d felt it.

Fives glanced at the transparent elevator floor as we began to rise. “Well, then I guess this is it.”

“For the record,” I spoke again, my voice quieter than I’d intended. I glanced sideways at Fives, finding his eyes boring into mine in search of some kind of comfort. “I’m honored that my last mission was flown with you. And that it was doing something against authority.” I grinned, looking forward as the lift slowed at the ground level. “It feels very….” I couldn’t find the words.

“Fitting?” Jesse tried sadly.

I hummed in approval of the term, but my humor died as we were escorted out into the darkness of Umbara. We rounded the corner, seeing a line up of 501st soldiers, including Tup and Kix. Dogma marched in front of the line proudly.

“Line up the prisoners,” he called towards us as we neared. I scowled. It was a firing squad.

“Well,” Jesse tried this time, terrified, “I’ve officially lost my sense of humor.”

I felt Rex swallow beside me, my eyes cutting sideways stealthily to see him look up. I followed his gaze to see Krell looming above us in the command tower. He was watching….

Still, some of Rex’s anxiety seemed to be coming from elsewhere, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I reached out a bit more to touch his mind with mine, but he recoiled, building a wall between us. My mouth pulled into a frown, but I said nothing.

I was separated from Rex in the next moment, lined up with my back against the base of the tower between Jesse and Fives to look at our firing squad. None of them were wearing helmets. I wondered if Krell did that on purpose, so that we could see the eyes of the men we trusted and loved before they pulled the trigger.

Dogma walked towards us. “Will the prisoners request to be blindfolded?”

Neither of the clones beside me spoke, merely glaring at their brother. I had literally nothing to lose and I’d had enough of his arrogance. And to be honest, I was going to die with some damned dignity.

“Blindfold lo’shebs’ul narit,” I hissed at him with a snarl.

Dogma wrinkled his nose at me. “I’ll take that as a no.” He turned and walked back to stand beside his firing squad.

“I hope you can live with yourself, Dogma,” Fives grumbled after him, his voice darker than I’d ever heard it before.

Dogma didn’t respond, standing beside Rex as they regarded us. “Ready weapons,” he called, the troopers lifting their rifles to their shoulders. I cast my gaze over Rex’s features again, taking in everything about him while also trying to remember his smile. I reached out with my feelings, trying to convey my love. And how, despite all my confusion… I understood.

I didn’t blame him for this.

“Never thought we’d go out this way,” Jesse said to my right, glancing at the ground between us and our executioners.

Rex looked away from my gaze finally, his hand coming up to his chin in sorrow as his eyes closed. He couldn’t bear to watch. “Aim!” Dogma called. I tore my gaze from Rex and stared at the firing squad. I would not die a coward.

“Wait!” Fives cried, everyone’s breath freezing like the drops of dew on cold Tatooine nights. “This is wrong. And we all know it. The general is making a mistake, and he needs to be called on it. No clone should have to go out this way!”

I knew he was making a plea to his brothers, so that was the best way. Saying a Sithling bounty hunter with a temper and an incredibly dangerous skillset shouldn’t be executed….probably wasn’t the best argument Fives could have put in place. So I stayed silent and let him do the talking.

“We are loyal soldiers,” Fives continued, earning the attention of all those present. “We follow orders, but we are not a bunch of unthinking droids! We are men. We must be trusted to make the right decisions, especially when the orders we are given are wrong!”

Dogma didn’t care about Fives’ speech. I knew that from the darkness that swirled around him. “Fire!” he yelled. But I already knew he would.

And I already knew that I wouldn’t be dying by firing squad that day. Dogma locked eyes with me as the blasters went off, but I never broke his gaze. He seemed shocked when I didn’t collapse in my death, his eyes blinking a few times as if to clear his vision. Beside me, Fives and Jesse looked around in shock, relief, and a bit of pride.

“What-” Dogma started, walking forward a few hesitant steps to address his firing squad, “What happened?” Kix and Tup lifted their shoulders just slightly, casting me slow grins. I returned them, giving them a nod in appreciation as they all dropped their blasters.

“They’re doing the right thing, Dogma,” Rex said gently, approaching the young clone, “Because if this is how soldiers are rewarded for heroic actions, then one day, every man in this battalion may face a similar fate.” He turned to us at the wall. “Take off their binders.”

“No,” Dogma protested. “We have orders! We have to go through with this!”

I shifted in my binders, giving him a glare as we were approached by silent clones, most of them too stunned and unsure to say anything. I flexed my wrists and fingers when I was freed, rubbing the sore skin gently.

“Good luck finding anyone to do it,” Rex muttered to him, looking at us with a small smile of relief. Even though he’d figured his men wouldn’t do it….he was afraid they still would anyways.

Dogma looked distressed, his shoulders hunched. “If you’re so intent on seeing the orders through,” I called, crossing my arms over my gray undershirt. “You’re welcome to come shoot me yourself.” Fives and Jesse lifted their brows at me, but I didn’t flinch. I knew Dogma wouldn’t do that. He didn’t have the balls.

Also I wasn’t in cuffs anymore, so I’d kick his ass.

Dogma walked away without ever turning to look at us. I watched him go as Rex approached, the others staying back in awkward silence. The captain gave us each a small smile; one that portrayed apologies, relief, and love. I returned it hesitantly. I was glad to not be dead, of course...but I also felt the dark cloud that was Krell’s mind looming above us in the tower.

“The general won’t be happy,” I said softly, frowning when Rex’s mind flashed with unspoken fear.

“No. Dogma and I’ve already been summoned.” I lifted my brow, seeing Rex tap his wrist comm in answer to my unspoken question.

“Let me go with you,” I offered, taking a step forward. “He could kill you for disobeying him.”

Rex looked at me for the briefest of moments before he let out a slow breath. With the release of air, his mental wall came crumbling apart. His mind opened to me like a flower to the sun, reaching out and enfolding me in his whirlwind of thoughts. I closed my eyes, breathing through my nose as if the presence of his mind could be sucked into my lungs like oxygen.

This was him forgiving me. And asking for forgiveness himself.

He also let the truth pour out; He’d never directly ordered the men not to shoot, since he couldn’t….but he heavily implied that he didn’t want them to shoot us. And that he understood if they didn’t want to either. He’d gone against orders in a way he thought honorable. He’d figured it out...for me.

“If you go, he’ll absolutely kill you,” he responded finally with a sad smile. His gloved hand reached out hesitantly, his knuckles touching my jaw to lift my chin higher. “Don’t worry. I’ll be alright.”

I was silent as he walked away, gently clapping both of his brothers on the shoulder before entering the base of the tower. Fives’ hand touched my arm gently, his finger squeezing softly to tear my eyes from where Rex had gone.

“He’ll be okay,” he assured, but he didn’t know to build a mental wall against me like Rex did. I felt the anxiety he was hiding below the surface. Even so, I let Fives turn me from the tower to look at the clones who were our executioners only moments before. Hardcase was already embracing two of them.

I smiled tiredly at Tup and Kix as they approached, each looking a bit sheepish. “Thanks for not shooting me,” I said dryly.

“Of course not,” Tup assured me.

“Oh, don’t let him fool you,” Kix interjected with a chuckle, “He tried. Tup’s just a terrible shot.” We all laughed, but sobered quickly under the dark Umbara skies. “What you all did was brave and should be rewarded,” Kix said with a significant glance towards where Krell was in the tower….with Rex, “Not punished.”

“Why were you worrying?” Fives asked me, his brow raising. “You probably felt they wouldn’t shoot.”

I shrugged, glancing over the faces of the men around me with a solemn expression. “I didn’t know that. Not at first. And that’s because they didn’t know if they’d shoot us either.” I turned to Fives, smiling gently. “Not until you spoke, at least. Thanks for that.”

The ARC trooper blinked before letting out a huff of surprised laughter. “Well...thanks for listening,” he said to his brothers, earning a somewhat awkward laugh from them.

I glanced up at the tower, the Force moving darker than it had before. “We should probably scatter. Krell won’t be happy.”

That earned a chorus of grunts in agreement, the clones breaking off into groups. I moved off with Five and Kix, intent on finding our gear again. Maybe I’d stage a full-fledged coup at this point. I was already disarmed, stripped of my armor, and accused of treason.I had nothing left to lose, really.

We didn’t make it far. Our group stopped when guns were leveled at us yet again. I sighed behind Fives and Jesse, lifting my hands to lace behind my head lazily.

“General Krell ordered you to be arrested,” one of them informed us before leading us back towards the brig. My skin was practically prickling from the presence of the Dark Side as we approached the command tower again.

The base was being thrown into disarray, the clones rushing to prepare for battle. “What’s happening?” I asked, earning a silencing shove from one of the soldiers. I growled at him, but said nothing.

A moment later though, he whispered, “Krell got a message from one of General Kenobi’s battalions. The Umbarans are on the move.” I was grateful for the information. And the fact that most of the clones seemed to still like us, despite Krell’s accusation of treason.

Despite not being able to see their faces through the helmets, I could feel their shame as we stopped outside. “Not her,” one clone said, pointing at me. “Krell wants to see her.”

I clenched my jaw, but gave a reassuring nod to Fives and Jesse as I was led away, entering the base of the command tower. The clones formed around me on the elevator, rifles in hand, but never bound my wrists. I rolled my shoulders a few times, the anxiety rippling from my guards. If they weren’t going to bind me, that meant I’d have a shot to take down Krell.

If given the chance and I see a good way to talk my way out of the consequences.

The doors hissed open to reveal the command center, Krell standing with his back to us. He was examining his holograms, as usual. I stepped in with confidence, not holding back the seething distaste I felt for him. A part of me was disappointed Rex wasn’t there. Then again, I never wished him to be in the presence of Krell. And the hope was foolish, considering he had likely already departed with the battalion.

“General,” one of my guards greeted, Krell only turning his head slightly in acknowledgment.

“Dismissed,” was all Krell said to them. The guards glanced at each other in hesitation before snapping a quick salute and leaving. I crossed my arms over my chest, watching the Besalisk as he examined his maps.

When he still said nothing, I sighed loudly. “Is there a reason you wanted me here or can I go rot in the cells with the Umbarans a bit longer?”

“I assure you that each clone who failed to pull the trigger will be executed in turn,” Krell said sharply, my jaw tightening. He turned finally, the corner of his mouth curling. “Your beloved captain will not be excluded from that group.”

That earned some glances from the clones that remained in the command center. Some sparked with interest, others in acknowledgement. I supposed the brothers could read each other pretty well. I swallowed thickly, but said nothing, trying to mask my anger.

It didn’t work. Krell took a long, deep breath, closing his eyes with a grin. “I feel the Dark Side rising in you. Your rage. You want to kill me.” Krell chuckled deeply, the anxiety of the clones spiking even higher at his words. “You’ve wanted to for some time, haven’t you?”

I stared at him, feeling the darkness in my rising, just as he had said. His presence was influencing me. There was the sharp taste of copper on my tongue from where my cheek had split under my gnawing teeth.

Krell whirled on me. “Answer me,” he spit.

I swallowed thickly. “Yes.”

He said nothing more, folding two of his hands behind his back, the others crossing in front of his chest. He assessed me as I stood there, the clones around us trying to do their jobs and eavesdrop at the same time.

“Though it seems I had good reason,” I said finally. My words were firm, having found my grounding finally. “Your casualty numbers should have tipped me off about your obvious hatred for clones.”

Krell smirked and moved to reply, but paused, his brow lifting. A moment later, one of the clones in the room announced, “Sir, the 501st has engaged the enemy.”

It was almost immediate.

The words had barely left the clones mouth when the Force rippled with something horrible. I blinked in shock, my mind going blank as the feeling of death and suffering washed over me in a wave. My hand touched my chest in fright, my ribs feeling like they were being squeezed into my heart. I could barely breathe, my vision fuzzy.

The feeling only intensified, my legs giving out. I fell to my knees, gasping for breath between the onslaught of death. Between the distant sound of explosions and gunshots that echoed through the Force, I heard Krell speak firmly.

“Leave us,” he commanded. I could feel the shock and hesitation of the clones under the darkness I felt from the battlefield. Still, they obeyed and left me alone with Krell in the command center.

Through the Force, I could feel the death of clones. But it was deeper than that. There was something….sinister about it. Pointless, even. Why? I wasn’t sure, but it was likely Krell’s doing. I heard screams. So many screams…. “We’re sustaining heavy casualties!” My other hand came up to clench at my temple, my head throbbing with the endless pain.

There was a sudden surge from a connection I was familiar with. A sob ripped from my throat immediately, feeling the horrible grief Rex was experiencing. Tears streaked freely down my cheeks--something that happened rarely, and almost never in front of enemies.

“What,” I gasped between heavy sobs, “have you done?”

Krell chuckled with an arrogant smirk. “Your attachment to them makes you weak.” He didn’t have to specify who he meant. I was sure he felt the death, too. “They are not men. They are tools in a game far bigger than you will ever understand.”

I sobbed again, feeling Rex’s grief deepen as it rippled through his brothers. I sensed...familiar presences. Clones from Kenobi’s units. It was too much, making it difficult to even stay upright in my kneeling position.

“What have you done?” I repeated breathlessly, but with more clarity. Krell smirked, but didn’t reply. So I looked around, seeing the reports that flickered in the holograms once attended by clones. There was one about Umbarans wearing clone armor. Tears slid down my cheeks as my eyes slid closed in grief. “You’ve turned them against each other. You’re a traitor.” I meant to sound accusatory, but the words were whispered.

