#Fordo says he doesn’t do well with kids
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Fordo *holding baby Rex getting ready to put him to bed*: “The missile is very tired, he is eepy. The missile has had a very long day of splashing bandits and needs to take just a small sleeb. He ebee and neebies to sleepy.”
*Holds him up in the air like an airplane*: “Mibsile sleepy and need bed by time. The missile is currently experiencing critical levels of being a slevbgey little guy and needs to go to bed. He is vry tired and needs to slep. Just a little sleeging time as a treat.”
*spins around with him and softly crash lands him into his crib*: ”Midsololele needs to slek. Very twired boio. Just a little guy. Mipsipalibile needs his beady sleep. Look at him go!”
*tucks him in and turns the light off*: “He yawn. Babe cozy skeeji needs to nod off. Needs to falafel asleep. Nene time, good night Mr. The missile.”
#alpha 17 is rolling his eyes in the corner of the nursery#Fordo says he doesn’t do well with kids#he’s a fat liar#him and 17 both say they don’t have a favorite cadet. their both liars#Rex is giggling the whole time#Fordo is like that one aunt that only comes to visit just to hold the bb spoil them then leave#captain rex#captain fordo#alpha 17#they have a hard time getting Rex to fall asleep#tcw#the clone wars#Star Wars#the prequels#the clones#arc trooper#clone trooper#alpha arc#clone wars 2003#incorrect clone wars quotes#my post
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As per the poll results...
Alpha-17 hated taking care of the cadets.
They were loud, unruly, undisciplined, and cocky little sons of bitches. The Kaminiise that interrupted his and Fordo’s training session had said something about the CC batches needing mentors now that Fett was determined to get back to bounty hunting. Every Alpha ARC was to take on a batch as a trial run, regardless of the fact that Fett was never much of a mentor to them.
It didn’t matter. What mattered was that his batch was a fucking mess. Maze had even patted him sympathetically on the back when they were given their official assignments. In their first week, two of them, apparently the twins of the batch, had already managed to get themselves into three offices they weren’t supposed to be in, and snuck out of the barracks almost every night.
Alpha made them run suicides for hours for it.
He didn’t care for his batch the way some of his brothers did, with soft gestures and words like “ad’ika” or “vod’ika.” They were clones, and they wouldn’t find any sort of soft spot in the middle of a battlefield. He’d raise them the way he was raised, with sharp tongues and extra training, and they’d come out the other side better for it.
That doesn’t mean he didn’t care at all.
CC-2224 was standing guard outside their barracks, which was a bad sign, especially considering he’d been the first to learn that if they got in trouble, they got in trouble as a group. He was usually the most effective at dissuading the rest.
Not tonight.
“Cadet,” Seventeen greeted sharply, “sitrep.”
CC-2224 didn’t look him in the eyes, another bad sign. It had been one fucking month, and he was already having to put up with shit like this.
“B - CC-5052 is experiencing residual discomfort from the training exercise today, sir. My batchmates are helping him with recovery.” Only three years old, six standard, and CC-2224 was already the best soldier out of all of them. But he was shit at covering for the rest.
“Why are you guarding the door?” Seventeen crossed his arms over his chest, looming over the kid. If it was really what he said, he’d been in there helping with whatever cramp 5052 was feeling.
The day’s training hadn’t even really been that difficult from a physical standpoint. It was Seventeen’s least favorite type of resistance training: the mental kind. The Kaminiise had them start it early so their minds automatically built up resistances to-
Oh.
“CC-3636 asked that I remain outside so as not to crowd CC-5052 and explain to any who may be monitoring the barracks what is going on.” Seventeen knew enough to read between the lines of that statement. He was there to discourage any particularly nosy Kaminiise from looking too closely for flaws. They would be monitored closely for the next few days for any defects, a fact that had been made clear to them before the exercises had taken place.
CC-2224 still wasn’t meeting his eyes. He looked exhausted now that Seventeen was actually looking for it. He had a certain deadness to his face that Seventeen had seen many times both in the mirror and on others. If he remembered correctly, today had been the first day this specific crew had to undergo this type of training. CC-2224 was probably the best off if he was well enough to stand guard.
Seventeen breathed out slowly, for the first time unsure what to do with the cadets. Usually their problems were solved with laps in the rain around the compound, or latrine cleaning duty. Emotional issues were more Fordo’s thing. But Fordo had his own batch to tend to.
“Step out of the way cadet,” Seventeen ended up saying, trying not to make it too gruff. The quick, quiet knock against the door signaled that he didn’t quite manage that. Nonetheless, CC-2224 let him pass, albeit a bit slowly. Probably trying to buy his batchmates time.
It was apparently enough.
5052, 3636, 1010, and 411 were all in their bunks, with 1010 just barely managing to reach his as Seventeen opened the door. 5052 was turned away from him, taking the furthest bunk in the corner, while 411 and 3636 took the closest. 1010 and an empty bunk stood in the middle, with 5052’s pressed up against the wall. He assumed one of the two empty bunks, above 5052 or below 1010, was for 2224.
“5052,” his voice rang out across the eerily silent room. It felt heavy in their room tonight, not light or even charged with an air of mischief like he was accustomed to it being. 5052 raised his head blearily, and Seventeen ignored the fierce ache in his chest at the sight of his red, puffy eyes. “With me,” he ordered, ignoring the subtle sharp looks 1010 and 3636 were exchanging.
5052’s eyes watered briefly, before his face smoothed out. He was already learning the importance of a blank face, which was good. He shouldn’t be using it with Seventeen, though.
5052 climbed out of his bed, his posture rigid in a way Seventeen had never seen before. Were it not for the situation, he would’ve applauded this cadet for his professionalism, something they’d all been lacking ever since he met them.
“Sir,” 411 called, and Seventeen spared him a brief glance, “I was wondering if-”
“Later, 411,” Seventeen said sharply, training his gaze on the kid who was approaching him like he was a death sentence. “5052 and I need to take care of something.”
He wasn’t an idiot. He knew what effect his words were having on the cadets, especially 2224 who stood guiltily in the doorway. It was fine. Maybe they’d finally understand he was in charge, or learn they weren’t as invincible as they believed themselves to be.
As 5052 reached him, Seventeen held out a hand. The cadet looked up at him, then back at his hand, almost confused. Seventeen sighed, grabbing 5052’s hand with his, practically dwarfing the kid. He tried to keep his posture open and non-threatening, but he got the feeling the look 5052 cast at his brothers was him saying goodbye. As he tugged the cadet out the door, he noticed 2224 make a move to grab his brother, before 5052 shook his head.
2224 watched them go with tears in his eyes.
Fucking aiwha-bait Kaminiise demogolka.
He could hear the soft crying before 5052 and he had turned the corner down the hall. To his credit, the cadet didn’t shed a tear. He may have cried it all out earlier, but one look at the kid proved otherwise. He put on a brave face, but it was just a face. Any clone trooper would be able to see right through it.
He pulled 5052 along in silence until they reached his office. Seventeen punched in his keycode with his free hand, keeping a tight grip on the kid so he didn’t try to bolt. It was only once they were inside that Seventeen dropped the hand and sat in his chair. 5052 stood at attention directly in front of him, just how they were taught.
“What happened?” It was less of a request, and more of a demand.
5052’s voice barely shook as he spoke, “I suffered the after effects of today’s training, sir.”
Seventeen leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his desk, “Symptoms.”
5052 pressed his lips together, tears shining in his eyes once again, before answering, “I-I felt a shortness of breath, tightness in my chest, numbness of limbs, hand tremors, and tunnel vision.”
“You had a panic attack,” Seventeen summarized for him, nodding along with the conclusion. 5052 gave one sharp nod, like it took all his courage just to admit it. Hell, it probably did. If any of the longnecks found out, he’d be decommissioned. Just like with the Alphas, they wanted this first batch of CCs to be perfect.
“Yessir,” he whispered, his lower lip wobbling slightly.
Seventeen sighed, “At ease, 5052. C’mere.”
5052 fell back into parade rest, but didn’t move, eyes darting between the wall and Seventeen’s face. Seventeen raised his eyebrow, and sat back in his chair. He could play the waiting game.
Eventually, the cadet caved and rounded the desk before he stood at Seventeen’s side, still looking past him instead of at him.
“I know 2224’s been going around giving out names, so what’s yours?” Seventeen asked gently. 2224 was practically asking for a decom with that little scheme, but he couldn’t help but admire the sheer bravery, or maybe stupidity, the cadet showed.
5052 shook his head just slightly, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir.”
“Drop the sir, it’s just Seventeen for right now.” It would be easier if he put them on even footing.
That got 5052 to look at him.
There was a long pause where his mind was putting the pieces together, the fact that Seventeen took him to his office and not a long-neck, the gentle tone, the hand holding, the dropping of rank all beginning to click in his head.
“I’m not - am I in trouble?”
Seventeen shook his head and 5052 sagged in relief almost immediately. This time, the tears did start, wracking his little body as his head dropped to his chest. Seventeen did the only thing he could and yanked the kid into his chest, calmly running a hand through his short curls and breathing in and out, getting him to match the pattern.
It took a while, but 5052 began to calm down.
“It’s alright, kid,” Seventeen said lowly, “You’re not the first vod to lose it after one of those training sessions and you won’t be the last.”
“Vod?”
“It means brother,” Seventeen said. He’d forgotten that less exposure to Fett meant the new generations wouldn’t likely have the chance to learn Mando’a. He’d have to talk to the other Alphas about fixing that.
5052 nodded, before taking a moment to collect his thoughts. Seventeen allowed him that, just offering physical comfort like his batch was probably doing before he intruded. As much as they got on his nerves, they needed to know they were his vode, and he wouldn’t turn them in for something so little as a panic attack. He didn’t have to like them to treat them with some base decency.
“My name is Bly,” he answered eventually, “Please don’t tell anyone.”
Seventeen chuckled, “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He gently disentangled them, before bringing him into a keldabe. “Do you know what this is?”
He shook his head no.
“This is a keldabe. In a fight, a keldabe can be a useful tool in getting your opponents disoriented and putting some distance between you and them. It’d be a bit rougher than this, and probably leave you with a bruise if I really put some effort into it.” He held eye contact with 5052, even as the slightly caged look came back into the cadet’s eyes, “But between family, friends, or partners, it’s a sign of affection. A sign that we’re here for each other, through all this blood and fear. Something so brutal, so painful, turned soft and loving in the presence of those you trust.”
“Oh,” the kid breathed out, and Seventeen could tell the exact moment that he understood what he was telling him.
“I’m not letting those demogolka get their hands on you, even if your brothers are assholes,” the small laugh was almost happy, “I can’t go easy on you, vod. If I do, we’ll both be slated for decomm. Do you understand?”
The kid - Bly nodded, a very small smile beginning to form, “Thanks, Seventeen.”
Seventeen pulled back and nodded, hiding his laugh at Bly’s sudden yawn. It was getting late, and these kids hadn’t gone through sleep deprivation training yet. It would be best to let them rest while they could.
—
“Again,” Seventeen called, grinning smugly as Fox snarled at him. A year into their training with him and this batch had quickly shot to the top, with the exception of the clone in front of him. Fox’s scores had been dropping lately, though the little dickhead refused to tell him what had been going on, so they were doing this.
Sparring until Fox either dropped or spilled.
It was looking more and more like Fox preferred the first option.
Usually, when one of them was being difficult, he had them train until their legs gave out on them and they could do nothing but talk. Sometimes it took a little more or less work, especially when it came to Fox. Bly was happy to talk to him since that first night he’d shown he was safe, though he’d caught comments from Wolffe or Fox about the baby of the batch getting special treatment. Kote and Ponds generally folded as soon as they were physically exhausted, and Wolffe just had to get angry enough to spit it all out in quick succession.
Fox was different. He was smarter.
He didn’t take training laying down, and was clever enough to keep his cool even when Seventeen could tell he wanted to do nothing more than scream. He’d never dream of talking about his issues to anyone outside his batch, and even then Seventeen was pretty sure he’d only talk to Ponds or Wolffe. He hadn’t even wanted to tell Seventeen his name until Wolffe nagged him enough to make him stand, red-faced, in front of the older clone and spit it out. Seventeen pulled him into a quick keldabe, before repeating the name and telling him it suited him.
Right now wouldn’t be solved with nagging or a keldabe. At least, not the gentle kind. Fox needed blood, he needed to gnash his teeth and give and receive a little pain. Seventeen understood that just fine.
“Fuck you,” Fox spat, before lunging again. He was getting sloppier, more tired, and Seventeen was able to pin him in under a minute. He held the struggling kid there for a few seconds until Fox realized he wasn’t escaping and went limp, tapping out once again.
“Again,” Seventeen repeated once Fox had caught his breath. This time, it was less than thirty seconds before Fox quit fighting, just lying quietly on the mat.
“You know,” Seventeen huffed after a few moments of stillness, “You’re supposed to tap out.”
Fox tapped lightly, and Seventeen let him up. He grabbed his shoulder before Fox could get too far back into position to go again.
“Your flight time went up again.”
“I know.”
“You gonna do anything about it?”
Fox’s glare was enough to make almost anyone else back down. But not him.
“The fuck do you care?”
Seventeen stepped back, getting into a fighting position, “Again.”
Fox didn’t have buttons to push like Wolffe, nor did he give up when he should like Ponds or Kote. He needed a little of both, a little more push than most would have advocated for a kid, to get him to crack how he needed to.
They danced the familiar dance a few more times before, maybe the fourth or fifth time Seventeen pinned him, Fox let out a frustrated yell. That was close to what he was looking for.
“Kote took top spot for blaster modules this week.”
“I fucking know, okay?”
That was what he was looking for.
“I know Kote took top spot and I know Wolffe beat my fly time and I know Gree and his batch are taking over strategy mods! I fucking get it, so fuck off with whatever the hell this is!” Fox wriggled out from under him, and Seventeen let him go without a fight. He stayed facing away from Seventeen, but that was okay for now.
“I just…I hate this stuff! I hate being trapped in those rooms with those demogolka and fucking Fett watching over our shoulders like he ever did anything except leave and you acting like you give a shit when we both know you’re only here because we’re another assignment for you. I hate you pretending like we’re brothers or everything’s gonna be fine and we aren’t all gonna die soon or-or like any of us matter in the long run,” his rant was beginning to slow, and Seventeen approached slowly. The small break in his voice told him all he needed to know.
“I don’t get the point when it doesn’t fucking matter if I die here or on a battlefield because death is death, and either way no one’s gonna care,” if he had to guess, the tears started about thirty seconds ago.
The worst part is that Seventeen gets it. He’d lost one of his batch to the same thoughts. In the end, it hadn’t been the long-necks or a fight that did him in. Just a missing blaster and too much time alone outside. They all understood why, even if they never forgave him for it.
It was because he understood that he placed one hand on Fox’s shoulder, forcing his vod to face him.
“You’re right,” Seventeen rumbled, not leaning over and making himself small like he would for the others. Fox had always appreciated the truth above all else.
“What?” He was right, tear tracks were carved down his vod’s face, and the small breathy disbelief looked like it might break the younger clone.
“Fett’s a fucking asshole, don’t know why Kote likes him so much. The Kaminiise are indescribable in their cruelty, and I’m a dick. Doesn’t mean nothing you do matters, though.”
Fox scoffed and pulled away, trying to twist his face into that familiar hard sneer, “And what would you know about that?”
Seventeen shrugged, “Not sure. You don’t want me to know you. But I see the way Kote and Bly light up when their ori’vod is around. And I know Wolffe would never survive without you, and that Ponds would kill himself if you did what you’re talking about doing.” He looked this kid - his kid in the eyes. He needed him to know he understood. “You’re trying to get the Kaminiise to do it for you, so you don’t have to take the coward’s way out. I get it, vod’ika. But you know every single one of those little assholes in your barracks would hurtle themselves off the edge just the same if you died, by your own hand or not.”
“Wha-”
“Don’t do it for me,” Seventeen added, gentling his tone a bit as fresh tears sprang to his vod’ika’s eyes, “Don’t do it for Fett, and don’t you fucking dare do it for the long-necks. Do it for the brothers waiting for you back in the bunks. The brothers that would beat themselves up if they knew that you were even thinking about this. The brothers that are going to force you to cuddle with them even if they have to drag you kicking and screaming.”
Yeah, okay, maybe Seventeen liked to linger outside their door when he was done with his duties that didn’t involve five nightmares running around and making his life hell. Maybe he wanted to soak in his brothers’ laughter once in a while. So what.
Fox looked at the floor, desperately trying to hold back tears.
Seventeen sighed and knelt in front of him, opening his arms up and waiting.
It took Fox less than thirty seconds to decide that yes, he did want the offered hug. Seventeen kept his laugh to a low rumble, a little closer to soothing than teasing. Fox squeezed him like he’d never been hugged before, even though Seventeen knew damn well that was a lie. It didn’t matter.
“We don’t do it for ourselves,” Seventeen said lowly, “We’d never make it if we did. We do it for each other, or we don’t do it at all.”
Fox sniffed, and Seventeen didn’t even care that he was probably getting snot and tears all over his blacks. His little brother was going to be okay, and that’s what mattered.
—
It took the Kaminiise two years to figure out who had started naming clones. Who started giving them just a little agency and independence. And when they found out, they made sure to make an example out of him.
They came during the sleep cycles, when Seventeen wouldn’t be around to stop them, and took Kote from his bunk without a word.
Two years in, one year after Seventeen had begun to call the littles his vod’ike, he found himself kneeling at the feet of the man he hated most in this place, begging for mercy for his charge. Fett was cold, he knew, but not so cold that his second favorite cadet would be left to rot.
Kote had been in isolation for almost a week, and nearly every night Seventeen had a visitor from the batch crawl into his bunk with shaky hands and red eyes. A decomm would’ve been easier on them, but knowing their second-youngest was alive and alone, trapped and left at the hands of the Kaminiise, was breaking them.
Ponds and Kote had always been the anchors of the group. Ponds was the oldest, and the automatic go-to for most things. But Kote named them all, and every single one of them adored him for it.
Fett was unyielding when Seventeen entered with accusations on the tip of his tongue. He was prepared to yell, to scream at the man who started this, who refused to leave them alone even after everything he’d already done to hurt them. But one look at the man had him falling to his knees, a single tear escaping his eyes as he pleaded with his head bowed.
Fett said nothing, and Seventeen left feeling humiliated and angry.
Which was why, when Seventeen heard Kote had been let out and was currently in the care of Fett, he’d sprinted across the compound to collect his vod.
He got there just in time to see Kote leave, tears dripping down his little face, crumpling against the wall outside of the dar’manda’s room.
Seventeen said nothing, but knelt in front of his vod’ika and scooped him up, carrying him away from that place.
As they walked, Kote’s hands fisted in Seventeen’s blacks as he tried to muffle his sobs into the older man’s chest. He clung to Seventeen like they were the last people alive on this planet, and Seventeen made sure to hold him just as tight. They made it to the Alpha barracks, which were thankfully empty, and laid down together on Seventeen’s bunk.
Kote wailed for hours once he realized they were somewhere safe, away from long-necks and cold-hearted bounty hunters. Seventeen just held on, running a hand up and down his vod’ika’s back to comfort him, and whispered apologies into Kote’s hair.
“Why didn’t they just decommission me?” Kote kept asking through tears, sometimes screaming and sometimes whimpering.
“Why did Prime have to name me?”
“Why didn’t I listen to him?”
“Why didn’t he find me sooner?”
So many questions that Seventeen had no answer to.
When the tears finally slowed, Seventeen spoke.
“He tricked you, vod’ika. He’s a cruel and callous man and he tricked you.”