Krell only crossed his arms, smirking. “Yes, well unfortunately for you, your word holds no weight anymore. As a traitor and a Sithling who is currently resonating deeply with the Dark Side, you have no defense.”

I wanted to kill him. To get up and fight. Or reach out with the Force and take my lightsaber that hung on his belt, taunting me. But I couldn’t. My vision was clouded, spattered with visions of blood and death. My muscles were trembling with the effort of keeping my chest upright, each sobbing heave of my shoulders draining my energy further.

“You’ll never get away with this,” I whispered, my head beginning to bob in a struggle to stay awake. “Either I’ll kill you, or they will.”

Krell chuckled. It was a deep, rumbling sound, but not like how Rex’s sounded when I pressed my ear to his chest. Rex’s was warm and soothing--a peaceful hum against the endlessly running thoughts in my mind. Krell’s was….intimidating. Dark. Sinister.

“You?” he laughed. “You can barely hold yourself up. Even at full strength, you are but a bounty hunter with a dream of being someone special. First you tried to be a Fett. Then a Sith. Now a Jedi. But you are nothing.” Krell’s lips cracked open to reveal his pointed teeth in a sneer. “And the clones are of no concern to me.”

I panted, my vision blurring further. His words sounded slurred, but I was sure it was because of my hearing, rather than anything to do with Krell’s actual speech. I vaguely heard Krell’s comm beep again, summoning the clones to return to their posts.

“Take her to back to the brig,” he commanded as I finally slumped forward. The grips of the clones’ hands on my arms was a distant sensation, drowned beneath the anguish resonating from the soldiers I considered to be my family. I was more or less dragged across the command room floor and towards the elevator.

The last sensation I was aware of...was the deep vibration of darkness in the Force that resonated with Krell’s final chuckle as the doors hissed closed behind us.

--------------------------

MANDO’A

Blindfold lo’shebs’ul narit--- You can shove your blindfold up your ass.

----------------------------------

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

Sorry for the delay in posting. Weirdly, lots to do despite Covid-19!

Thanks to everyone who is sticking around! As always, reviews/likes/reposts are always welcome and appreciated.

-Ryder

34 notes · View notes

maulusque · 6 years

Note

omg, i love the tcw weird pairings challenge! how abouttttttt dogma and.......hondo? :D

ok so we are going directly for the kill i see

you will be glad to know that i suffered. and that i have no self-control and no sense of scale. i just wrote an 8k hondo/dogma fic on 1.5 hours of sleep. why did i do this. why did i ask for this. this was supposed to be short. i hope you are pleased with yourself. full fic under the cut.

Months. Years, maybe. Dogma didn’t exactly have a calendar in the tiny white room where they kept him when they weren’t prodding or poking or cutting or testing. Trying to figure out what his defect was, he supposed. He was told nothing. He didn’t even know if we was slated for death, or reconditioning, after they were finished with their tests. When the doctors came into the room for him, he never knew if they were taking him to his death or not. It was, as Kix would have put it, a “relevant stress factor”.

There were no brothers in the medical facility. The guards were all droids. Dogma had no way of getting news from the front, from Captain Rex and the rest of his brothers. He didn’t know if they were alive, dead, if they were winning the war, if Tup was doing ok without him. Sometimes, Dogma would lie on the ground and stare at the ceiling, wondering what bits of it were real and what bits he had imagined. Had he really shot a Jedi? Or did he make that up? Was there a trooper named Jesse with a republic cog tattoo? Had Dogma been part of Captain Rex’s squad, as he sometimes thought, or was it just something he’d wanted for so long, ever since he’d been a cadet, that he’d just convinced himself it was true?

Time smeared together. Dogma didn’t know if he slept anymore or not. It was impossible to tell. When they came one day and put him on a guarded transport, all hush-hush and talking like everyone Dogma knew was dead, Dogma didn’t even notice until the ship was in hyperspace.

The ship slammed abruptly out of lightspeed above a distant red planet, alarms blaring and hull shuddering. Dogma stayed where he was in the cargo hold, wrists held together and the binders magnetically sealed to a mark on the wall. He vaguely listened to the sounds of laser fire, the crunch of boarding clamps, yells and screams from above. It was just like a training sim. Except it wasn’t. Dogma knew it wasn’t. He knew, on some level, that they were being boarded by pirates, but that didn’t stop his mind from matching the battle to the training sims Dogma knew so well. Yes, there’s the shield failure, usually phase 4 of a ship battle sim. Must be a double squad scenario, if we’re getting boarded. He knew that this was real, it was happening, but he couldn’t seem to convince himself that it was happening right now, to him.

When the doors to the cargo bay burst open, Dogma looked up, looking at the intruders with a vague sense of detached curiosity. There was a weequay, wearing goggles and a long coat. A few others behind him that Dogma couldn’t see. The one in the coat approached him, crouched down. Put his hands on him. Removed the binders. Said what have we here? A prisoner? He was smiling. Dogma slumped down the wall where he sat, waiting for them to do whatever it was they had come for. The Weequay took Dogma’s chin and turned it, examining his face. The pirate said something. It took Dogma what felt like an eternity to process it, and when he did, reality slammed back down so hard that he flinched backwards, almost hitting his head on the wall. The pirate had asked for his name. It was the first time another living being had talked to him in years.

He wet his lips and tried to remember how to work his vocal cords.

“...Do- Dog...” His voice caught in his throat. He coughed and tried again. “Dogma. My name is Dogma.” The pirate grinned toothily at him.

“Well, friend Dogma, you are very fortunate to have met me. I am Hondo Ohnaka!” He said it as if announcing a grand revelation. “And I am about to save your life, my friend.” Dogma wished he’d slow down. He wanted to say something, answer him, but he couldn’t parse the words and everything was too loud. “Come with me to my ship, eh?” Hondo Ohnaka said. He stood, extending his hand downwards, almost as if he were offering it to Dogma. Dogma waited. What did Hondo Ohnaka want him to do?

“You know, usually when I offer to save someone’s life, they are grateful.” Hondo Ohnaka said. “Or at least they run away screaming.” Dogma did nothing. “No? No screaming? Well, you don’t have to come with us, friend Dogma, but as we have-” he checked his chrono “-seventy seconds before this ship explodes, I suggest you take advantage of my generous offer.” Dogma wasn’t sure what Hondo Ohnaka expected him to do with that information. So he did nothing. The pirate sighed.

“You know,” he said, “I’m starting to think you don’t want to be saved. Tell you what!” he snapped his fingers and pointed at Dogma. “I’ll save you anyway, you will be very grateful, and we can discuss just how valuable your gratitude is on my ship, yes?” He bent down and hoisted Dogma over his shoulder, lifting him with ease. Dogma considered telling him that he could walk, but Hondo Ohnaka was already moving, gathering his crew and rushing back to their boarding vessel.

__________

Dogma kriffing hated Hondo Ohnaka. He was loud and annoying and invasive and Dogma could never tell when he was being genuine and when he was just fucking with him. And even more, Dogma hated feeling useless. Hondo had told him that he could pay him back by working on his crew, but Dogma was worse than useless. It had taken him two weeks to consistently remember that he could leave the room they gave him without someone coming to get him. It took him even longer to regain the strength necessary to walk all the way to the mess without collapsing. And the ship wasn’t even that big. Three months in, and he was still bouncing from odd job to odd job, fetching this or that, lifting crates when he could. Flinching away from the grumbles of crew members who thought he was stupid, when he asked for clarification or more directions. Who the kriff needs to be told how to wash dishes, they muttered. Dogma. Dogma did. He didn’t want to do it wrong and how the hell was he supposed to know that it didn’t matter what order you washed them in if no one told him?

Dogma couldn’t even fight. His hands shook too much to hold a blaster and the sight of blood made his heart seize up and brought back memories he’d rather not think about. He was a clone trooper, dammit, a member of the 501st, the most elite unit in the GAR. He was supposed to be the best of the best. And he couldn’t even wash the fucking dishes without someone holding his hand. And Hondo fucking Ohnaka wouldn’t leave him the hell alone.

“Dogma!” Hondo cried, bursting into Dogma’s room without knocking. Dogma grunted and rolled over, pulling his blanket higher. He didn’t want to speak to anyone, much less Hondo.

“Come, my friend, it is well past noon. I have a task for you.” Dogma held still. Maybe, if he didn’t move, Hondo would assume he had fallen back asleep and leave. Hondo was lax like that. Another thing Dogma couldn’t stand. Captain Rex would have had him running laps of deck six if he’d found him still in bed at noon. It stressed Dogma out to never know if he was going to get bothered for sleeping in or not.

“Dogma, my friend, you cannot deceive me. I know you are not sleeping.” Hondo said. Dogma could almost see the aborted move Hondo made to reach out and shake him. Hondo was a tactile guy, but he’d learned better with Dogma when he’d come up behind him unexpectedly and tapped him on the shoulder. Dogma had thrown him through a wall.

“What kind of a crewman won’t even listen to his captain?” Hondo said, in that tone that Dogma could never tell whether it was joking or serious. “I am undermined at every turn. Surely my good friend Dogma remembers when I saved his life? When I pulled him out of an exploding ship, risking my own life and limb? Surely he is not so callous, so ungrateful to old Hondo?” Ok, probably joking. Dogma groaned and rolled over, sitting up.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming. Sir.” He said. He knew he didn’t have to call Hondo ‘Sir’. No one else did. Part of him rankled at the notion of addressing someone like Hondo Ohnaka in the same way he’d once addressed General Skywalker and Captain Rex, but a larger part of him flinched away from leaving the honorific out. Clone trooper conditioning was strong. Dogma rubbed his hands over his face and stood, letting the blanket fall to the floor.

“Excellent!” Hondo grinned. Did he have to be so kriffing over-the-top and cheerful all the time? It was goddamn exhausting. Hondo turned and started rifling through the scattered pieces of clothing on Dogma’s floor. “Come on, get dressed. Time to work of some more of your debt to me.”

Dogma ran his fingers through his hair. It was getting longer, brushing past his ears, and looked like a bird’s nest half the time. In the GAR, he’d never have let it get this far, but he just didn’t see the point anymore. The war was over. Dogma still couldn’t figure out whether they’d won or lost. The GAR didn’t give a shit about him, and he didn’t give a shit about his hair. It seemed fair. A dark blue shirt hit him in the face, followed by a pair of pants, another shirt, and a sock.

“Come, come. Put something on. Unless you want to work in that-” he gestured to Dogma’s tank top and sleep shorts. “-which is perfectly fine, I don’t judge.” Dogma grunted in reply, and began sorting through the random articles of clothing that Hondo continued to throw at him until he had a semblance of an outfit. Dogma’s clothes had mostly come from the large communal junk room back on Florrum, where Hondo’s pirate crews chucked anything not valuable enough to sell. But Hondo had insisted on buying some of Dogma’s clothing new, and not exactly cheaply, either. Dogma had tried protesting, but Hondo had insisted that he couldn’t have his crews running around looking like beggars. He’d further handwaved Dogma’s protests with don’t worry about the cost, my friend. I will simply add it to your ledger and you can work for me just a little bit longer to pay me back. Dogma had yet to see how long a sentence the blue wool coat that he’d secretly come to really like had earned him. The material was supposed to keep him warm in the winter, cool in the summer, and offer some protection against shrapnel and blaster bolts. Dogma had yet to be shot while wearing it (luckily), but he could confirm that it performed as otherwise advertised. And it was comfy. And blue. It reminded him of his brothers. And on days like today, it felt like a protective shield around him.

He pulled on the coat after lacing up his boots, Hondo waiting for him, tapping his boot (Hondo, Dogma found, was incapable of standing still). When Dogma was ready, Hondo led him down a deck to the ship’s kitchen. It was a tiny, cramped room, stains covering almost every surface and some of the walls. There were dishes stacked on every surface, and the only other door, leading, Dogma assumed, to food storage, was crooked and didn’t shut right.

“Am I supposed to clean this up, sir?” Dogma asked, looking dubiously at the disaster.

“No. Well, maybe.” Hondo said. “If it is necessary. But I did not bring you here to clean, my friend. I brought you here to cook!”

“What.” Dogma said flatly.

“Cook!” Hondo said. “Our dear cook Dave departed earlier this morning, you see. Urgent business, couldn’t be helped. So now my brave crew finds itself lacking a chef. But I thought, my good friend Dogma, who owes me his life, is perfect for the job! I am sure you are a wonderful cook, yes?” Dogma had a sneaking suspicion that Dave’s sudden departure, in a section of open space with no planet in sight, might have something to do with Dave’s habit of skimming off of the crew’s common slush fund.

“Sir, I have literally never cooked a single thing in my life.” Dogma said. “I don’t think you want me trying to cook food for twenty people.”

“No matter, no matter,” Hondo said, waving a hand dismissively. “You are Dogma! You will find a way! You can follow the directions, they call it a recipe, yes? You will do fine!” Hondo smiled at him. “Everything you need is in here. Probably. I think.” He turned to abandon Dogma to certain failure. “Besides, no one will think to complain about whatever you cook. It is sure to be better than Dave’s.” With that, Hondo left the kitchen. Dogma allowed himself a brief five-minute meltdown before comforting himself with the fact that he could probably scrape the stains off of the walls and serve that to the crew and still out-class Dave’s cooking. He sorted himself out, straightened his coat, and left the kitchen to find Keen, the unofficial quartermaster, and one of the few crew members that Dogma didn’t actively want to avoid.