Seventeen had always hated how Fett dug his claws into this kid. He didn’t care how it would hurt Kote, he didn’t care what would have happened to him. Seventeen was a violent man but even he didn’t understand why Fett would do this.
“They couldn’t even say my name right,” Kote whimpered, “They kept saying ‘Cody’ and when I tried to correct them they - they just -” he broke off, burying his head into Seventeen’s chest and letting out another sob.
“They will always hate you for the freedom you’ve given your brothers,” Seventeen rumbled, “And I will make sure they cannot deny your strength.”
A plan was already forming in his head. He’d put Kote through extra training, make him into the best of the best. He’d make him good enough to rival an ARC. The Kaminiise couldn’t throw him out if he was useful enough, sharp enough, strong enough.
“He named me Glory, Seventeen,” Kote cried, “Why? I don’t understand!”
Seventeen didn’t have an answer for that question either.
“You have to stay away from him, Kote,” Seventeen said. He said it firmly, like it was an order, and not a plea, though they both knew better. Fett could easily take Kote away from Seventeen, away from his batch, and none of them except the kid crying into him could make it stop.
“He - he loves me,” Kote wailed, “I’m his ad, he loves me! I can’t just-”
Seventeen cut him off harshly, “Kot’ika, if he loved you, I wouldn’t have had to beg him to interfere.” It was harsh, but his vod’ika needed to know. “He didn’t come looking for you. We did.”
Kote cried for a long time after that. He kept trying to make excuses, telling Seventeen about all the times Fett had supposedly cared.
It just made Seventeen angrier. Fett had manipulated his kid into thinking he was more than a paycheck, more than food for a war that hadn’t even begun yet. Seventeen briefly entertained the possibility of killing him for it.
Out of all the tools they’d been given, hope was never one of them. The kid screaming into the pillow was proof as to why.
Kote eventually tired himself out enough to pass out on the bunk, and Seventeen sighed in relief as his breathing finally evened out.
Both Maze and Fordo poked their heads in, for once not laughing at the sight of Seventeen curled around one of the kids he’d once told them he’d never call his own. They told him Kote’s batch had been alerted to his release, and they’d immediately demanded answers from the older ARCs, meaning Seventeen would probably need to make an appearance soon to ease their fears.
Seventeen just nodded along to the debrief, a wave of exhaustion hitting him as well. He eventually gathered himself enough to sit up, taking Kote with him. The kid just shifted sleepily, his face scrunching up in dismay even though he didn’t wake.
“They’re going to be looking for an excuse,” Fordo said quietly after a moment, “He needs to keep his head down.”
“I know,” Seventeen murmured.
“Seventeen,” Maze said, “He’s terrified. Whatever you’re planning, leave him out of it.”
Seventeen just sighed, closing his eyes and leaning back against the wall.
“I’m serious. He needs to stop making ripples, good or bad. He’s already too individualistic for their tastes.”
Maze was right. Kote had always been headstrong and stubborn, just like the rest of his batch. They all relied on each other too much and not only had it taken Kote down, but the rest of them either refused to or simply couldn’t pull themselves together in his absence.
“You boys remember our training on Rishi?” Seventeen asked after a moment.
It was a stupid question, of course they did. They’d been dropped off on that moon, all in separate locations, with no comms or supplies to help them except what was expected in emergencies. They had to survive like that for a month before they were picked up again. It was the worst experience of any of their lives.
“We need a program like that for them,” he said after a moment, ignoring the twin glares sent his way. Every single Alpha had become incredibly protective over their batchers in the two years the program had been going on.
“Not exactly like that,” Seventeen assured them, “But their training is a lot more strategy and team focused. They need something closer to the way the ARCs were trained.”
Fordo snorted, “ARC training is a hell of a lot more brutal than what they’ve had to do so far. And it started a lot earlier.”
“It would make them indispensable,” Seventeen said after a moment, and he knew the silence following that statement meant he’d won.
Still, he sighed and stood, clutching Kote against his chest, “I’m gonna get him back to his batch. I have a feeling they’re about to come looking.”
—
Wolffe was smiling, which immediately put Seventeen on edge. Wolffe had a few kinds of ‘smile’. There was the genuine one, which was rare but always rewarding, the smirk, which was the most common and meant he’d just kicked someone’s ass in hand to hand training and was about to get far too cocky about it, and then his grin, which meant he was doing something he wasn’t supposed to.
Like now.
Seventeen folded his arms across his chest, giving his best glare at the cadet. They were six months into ARC training, a year out from the event that kick started the idea, and all it had done was make his batch harder to handle.
Not only were they trouble-makers, they were now troublemakers with all the strategy and training of their older counterparts.
“It wasn’t me this time,” they’d finally hit that funny age where their voices no longer matched their faces, and all of them grew at different rates. It was maybe the one time in their lives they would look genuinely different from each other.
Seventeen added an eyebrow raise to his glare.
“Kote found him first.”
Him?
“It was his idea,” Wolffe was beginning to shrink back just a little under the glare, “But he’s not making any trouble.”
Seventeen snorted, “The day you di’kuts don’t make trouble for me is the day you’re all dead and buried.”
Wolffe flipped him off.
“That’s ten extra suicides, cadet.” Seventeen smiled as Wolffe’s face immediately dropped and he started whining.
“It was just a joke, you’re mean to us all the time,” Wolffe argued, not helping his case in the slightest.
“I’m keeping you assholes alive,” Seventeen shot back, “Now what did you do?”
Wolffe scowled, replying, “Come on, old man,” before turning and marching down the hall.
“And that’s twenty,” Seventeen called after him.
Wolffe kept complaining the whole way there, even when Seventeen cuffed him on the back of the head for it. He led them to the CT barracks, which was new. To his knowledge, his batch never really came down here. There was no need to.
The experimental ARC babysitting program had gone well enough that when the CT clones were produced and of age, several Alphas had been relegated to managing these cadets, whom he’d been assured were either much less or much more rowdy than the CCs, depending on the batch.
Alpha had just been assigned his first case, though it was a curious one. Two of the batch had been decommed almost as soon as they came out of their tubes, and the other three didn’t get along the way most batches tended to. They were first generation CTs, so some defects were expected, but the vitriol with which they treated each other certainly was not.
It had been a jarring change from the crew he’d been taking care of for almost four years now.
Wolffe led him to a supply closet off to the side in the barracks, chattering all the way about how this was Kote’s fault. Seventeen ignored him in favor of looking around at the empty bunks, internally sighing about whatever scheme his vode had cooked up this time.
When Wolffe opened the door, however, the cadet inside of the closet threw Seventeen for a loop.
“7567?” He asked, surprised. He was one of the batchers Seventeen had been assigned to take care of, the one that got picked on the most, actually. What really surprised him, however, was the state he was in.
His usual obvious blonde head of hair had been shaved carelessly almost completely off. He could see a few cuts dotted across the kid’s head, and the kid himself looked like he’d lost a pound or two since the last time Seventeen had seen him nearly a week ago.
He’d thought the kid was avoiding him, but there was obviously something more going on.
“You know him?” Wolffe asked, sounding surprised and completely ignoring the sharp glare being thrown his way from the kid hiding in the closet.
“He’s one of mine,” Seventeen responded, still searching for any more visible wounds or changes to his newest charge, “Haven’t been able to find him for a week.”
“Oh, uh, that may have been our fault,” Wolffe said, looking back at 7567, “What? Why are you glaring at me?”
“I told you not to tell anyone,” 7567 bit out, the harsh tone being somewhat off put by the higher pitch of his voice. He was just a bit younger than the CCs, and wouldn’t hit the growth spurt that truly mattered for another year or two.
“Yeah, well, suck it up. Kote’s been going crazy trying to hide you from your batch and the Alphas,” came the nonchalant reply, and Seventeen furrowed his brow. Why would Kote be trying to hide 7567 from his own brothers?
“I figured he could help,” Wolffe continued, and Seventeen ignored the brief flash of warmth at the statement of trust.
Now it was his turn to be glared at, and Seventeen took a second to admire the size of 7567’s balls before matching it with his own sneer.
“You’ve been skipping training, cadet.”
“I didn’t want to,” he replied sulkily, “Kote said it wasn’t safe.”
Seventeen hummed, “And why would he say that?”
7567 hesitated for a moment, before quietly admitting, “He caught them doing…this,” he gestured to his head, and a sick moment of realization came over Seventeen, “He scared them off, but he didn’t want me to go back with them.”
Batchmates teasing each other was one thing, but hurting one another?
That would have to be dealt with.
Seventeen sighed as he moved in front of Wolffe and crouched in the doorway of the closet, “So Kote, being the di’kut he is, hid you in here.”
7567 shrugged, “‘S not terrible.”
“You eaten recently?”
The cadet shook his head no after a moment, and Seventeen turned back to look at Wolffe, “Why exactly did you boys think this was a good idea?”
Wolffe crossed his arms, “I didn’t know until yesterday, ask Kote.”
“Not helpful,” Seventeen grunted, before turning back to 7567, “Since you and Kote are so tight, I assume you’ve got a name.”
7567’s eyes widened comically at him, giving him away in an instant. Of course Kote did, he’d always had a soft spot for the littles. 7567 still looked at Wolffe first, who must have given an affirmative.
“Rex,” he said quietly.
Seventeen nodded, “Alright Rex, with me. Wolffe, you too.”
Rex looked at him with slight suspicion in his eyes, and Wolffe let out a small noise of complaint.
“Come on boys,” he tried again, adding a little bark to his voice that had them both scrambling to follow him out the door, “Medics first, then food.”
Once they reached a medical droid, Seventeen sent Rex off behind a curtain with it, and sat down next to Wolffe, giving him the ‘you’d better start talking’ look.
Wolffe grumbled for a bit before admitting, “His batch are assholes. Too aggressive with him. He learned how to bite back, but Kote said it was pretty bad when he found them. Kid was bleeding like crazy and scared the shit out of Kote, who tried to take him here. He didn’t let him, on the grounds of his mutation, and wouldn’t budge.” Wolffe ran a hand through his hair, a tick they’d all begun to pick up from Seventeen, “He’s with us until further notice.”