Back in the kitchen with the borrowed datapad, Dogma wasted two hours skimming through recipes and cooking instructions, looking up terms like “simmer” and “braise” and trying to calculate serving sizes in his head. The task of finding a recipe brought him to frustrated tears three times. The pantry was a goddamn war zone and he had to somehow find a recipe that was simple enough for him to cook (which was in itself a guess, because Dogma had never cooked before), make sure he had the utensils and pans to cook it (did it matter what size pan you used? How full could you fill a pot?), and make sure he had the necessary ingredients to cook twenty meals’ worth (when you multiplied a recipe, did you just double or triple the ingredients linearly? Or if you had more food, did it take proportionally more seasoning to flavor it?). The entire concept of putting things in food exclusively to make it taste better was foreign to Dogma. He ended up pulling a credit chip out of his pocket (which, he had credits now, thanks Hondo) and flipping it to make decisions. You can’t be as bad as Dave became his mantra as he worked.

Dogma emerged from the kitchen hours later, sweaty, frustrated, annoyed, and exhausted. He poked his head into the common room, where most of the crew were engaged in round three of the Monthly Ohnaka Gang Sabaac Direct Elimination Extravaganza, and said “There is something resembling food in the kitchen. Someone else is doing the dishes, or I will poison you all.” He turned and stalked back to the kitchen, grabbing his coat, which he’d removed hours ago because the kitchen had no ventilation, and a plate of the slightly burned, mushy attempt at stir-fry he’d made. He took it back to his quarters, where he wouldn’t have to deal with being surrounded by other people. He ate in peace, sitting on the floor and leaning his back against his bed. The stir-fry genuinely wasn’t half-bad. Especially compared to Dave’s cooking.

Dogma was almost finished, and contemplating whether to return his plate to the kitchen, or just shove it into the corner and forget about it, when the door hissed open and Hondo walked in.

“Dogma!” He said, grinning and radiating exuberance as usual. He plopped himself down next to Dogma. “I knew you could do it. I was right to entrust this to you, my friend.” Dogma smiled down at his plate a bit. Hondo might bug the crap out of him, but Dogma was willing to admit that he liked that Hondo called him “my friend” all the time. No one else had ever done that. It was nice.

“So, better than Dave’s?” Dogma said.

“Weeellll, not to speak ill of the dead- I mean, the, uh, retired crewmen,” Hondo said, “but yes. Much better. Thank god.”

“Good.” Dogma said. “Glad I could do something right.” Hondo made a move as if to clap him on the shoulder, but thought better of it.

“Ah, Dogma, I am sure you can do many things. I knew, when I found you, I took one look at you and said, that Dogma, he is a great man! And he will be on my crew! Hondo Ohnaka has an eye for acquisition. I never invest in something that’s not worth it.” Dogma snorted.

“Now you’re just taking the piss, sir.”

Hondo laid a hand across his heart.

“Dogma, my friend, I am wounded! When have I ever been anything less than sincere and honest?” Dogma let out an outright bark of laughter at that.

“Alright, maybe not honest.” Hondo amended. “But I am glad we have found your place here, Dogma.” He laid a hand on Dogma’s knee, moving slowly enough that Dogma could stop him if he wanted to. Dogma didn’t stop him. He leaned his head back onto the mattress behind him and closed his eyes. He was exhausted.

“Thank you, sir.” he said. He meant it.

“You can thank me with your continued service in the kitchen, my friend. If you ever wish to pay off your debt to me, that is.” Hondo stood and left, taking Dogma’s empty plate with him.

That night, Dogma lay awake in bed, scrolling through holonet articles and taking notes. Cooking didn’t seem so bad, really, now that he wasn’t under pressure to not kriff it up. Lots of decisions to make, but once he picked something, there would be a clear set of directions to follow. He might not be able to hold a blaster anymore, but this, this he could do.

__________

“Damn, Dogma, this is good. What is this?”

“Corellian-style bantha roast, but I substituted meiloorun root for the tubers and threw in some citreen flakes.”

“I have no idea what that means, and I don’t care. Whatever you did, it’s really good.” Gorana said. He’d joined the crew about a year after Dogma had. Dogma shrugged.

“It’s food.” He didn’t like boasting about his food, but he did enjoy the praise of his crewmates. Three years on Hondo’s crew, and he still hadn’t picked up a blaster. He didn’t know if his hands would still shake, and he didn’t particularly care, either. He was done shooting at things on someone else’s orders. Things were alright. He missed his brothers fiercely. He still had nightmares. Last night he’d woken up in a cold sweat after dreaming about Fives criticising his cooking, of all things. Fives had taken one bite, looked at him, and said “I hope you can live with yourself, Dogma.” It was like his least favorite memories kept bubbling up through perfectly ordinary dreams, combining in sometimes absurd, sometimes terrifying ways, conspiring to send him wandering the corridors of Hondo’s ship at all hours of the night.

Sometimes, when he had the energy to handle it, Dogma would wander his way to the bridge. More often than not, Hondo would be there, looking over maps or finances, or sometimes reading the cheesy romance novels he liked. Dogma had no idea when he slept. Hondo never asked him why he was awake; he always just acted like being awake at oh-three-thirty was the most ordinary thing in the world. Sometimes they talked, or rather, Hondo talked, about potential hits, about problems among the crewmembers, who was upset at whom or who missed their family, and what Hondo was planning to do about it. Sometimes Hondo would expound on some absurd philosophical line, his own personal life philosophy (contradicting himself wildly, with constant references to things his ‘dear mother’ had told him growing up. Sometimes, he’d regale Dogma with tales from his past, mixing truth and what Dogma was almost certain had to be fiction with impunity. The worse Dogma’s nightmare had been, the more absurd and fantastical Hondo’s story. Dogma would let Hondo’s words wash over him, reminding himself that he was here, now, and the past couldn’t touch him outside his dreams. A few times, Hondo had read aloud passages from his novels, expounding on the literary technique of the writing. Dogma knew precisely fuck and shit about literature, so he figured he might as well take Hondo’s word for it until someone told him exactly how Hondo was pulling his leg.

Dogma left Gorana behind, leaving the common room and returning to the kitchen. He’d never managed to remove the ghosts of those stains from the walls, but at least there was maneuvering room and a meticulous organization to it now. Dogma was quite nitpicky about the state of his kitchen, even if his own quarters were a disaster more often than not. He grabbed a disposable plate from the box in the cupboard. Today was an eating-in-his-room kind of day. That weird Fives dream had left him feeling jumpy and on edge all day, in addition to feeling a bit stupid about it. Seriously, Fives criticizing his cooking was not the terrifying scenario his subconscious seemed to be trying to convince him it was. Dogma was filling his plate from the pot on the stove when Hondo entered the kitchen, somehow managing his usual dramatic flourish despite keeping his hands behind his back. Dogma refused to wonder what he was holding.

“Ah, my dear Dogma! I was hoping to catch you.” Hondo said. “I have something for you.” From behind his back, he produced a large silver soup ladle, laying it in Dogma’s hands with a flourish.

“Oh good.” Dogma said. “I only asked for this three weeks ago. Since, you know, Gorana shot a hole in my other one.” He gave Hondo a flat look.

“Yes, and here is a new one, as requested.” Hondo said, his signature Hondo Grin firmly in place.

“How did it take you three kriffing weeks to get ahold of a ladle? Sir.” Dogma said. It was a “sir” kind of day as well, apparently. It had become a lot easier for Dogma to drop the honorific, but some days he only had so much energy to devote to ignoring the military conditioning embedded in his genes and reinforced with childhood conditioning.

“Ah, these things take time, Dogma.” Hondo said, lowering his voice somewhat, and taking a small step back from Dogma so as not to crowd him. “I couldn’t just get you any ladle. This is a ladle that will feed my entire crew. Hondo only delivers the best. I had to be sure it was of top quality, the right size to fit your hand, the right design to fit your style-” Dogma snorted.

“Alright, alright, thanks, sir. I guess I’ll do stew tomorrow or something. We should probably use up the potatoes, anyway.”

“By the way, my friend,” Hondo said, and Dogma groaned internally. “Such a perfect ladle does not come cheap. But I’m sure you can pay me back by staying on as my cook a little longer. After you pay me back for saving your life, of course.” Dogma snorted. Hondo was always claiming that every single little thing he did for Dogma added on to the time that Dogma had to stay to “pay off his debt”. He also constantly assigned wildly high monetary values to the meals Dogma cooked, claiming he’d subtract it from the amount Dogma owed, but somehow never actually told Dogma just how much Hondo considered saving his life to be worth. It had taken Dogma an embarrassingly long time to realize that Hondo didn’t have an actual ledger and wasn’t actually tracking this stuff, he was just... being Hondo.

“Come on.” Dogma said. “This shouldn’t add to the debt, you bought this with the group funds for group use. Yeah, I’m not going to let anyone else touch it, but it’s for cooking for the whole crew, it’s a communal ladle. If I don’t own it it doesn’t add to my debt.”

“I am afraid you are incorrect, my friend.” Hondo said. “This is not a public ladle. This is your ladle. You see?” He reached over and turned the ladle over in Dogma’s hands. Engraved in the handle in loopy, flowing script was the word “Dogma”. Hondo fucking Ohnaka had gotten Dogma’s name monogrammed onto his kriffing ladle. Of course he had. Dogma huffed out a laugh, feeling the corners of his mouth raise.

“Aha! There, I have made you smile!” Hondo declared. “I have done my duty, and you are now free to return to your quarters.” Dogma felt his cheeks flush.

______Dogma frowned, pausing on his way through the common room. Hondo was explaining to the crew- half of them new- the plan of attack for the business liner they’d gotten a trace on. Dogma refused to think of Hondo’s dramatic performance- complete with sound effects- as a briefing. Hondo’s plan would probably work, but....

“You should send out the zipper skiff first, not second.” Dogma said. Hondo nodded, thinking it through. Dogma knew that Hondo was putting together the same pieces he had- the zipper was nimble enough to dodge the shots from the liner’s single nose gun, and if it could get close enough to disable the shields, the liner would likely surrender without a fight.

“You are right as always, my dear Dogma. Change of plans, everyone! We do what Dogma says!” One of the assembled crewmen rolled his eyes.

“Oh, so we’re letting the cook plan the attacks now?” Someone else elbowed him in the ribs. He was new. He’d learn. Dogma didn’t offer advice unless he knew he was right. And right or not, everyone on this ship listened to Dogma. The new guy grumbled, but relented. Dogma shrugged and continued into the kitchen, considering how much extra phantom pepper to add to the new guy’s food that night.

___________

Sleeping was still not Dogma’s strong suit. Oh-two-hundred hours saw him up and wandering the ship as usual, blue coat thrown on over his sleep clothes. Hondo wasn’t on the bridge, so Dogma sat in the pilot’s chair, staring out at the weird streaks of hyperspace. He felt restless and tense, too wound up to zone out. He stood and paced. He kind of wished Hondo were here. He somehow always knew the best way to distract Dogma. Four steps across the bridge, four steps back. Turn. Repeat. Feeling like he was going to vibrate out of his skin, Dogma left the bridge. His feet carried him down the ship’s corridors, to the door to Hondo’s quarters. Dogma hesitated. Should he knock? What if Hondo was sleeping? Dogma didn’t want to wake him up. Was he allowed to be here? What if Hondo thought he was being invasive? He firmly dismissed the irrational thoughts. Of course he was allowed to be here, he’d been in here plenty of times, just not at ass-o’clock in the morning before. Hondo’s default sense of personal space was zero, there’s no reason he’d think Dogma was being invasive. Before he could talk himself out of it, Dogma steeled himself and knocked on the door.

There was a shuffling sound from inside the room, a thud, and a muffled “Oof!” The door slid open.

“Ah, Dogma!” Hondo said. He was wearing loose pants and an old shirt, and had his blanket wrapped around him like a cape. “To what do I owe the pleasure? A bit early for breakfast, no?” His eyes crinkled up in that familiar smile.

“No, I just, um,” Dogma mumbled. He wasn’t good at talking about this stuff. Or at asking for things. What could he say? I had a stupid dream and I want you to say something ridiculous and dumb to make me forget about it?

“Say no more!” Hondo declared. “I know why you are here. Come, come!” He took Dogma by the arm and tugged him into the room. “Of course, I never finished telling you about the time I single-handedly saved the life of the Senator from Ryloth. Or was it Ragoo? No matter.” He shoved his pillows aside and sat Dogma down at the head of the bed, leaning against the headboard. He plopped himself down next to Dogma. “You are curious, and as I am a generous man, I will finish the story for you. Now, where did I leave off?” Dogma let out a breath and leaned against Hondo slightly. “Ah, yes! The starcruiser!” Hondo snapped his fingers, answering his own question. He flung a leathery arm around Dogma’s shoulders and picked up the story.

“.... and this is my dear mother- is she not beautiful- just after she liberated Florrum from the Trade Federation. And liberated a lot of wealth from their viceroy!” Dogma leaned in to see the hologram Hondo was showing him. The Senator story had taken Hondo almost an hour to finish, and Dogma was pretty sure most of it had been outright fabrication. Dogma hadn’t had to say anything to get Hondo to launch into another story, for which he was grateful. Now Hondo had moved on to showing Dogma pictures of his mother, himself as a child, favorite ships he’d stolen, and random snapshots from his collection.

“She was the best pirate the Galaxy has ever seen. I learned everything I know from her.” Dogma already knew that. Hondo cited his mother in everyday conversation like a twitchy academic paranoid about being accused of plagiarizing. Except that Dogma got the impression that Hondo just wanted everyone to think his mother was as amazing as he thought she was.

“You know what she always said to me when I was a child?” Hondo asked rhetorically. “She said- well, she said Hondo, get that out of your nose. She said that rather a lot, actually.” Dogma huffed a small laugh.

“She also said, Hondo, sometimes the Galaxy is a dark place. And sometimes it seems like the path before you is dark and empty, and the only other path you can see is even darker. But you know what that means? That means that the first path is brighter. Always choose the brighter path, Hondo, even if it’s dark. And never trust a tax collector.” Dogma let his head droop onto Hondo’s shoulder. Hondo was quite happy to talk for hours without a single word of input from him, and that was one of Dogma’s favorite things about him. He was warm. Hondo had wrapped a blanket around him when he’d started to shiver despite the coat. He felt secure. The buzzing feeling in his chest had dissipated. As Hondo blabbered on about his mother’s life lessons, Dogma let his eyelids drift shut.

_______“Dogma!” Hondo cried, throwing his arms around Dogma and squeezing. Dogma let him. Hondo had taken to wrapping him in massive hugs at random opportunities, including whenever he returned to the ship from whatever he needed to do dirtside. As long as he approached Dogma from the front, he didn’t mind.

“I got the supplies,” he said, once Hondo had released him. “But we should clear out. Imperials are swarming the place.”

“That is troublesome.” Hondo said, following Dogma as he walked through the cargo bay. “First they chase us off of Florrum, and now it seems they are taking over the entire Outer Rim. Government overreach, I say.” Dogma nodded.

“Maybe we should move our operations further afield.” He said. “Not as many opportunities, but we’ll be safer with less Imperial presence.”

_______“I think you should keep this one.” Dogma said, pointing over Hondo’s shoulder at one of the profiles on Hondo’s viewscreen. “She seems to fit in well with the rest of the crew.” That, and she had told Dogma his Alderaanian Lukfa was the best thing she’d ever tasted. Hondo nodded. Downsizing the crew was a massive pain in the ass, but with the Imperials swarming all over the place, they needed to be keeping a lower profile.

“Then she stays. Your opinions never lead me astray, Dogma.” Dogma leaned over Hondo’s shoulder.

“While you’re listening to me then, dump this one, this one, and this one.” he pointed to three of the new crew members’ profiles. “They’re more trouble than they’re worth. Oh, and also this one. He insulted my cooking.”

“How dare he.” Hondo shook his head, sounding deeply offended. “Shall I eject him from the ship right now, or wait until we are in space?”

______

Seven years since the end of the war. Hondo’s ship now operated on a skeleton crew of eight. These days, they lived out of the ship permanently, jumping from system to system and never establishing a permanent base. Hondo sometimes bitched about the days when he’d ruled over the citadel on Florrum, leading an armada of fifty ships (the number varied wildly depending on Hondo’s mood) and commanded hundreds of pirates. Dogma missed the old days, too, but overall, things were good.

“Don’t put that in the sink, you kriffing moron.” He said. The new girl let out a squeak and almost dropped the knife she’d been about to dump into the soapy water. Dogma folded his arms. “You wanna reach in to grab a plate and impale your hand? Didn’t think so. Wash the knives separately.” The girl nodded. Why did he have to look over everyone’s shoulder if he wanted the dishes done right?

_____

The Empire caught up with them over Saan Gad. It was just a small patrol ship, but more than heavily armed enough to force them to surrender. Stormtroopers in gleaming white swept through the corridors. Hondo stood from the captain’s chair on the bridge, turning to face the door. Dogma, beside him, turned just in time to see three stormtroopers burst in, blasters raised.

“Surrender, pirate scum!” The one in front said. “Get your hands in the air!” Dogma took one look at the idiot and burst out laughing. He couldn’t help it. The idiot looked like someone had handed a blaster to a teenager in a cheap costume. Hondo gave him a questioning look.

“Shut up and get your hands in the air! Final warning!” The stormtrooper shouted. Dogma didn’t bother.

“You’re holding it wrong.” he told the stormtrooper.

“What?”

“You’ve got your bracing hand too high on the grip and your whole angle’s bad. You couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn aiming like that.”

“Shut it, you-” Dogma interrupted him by darting forward, ducking under his wild shot, and punching him right in the face. His flimsy helmet did nothing to protect him and he crumpled. The other two troopers turned, yelling and bringing their blasters to bear. Hondo dispatched one with a neat shot and Dogma slammed the other into the ground with a hard takedown he’d been able to do in his sleep since he was three.

“What a disgrace.” he said, nudging the one he’d punched with his boot. “An embarrassment to the name of soldier, if you ask me.” Hondo came over to stand next to him.

“Is this how they’re training the natborns these days?” Dogma continued. “Look at this poor bastard, he can’t even buckle his armor on right. He’s got the strap twisted.”

“I am glad that we are facing these, instead of you and your brothers, my dear.” Hondo said.

“Captain Rex would have been ashamed at what’s become of the GAR these days.” Dogma said. He stepped over the prone Stormtrooper, shaking his head.

“You must tell me more about this Captain Rex of yours, Dogma.” Hondo said, collecting the blasters of the fallen Stormtroopers. “You have mentioned him, but you never say more.” Dogma shrugged.

“Was he handsome?” Hondo grinned.

“I uh, um, I guess? Maybe?” Dogma considered.

“Was he as handsome as me?”

“Oh, definitely not.” Dogma said, rolling his eyes.

“That is good to hear. You can tell me more later. Now, let us go and take back our ship.” Hondo followed Dogma out of the bridge. Dogma left the blasters to Hondo. He hadn’t touched one in almost a decade, and he had no intention to start now. If he had to beat these insults to his brothers over the head with his ladle, then so be it.

_______

They lost the ship, eventually. They kept losing crew members to Imperial prisons or blaster fire, or simply leaving due to the danger. Hondo had asked, in his roundabout Hondo way, if Dogma intended to leave, as well.

“Of course not, I still have a debt to pay, remember?” Dogma told him. Hondo beamed and embraced him.

“How lucky am I to have a friend of such strong moral fiber!” He released Dogma, but his arms remained around him for a long moment. Briefly, it seemed like he might do something else, but instead, he clapped Dogma on the shoulder and stepped away. Dogma was left feeling like a star had taken up residence in his chest, and a swarm of butterflies in his stomach.

________

Eleven years after the end of the war, and it was just them. They changed ships frequently, jumping from job to job in whatever banged up junker they could get their hands on. Dogma did his best to make them space-worthy. He was nowhere near as good at mechanics as Fives or General Skywalker had been, but he wasn’t bad, either. He’d salvaged the cooking range from the last one, which was now mercifully resting in pieces on a cold moon- and installed it in their current tin can, since it lacked anything more than a food warmer. He’d learned to improvise with limited supplies and tools.

The years were catching up to him. He had streaks of silver in his hair, and lines on his face. His knees complained at him sometimes. Hondo had frowned when he’d explained about the accelerated aging, and had actually sulked in his room for a few days before his usual cheer came back.

Dogma kept very few things over the years. The only two things he made sure to take with him every time was his blue coat, patched and worn, and the monogrammed ladle. It was, indeed, good quality. Aside from a few scratches and a dent from a Stormtrooper helmet, it was in the same condition it had been when it was new.

They did a lot of hiding and running, these days. The Imperials had placed a large-ish bounty on Hondo’s head. Hondo had been insulted on Dogma’s behalf that they hadn’t also placed one on him.

“You are easily half the mastermind behind our success. It is so rude of them to ignore you like that.” Dogma rolled his eyes fondly, not even bothering to explain why it was a good thing not to be wanted by the Empire. Dogma’s low profile came in handy many times. Like right now. Hondo had gotten himself arrested two weeks ago, and the Stormtroopers had dragged him right past Dogma without a second glance. Dogma had spent a weekend enjoying the solitude, before buckling down and doing some research. Now, he sat himself down at the table in their current ship’s tiny common room, scrolling through his datapad. He took a sip of caf, and began assembling a list of people who owed them favors. Hopefully, one of them would be willing to bring Hondo all the way back here, so Dogma wouldn’t even have to leave port.

______

Hondo liked to describe their first kiss as if it were a scene directly out of a soap opera, complete with a daring rescue and Hondo dramatically dipping him. Or the other way around, depending on the telling. In reality, it was mundane. Dogma’s head was buried in the guts of their hyperdrive. A pot of soup was boiling on the jerry-rigged burner next to the pilot’s seat. Hondo came in, striding up the ramp.

“Honey, I’m home!” Dogma wiped his hands on a rag. He turned to meet Hondo’s embrace.

“Welcome back.” he said. Hondo released him, but Dogma left his hands on his shoulders. Dogma had no idea what put the thought into his head. Maybe it was the way Hondo’s eyes crinkled up when he did his “smiling at Dogma” smile. Or the way his lips pulled back when he grinned. Or the way that every time he said his name, every time he embraced him, he sounded absolutely thrilled to see him again. Whatever it was, Dogma leaned forward and kissed him.

“How did it go?”

Hondo’s arms were still around his waist.

“Very well. I have a lead on a job.” Hondo raised one of his hands to Dogma’s cheek. “And even better, I come home and you kiss me.” Dogma flushed and looked down.

“Yeah. Well. I don’t know why I didn’t do that years ago.” He gave Hondo a small smile. “So how much does that pay off? Of my debt?”

“Ah, my dear Dogma.” Hondo smiled at him. “You have given me something of immense value. But you are no closer to paying off your debt to me. You see, I saved you, and you? You are priceless.”

Dogma was almost embarrassed at how warm and schmoopy that made him feel inside.

“So you see it is hopeless! Ha!” Hondo declared. He leaned down and pressed another kiss to Dogma’s lips. “You will be in debt to me forever, my dear Dogma.”

After that, Dogma converted his quarters into a proper kitchen. It wasn’t like he needed to sleep in there anymore.

_____________

Hondo’s schemes grew wilder and more ridiculous. No matter how many times he gambled and they lost everything, Hondo always grinned and said “on to the next one!” Dogma was able to talk him down from some of his more absurd ideas, or at least suggest better ways to go about it. He was happy.

They married for convenience, twelve years into their partnership, a little over a year since Dogma had first kissed him. They’d been forced to sell their latest junker for cash on a small colony world, and they intended to find their way off-world to the nearest planet “hospitable to an honest businessman and his partner”, as Hondo put it. Meaning, a world where there was a robust enough black market for them to get ahold of an unregistered ship. The planet they were stuck on only had two spaceports, and travel permits weren’t cheap. Dogma did a bit of research, and found the necessary forms online.

“Here, sign this.” He shoved the datapad across the table at Hondo. Hondo scrawled his name without reading a word and gave the datapad back.

“Good. We can afford a permit now.” Dogma said, pulling up the permit application. Hondo raised an eyebrow at him.

“It’s cheaper to apply as a married couple.” Dogma explained. Once Hondo stopped (mostly) bitching at Dogma for robbing him of the chance to do a dramatic romantic proposal, he took great pride in introducing him as “my husband, Dogma.” Dogma had to admit, it did sound nice.

_______

Dogma woke up from a nightmare. Fives, again. Fives’ face beneath the buckets of a hundred dead Stormtroopers that Dogma had shot. Next to him, Hondo stirred. He was a light sleeper. Dogma had never managed to avoid waking him up when he had a nightmare.

“Dogma?” A leathery hand found his own. Dogma took it. “Are you alright, my dear?”

“Yeah. Just a bad dream.” Dogma said.

“Well, then. Since you are already awake,” Hondo drew him closer. “Let me tell you about that kid I met on Vizago’s ship.” Dogma laid his head on Hondo’s shoulder and threw an arm over his chest. Hondo drew him close, arm wrapped around his shoulders.

“His name is Ezra, but he lied and told me it was Lando. I met his mother later, you know. Lovely woman. Excellent pilot. She must have raised him right.” Dogma sighed and let Hondo’s words wash over him. He’d already heard this story, at least fifty times, ever since Hondo had come back from the Vizago job. He’d developed a massive soft spot for the Jedi kid. Hondo was rubbing little circles into his shoulder with this thumb, and Dogma could feel the rumble of his voice against his cheek. Here, fourteen years later and in the arms of his husband, Fives’ accusing stare seemed very far away.

_______

Dogma knew his husband. With the amount of time that Hondo spent talking about that kid and his “amazing potential!”, Dogma knew he’d end up meeting him sooner or later. Hondo thought it was just adorable that Ezra was shocked every time Hondo double-crossed him. (“Every! Single! Time! He never expects it!”) Dogma thought it was adorable that Hondo kept wishfully describing how he’d teach Ezra how to be a proper pirate if he ever joined his crew.

They were headed to a rendezvous with what Dogma had discerned, through Hondo’s hand waving and dissembling, was the kriffing Rebel Fleet. Hondo had found an excuse to give the Rebels information on some sort of arms facility that they’d probably want to destroy. He’d insisted on handing over the information in person, “to avoid any Imperial interference, you understand.”

Dogma landed their ship in the docking bay of the Corellian cruiser. Hondo was bounding down the ramp as soon as he lowered it. As he rose to follow him, he heard Hondo cry “Ezra, my boy!”

Smiling to himself, Dogma walked down the ramp. Hondo was in the process of squeezing the life out of a dark-haired kid who looked about the same age as a graduating cadet. Behind him, a number of people were approaching their ship. Dogma spotted a green twi’lek in a pilot jumpsuit and a girl in Mandalorian armor before Hondo grabbed his arm and yanked him over.

“My dear, this is Ezra, the one I have been telling you about!”

“Hi.” Dogma told the boy.

“Um, hey.” Ezra said. Dogma thought he might be able to see why Hondo liked him so much. He looked a bit like an earnest puppy.