Seventeen sat back in his chair, absorbing the information for a moment.
“Good,” he said simply, ignoring the look of confusion and surprise Wolffe sent his way.
“Sir?” Wolffe asked, and Seventeen shifted in his chair, keeping an ear out for Rex.
“He needs a batch,” Seventeen responded, “He’s too skinny and too short, probably from lack of nutrition, and his hair is going to make him stand out. He keeps going the way he’s going, his batch will kill him before the Kaminiise get the chance.”
“Oh,” Wolffe said, a little quieter this time.
“You boys got lucky,” Seventeen continued, still keeping an eye on the curtain, “You got each other. He doesn’t have that.”
“He’s stubborn,” Wolffe said after a moment, “He’s apparently been fighting Kote every step of the way. Doesn’t want anyone to think they have to take care of him.”
That was good. That showed spirit. If Rex had allowed himself to be cowed, to back away without a fight and shrink into the shadows, Seventeen would have had a lot more work to do. As it was…
“He won’t be around his batch if I recommend him for ARC training,” Seventeen suggested quietly, “Of course, he’d need some older vode helping him out, the way I did with you.”
Wolffe snorted, “Not sure you helped us out so much as put the fear of the Manda into us.”
Seventeen grinned down at him, “Got you moving, didn’t it?”
Wolffe rolled his eyes and settled back into his chair, now eyeing the curtain in an equally curious and concerned way, “Think he’ll make it? He’s a CT.”
Seventeen shrugged, “Don’t know. Didn’t know if you boys were going to make it either.”
Wolffe eyed him critically, “What do you mean you didn’t know?”
Seventeen chuckled, “You’re smart and strong, but it takes more than that to complete what you’re being put through. It’s only been six months, and you’ve yet to hit the worst of it.”
Wolffe groaned, “Why are you so cryptic?”
Seventeen looked back at him, a gleam in his eye, “Because it pisses you off.”
Wolffe opened his mouth to say something that probably would’ve earned him another hour in the gym, when the curtain swung back, revealing Rex looking even grumpier than earlier. His head had a few small bacta patches on it, and he promptly ignored the droid in favor of marching over to where Seventeen and Wolffe were sitting.
The droid ignored Rex’s obvious unhappiness and followed him over, this time addressing Seventeen.
“A-17,” it began, “I believe this CT-7567 has a serious defect that must be looked at. Chromosome number-”
“I’m aware,” Seventeen growled at the droid, “We’re all aware. Now fuck off.”
The droid paused for a moment, unsure what to do with itself.
“I must report this to Nala Se,” it finally concluded, and Seventeen just huffed in response.
After a beat of silence in which the droid scurried away, a small voice behind Seventeen spoke, “Is she going to decommission me?”
Seventeen almost laughed. Almost.
Instead he said, “Kid, she knew about your hair the second you left your tube. If you aren’t slated for it yet, you won’t be any time soon.” He turned to face his cadets, hiding his smile at the way Wolffe acted like he wasn’t just wrapping Rex up in a hug.
“C’mon,” he said, “let’s go get you boys some food.”
—
Today was the day.
His batch was going to take and pass the final test, and become honorary ARC troopers. Two years after they started on the shortened ARC modules, and they’d all become so much more than the Kaminiise ever believed they could be. He’d stood in front of all of them before they marched off for their tests and told them he was proud of every single one, no matter the outcome.
Rex sat with him, both quietly pretending they weren’t shitting their brains out with anxiety, and they waited.
Fox and Wolffe came out together, wearing twin grins, and Seventeen knew without asking. He wrapped them up, squeezing the life out of them and ignoring the groans of embarrassment. Kote came out thirty minutes later, having completed and passed his own exams and combat trials, followed by Bly soon after.
They all sat and waited for Ponds.
There was an air of anxiety coming from his cadets, and he knew why.
They were supposed to graduate together, to be the first full batch to make it across the finish line. They’d worked hard for this, studied and trained together for years. They knew the manuals inside and out and had personally tested themselves against every single ARC and trainer they could coax onto the sparring mats.
Ponds’ absence sent a shockwave through that steady confidence.
An hour later and they were still sat there, all uneasy, all rhythmically bouncing their knees in near unison.
An hour and a half later, the doors opened, and they all tensed, prepared for bad news.
What they were unprepared for, however, was a bloody, limping Ponds to walk through with the biggest grin any of them had seen on his face.
“What the fuck,” Wolffe was, of course, the first to speak. “What the fuck!” He repeated, louder and more worried.
This sent all of them into a frenzy, rushing toward their injured vod and checking him over, all shouting over one another and demanding to know what happened. Ponds just laughed at their concern, though Seventeen caught the slight wince at the movement.
After a few moments, he convinced them to quiet, and breathed deep, still grinning like a maniac.
“We passed,” he said after a slight pause, and the whole bunch erupted in cheers. They pulled themselves into a circle, Rex and Seventeen watching fondly from the outside, and congratulated each other, giving out hugs and keldabes left and right. Seventeen was fairly sure Wolffe and Fox hit each other a little too hard, and he smiled at the resulting stumble from the boys.
They were nearly seventeen standard years, which meant as soon as the war they were being bred for started, they’d all be shipped out without a moment’s hesitation. It was that thought that made Seventeen allow them to celebrate loudly, noisily, and unashamedly despite the attention it might have drawn.
Eventually, they calmed down, and Seventeen muscled his way to the center, planting himself in front of Ponds. They were too tall now for him to need to kneel and get on their level, but still short enough that he could loom adequately.
“Vod’ika,” he began lightly, settling a comforting hand on Ponds’ shoulder, “What happened?”
Ponds’ grin shrank slightly, but his answer was steady, “What do you mean? I passed!”
Seventeen allowed himself to smile at the no-longer-cadet’s enthusiasm, “I know, and I’m proud, but why are you hurt?”
“It was part of the test,” Ponds furrowed his brow in confusion, looking around at the others, “Didn’t all of you…” he trailed off, for the first time taking in the lack of injuries around him. Seventeen could see the moment realization dawned on his face, as well as feel the rising fury coming from the brothers behind him.
“No,” Seventeen said gently, shaking his head, “That wasn’t part of the test.”
“Oh.”
“Ori’vod-”
Seventeen cut whoever it was off with a short look behind him. They all looked equally scolded.
He hated this was happening during their moment of triumph, but he knew if he didn’t address it, no one would.
“Pond’ika,” Seventeen tried again, “What happened?”
Ponds stilled, his face becoming blank as he processed what was going on. Seventeen squeezed his shoulder a little tighter, becoming a grounding point until his vod’ika was ready.
“I was going into my counter-insurgency exam and Ward was in the ring. He said he and I would spar and that I had to be prepared for anything,” his voice and expression remained steady, even as Seventeen’s grew concerned, “He flipped out a knife at one point and…” Ponds looked down and gestured to his leg and torso.
“Why weren’t you wearing armor?” Kote asked from behind Seventeen.
“He told me to take it off,” Ponds replied simply.
Seventeen sucked in a breath. Ward was a grade A asshole, every ARC knew this. His ‘counter-insurgency’ fighting was just an excuse to fight dirty, to scar up troopers and taunt them for their lack of skill.
Skirata should have been in charge of this exam, not Ward. Skirata had always been the kindest of the Cuy’val Dar, and by the looks on the rest of the batcher’s faces, they were thinking the same thing.
“Okay,” Seventeen said simply, “Take off the armor and let’s take a look.”
Ponds shook his head, “Can we do this in the barracks?”
Seventeen nodded, and immediately Wolffe and Fox were at Ponds’ side, helping him take the weight off his injured leg. Rex gave a quieter congratulations to Kote, his obvious favoritism not quite overshadowing his worry as he constantly looked back to check up on Ponds. Bly fell into lockstep with Seventeen, and their little crew easily made their way to the barracks.
As soon as they got inside, Kote grabbed the medical kit and presented it to Seventeen, who began to set things out on the floor. He knelt in front of where Wolffe and Fox had sat Ponds on Wolffe’s bunk, but gave them enough space to help Ponds remove his armor.
Bly settled in next to Ponds when Fox vacated the spot to go lock the door, and sucked in a breath as Ponds unbuckled his thigh gauntlet. Blood rushed from the wound, which had previously been pressured by Ponds tightening the straps to keep the wound secure, but it wasn’t deep enough to hit bone, for which Seventeen was glad.
His torso was a little more complicated, the unnatural shift of skin telling Seventeen that one of his ribs was likely broken. If it had punctured a lung, they would’ve known by now, and he breathed a little easier with the knowledge.
“Kote,” he called quietly but firmly, “Comm Aven, tell him we’re gonna need some help.”
Ponds opened his mouth to protest, but snapped it shut when he received several glares from around the room.
“Can’t believe you passed with this,” Seventeen mumbled, “You should’ve tapped out when he flipped out the knife.”
“We were all supposed to pass,” came the answer Seventeen had already guessed.
“I know,” he sighed, “And this just proves how much you deserve it, but next time, you tap out, got it?”
There was no nod or sign that he agreed, which Seventeen had also expected. Ponds was just as stubborn as the rest of them, no matter how much he hated to admit it.
He heard Kote talking quietly in the background and got to work, Rex occasionally pushing certain supplies his way and Wolffe and Bly talking calmly to Ponds as Seventeen went about patching him up.
They didn’t want full batches to graduate ARC training, because then they could prove it was a waste of time and money. He’d known that the second he and a few others proposed the idea to Fett, the Kaminiise, and the Cuy’val Dar and nearly every single one of them had soured.
Well they could take their elitist dar’manda bullshit and shove it up their asses. His batch had passed, regardless of Ward’s best efforts, and shoved it in every single one of their ugly faces.