“Ohnaka,” the twi’lek woman said. She and her crew had reached them. “I trust you have the information you promised?”

“Ah, Captain Syndulla!” Hondo said, turning his dazzling smile on her. “Of course I do. But can we not have a moment between old friends?”

“Sure, you can start with introductions. Who’s your friend here?” She nodded at Dogma, her arms folded.

“Certainly, certainly! My dear, this is Captain Syndulla, who pilots the Ghost, and this is her crew, whom I am certain have names as well. Ezra, everyone else, this is my-”

“Dogma?”

Dogma froze. That voice. He knew that voice. A brother’s voice. He hadn’t heard a brother’s voice since Umbara. And that voice, he heard that voice in his dreams, echoing in his head, saying stand down, Dogma. A man was pushing his way through the gathered crew of the Ghost. Battered Phase II armor, pieces missing. Chipped and scratched paint, the same blue as his coat.

“Captain?” he whispered. He couldn’t seem to make his voice work. And then Captain Rex was striding forward, enveloping Dogma in a fierce hug. Dogma hugged back just as fiercely. It was really him. It was Captain Rex. He’d survived, he was here, and he was embracing Dogma as a brother. Captain Rex released the hug, but didn’t let go of Dogma, putting his hand on the back of his neck and pressing their foreheads together.

“Dogma, I can’t believe- I thought you were dead.” Rex’s face was wet. So was Dogma’s. Inside, he felt the old guilt welling up, sticking in his throat.

“Sir, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I never meant-”

“I know. I know. It’s not your fault. You have nothing to apologize for.” Rex said. “I’m the one who’s sorry, Dogma. I failed you.” Dogma shook his head.

“I betrayed you all. I obeyed that- that- and Fives-”

“Fives never blamed you.” Rex said.

“What?” Dogma was so shocked he stopped crying.

“Fives never blamed you. After Umbara, we tried to find you, but the Kaminoans only told us you’d been decommissioned. I don’t think Fives ever really forgave me for letting them take you.”

“Kriff. That’s- kriff, I never expected to hear that, sir.”

��I never expected to see you again.” Rex said.

“I never expected you to grow a beard, sir.” Rex drew back and barked a laugh.

“Look at us.” he said. “We both got old.”

“Yeah.” Dogma wiped his face as discreetly as he could. “We did.” he didn’t even try to stop the smile spreading across his face, matching the one on Rex’s. So many of them hadn’t had the chance to grow old. Fives. Sergeant Waxer. Dogma’s batchmates. But here they were, Dogma and Captain Rex, white-headed and wrinkled, a decade and a half after the war they’d been built to die for.

“Ahem.” Hondo tapped Dogma on the shoulder. “Dogma, is this the Captain Rex that you have told me so much about?”

“Yeah. Yes.” Dogma said, turning to his husband. “Hondo, this is Captain Rex. Sir-”

“We’ve met.” Rex said shortly. “I know Hondo Ohnaka.” His eyes were narrowed in a look that Dogma recognized. Troopers and Jedi alike had all known to fear Captain Rex’s “overprotective big brother” face. “Dogma, what are you doing with this bastard?” Rex asked. Dogma winced internally. Well, shit. He cleared his throat, looking anywhere but at Captain Rex. This was not going to go over well.

“Sir, this is my husband.”

FIN

I HOPE YOU’RE HAPPY

P.S. when Dogma walked down the ramp and saw Ezra for the first time, he got a momentary headache and the brief, inexplicable urge to whack Ezra over the head with a ladle. Luckily, biochips degrade over time.

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letitrainathousandflames-archive · 7 years

Text

Late Rex (minific)

When Fives and Echo walked in the mess hall to get their breakfast, only the higher ranks had gotten there yet. Commanders and ARC troopers were supposed to be up earlier to inspect the troops and take care of their affairs, not to mention they should set an example - Fives wasn’t particularly happy with this aspect of his job. Lucky shinies and lower ranks got to sleep a little longer and he’d always envy them for that.

“Hope the caf is decent today.” he yawned “Wait, no. I actually would love to play the Dogma.”

“Won’t you leave the man alone already?” Echo raised an eyebrow at him

“When he manages to unclench his ass, yeah.” Fives snickered, grabbing a tray “Now wait a second. Commanders Cody, Wolffe, Fox, Gree, Bly... where the kriff is Rex?”

Echo looked around as Cody approached the two of them.

“Huh. Odd.” Echo agreed “Where is he?”

“Fives, Echo.” Cody nodded at them “Where’s Rex?”

“We don’t know, sir.” Echo shrugged “We... expected him to be here about now.”

Fives stroked his beard.

“Hm. Okay. Okay, we manage it until he arrives, all we have to do is not alarm the men about his tardiness and...”

Cody was drawing in a deep breath. Oh no.

“Captain “Follow the Codes” Rex is late for the very first time ever!” he boomed in the silence of the first hours of the day “What do you guys think that happened?”

Wolffe didn’t even look up from his coffee, grumbling something about “here comes that little shit again”. Meanwhile, Cody erased the board with today’s food menu and wrote in large aurebesh letters: THEORIES FOR WHY REX IS SIX (6) MINUTES LATE. Wolffe groaned, but Bly snickered as Fives and Echo facepalmed.

“C’mon, you guys, i’m waiting!” Cody demanded “Fifty credits to the man who gets it right!”

Bly shrugged.

“Uhhh... He had a massive hangover and is still asleep.”

Cody wrote “massive hangover” on the board.

“Real nice, but not very plausible. That asshole can drink like a full bucket of beer and can still shoot a clanker dead in the face. Next?”

Gree was supporting his elbow on the table and his chin on his hand, visibly still a little sleepy.

“Eh... He slept through his alarm.”

“All three of them?” Cody raised an eyebrow as he wrote it on the board “Hardly. C’mon, be creative. Let’s get the 501st opinion here, Fives, Echo.”

Echo put his hands up, backing up.

“Uh, sorry sir, but to talk behind our Captain’s...”

“He picked up a twi-lek at the bar,” Fives theorized, furling his brow “took her somewhere and is still there getting some.”

Cody threw his head back and goddamn cackled as Echo smacked Fives on the back of his head with a muttered “dude!”.

“Stars, yes, we’re getting somewhere!” Cody wrote ‘Gettin Some’ as he wiped genuine tears of joy off his eyes “Okay, next?”

Fox shrugged.

“He’s in sick, poor sod couldn’t even leave his bed.”

Cody wrote that and practically swayed his way to Wolffe, sitting right next to him and raising one of his arms.

“Wolff, my good friend...”

“Put your arm on my shoulders and you’ll lose it.” Wolffe growled, eating his breakfast like nothing was happening; Cody slowly put his arm back down

“Oookay.” he sighed “C’mon Wolffe, be a good boy.” Wolffe glared at him “Okay, no dog jokes. But please. I must know.”

Wolffe sighed too, rubbing his forehead.

“You won’t let me eat in peace, will you?”

“Nope.”

Wolffe shook his head to then cross his arms over his chest.

“Fine. I think Rex has been having an affair with a civy for like 1 year. He just managed to get someone to make him a new ID under the name “Wrecks”, which honestly sounds just the same so he won’t have problems getting used to it. He got a facial surgery not to look like a clone anymore and he took the opportunity to give himself the chin dimple he always wanted. He and his secret partner just had their secret wedding and are heading to live in hiding in a small farm in the countryside of Lothal. They even have a pet lothcat named Hissyfit, and Rex plans on having four children with his secret partner. The men who gave him the new ID and the facial surgery? Dead. Can’t leave any evidence. The man is off the radar. We’ll never see him again.”

Silence followed the sound of Wolffe’s theory as he took another sip of his coffee. Echo hesitated.

“Uh. Uh, Commander Cody, what... What was your theory again?”

Cody was just staring at Wolffe like someone looking at a black hole inches from obliterating your entire ship - in awe, shock and a good amount of fear.

“I...” he cleared his throat “I just thought he did got drunk yesterday and ended up sleepin in the wrong dormitory, like” he gestured vaguely, still stunned “the 104th, and is taking long because his locker and his uniform are all the way in the 501st building. Like, ha ha. Classic. But... But I don’t know anything anymore now.”

Wolffe put his cup down and gave Cody a terrifying smirk.

“Maybe you never knew anything, vod.”

“Stop scaring me!”

That was when a voice came from the doorway:

“What is going on here?”

Everyone turned to see Rex standing there, and Rex looked from his brothers to the chalkboard where Cody had placed the bets. The entire place when completely silent and Rex walked in. His steps echoed in the silent room - if one of Tup’s many hair clips were to fall on the floor, they’d be able to hear it, so silent it was - Rex walked past the long tables, past the piled up trays and closer to the board. Without uttering a word, without moving a single muscle of his face, Rex grabbed the piece of chalk and placed a single tally mark right beside “massive hangover”. He took a step back and frowned like he used to when he’d consider military strategies with General Skywalker and then he placed another mark by “gettin some”.

He put the chalk down, wiped his hands and turned to the men to then politely nod and walked out without a single word. Although it seemed impossible, the silence was even thicker now. Slowly, very slowly, Cody got up and reached for the pocket of his blacks. He walked to Bly, placing fifty credits on his hand and then he walked to fives, placing fifty more on his hands. The soldiers looked at each other, unable to break the silence, and finished their breakfast without another word.

#my fics #god i think this is one of the funniest shits I've ever written #clone bois

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logh-icebergs · 7 years

Text

Episode 12: Invasion of Imperial Territory

August 796/487. Yang, Sitolet, and Cazellnu get stuck in traffic. They run into Lebello and give him a lift in their handy military zip-helicopter. At the High Council meeting, Royal Sanford and Cornelia Windsor convince all council members except for Lebello, Huang, and Trunicht to vote in favor of the military’s proposed invasion of Imperial territory. With the operation approved by the government, Sitolet convenes a meeting at which he appoints Lobos to command the mission of eight fleets totaling 30,227,400 soldiers, with Greenhill his second in command. Andrew Fork, who crafted the invasion plan, accuses Yang of aiding the enemy. Meanwhile Rubinsky and von Remscheid go on a....date? No, okay, they’re probably just talking politics. Probably.

...Okay, got all that? We’ve been focused on laying the groundwork of the main themes and relationships that we’ll be following throughout the series, which means that many of the little plot details and secondary characters that have flitted by so far haven’t figured heavily in our posts. Since this episode is less like an iceberg and more like an ice floe that’s mostly above the water, I’m gonna take this opportunity to formally introduce us to some of these (many, many, many) characters.

Alex Cazellnu

Pictured here with his characteristic “I’m not quite sure what’s happening around me” expression, Cazellnu is Yang’s friend and former upperclassman from the military academy. Many mysteries surround this man, as we’ll talk much more about later. For example, how did he land such a smoking hot and kickass wife? (We’ll see her soon, don’t worry.) What made him think Yang was fit to be anyone’s legal guardian? (Yes, that was his brilliant idea.) And what the fuck kind of name is Cazellnu? (Actually my guess is that it’s based on the word caserne meaning military barracks, which is a bit on the nose honestly since his job has to do with supplies and housing…)

More seriously, Cazellnu plays an interesting and important role in the show: He personifies the heteronormative societal structures and assumptions both of the in-universe world and the world of the audience. Like so much in LoGH this has a dual purpose. For the characters around him, the normative crap he says applies concrete pressure on them to meet the expectations of their society. For the audience, he explicitly articulates some of the (incorrect) "surface readings" that help the show pass as way straighter than it is. We will of course be keeping an eye out for these moments as we get to know him better.

Another Cazellnu mystery: Why didn’t he bother to give his younger daughter a name? Did he use up all the female names he could think of on Charlotte Phyllis??

Sidney Sitolet

We’ve seen Fleet Admiral Sitolet (or Sithole, as it’s sometimes spelled, but come on, have some respect…) before, most recently when he was laying a major guilt trip on Yang about trying to resign from the military. In this episode he intensifies that guilt trip even further, telling Yang that he’s the literal only hope for preventing the whole military from falling into the hands of over-ambitious zealots eager to get everyone gloriously killed. Sheesh. I know that Sitolet is clearly demarcated as one of the Good Guys here—an older, more powerful, slightly sterner version of Yang who is also extremely practical about using his resources to try to minimize the damage caused by the continuing war. And Yang is one of those resources. I get it, but...this scene at the end of this episode just makes me want to write AU fanfic where Yang tells him to go to hell and moves to a nice mountain villa where he writes history books all day while Julian goes shopping at the local market for the best deals on high quality tea.

...What, a girl can dream, can’t she? (From episode 3.)

Anyway, platitudes about patriotism and duty to crush the Evil Empire etc. won’t keep Yang in the military, but Sitolet is the one who knows exactly the kind of logic Yang finds inescapable. As much as it obviously frustrates and saddens him, Yang feels the burden of Sitolet’s expectations.

João Lebello

Or Joanne, sure, why not.

This is the first time we’re seeing Lebello, the current secretary of the treasury serving on the Alliance High Council. He’s a childhood friend of Sitolet’s, and their banter reminds me a bit of Yang and Cazellnu’s friendship.

In the council’s deliberations, he’s the loudest voice speaking up against the invasion, on the grounds that their economy is already being stretched thin by the ongoing warfare and further military spending could lead to collapse. Unfortunately the counter of “eh we’ll just print more money” is persuasive to most of the council, who vote in favor of the invasion in hopes that a victory will improve their polling numbers. Let’s hear it for democracy!