Ponds’ injuries had luckily not impacted the general mood after the initial shock, and soon they were all sharing details and comparing experiences in their different tests. They all laughed at Bly for forgetting to fill out the last digit of his number during one of the written tests, and Fox followed it up with how Wolffe was so nervous he forgot to load his blaster during the firing range exams. That was followed by a smack, which was followed with an insult, which was followed with Seventeen having to reach out and grab Wolffe before he made a move to tackle his brother.
Nearly nine years old and they still acted four.
Aven came in a few moments later, taking over the medical side of things for Seventeen, who took the opportunity to give the eldest a keldabe. Ponds smiled into the hold and relaxed a little further.
They were no longer cadets, not as of that afternoon, and Seventeen knew he would have to let them go soon.
Still, he sighed as Rex ganged up with Wolffe against Fox in their bickering, and turned around to scold his vod’ika.
—
In the years the war dragged on, Seventeen saw very little of his batchers. Rex and Kote, who was going by Cody in front of the natborns, visited when the war came to Kamino, and introduced him to vod’ika of their own. Wolffe called after what happened with Ventress, showing off his own scar from his encounter with the Sith acolyte. Bly commed often, asking mostly about business, but he’d once let slip something about him and his general. And Fox…Fox he never really saw.
But they’d all gathered, either on a call or in person, to say goodbye to Ponds.
Rex had sent him a message saying the batch had already had their night of grief, wallowing in each other’s arms. He was glad they’d taken the time for themselves, but even happier they still trusted him with this.
They’d all formed little batches within their battalions, as they should, but he’d never really been able to take care of another batch like he did with them. There were too many cadets on Kamino now to focus on them one group at a time.
So even if it was over a call, he was relieved to see their faces, and ached when they all looked to where Ponds usually stood during these video conferences.
It was quiet at first, and Seventeen took the opportunity to drink each of them in. They were all so much older, so much more exhausted, then he remembered them being. Fox and Wolffe in particular looked like hell, and though he knew it was a combination of grief and whatever osik they’d been handling recently, it didn’t look right on them.
Kote spoke first, telling Seventeen what happened and declaring Boba dar’manda with vitriol hidden behind his teeth. He and Rex were in person together, as were Bly and Wolffe, and Seventeen appreciated Rex putting a hand on his shoulder to ground his ori’vod. Bly went next, starting to tell a story about Ponds during a fairly recent fight that brought small grins to his brothers’ faces. Wolffe joined in, as did Rex, and soon they were all at least smiling.
The one vod that never spoke was Fox.
It puzzled Seventeen how quiet he was. Fox had always been the first to speak up, the first to step in, the first to very loudly give his opinion. But now he was silent. He looked almost like he was disassociating.
“Fox’ika?” Seventeen called, “You alright?”
Fox looked up once he noticed all the attention was on him and nodded quickly, “‘Course,” he assured them, his tone still sounding off, “Just…reminiscing I guess.”
There were a few murmured agreements from around the table, before the conversation turned back to Ponds. Seventeen caught Wolffe looking over worriedly a few times. He idly wondered how many of them made the effort to keep up with each other. He hoped all of them, but knew better than to assure himself of it.
The call went on for a long time, most everyone having a good cry at some point. Seventeen was the only one that left with dry eyes when it was said and done.
He sighed as their blue forms flickered out of existence, and looked across his desk. It was scattered with paperwork, test results, security reports, all the paperwork he’d been relegated to once his leg made it so he could never fight again.
He unlocked the lowest drawer in his desk and pulled out a bottle of moonshine Spur had snuck to him once Ponds’ death had been officially reported back to Kamino. He poured himself a drink and sat back in his chair, scrolling through old comms. There weren’t many with Ponds, just little questions his vod’ika had here and there, and a few scattered conversations about life in the thick of things.
They were clone troopers, which meant they didn’t get holos or recordings of kids running around just being kids. They didn’t get keepsakes or days that could be spent talking and catching up. He’d known he would have to let them go eventually, and that when he did, there would be nothing to tether them to him.
It still hurt.
Three glasses in, he picked up his comm again, and pulled up his conversations with Fox.
It had been nearly six months since they last talked.
A-17: I’m being sent to Coruscant soon for an escort
A-17: We should catch up
He waited a few minutes, then put his comm down. Fox was a Marshal Commander now, he’d respond when he could.
Until then, Seventeen was content to drink to the memory of both Ponds, and the boys his batchers used to be.
#commander cody#commander fox#commander wolffe#commander ponds#commander bly#alpha 17#kamino#fanfic#my writing#ok so it's no specifically cody#but i figured it would fit for the occasion
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Rex asking alpha questions on how he raised littles because ahsoka is so small and he is basically her orivod/buir now.to Frodo’s delight that makes alpha basically ahsoka’s grandfather
Hahaha Fordo is such an instigator and we love him for it
I made myself laugh with the dialogue a few times so I hope it's as funny to everyone who reads it XD
Taglist: @a-lil-perspective @merspots @delta-the-mando @the-mandalorian-clone-lover @dudewhynotthis @jessesriduur uhh sorry to the people I forgot I'm so tired lmao
It doesn’t come as a surprise to Alpha that the 501st’s latest addition - Skywalker’s shadow, a Togrutan girl who doesn’t seem far removed from her first handling of a lightsaber - is every bit as inquisitive and brash as her Master was, not so long ago.
The details are hardly relevant, of course, but Alpha vividly remembers being frustrated and amused in turns by Skywalker’s antics when he was still Kenobi’s Padawan. So when Rex comes to him, looking half out of his mind with exasperation, Alpha finds his sympathy is greatly outweighed by amusement.
“I don’t know what to do with her,” Rex says plaintively when he’s finally exhausted every instance of Tano’s creativity somehow making its way into Torrent’s battle strategies.
“Same thing you would do with any cadet,” Alpha answers with a shrug. “It’s straightforward enough.”
“But that’s the thing - I have no idea what to do with a cadet, either,” Rex says, and there’s definitely a note of desperation in his voice now.
As per usual, Fordo decides it’s high time he contributes to the conversation. “You and Alpha are in the same boat, then.”
“Shabuir,” Alpha says, affronted. “I knew what I was doing.”
Fordo turns to Rex, grinning like the di’kut he is. “In that case, I’m sure Sev will have all kinds of advice for you.”
Fordo is entirely too clever for his own good, Alpha decides, but resolves to take it up with him later in the face of Rex’s distress. He really doesn’t have the first clue what to do with a scrappy little Padawan, but Rex doesn’t need to know that.
“Just do what Skywalker does,” Alpha finally says, and regrets it almost immediately. He may not know much about kids, but he’s pretty sure that if he were responsible for assigning a Padawan to a Master, Skywalker would be his last choice. “... or not.”
Luckily, Rex seems to be thinking along similar lines. “He’s got an unusual method. That’s how General Kenobi puts it, anyways.”
“Technically, his Padawan shouldn’t be your responsibility,” Alpha points out. “But seeing as it’s Skywalker…”
“I have to fill in the gaps,” Rex supplies diplomatically. “So how did you handle it on Kamino, then?”
“With a lot of swearing,” Fordo says, utterly shameless.
“With a lot of - no, not with a lot of swearing - well - with a lot of, uh… creativity.”
“He doesn’t like kids,” Fordo adds.
“I never said - cadets are a handful and you know it.”
“Don’t let him fool you,” Fordo continues, conveniently deaf to Alpha’s indignation but still grinning all the same. “He didn’t have the first clue what he was doing.”
“Are you done?” Alpha demands.
Fordo feigns concentration. “No, I don’t believe so.”
“Ne’johaa,” Alpha grumbles, then turns to Rex. “Just… make sure she doesn’t get killed.”
“You’ve really improved your bedside manner, ner vod.”
“I’m going to kill you,” Alpha promises. “She’ll be old enough to take care of herself soon enough,” he adds, returning to Rex. “Help her as needed and let her learn from her mistakes. Simple as that.”
Rex’s relief is palpable. “Help her. That, I can do. Thanks, Alpha.”
“Ba’gedet’ye. Now get out of here before Skywalker blows something else up.”
“I can see the headlines now,” Rex sighs, and unclips his helmet from his belt. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you before too long, if those two keep going at the rate they do.”
“I’m sure,” Alpha agrees drily, and he can’t help but laugh at the look on Rex's face.
Rex makes his way out of the room. No sooner does the door close than Fordo turns to Alpha, a crooked grin spreading across his face once more.
Alpha lets out a sigh of his own. “I’ll bite. What?”
“So if Tano is Skywalker’s Padawan, and Rex is sort of like her buir… does that make you her ba’buir?”
“Fordo - ”
#alpha-17#alpha 17#captain rex#captain fordo#ahsoka tano#the clone wars#star wars#fic prompt#thanks for the prompt!#feel free to send more!
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Arc Training Program Ch. 4 "Getting To Know The Cadets (Part Two)"
(Sorry for the long wait! Here is part two! Hope you enjoy it!)
The next stop on hunting down his cadets is the library. He scans the room seeing some odd number of clones and Kaminoans scattered about but none were one of his. He starts walking slowly around the room until he finds someone curled on the floor with stacks of books surrounding him. His face is hidden by a large book that he is completely entranced by. He reads the cover The Species of Gree. Alpha clears his throat, but the boy doesn’t hear him. Alpha walks forward and pulls the book down so CC-1004’s eye would finally register Alpha. The boy jumps surprised and scrambles to his feet.
“Sir! Sorry sir! I didn’t see you!” He says much to loudly for a library. He hears a few shh hissed at him and winces. “Sorry… sir.”
“What are you doing?” Alpha asks realizing all the books scattered around the boy are books on different types of species. The boy’s face turns a deep shade of red.
“Uh…” Is all he manages to get out. Alpha kneels down to look at the book he was reading.
“The species of Gree?” He says before giving a deep hm while flipping through the pages.
“The Gree species is one of the oldest civilizations in the galaxy. They even predate the Republic.” 1004 explains. Alpha gives another small hm. 1004 looks down while squeezing and unqueening has hands in and out of fists nervously. “I know this probably isn’t the best use of my time but… I think studying different species and their civilizations could benefit the Republic.”