Huang Louis

Like Yang, his family name is first; his given name is ルイ in Japanese, and I’ve seen it rendered as Rui, Lewi, or Louis.

The only other council member to speak against the invasion plan. Huang is quietly awesome; I don’t have a ton to say about him yet other than that, and the fact that I totally ship him and Lebello.

Huang/Lebello is pretty high up there on the LoGH Ships expanding brain meme.

Cornelia Windsor

The token woman on the council, Windsor does a great job smashing the sexist stereotype that women are less likely than men to warmonger and advocate the deaths of millions of citizens. And she does so while reminding me so strongly of Dolores Umbridge that I’ve been trying to convince myself that J.K. Rowling must have watched at least the first twelve episodes of this show somehow.

I mean, just look at that giggle.

There are three philosophies put forward in the council discussion: Lebello and Huang making practical arguments about the toll the war is taking on the Alliance economically and socially; Sanford, the head of the council, arguing that inaction is less likely to get them re-elected than a potential victory; and Windsor making the ideological case that war against the Empire is so righteous that no cost is too great to pay.

I’ll go out on a limb and say this show hasn’t been very subtle from the beginning about its distaste for people making arguments in favor of war and destruction on purely ideological or dogma-driven grounds. This stance seems mostly uncomplicated for now—pragmatism: good; blind idealism: bad—but so far the stars have aligned so that the characters spewing the dogmatic rhetoric are using it to push for increased death. It’s easy to roll our eyes at ideals of honor and glory in war; what about ideals like “try not to kill people if you don’t have to”? What if those go against the pragmatic arguments? We’ve already seen this tension a bit between Yang and Jessica, with his willingness to work within the military clashing with her ideals of pacifism, even though their ultimate goals align. In those cases there’s much less of a clear cut answer.

...But for now at least, we can all agree this Umbridge-wannabe person sucks.

Job Trunicht

(From episode 6.)

We’ve already heard plenty about Trunicht and we’ll hear plenty more, so I won’t dwell on him here. But a quick Fun Fact*: Yang, being generally a luddite, refused to even get a remote control for his TV (er sorry, SolidVision) for a long time, until Trunicht started appearing regularly on the news. Yang hated seeing Trunicht’s face for even a split second so much that he would bound up off the couch to turn it off as soon as Trunicht showed up. Of course Yang is incredibly lazy, and he finally realized that with a remote control he could remain on the couch and have to see Trunicht’s face for even less time, so he caved and bought one; and now he sits eagerly watching the news with the remote clutched in one hand, hoping he’ll have the chance to turn it off in disgust.

...Relatable.

*Source: Julian’s Iserlohn Diary, one of the side stories written by Tanaka. Yes yes our canon here is the anime not the books; but we get to pick and choose adorable details that we like, and I hereby make this one Official Icebergs Canon.

Andrew Fork

Speaking of characters spewing pompous platitudes about war, meet Andrew Fork, who I really really wish I could say was a hyperbolic caricature who could never exist or gain actual power in real life but………..*looks around* here we are I guess. Fork must be a historian who wrote his thesis on early 21st century Earth internet message boards, since he employs tactics like accusing anyone who questions the practical implementation of his ideas of Aiding the Other Side. I again can’t resist sharing a passage from the novel of another character describing Fork:

*thinking emoji* *thinking emoji* *thinking emoji* I dunno it sounds familiar but I can’t place it...

Alexander Bucock

As you can tell by him giving Fork shit, Bucock is one of the more level-headed of the admirals. We’ll get to know him better in the future, so for now I’ll just mention that he’s awesome and him telling Fork that he’s impolite makes me happy. And that you shouldn’t get him mixed up with Lobos just because they both have white/gray hair and a mustache, as I may have done through pretty much the whole first season...

Quick Aside: Names

Cazellnu/Caserne/Caselnes? João/Joanne Rebelo/Lebello? Sitolet/Sithole/Shithole? Rui/Lewi/Louis? Fork/Falk? Bucock/Bewcock? Mittermeyer/Mittermeier, Reuental/Reuenthal, Mintz/Minci, Lap/Lapp/Shithole…??? It might have come to your attention by now that there is complete consensus about the spelling of essentially zero LoGH names.

You’d think “Jessica Edwards” would at least be free from controversy, but….. (From episode 2.)

Given that there doesn’t seem to be one clearly “official” source, and that it’s 1600 years in the future, we’re not especially hung up on trying to be super authentic and picky with our spellings. Maybe Cazellnu’s distant ancestors who also managed military barracks were named Caserne, but the spelling got modified as humanity emigrated to the stars; it happens. Generally our policy is to spell things however we happen to feel like it, based on some combination of aesthetics and just what we’re used to, and to be as consistent as we can once we pick a spelling; but we’re not really in the business of trying to arbitrate which spellings are “correct.” There’s too much about LoGH that’s worth caring passionately about to spend that much energy on the names.

...Except Minci is still wrong, sorry animation notes that came with the laserdiscs.

Okay now, where were we…

Lazzll Lobos

...What, really? Lazzll, that’s what the subbers went with? Is that even a name? *quick Google search* No, no it’s not. Well, apparently it’s more commonly spelled Lassalle, but y’know what, I’m sticking with Lazzll god dammit. I make the rules here.

I don’t have anything to say about him beyond his name and that he is different from Bucock apparently.

And last but not...well okay maybe also least?

Adrian Rubinsky

When we last mentioned Rubinsky he was musing about how to use Reinhard and Kircheis’s relationship to his advantage somehow; here we find him informing the Imperial High Commissioner to Phezzan about the Alliance’s impending invasion, which he learned about...somehow. His air is constantly that of one attempting to play puppet-master and sculpt the situation to his own advantage, although ostensibly he is only doing his duty here as an Imperial subject, Phezzan being officially a territory of the Empire. It’s on his information that the Imperial nobles set Reinhard’s fleet in motion to meet the Alliance invasion force, as Yang was afraid they would do.

We also very very briefly meet Dominique Saint-Pierré, a mistress of Rubinsky's, seen here pouring wine while both men leer at her; she has more power than this glimpse suggests, though, and the power struggles between her and Rubinsky are definitely the most interesting aspect of Rubinsky’s role in the story.

Phew! And with this we conclude the entry that will probably mention the highest number of canonically straight characters by name of any Icebergs post. I hope you got all that; yes this will be on the exam.

Stray Tidbits

I love the four-hour traffic jam caused by some intern feeding a corrupt string into a computer. I’ve mentioned how realistic the self-driving car system on Heinessen feels, and having it break down only adds to the realism.

So much for Yang’s optimism that capturing Iserlohn would lead to peace negotiations rather than an escalation of the war. Cracks are starting to show in Yang’s admiration of this whole “let the people control the government” thing, and I don’t blame him; especially since the Alliance “democracy” seems to involve decisions made by simple majority vote by an eleven-person High Council?? Umm?

The subs tried to make sense of this line by drawing a distinction that I don't think is there in the Japanese: Yang uses the same verb, "akusei o shite iru," for both governments, where akusei (悪政) is literally bad+government. My interpretation is that Yang is expressing frustration at the irony of people choosing to elect a government that nevertheless governs against their interest...but I guess I might be projecting.

I love this random shot of a Phezzani street. Most Obscure LoGH Love Triangle Award goes to the three teenagers on the right; I wonder which of them is the vertex?? This is the fanfiction the world demands.

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mara-tevith-solo · 4 years

Text

Real Funny - part 4

Something I’ve been slow cooking for a few years, a little all over the place. Some plot pieces aren’t mine, just something I played with.

Trigger Warning; Contains swearing, violence, mentions of nudity and death

I ripped off my helmet, threw down my rifle and took the position of the Ka Mate; legs spread and bent at the knee, feet stomping, an over exaggerated expression on my face with my tongue out as I screamed the words and slapped my forearms, thighs and chest plate "Kikiki kakaka kauana! Kei waniwania taku tara. Kei tarawahia, kei te rua i te kerokero! He pounga rahui te uira ka rarapa; Ketekete kau ana to peru kairiri. Mau au e koro e – Hi! Ha! Ka wehi au ka matakana, Ko wai te tangata kia rere ure?Tirohanga ngā rua rerarera Ngā rua kuri kakanui i raro! Aha ha!" I made any movements that weren't slaps as slow and powerful as possible as a display of strength and control. I was not dying on a god forsaken planet without honoring at least some of my ancestors.

I ended the call with my tongue fluttering against my chin and my eyes wide, legs wide and arms crossed over each other. The Umbaran in the tank looked both scared and confused, not knowing what to make of the human who was doing some weird dance and maybe having a stroke. With a few stomps and more slow movements, I began the main body of the Haka, advancing slowly with every stomp, fully challenging the Umbaran "Ka mate, ka mate! ka ora! ka ora! Ka mate! ka mate! ka ora! ka ora! Tēnei te tangata pūhuruhuru Nāna nei i tiki mai whakawhiti te rā Ā, upane! ka upane! Ā, upane, ka upane, whiti te ra!" As soon as I finished, two Umbaran fighters appeared and began blowing the tanks to hell. 3119 and I cheered the two who could only be Fives and Hardcase as we moved to rejoin the others.

"What was that you did?" three-one-one-nine asked as we slowly made our way over.

"It's called the Ka Mate Haka, a war dance. Some of my ancestors did it when they were challenging other tribes to fight with them. It is a very important tradition to my grandmother's people."

"Must be nice, knowing where you come from." He groaned wistfully as we stumbled over some roots and vines.

"You boys come from the Fett clan. Mandalorian through and through." I pointed out.

"But you're accepted by your people aren't you?"

"No, none of them as soon as they find out my mix. Being human isn't good enough on my planet. Being purebred is. When you're European, Maori, Native American, Portuguese, and have some roots in Africa, people treat you differently. It's stupid. But the only way it would change is if there was more life in our Galaxy." I shrugged, setting him down near Kix who immediately ambushed the poor kid. I patted his bucket before finding Jesse and the others, wanting a nap more than anything.

"Now I just think you want to die." Jesse growled as he picked me up in a massive hug, lifting me off the ground and twirling me around.

"You saw that eh?" I tried to cute my way out of whatever trouble I was about to get in.

"I certainly saw the last bit of it. How long were you doing that?" Fives asked, taking a turn of hugs.

"Only like two or three minutes." I mumbled, tucking my helmeted head into his shoulder as much as I could.

"You got an Umbaran to freeze for two to three minutes?!" Hardcase asked, making it into a group hug when Fives didn't let go of me soon enough.

"It's a war dance, what do you expect?" I grinned, twisting so that Hardcase wasn't essentially hugging my butt.

"Teach us!" He nearly bounced, extremely excited about the idea of learning a war dance.

"If we have any free time after capturing the base." I promised once they let me go and we made our way to the flaming base to completely conquer it.

At the temporary med station, Kix was seeing to 3119. Cleaning his wound better than I could have, and making sure that there was no infection in the rough fibers of his muscles and bone "You're a lucky kid, you know that?" He mumbled to the kid as I helped clean out a minor forehead cut on the bed next to them.

"Sir?" 3119 asked, confused at how he could be lucky about losing a good portion of his mobility.

"You're lucky that Val found you instead of a scavenger. And that she has rudimentary first-aid skills." He finished off the cleaning with a bacta pad, tying it securely around the stump.

"Ya, she is something isn't she?" 3119 had a slightly dreamy tone to his voice. I chuckled behind my helmet as my patient shook his head before leaving and letting the next mildly injured soldier take his place. Broken noses were always fun.

"Don't go all swooney on me, kid; Hardcase, Fives, and maybe Commander Cody have called dibs already." Cue me feeling terrible for having to lie to them all about my relationship with Wolffe. They all had feelings for me and were trying to compete... The nose under my hands gave a loud crack as I set it and packed it with gauze. The soldier grumbled in pain the entire time.

3119 looked over at me as I finished with the broken nose and a new soldier came with a pretty good slice across his cheek. "Why are you wasting valuable resources on this one c t six one one six?" The voice of Krell suddenly asked as he made rounds through the station. I tensed and gritted my teeth, trying to stop myself from snapping at him again.

"If I don't, he won't be able to get fit for a cybernetic." Kix explained like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"A soldier who can't fight, is a waste." Krell argued, narrowing his eyes at the imagined challenge.

"Sir, it's just the section of leg below his knee. He'll be able to fight as soon as we get him onto a cruiser." Kix was trying so hard to not pull rank. It was honestly rather amusing to watch as I cleaned out the cheek wound.

"Val!" Hardcase called, skipping in, totally blanking it on the fact that Krell was not even ten feet away from me. "I'm sorry, sir." He blushed, standing in attention like he was dreading what fate would meet him. With a scowl and a silent snarl, Krell left the station. I was sure to give his back the finger until the door was closed behind him.

"Don't listen to him three one one nine, Krell won't be around long enough to be any real trouble." I soothed the down trodden kid as I placed a bacta patch on the cheek wound and refused to see anyone else until the kid was in a better mood.

"He's got a point though sir, I can't fight anymore. I'm useless." He hung his head, resting it in his hands as his bucket stared blankly back up at him by his foot.

I shared a look with Kix before removing my bucket and kneeling in front of the shiny, moving his hands and replacing them with my own "No one is useless three one one nine. No one. Everyone serves a purpose. If I ever hear those words come out of your mouth again I'll personally assign you to my unit and make you run laps with me every morning, and I run slow." I spared him a small smile as he sniffed back unshed tears and straightened back up. "That's the stuff." I hummed before ruffling his regulation hair and standing "What did you need, Hardcase?" I asked, turning to the man in question.