Alpha stares at the boy. He looks like he’s about to be scolded but shows no regret.
“Just don’t let your other training fall through the cracks.” Alpha hands the book back to 1004. He takes the book with wide eyes.
“I wont sir!” He says with a big, excited smile on his face. Reading has never been a big priority when training the clones. Most bounty hunters wont even take their cadets into the library. Alpha might have been the first to not scold the boy for wanting to pursue reading for leisure. Unfortunately, he had nothing to offer like he did for 2224 and 7567. Alpha never felt he had the time or patience for reading unless it was a report.
“Seen any of the others around?” Alpha asks before the kid can get to lost in his books again.
“3636 was in here not too long ago… I think… I kind of lost track of time when I picked up this book.” 1004 admits.
“Understood.” Alpha starts to turn away before looking back at 1004. “Don’t slouch when you read. You’ll mess up your back.”
After walking around the entire library and seeing no sign of 3636, he leaves. He walks with his hands behind his back and head held high. Other’s salute or acknowledge him politely as they pass through the corridors. When he makes a turn towards the mess hall, he spots Shaak Ti. She speaks with two bounty hunters. When she notices him staring, she smiles softly with a slight nod of her head down a different corridor. Alpha nods his thanks and heads in that direction.
He finds himself walking above different training rooms where other batches perform practice battles. He spots 3636 staring down at one of the ongoing battles. Alpha quietly walks to his side to watch the batch below. The batch is slightly younger then his cadets and have sloppy movements. Alpha can predict the ending but looks to 3636 who barely flinched when he approached. 3636 lets out a tsk before pushing away from the railing. Alpha raises a brow at him as the batch below fails.
“Something wrong?” Alpha asks calmly. 3636 half turns with his lips pressed into a thin line. His eyes stare at the floor in tense frustration.
“Why is it so easy from here?” He asks finally. Alpha tilts his head slightly so he continues. “From here I can see their moves before they make them. But when I’m down there it’s like I have tunnel vision. And when I slow down to see the big picture its usually to late to do anything before I realize what’s happening.”
He shakes his head and turns away. Alpha feels the corner of his mouth turn into a grin.
“What did you do before?” Alpha crosses his arms before brining one hand up to his chin pondering with great curiosity.
“Before, my batch would move ahead and I could see it all. Not at first but with trail and error I eventually learned the different battle sequences my trainer had us practice. But the ones you have us run through seem to be random. Or its like the droids have a mind of their own. I can’t predict their moves and what the others will do.”
Alpha stiffens.
“CC-3636, there are thousands of battle scenarios. Are you saying you memorized all of them?”
“Yes?” He says it as if it were obvious. “There are 1,325 to be exact. Well, 1,326 but I think one was a glitch that combined 453 and 34.”
He’s living breathing protocol droid.
Alpha stares at the boy not sure if he should be amazed or terrified. Instead, he motions for him to follow. He takes 3636 to the part of Tipoca City that only the ARC Troopers were allowed. They passed many familiar faces who acknowledged Alpha in a head nod, smile, or even gesture. When they spot 3636 following behind him, they turn cold and watch suspiciously. He eventually turns into a break room currently occupied by two ARC Troopers, Hull and Raff.
“Leave us.” Alpha’s words were cold and blunt. They pause and exchange glances pondering if they should protest or not. They make the right choice and vacate the room. 3636 doesn’t look troubled or even scared to be surrounded by true ARC Troopers. The only thing Alpha can find in the cadet’s cold analyzing eyes is curiosity. Alpha sits on one side of the holochess board and gestures for 3636 to sit on the other side. He hesitates for the first time but eventually lowers himself down studying the board intently. When Alpha turns it on, he frowns.
“What is this?”
“Dejarik. You have to use wit to win.” Alpha smiles with the holographic creatures buzzing in front of him. 3636 says nothing so Alpha does a quick run through of the rules. When he’s done, he begins. The first round Alpha goes easy on the kid letting him get a feel for the game and truly understand how it works. He still manages to win but the kid doesn’t look fazed. He merely leans back slightly with eyes narrowed on the board in deep thought. When they play their second playthrough Alpha thinks he might lose but comes through in the end. Still, 3636 doesn’t look deterred. On the third playthrough Alpha can tell there is a clear difference. The kid leans forward with eyes glued to the bored. Other ARC Troopers have begun to fill into the room to watch. Alpha has to choose each move carefully. Halfway through Alpha rubs the back of his neck wondering how he will pull the win when he lifts his eyes. He freezes when his eyes meet CC-3636’s. They stared at him like a wolf that just locked onto its prey. Alpha looks back down. He makes his move and leans back. The rest of the men in the room watch the kid, murmuring amongst themselves. Alpha wonders how many have placed bets. 3636 smiles while making his final move.
“Holy shit.” Alpha chuckles to himself. The room is in an uproar. Fordo leans against the doorway full body laughing. 3636 sits pleased with his victory. Alpha holds a handout, and they shake hands. He gets to his feet to lead the kid out of the rowdy room of ARC Troopers. No need to subject him to that horror. Fordo pats his shoulder as they pass. When they’re finally in the quiet corridor 3636 looks up at him.
“So, what was the point of that game?”
“There are very few troopers who have the strategy capabilities that you have CC-3636. Tell me, while playing the game did you win the first try? Or even the second?” Alpha places his hands behind his back and glances at the cadet as they walk.
“No.”
“Exactly. But on the third try you got the hang of it. Just like with all things it takes practice to be able to strategizes in the heat of combat. We’ll work on that. Soon you’ll be dominating on the battlefield as much as you do in holochess.” Alpha smiles at him. 3636 stares forward intrigued. He might have even smiled if Alpha wasn’t looking.
Alpha leaves 3636 to continue studying other batches so he can continue his hunt for his other cadets. He doesn’t have to go far it seems when he spots CC-1010 leaning against the windows overlooking the mess hall. Alpha frowns when he approaches. 1010 stands up straight when he notices Alpha.
“Sir.” He says plainly. Alpha gives a displeasing hm.
“What are you doing? I told you to be doing something productive not lean against a window and people watching.” Alpha crosses his arms. 1010 raises his eyebrows as if shocked but his eyes remain plain.
“Sir I assure you I am using my time wisely.” 1010 places a hand on his chest offering a small grin. Alpha frowns. “You see I am not people watching but studying. You would be surprised of what secrets you can learn from simply observing others.”
“Explain.”
Alpha decides to bite. Perhaps he’ll catch him in his own lie. 1010 gestures down to the people eating below. It’s mostly other clones but some Kaminoans and bounty hunters are mixed in.
“You see that bounty hunter there? She’s been fucking one of the Kaminoan scientists.”
Alpha frowns at 1010. “This is gossip cadet.”
“Patience, Sir, patience. I’m getting to the good part.” He assures him. Alpha settles again and looks to the female bounty hunter. “Now she is also fucking the bounty hunter over the Bravo Squad. Well, that or she wants to fuck him and is just working with him. I know this by watching their mannerisms. She acts the same around the city unless she is with the Kaminoan scientist or with the bounty hunter over Bravo Squad but there is a clear difference between the two. With the Kaminoan it’s very forced and overly flirty. Very out of her character. Almost like she’s trying to fool the Kaminoan. Then I compared that to when she is with the other bounty hunter. It’s more natural but much more secretive. Little whispers and glances here and there. A small hand gesture no one would notice you weren’t looking for it.”
“I’m failing to see the point of all this.” Alpha sighs starting to lose patience.
“I’m almost to the good part,” He assures him. “All of this intrigued me, so I followed her one day. It intrigued me because why force a romance she clearly didn’t want and hide one she clearly did. Didn’t seem right. After following her I found out that the Kaminoan scientist she’s interested in works in the genetics lab and she often convinces him to have meetings in the lab. Then after having a meeting, she would have an interaction with the other bounty hunter. One no one would notice if they weren’t looking for it.”
“Besides a serious health violation what are you getting at?” Alpha crosses his arms intrigued. He leans against the window with a smug grin.
“I believe our female bounty hunter is stealing from the genetics’ lab with the bounty hunter of Bravo Squad.”
“That’s a serious allegation. What proof do you have?” Alpha drops his arms. 1010 frowns while looking down at the mess hall at the female bounty hunter.
“Nothing but what I’ve seen.”
“Why haven’t you come forward yet?” Alpha shakes his head at the boy. CC-1010 turns to meet his eyes.
“I’m a cadet. Who’s going to believe me?”
They stare at each other for a moment as Alpha calms down. 1010 looks back out the window.
“I believe you.” Alpha says finally. 1010 stands up straight meeting his eyes again, confused.
“You do?”
“Yes,” Alpha nods confusing the boy more. “I’ll have others look into this matter.”
He looks down shocked for a moment.
“Thank you.” He says showing a genuine smile for the first time. Alpha leans against the window again prompting 1010 to mimic his stance.
“So, what made you start watching her?” Alpha asks now analyzing all bounty hunters in his site. When 1010 doesn’t answer immediately he glances over at him. He wears a grimace.
“Words often spoken are lies.” He says finally. Alpha waits for him to go on. “The bounty hunter over my batch was a master at manipulation. I learned very quickly I couldn’t take her words at face value. Instead, I learned to read her body. From there I was able to find the truth. Body language gives most liars away. When I started getting good with her, I started looking at others for practice. Our lunch lined up with the female bounty hunter’s and that’s when I noticed what was happening.”
Alpha nods while turning so his back was against the glass. He glances up at the ceiling remembering his time under Jango’s instruction.
“Jango would play mind tricks on us at times. He did it to try and push us mentally. Made most of us stronger. I know of bounty hunters like the one that taught you. They don’t use those tactics to help you but more to control you. But as long as you pass the simulations then the Jedi and Kaminoans are happy to let you graduate.”
1010 looks up at him.
“You don’t think those cadets should graduate?”
“I think those cadets will deal with more obstacles later down the road then most others.” Alpha says meeting his eyes again. The cadet nods but Alpha wonders if he really understood what he meant. Alpha clears his throat deciding to turn the conversation to a brighter note. “Do you watch everyone’s mannerisms then?”