In a flash, he went from somewhere between distraught and sympathetic, to bouncing with 'kid with twenty bucks in a candy shop' excitement "Want to decode the enemy aircraft with Fives, Jesse, and I?" There was a frightening maniac glow in his eyes that was a little concerning.

"That's up to Kix and if he thinks he can spare me." I shrugged, trying to weasel out of potentially getting into a shit ton of trouble.

"I can spare her." Kix assured just before Hardcase pounced on me and began dragging me out of the improvised medbay and to one of the hangers. Before the doors closed, I fixed the snickering medic with a metal melting glare.

Fives trying to lie was much more comical in person, even though I couldn't fully enjoy it because Hardcase was DEMOLISHING the hanger, and Jesse had decided to become my human shield as he physically kept my head down and himself covering my upper body, as we hid behind some crates. "Schedule in some Hardcase filleting time in my itinerary, please, Jesse." I growled as some of the rubble from the door skimmed over our heads.

"I'll be sure to join in on that." He agreed, ducking down further until Hardcase was safely docked.

"See, nothing to it." He beamed as he got out of the pilot pod, a cocky little swagger in his step.

Before anyone could say anything, Krell burst into what remained of the hanger with Dogma in tow, one pair of arms crossed behind him as the other had clenched fists at his sides "What exactly happened here?" He fixed every one of us with glares, trying to intimidate us to speak. "Well?" He growled.

Fives took a step forward, his lying face on "You see sir..."

Before another word could come out of his mouth, Hardcase stepped in between the ARC and the General "We were trying to decode the enemy tech sir, when the ship turned out to be booby-trapped. We have it figured out now though sir and they should be perfectly safe." You had to hand it to him, the man did have a pure silver tongue.

Krell frowned and looked around the hanger "Booby-trapped? That enforces my order to keep them on the ground." Hardcase and Fives tried to protest but Krell just wasn't listening. "No other ships are to even leave the ground, is that clear? They are not safe and I will not risk any more men." He nodded before turning and leaving again, Dogma following behind like a faithful pup. I sighed and shook my head, knowing that if I tried to dissuade him from his loyalty, he would more than happily tear me a new one, creating a rift between the men.

#commander wollfe #Commander Wollfe x OC #captain rex #arc trooper fives #hardcase #kix #oc

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ryder-s-block · 4 years

Text

Jaig Eyes (Ch 63)

Jaig Eyes (63/?)

Summary:

————————-

Chapter Sixty-Three: The Airbase

By the time Fives and Hardcase spiralled their ships back over the airbase, I had already locked down the main tower and disengaged parts of the fence. Their arrival got the Umbarans away from the tower base, letting me get back out onto the landing pads to keep fighting.

I stayed in my space of calm, letting the Force lead me through my fights. I spun gracefully through the Umbarans, deflecting their shots with ease. A swing of my lightsaber here. A sharp kick to the chest over there.

When the rest of the battalion arrived to storm the airbase, it was pretty simple. The clones stormed in like a flood, spurred by the adrenaline of their recent victory and the hope for another. I stopped fighting as they raced past me, yelling while rounding up the remaining Umbarans. They moved quickly to establish the base as their own, dividing the Umbarans into prisoner groups and locking down all supply transfers.

My lightsaber slowly disengaged when I heard Rex’s voice somewhere behind me. “Despite Hardcase’s flying,” the captain joked, “You two saved us all.” I glanced over my shoulder, seeing Hardcase and Fives joining Jesse and Fives.

“Ah, it wasn’t so tough,” Hardcase lied.

“You sure?” Jesse asked as he removed his helmet. “You looked a little green when you came out of that fighter.” I smirked from my position away from them, choosing to stay unseen for now. I’d have loved to have taken a ship of my own and blasted those damned machines to hell.

But I had felt the Force prodding me to stay. And it was good I did, considering I’d managed to deactivate the fence temporarily until the clones were inside. I stepped a little closer, still behind the clones and unseen….but closer.

“Captain,” I stopped abruptly, hearing Krell’s voice. “Report. What is our situation?” The Besalisk was approaching, flanked by clones. I hid the sneer from my face. He needed a report because he didn’t help in the damned battle.

Rex stood at attention immediately. “General, we have taken the base and cut off enemy supply lines to the capital.”

“Luck has smiled on you today, Captain. Consider yourself fortunate.”

Rex took a step forward towards his commanding officer, my brows raising curiously. I felt defiance in him. That wasn’t something I was used to. “It wasn’t all luck, sir. A lot of men died to take this base.”

He was trying to get Krell to understand. My heart ached for the captain, because he didn’t know what I knew. He didn’t feel the darkness that surrounded Krell’s mind. The bloodlust I felt beneath his calm Jedi exterior. The longer I was near him, the more uncomfortable I felt.

“The price for such victory,” Krell replied easily. “Perhaps someday you’ll realize this.”

There was a blossom of anger from Rex. The Force moved darkly around him, but he fought the urge to fight his general down. His fist clenched where he held his helmet at his side, but he said nothing.

“Dismissed,” Krell said firmly, turning away. He stopped abruptly, his head turning over his shoulder. “Fett.” My name on his lips made my blood turn to ice.

The clones followed Krell’s line of sight, seeing me standing behind them. They seemed excited to see me at first, still glad from our victory. But it soon melted into concern when Krell turned to face me fully.

I didn’t even have time to react.

My lightsaber, still held in the palm of my hand, was ripped from my grasp. It flew through the air, landing softly in Krell’s outstretched hand. He examined it as my anger bubbled, my feet immediately taking me towards him. I stopped amidst the clones, though, my senses returning for a moment.

“I told you that your use of this weapon is disrespectful. Clearly, you cannot be trusted to have it.”

I glowered at him, the Besalisk giving me a smug look. He closed his eyes briefly while I festered in my rage, fighting the urge to shoot him where he stood and take my saber back from his cold, dead fingers.

His yellow eyes snapped open in a moment, one of his dual-sided sabers igniting to point at my chest. I stood my ground, unafraid as I stared at him. “I feel your anger,” he growled, leveling the glowing blade between us. “Your rage. Give me a reason, Sithling.” He was daring me to make a mistake.

Like I had never really wanted the Umbarans to surrender to me in the control tower...Krell wanted me to mess up. He wanted me to fall to darkness--or at least close enough to it that they’d believe him--so he could take me out of the equation. Whether it was genuine malice or just the fact that he didn’t like me, I couldn’t be sure. Still, I’d never find out if Krell killed or imprisoned me.

Then what good would I be in keeping the boys alive?

So I let my anger slowly cool, even though I wasn’t about to forget it. Krell watched me in silence, every muscle in the group round tight with apprehension. “It won’t happen again, sir,” I said smoothly, surprising everyone there.

Krell, while taken back, recovered quickly. “Correct,” he smirked, clipping my lightsaber to his belt. “It won’t.” He said nothing else as he walked away, but I felt the smug feeling of victory radiating from him.

I was silent as I watched him go, my gaze burning a hole into the back of his head. I knew I’d get it back, either by Skywalker backing me up when he returned, or by taking it by force. I was a bounty hunter, after all.

“I-” Fives coughed slightly. “I can’t believe you let him walk away with your lightsaber.” He was trying to make light of the situation, but I didn’t even look at him, my gaze still following the Jedi.

“Of course she let him,” Dogma voiced from nearby. “He ordered her not to use it and she did anyways. That’s a light punishment, if you ask me.”

“Shut up, Dogma,” Hardcase groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

I ignored them all, though, trapped in my own raging thoughts. A hand touched my shoulder gently, making me jump. “Kida?” It was Rex, his voice soft. I felt his frustration at me still, deep down, over my defying him in front of everyone. But that was largely shadowed by his worry for me. If I hadn’t been so enraged at Krell and maybe just a little bit at Rex for not doing anything….maybe I would’ve reacted better.

But I was confused, much like what I was feeling off most of the clones. Krell was a Jedi. He was supposed to be good. But something felt wrong and every step he took led to clone deaths. And I wanted Rex to do something, but he could do nothing more than speak up. And he’d tried that to no avail.

Thankfully, the men saw that. But I could feel Fives thinking that Rex still wasn’t going far enough. Fives, like me, would disobey orders if they were wrong or there was a better option. He was a free-thinker, through and through. Rex was too, but as a captain, he had developed a code he lived by in order to lead others. It meant he followed orders with honor.

Disobedience wasn’t honorable to most.

So why was I still mad at him, when I knew he was doing all that was in his nature to do? I didn’t care. The whole situation was complete osik. From Krell to the Umbaran death machines. From Dogma being a kiss-ass to Fives wanting to practically start an uprising.

I needed to get away and clear my head.

I stepped away from Rex’s touch without looking at the clones, my gaze still following where Krell had gone. I left without a word, knowing I’d say something that would get me in trouble.

-------------------------

I spent some time fuming on my own, staring out over the perimeter. When I’d finally let myself cool down enough to be back in public, I emerged to find Fives working at one of the gunships. I approached, giving him a nod as I sat on the opposite wing and began fiddling with my goggles in an attempt to fix the infrared.

“You alright?” he asked softly from where he worked below the wing.

“Peachy,” I grumbled back, earning a soft--but equally frustrated--chuckle. My eyes lifted when I felt both Krell and Rex approaching. Krell was flanked by Dogma and Hardcase, Rex approaching from the control tower.

“Sir,” Rex said in greeting to the Jedi. “There’s a transmission from General Kenobi.”

Meets up with Fives--briefing from Rex and clone argument about plan.

Krell barely even broke stride. “I’ll take it in the tower.” Rex followed them up, but Hardcase peeled off, seeing Fives and I at the ship.

Hardcase took off his helmet, flashing me a smile before ducking below the wing to greet his brother. “Hey, how’s it coming?”

“Eh,” I heard Fives grumble. “Tricky piece of hardware.”

“Krell’s got Jesse stacking ordnance.”

My brows lifted at that, my gaze finally drawn away from the hardware of my goggles. Fives sighed and grunted from below. “I’m still waiting for Krell to thank us for handing this bae over to him.”

Hardcase stood, looking up at the looming tower Krell and the others had gone into. I snorted a laugh. “Hey, he punished me for my part in it. Consider him saying nothing to you two the best damn thank you he can offer.”

Fives pushed himself out from under the ship, pointing one of the tools at me. “That surprised me.”

“What?”

“That you let him take your lightsaber!” Fives ran his hands through his hair. I felt his frustration and fear, but I only sighed.

“What was I supposed to do? Fight him for it?” Neither of the clones answered me, which was enough. They fell silent as I fitted my goggles back into place, the infrared fixed. I stood, moving to their side to inspect the ship. “Okay, first thing is that Fives isn’t allowed to try and fix this ship anymore.”

Hardcase laughed, joined with the laughter of Jesse and Tup. I gave them both small smiles as they approached. Tup was quick to join me as I removed a panel from the top side of the wing, inspecting inside. He crawled up with me, offering me a childish grin. I got to work sorting out the hardware, my algorithms running to decode it the moment I plugged in.

“That was badass, what you did today,” he said a bit shyly.

I lifted my brow, letting out a cough of sarcastic laughter. “What? Get humiliated by that jagyc of a general we’re following?”

“You should be careful what you say.” Our heads snapped to the side to see Dogma joining us. As much as he was annoying sometimes, Echo apparently used to be a bit like that too.

And like Rex, according to Anakin.

“You’re lucky the General doesn’t understand Mando’a,” he announced as he sat to fiddle with his blaster. Fives leaned against the wing beside him, giving him a raised brow. “What?” Dogma asked. “I’m just saying, he hasn’t been very forgiving towards Kida and I doubt he would start now if he heard her talking like that.”

I glanced down at the machinery below me, trying to look busy and distracted. Maybe he was annoying….but he was saying it to protect me. Maybe some was pride and honor and the huge tree up his shebs. But still, he cared. Somewhere in all that Geonosis coding and Republic armor.

I felt a bit bad for my outburst earlier. In the end….he was lost. He, like Tup, was young compared to many of the clones here. Rex was older and was still struggling with honor and duty in situations like these. Maybe I should give him the benefit of the doubt.

Tup handed me the next tool I needed without my having to ask. I flashed him a smile as Rex approached, announcing that we were advancing on the capital, despite a new ship bringing supplies to the Umbarans. Krell’s plan. Obviously.

“Head on?” Jesse asked from where he had started to work on an Umbaran computer. “Again? That didn’t work out so well last time.”

Fives jumped in, pushing off from leaning on the wing adamantly. “Those missiles have a 100-megaton yield. We won’t even make it to the delta!”

“What can I do?” I glanced away at Rex’s answer. Mine had been similar. I guess we were all in the same boat. “I’ve tried to reason with him. Those are the orders.”

“Great, another suicide mission. The capital is too well armed,” Jesse sighed.

Tup sat back beside me, making me pause in my work to glance up. “Why does it seem like he has it out for clones? And what about Kida? Calling her a--a Sithling?”

I shrugged, muttering quietly, “He’s not wrong.”

“He didn’t mean that as a compliment,” Tup responded, giving me a frown. I conceded, turning my head as Dogma spoke again.

“I think you’re all overreacting.” I rolled my eyes, giving Tup a pointed look in response. The young clone covered his smile with his hand, turning away to smother a chuckle. “Obviously General Krell knows what he’s doing. Do you really think he doesn’t care when he loses men?”

Jesse crossed his arms, watching his brother closely. “I’m not saying that. But I do think his desire for victory has blinded him to the fact that there are lives at stake.”