“Yes, it’s become second nature now.” 1010 crosses his arms with his back to the glass now mirroring Alpha.
“So, what are mine?” Alpha arches a brow at him. CC-1010 pauses with eyes staring forward. At that moment Shaak Ti approaches making 1010 stand up straight.
“Sir, I see you and the General have business to discuss and I should really get back to blaster training.” He says before walking quickly down the corridor.
“Hey wa—never mind.” Alpha shakes his head with a chuckle. Shaak Ti gives him a look, but he just shakes his head.
“Something wrong?” She asks.
“No… well? Possibly. I have good reason to believe that two of the bounty hunters here are selling Kaminoan genetic secrets.” Alpha says pointing out the female bounty hunter below.
“That is quite a claim. And what reason do you have to support this?” she asks.
“I have on good authority that it is so. If it’s not, then I will personally apologize for any damage done.” Alpha insists. This surprises Shaak Ti.
“Alpha, you have never apologized for anything.” She says eyeing him slightly. He gives a nonchalant shrug.
“Times are changing.”
“It appears so.” She chuckles softly. Alpha notices a datapad in her hand.
“Did you need something?” He asks.
“Yes, I’m afraid there has been an incident with two of your cadets in hanger bay three.” She hands him the datapad. He reads the CC numbers and groans. He immediately takes off for the hanger bay.
When he arrives to the bay he finds CC-8826 and CC-1138 sitting handcuffed on the floor surrounded by a group of troopers.
“These are my cadets. What’s going on?” Alpha has to hold back his anger. 8826 and 1138 look nothing but bored while sitting at the feet of the troopers.
“Sir, we caught these two trying to steal a ship.” The trooper shoots a look at 1138 when he yawns. Alpha felt his anger boil in his chest.
“Sorry for any damages or inconveniences. I’ll take it from here.” Alpha squeezes his hands into tight fists already running through every exercise and drill he was about to make them run through and then he contemplated if he should just fail them and put them on sanitation duty. The cadets are uncuffed and follow behind Alpha.
“We weren’t trying to steal a ship.” 8826 says breaking the tension between them. Alpha whips around to face them. They still look unfazed by Alpha’s furious face.
“Then what pray tell were you doing?” Alpha shouts. His voice echoes through the corridor. He hears someone scurry out of the hall.
“I just…” 8826 starts but stops. Alpha shakes his head.
“No, go on. Explain yourself!”
“I just wanted to know how it works.” He says at last. Alpha shifts his weight taking in his words. He must not answer in time because 8826 goes on. “The ship. I’ve studied the design like everyone else but when it’s put together it looks nothing like the holograms. I wasn’t trying to steal the ship I just wanted to see what the inside looked like and how it all connected.”
Alpha felt his anger begin to simmer. He looks to 1138.
“He couldn’t lift one of the panels.” He shrugs. Alpha feels himself chuckle a laugh. He rubs above his eyebrows.
“You really weren’t trying to steal the ship?” Alpha feels like he just experienced a crash landing.
“No.” they both say. Alpha studies their faces. They didn’t appear to be lying but both boys have always been hard to read in the past. Of course, neither boys would be his first to suspect of desertion. Alpha lets out one final sigh releasing the anger he had only moments before.
“Very well.” He says turning away. He leads them away from the hanger by to one of the distant larger storage rooms near their barracks. He has to find 99 to open it for him. inside they cough and cover their noses from the dust collecting on all the items inside. Most were outdated gear and weapons with some obsolete spare parts here and there. 8826 and 1138 walk around taking in all the things while Alpha follows 99 to the back. He helps 99 pull a tarp off an old speeder bike. 8826 and 1138 stare at it intrigued.
“This is an old speeder bike left here by one of the Mandalorian bounty hunters. It’s rundown and needs a lot of work. You want to know how things work? Start by taking this apart and putting it back together.” Alpha places his hands on his hips watching 8826 squat in front of the bike inspecting it. He gets the same crazed look in his eye that he does when he’s in combat. Alpha leans against a crate glancing over at 1138.
“You interested in building the bike too?” He asks. 1138 has always been silent and calm. He only ever showed real anger when he lost and continued to fail at something. Every other time it’s the same blank expression. 1138 crosses his arms and nods. Alpha leaves it at that not forcing a conversation. 99 helps them clear a path to push the bike back to their barracks. Alpha didn’t want the kids let loose in this room to often. When they reach the barracks they walk in at the same time CC-4477 does. Alpha pauses. He had almost forgotten about the cadet.
“CC-4477,” he calls over while 99 leads 8826 and 1138 to the back wall with the bike. 4477 walks up to him. “Where have you been all day?”
“Sir? What do you mean? We passed each other in the corridor several times today.” He says plainly. Alpha frowns trying to think back. Did he really walk right past one of his cadets and never notice? He almost wants to ask more questions when the doors open and CC-1010 walks in with CC-1004. CC-4477 walks over to greet his brothers leaving Alpha feeling odd. He would have to keep a closer eye on 4477.
When the rest of the cadets return, the quiet barracks become loud with chatting cadets that prepare for the night. Alpha stays in the room helping 1138 and 8826 dismantle the bike and providing what wisdom he could all the while keeping an eye on the others. 1010 and 4477 sit on their extended racks chatting about their day and what they noticed while 7567 and 2224 sort through their gear. 99 shuffles around cleaning up here and there before getting pulled into a conversation with 3636 and 1004. Alpha feels a sense of peace wash over him. A feeling he hasn’t felt in a long time. If ever.
When the night drags on he leaves the cadets to bathe and get to bed. He walks back to his room to find Shaak Ti watching one of the cadets practice battles. He walks over to join her at his table. She smiles at him while sliding a data pad his way.
“What’s this?” He asks while examining it.
“It seems you were correct about that bounty hunter. She and her accomplice have been detained. It seems the Kaminoan she manipulated had no idea. Still, he will face his own punishment from the Kaminoans.” She leans back in her chair.
“That fox.” Alpha says softly to himself. He puts the datapad down wearing a proud smile.
“It seems taking an off day was good for you.” She smiles warmly at him. He rubs the back of his neck.
“What can I say? You were right. Each boy is very different and has their own set of skills.”
“Now you must find a way to utilize those skills to get them to work together.” She rests her arms on the table leaning forward slightly. Alpha nods before reaching over to turn the holovid off. The sit in silence enjoying the peace.
“Thank you.” He says suddenly. She tilts her head. “For helping me.”
“Your success is all of our success.” She says making him roll his eyes slightly. After a pause she adds. “You have changed Alpha.”
“I believe you’re right.” He nods with eyes falling on the table where his hand rests. He looks up to meet her eyes. “You have changed as well. From the first time we met.”
“That is the nature of time. It changes us. For better or for worse.”
His eyes drop to the table again this time staring at her hand resting on the table.
“Do you think it’s for the better?” he asks staring at her hand resting loosely on the white table. She takes this time to stand, pulling his eyes towards her face again. Before she walks out of his room she pauses and says.
“I hope, Alpha. I hope.”
Read full story HERE on AO3
#Arc Training Program#Ch. 4#Getting To Know The Cadets Part Two#star wars#star wars the clone wars#the clone wars#tcw#tcw fic#star wars prequels#alpha 71#commander cody#cc 2224#ct 7567#cc 3636#cc 1004#cc 1010#cc 4477#cc 8826#cc 1138#cody#rex#wolffe#gree#fox#thire#neyo#bacara#shaak ti#fordo#ao3 fanfic
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fic with ahsoka as Obi-Wans Padawan? Maybe some angsty jangobi? (Used to be together but broke up and now they pine from afar™️)
(i’m devastated that i don’t get to write ahsoka much, especially as obi’s padawan, so that an anon would come into my inbox.... and request jangobi on top of it..... seriously, though, thank you! can’t say i wasn’t inspired by @autumnchild22’s Kenobi Tano AU, but this doesn’t share almost anything with their take of events (ノ*´◡`) i’m flattered y’all thought i could do something of theirs justice lmao
i have written entirely too much backstory for this one, i think my brainstorming ended up longer than the actual fic so like. rip.
support artists and writers by reblogging, message me for more info if this confuses you!)
It surprises everyone except Obi-Wan that not only does Jango join the clones on the front lines, but he does so as the ARC troopers’ medic. That the son of the Mand’alor murdered by the Jedi would allow his kid to be apprenticed by a lifetime Council member is already hard enough for the galaxy at large to swallow; believing that the man who had at once been the most feared bounty hunter in the Outer Rim wouldn’t even ask for a command position? Impossible.
Obi-Wan knows better. Just as Obi-Wan had picked up Soresu because he could not protect his master on Naboo, Jango had learned to put people back together because he could not save his buir on Korda 6.
Besides, Obi-Wan thinks Mace is a wonderful match for little Boba, even though he’s joining the Jedi older than even Anakin had been. Knowing Mace was among the Jedi to liberate the spice freighter Jango had been sold to, and that he had continued to check in on Jango for years after he got his armor back, Obi-Wan actually finds it rather silly that others on the Council had thought Jango would trust Boba to anyone else.
Which does leave Obi-Wan in quite the predicament, when less than a year after Anakin's knighting, Mace sends him a new padawan in the middle of a campaign.
Ahsoka smiles with all canines, and calls Anakin Skyguy, and has to be tricked into wearing more armor because, according to Cody, she is "not to take the General's lack of self-preservation as the status quo, nor as the basis for field safety." Which, rude, Obi-Wan wears plenty of armor when the situation calls for it; he simply doesn't find many situations where plasteel has kept his men or the Jedi from dying horribly.
Letting Ahsoka gallivant around a battlefield in a tube-top without even a cloak, however, is out of the question, and Obi-Wan thinks Waxer does a brilliant job in sizing down the armor to fit their collective padawan over the next few months. Force, had Anakin really been younger than she when he first started taking him on missions?