I glanced down at the mechanism I was working on, thinking. The readings I got off Krell made me think he didn’t care. But then again, I’d never thought to root into his mind during a firefight while my friends were dying. It wasn’t really the highest thing on my list at those moments.

Then again...when I thought back to the horrific moments, I could remember the emotions like it was a picture painted across my thoughts. Death. Loss. Pain. Fear. Valor. Anger. Relief.

And during that moment, I returned to when I’d held a clone until he died, tucked away in cover from the Umbaran’s bombardment. The emotions had been overwhelming. And then there was Krell. A stillness, but something unlike what I’d felt in other Jedi. Something almost like...contempt.

I shook my head, looking around at them. “Well, I am saying it. Krell doesn’t care about his men. And you don’t need the Force to see it. I had Apex research the general when he first got here.” I glanced down briefly for a moment. “I’ve never seen a general with these kinds of casualties.”

“He’s out of control,” Fives announced fiercely. “He is not acting like the other Jedi. He has no respect for us. Hell, even Kida is acting like a better Jedi than him!” My brows shot up in both shock and maybe a bit of hurt? I wasn’t sure. It didn’t feel great to be compared to Krell, or be called a Jedi, considering my thoughts on them. But I guess he was praising the Jedi in this situation...so I took the compliment in stride.

Rex took a small step forward. “Listen, I don’t agree with him either, but…” he seemed to struggle for words, “I don’t have a better plan.”

“Well what about using these starfighters to destroy the supply ship?” Fives offered, glancing over his shoulder at the lines of ships.

“Our fleet has been trying,” Rex sighed in response. “The Umbarans have it as protected as the capital.”

I glanced up to Fives, seeing him walking over to Jesse, who was still working at the console. My wrist computer beeped, telling me that I’d deactivated all kill bugs in the starfighter hardware. I cleared my throat, earning a grin from the ARC trooper, who clearly knew what that meant. “But we have their access codes and their own hardware,” he declared to his captain with a cocky smile.

Rex seemed shocked for a moment, his voice almost breathless. “You were able to crack it?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Fives punched Jesse’s shoulder playfully. Apparently the clone had been finding access codes for his brother, rather than stacking ordinance for the general. Jesse was grinning still, so clearly he preferred Fives’ task. “We can sneak right past their blockade...get where our ships can’t.” Fives’ face was cracked wide with a smile, his hands held before him almost like he was pleading.

Rex’s gloved hand touched his strong jaw in thought. I averted my gaze, still confused between anger and guilt.

“If we take out that supply ship, then we cut off arms to the capital.” Fives’ tone was firm, but hopeful.

Rex’s face reflected that after a moment of thinking, his eyes showing the old spark I was used to. The one of valor. Intelligence. Leadership. And hope.

He gave us all a curt nod as he turned to start walking towards the command tower, likely to relay this idea to Krell. I watched him in silence for a moment, my fingers twiddling the decryption key I’d fashioned while everyone was talking.

Fives cleared his throat, making me turn. He was giving me a pointed look, glancing after the captain’s retreating back.

“Think you can handle this without me?” I asked Tup softly after a low sigh. The young clone gave me a brief confused look before it clicked.

He grinned, his teardrop tattoo wrinkling on his cheek. “Have fun.”

“Shut up.” I tossed Tup the decryption key as I hopped off the wing of the starfighter, hurrying after the captain. The clones behind me were all chuckling, aside from Dogma, who seemed utterly lost. Then again, I doubted any of the clones had told Dogma about what happened at my club most nights. Not with his track record of being a suck-up.

When I was far enough from the clones and close enough to Rex, I called after him. “Captain!”

His steps stuttered only slightly at my voice. His tell was his mind, as it practically blanked for a moment before he roughly shoved me from his thoughts. I was taken back, stopping in my tracks as he turned.

“I’d appreciate it if you stayed out of my head,” he said curtly, not meeting my eyes. Still, I could tell his stare was cold.

I swallowed thickly, but stopped the automatic apology that started to come from my lips. All this time with Krell was making me act more like the docile slave I was once trained to be.

I hated that.

“How else am I supposed to know what’s going on with you?” I asked instead, crossing my arms. I wanted to look imposing, but I felt like I was trying to shield myself with my arms instead. “You don’t talk to me.”

Rex’s golden eyes flickered to me only briefly before he sighed, staring at the ground between us again. “We can’t….” He sighed again, seeming to struggle for the words. “We can’t act like we do when…”

His words tapered off, but I understood. I glanced away, trying to fight the emotions brewing inside me. This entire mission had been bad news. It was overwhelming in every capacity. It was making me….unsteady.

Unsteady in my dedication to the Republic. Unsteady in my trust in the Jedi. Unsteady in my dedication to the Bendu.

I closed my eyes, trying to steady myself as I counted off silently in my mind. “I know that,” I said finally, finding no other words within me. I was exhausted--we all were. I swallowed again. “I’m sorry about--”

“It was out of line.” His words were sharp when they cut me off. He sounded like a commanding officer. I felt my back straighten just slightly. “I know you’re reckless and that’s something you’re proud of, but I won’t accept that under my command.”

My anger flared, licking dangerously at the part of me that remembered the power of the darkness. I forced it down with determination, lifting my head slowly to look at Rex in the eyes. Over the time we’d spent together, he must have gotten used to me touching his mind with my own.

I guess in that same time, he learned how to start blocking me out. Because when I reached out desperately with a sense of calm and endearment, I met a wall. I pulled back like I’d touched a hot flame, recoiling physically with a half step backwards before I stopped myself.

Rex sighed lowly. “Kida, out here...I have my men--my brothers--to worry about. I can’t be worrying about your recklessness putting them or yourself in danger.” My anger was only rising with each word the clone captain spoke. My pot was near its boiling point. “You need to learn to take orders.”

“Even when they’re wrong?” I asked, unable to hold it back.

Despite his mental wall, I felt Rex’s patience thinning even further. “That’s not for you to decide!” Some clones glanced our way, our eyes dropping to the ground under their curious gazes. Rex dropped his voice down again. “This is exactly what I mean. You’re undermining my command. Can you understand that?”

“What I understand is that you think I’d ever put you or your brothers in danger,” I hissed back, taking a daring step closer. Rex seemed taken back by my tone. Then again, I suppose he’d never heard me speak that way before. At least, not since we’d become friends. My anger was bubbling inside me, spilling out in hot tears that I was barely holding back. “I was brought here because I’m good at what I do. Not because I’m good at following orders.” I lifted my chin, my jaw tight with my restrained anger. “And I refuse to take disrespect from anyone. Never again. Can you understand that?”

Rex only blinked at me, unsure how to respond. What could he do, really? I had him backed in a corner. For a moment, I felt triumph. And then I sensed the tiniest whiff of fear from Rex. Fear of me. Fear of the things he’d heard and the stories I’d told him. Fear of the monster Krell foretold I could become.

I stepped back, looking away as I finally lost the battle with my tears, the salty drops staining my dirty cheeks. “That’s how you put someone in their place, Rex,” I said softly, my words sounding weak through the tears. I hated that, but knew there was nothing I could do. In the end, there was no hiding from Rex’s searching gaze. That is...if he ever looked at me with that searching gaze again after all this. “If you want the men to respect you, that’s how you do it.” I breathed slowly, my eyes still downcast. “Good luck pitching the idea to Krell.”

I turned abruptly and walked away, leaving the captain in his shock and uncertainty. I was embarrassed. Angry. Hurt. Offended. Sad.

Confused, was likely the best descriptor.

So I hid away in the Umbaran compound, finding a nice little corner that opened to the dark sky that sometimes sparkled with the battle occurring in the stars above us. After so long with my kyber crystal, it was weird not having it there as I meditated. It focused me, especially since I’d healed and bonded with it.

Still, I knew I needed to settle my thoughts in order to see Rex again. I wouldn’t let this war destroy me. I wouldn't let Krell destroy Rex or his brothers.

And I wouldn’t let this stupid mission come between me and the man I loved.

-----------------------------

I wasn’t sure how long had passed when I felt settled enough to ease out of my meditative state. I felt more centered, despite being unsure how to handle Krell. Still, I chose to trust what I’d learned from all of my teachers: Anakin, Obi-wan, Ahsoka, Qui-Gon, Jango, Bendu, the Father, Yilria, and even Darth Bane.

I would trust the Force. When I was still and quiet….and really listened….I knew I’d wield my saber again. I knew Rex and I would make it out.

But I also knew there was still great darkness to come. And not just on Umbara.

The base’s activity had died down a bit while I meditated, many of the clones now taking rotations to bed down in the barracks. I headed there, seeing no armor designs that I recognized in the clones milling about outside.

When I drew closer, I could feel tension coming from inside. I could sense many familiar presences. Fives. Rex. Dogma. Jesse. Tup. Hardcase.

The first two of which were heading towards the exit, both still boiling with frustration. I backed up from the door, ducking behind a casing of supplies. Rex exited first, helmet held at his side with a fisted hand.

“This is about more than just following orders,” Fives called as he ran out after his brother.

Rex stopped, glancing over his shoulder steadily. “It is,” he allowed. “It is about honor.”

“Where is the honor in marching blindly to our deaths?” Fives’ mind flashed to Echo’s death, making me flinch at the horrible sound of the explosion. “ECHO!” I heard Fives scream in my thoughts. I shook it away, concentrating on my friends again.

“It is not our call.” Rex was staying calm this time. Good. Maybe he’d handle this better than he’d handled our conversation. “We are part of something larger. We are not independent of one another.” I looked down, my jaw clenching again with the emotions I’d just taken so much time to carefully school down. Osik.

“I’m sorry. I cannot just follow orders when I know they’re wrong, especially when lives are at stake.”

Rex’s resolve hardened, his anger flaring. I didn’t dare prod at his mind, not wanting him to know I was listening. Still, his words sliced deep into my chest. He’d said similar words long ago when we’d been at Cut Lawquane’s homestead.

I suppose….some part of me had hoped that idea had begun to change. Not necessarily in his dedication to the Republic, since I had long since come to terms with that. And learned to respect it.

But more so in the idea that he was more than just another clone. He wasn’t just another part in the machine. He wasn’t replaceable. Not to me.

“You will if you support the system we fight for,” Rex said firmly, drawing my solemn attention back to the clones. He was getting more heated, poking Fives in the chest.

The ARC trooper threw off his captain’s hand. “I do support the system,” he professed. “I do! But I am not just another number. None of us are!” He turned, but stopped when Rex scoffed a low chuckle.

“You sound like Kida,” Rex grumbled, sounding annoyed. I scowled from my hiding place.

Fives whirled, glaring at his brother. But when he spoke, his voice was hushed. “That’s another thing. You have something. Something most of us will never have the luxury of having.” Fives looked almost sad for a second as he stared at the ground. “She cares for you, Rex.” His voice was small. Maybe even a bit broken. “All of us.” He shook his head. “What she did after Echo--”

“I know.” Rex seemed calmer now, his demeanor sad.

“Then why do you expect her to be something she isn’t, when she’s already so much?” I was shocked by Fives’ words, my back pressing against the racks I hid behind. “She’s a bounty hunter, not a soldier.” Rex went to argue, but Fives held up his hand. “And she hates to admit it, but every day, I see her become more like a Jedi than a bounty hunter.” I frowned, but I knew he meant it as a compliment.

And then again, maybe it was true. I’d just spent hours meditating and trusting the Force, after all.

Rex sighed. “Why are you telling me this?”

I felt Fives’ resolve build, his frustration with his captain coming back. “I’m telling you because I care for you. And as much as I think you don’t deserve her right now,” he hissed, turning on his heel to call over his shoulder quietly, “I don’t want you to lose her.”

“Fives, where are you going?” Rex called.

Fives stopped at the door to the barracks, looking over his shoulder. “To round up some pilots.” He reentered the barracks, leaving Rex alone with his thoughts. I still didn’t dare peek into them, for fear of him sensing my meddling. After a moment, the captain turned and left.

I surmised from what I’d overheard that Krell had rejected Fives’ plan. That wasn’t really a big surprise.

After waiting a second to ensure it was safe, I stepped from my hiding place and waited by the barrack doors. It only took a few minutes for Fives to emerge, flanked by Jesse and Hardcase. They seemed shocked to see me lounging casually in wait.

“Gentlemen,” I greeted, giving them a nod. “I heard Krell wasn’t a fan of your idea.”

Hardcase rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. “Eh, not really. The captain said it’s because we don’t have the time or training to pilot starfighters.”

Jesse cast me a smile. “Know any good pilots who could give us a quick lesson?”

“I might,” I grinned, crossing my arms. “But there’s a catch.”

Fives mimicked my stance, quirking a brow. “Oh?”

“I get to go with you.”

“Rex won’t like that,” Hardcase laughed, elbowing me as he walked past me with Jesse. I shrugged in response, only earning more laughter.

Fives threw his arm around my shoulder, dragging me with him out of the barracks and towards the hangar. “I always knew I liked you, Fett.”

-------------------

MANDO’A

Osik-- shit

Jagyc-- dick

Shebs-- ass

-------------------------

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

I hope everyone is staying up to date on the new episodes! They have been very very good through the Mandalore Arc. For any of you wondering, yes…. Kida will be a part of the Siege of Mandalore. And Order 66.

I am incredibly excited to eventually get there, but for now, am super pumped to be working my way through Umbara. (After this, it’s the Zygerrian Arc and I’m very excited to finally bring in some of Kida’s slavery memories and such! Yay backstory!)

As always, likes/reviews/questions/shares/reposts are always appreciated and encouraged!

-Ryder

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