"Master?"
Obi-Wan blinks, and smiles down at Ahsoka standing next to him, his apprentice looking quite dashing in the orange paint of the 212th. "Sorry, my dear, what were you saying?"
She shrugs, eyeing him suspiciously. "'Was just asking if we would be working with the ARC troopers on Kiros; Captain Fordo said he would show me how to use a blaster rifle next time they were on the Negotiator."
The Kaminoans intended for a few ARC troopers to be sent with each battalion, but it had quickly become clear that Jango had not trained them that way. Instead, he had raised and created a strike team so efficient, it would have been a waste to separate them; Obi-Wan knows Jango had hand-picked them from cadets, had searched for a spark in them that the Kaminoans hadn't already snuffed out completely. Jango had been like that once, too.
"I would be surprised if we didn't," Obi-Wan decides on, turning back to observe the 212th loading into the Negotiator, and he would be, because the ARCs are often deployed with Obi-Wan’s men, have been since the Battle of Kamino. "But I have not heard anything from Master Shaak Ti, nor Captain Fordo as of yet."
Ahsoka scrunches up her face into a pout, an amusing show of her age that she usually does not allow. "We'll probably get halfway through the mission and they'll just show up."
Obi-Wan chuckles. “Hm, yes, probably,” he agrees, starting to make his way down to the hangar to join his men with Ahsoka trotting along behind, “but perhaps I can convince Captain Fordo not to surprise us too badly this time.”
-
When the ARC troopers finally storm the Kadavo Processing Facility with Anakin and the Jedi on their heels, the warden Agruss is already dead.
The sudden swell of Jedi presence is nearly blinding after a month of helplessness, but Obi-Wan can't tap out, not yet. Rex, satisfied and vindictive and relieved, sways dangerously and automatically reaches out to Obi-Wan to steady himself.
That Rex trusts him enough to not even think about rank before asking for help warms Obi-Wan in ways he doesn't yet have the words for — he wraps Rex's arm around his shoulders and takes half his weight happily.
"Thank you," Obi-Wan finds himself murmuring as he helps Rex towards the doors, and only smiles at the captain's bemused expression.
"Whatever for, General?" he asks, even as he looks back over their shoulders across the room, to Agruss impaled to his chair with the electrostaff still sparking. Then he returns Obi-Wan’s smile, shaking his head. "That's not very Jedi-like of you, sir."
"I'm afraid I haven't felt much a Jedi since Kiros, my dear." Which is perhaps too honest to allow himself before he's had a proper meal and a full night's rest, but if there is anyone who will understand, it is the man that lived it with him. "We could wait up here for Anakin to find us, but it will likely be a while before they can spare him to start looking; do you think you can keep your feet long enough for us to reach the ground floor?"
Rex snorts and gives a vague wave of his free hand towards the elevators. "Well, I'm certainly not going to wait up here like some damsel, sir, and General Skywalker would kill me if I let you wander around on your own."
"Well!" Obi-Wan laughs, for the first time in weeks, and hitches Rex up to get a better grip on his waist. "In that case, we really should not keep him waiting."
They somehow time it perfectly for what the 187th and the 501st to have just finished rounding up the slavers in the courtyard when he and Rex hobble out of a side door of the warden's tower. Lieutenant Law oversees the Togrutas' move to Mace’s flagship Solace, and Obi-Wan easily picks him and Boba out from the crowd, standing at the base of the loading ramp and speaking with the Kiros colony's governor. Anakin is nowhere to be seen, but Obi-Wan doesn't get the chance to keep looking before Kix spots them from his place by the medical frigate; a shout passes over the nearby clones like a wave, until Kix and an ARC trooper break away to (gently) manhandle both him and Rex to the frigate.
The 187th's medic, Oro, is already on board seeing to the Togrutas too injured to wait for triage on the Solace, snapping a distracted salute that Obi-Wan quickly waves off as he helps heft Rex onto a hoverbed. He fully intends to duck back out and check in with Mace, though things seem well in hand without him, but the ARC with Kix takes off his helmet and glares, until Obi-Wan meekly shuffles to the next hoverbed over.
He could never refuse Jango, after all.
"You repainted your armor," he says conversationally, as Jango pulls a scanner from the bandoleer around his chest and has Obi-Wan roll up his right sleeve.
"'Lost the last set to a sarlacc before our deployment to Kiros," Jango snorts, Concord Dawn accent stronger than any of his clones. "Though it looks like your mission had its fair share of excitement." Running the scanner over the electrical burns on Obi-Wan’s arm, Jango raises an eyebrow at the dried blood on the shoulder of his tunics; Obi-Wan honestly doesn't remember if it's his or not.
And he can only smile at Jango, because even with a decade and a war between them, the corner of Jango's mouth still twitches when he's stressed. "Well, it certainly wasn't boring, my dear," Obi-Wan says, opening the neck of his tunic enough for Jango to stick him with a hypospray that hopefully won't make him too high. "And I can't say I'm looking forward to what is surely going to be a long dip in the bacta tank."
He gets a laugh for that, and can't think of the last time they had done more than make eye contact from opposite sides of a ship. Perhaps it had been Kamino, when Taun We had first sent for the Jedi to meet the army created for them.
Obi-Wan had rather thought Jango dead until then, when he had disappeared from the galaxy abruptly as if he had never lived in it at all. For a time, Obi-Wan believed he had just gotten cold feet, that finally meeting Anakin made it all a little too personal too quickly, but then even Mace could not get a hold of him and no one had seen a Mandalorian bounty hunter in months.
Their... conversation, Jango's stilted explanations of his absence and of how little he actually knew about the purpose for the clones he helped create, left far too much unsaid, but then Obi-Wan had been sent to Geonosis and, well. It's been nearly two years now, and Obi-Wan isn't sure if he's even seen Jango without his helmet since then.
His eyes flick over Obi-Wan’s face, the left side of his lips twitching as if knowing exactly what Obi-Wan is thinking — and he might not put it past him.
"Where are Anakin and Ahsoka?" Obi-Wan hears himself ask, when the silence grows heavy with those unsaid words. And he really would like to check in with his padawan, he can't imagine her last month has been a picnic either.
Jango sticks him with another stim before answering, "Mace sent Skywalker to make sure no slave is missed, and no slaver isn't arrested. As for your new foundling..." That little smile comes back, as Jango nods out the back of the frigate to where someone is cutting a line through the clones guarding their new prisoners.
"Oh dear," Obi-Wan mumbles, barely having time to brace himself before Ahsoka is launching herself at him, and all he can think is how relieved he is to see her out of her slave disguise. Jango steps cleanly out of the way to let Ahsoka smother herself in Obi-Wan’s chest, though it doesn’t stop him from starting to prep bacta patches to tide him over until they can get to the Negotiator’s medbay.
“Hello, little one,” Obi-Wan murmurs, carefully loosening the tight net of his shields for the first time since Zygerria and letting Ahsoka’s presence flood his mind.
“It’s good to see you, Master ‘Nobi,” she says into his tunics, and her voice does not waver at all.
He manages a chuckle, though it does not hold nearly as well as Ahsoka’s, as he feels himself finally relax. Anakin, of course, senses the both of them immediately and prods at their minds, but neither Obi-Wan nor his padawan acknowledge him. “I take it the Queen is dead?”
Ahsoka sighs and pulls back enough to nod. “Count Dooku was there, Skyguy barely got us all out.”
“That was a week ago,” Jango adds, not looking up from the datapad he’s logging Obi-Wan’s injuries into. “Even with the Queen giving us the location of the Processing Facility, we had to wait for the 187th to catch up.”
Running his palm from the top of her head down her hind lek, Ahsoka melts back against him with a Togruta churr he rarely has the pleasure of hearing from her. “Hm, and I imagine Boba was thrilled to work with the ARC troopers.”
Jango snorts, because they both know Boba is thirteen and his rebellious stage where he wants nothing to do with his father for fear of losing his independence. “Originally, the 104th was the closest battalion, but were held up in their own campaign. ‘Honestly didn’t think we could keep Skywalker from rushing in anyways.”
And Obi-Wan has to wince at that, because no matter what he does, he can’t seem to find a way to teach Anakin about attachment in words he understands; truthfully, Obi-Wan wouldn’t have had him knighted until he had at least attempted to master that part of his mind, but, well, the War had different opinions.
“I’m actually just surprised he didn’t try to fight Dooku,” Ahsoka admits, finally releasing Obi-Wan only to hop up on the hoverbed next to him. Jango immediately pulls Obi-Wan’s bare arm back to himself to start slapping the bacta patches over the worst of his burns. “Master Windu had a talk with him, though, I think it was good for him.”
“I’d like to see that!” Jango barks, only half sarcastically: he knows better than most, the sorts of things Mace Windu can talk someone out of, and if it worked for one ex-slave, why shouldn’t it work on another?
Ah, perhaps that shared history should not have slipped Obi-Wan’s mind, not here with thousands of freed slaves needing aid for injuries Jango is intimately familiar with.
“And are you alright?” he asks before he can talk himself out of it, as Jango is cutting his sleeve further back. His brow ticks back up, clearly bewildered by what Obi-Wan could be referring to, but it’s Ahsoka that leans around Obi-Wan to sniff triumphantly up at Jango.
“I told you he still likes you,” she says, and Jango’s hand freezes on Obi-Wan’s wrist.
Obi-Wan sighs. “Ahsoka.”
But instead of denying that he might have actually had such a conversation with Obi-Wan’s padawan, Jango coughs on a laugh. “So you did, edee. To be fair, I did not think that was the issue.”
Ahsoka rolls her eyes, leaning back into Obi-Wan’s side as he automatically raises his arm to accommodate her. “He thinks he lost his chance, Master ‘Nobi,” she tells him. “Even Cody thinks he’s full of banthashit.”
Where Obi-Wan feels a little shell-shocked by the turn in conversation, Jango simply keeps that tiny smile — even if it looks bittersweet and self-deprecating now. “Your foundling has spent the last week talking me in circles about this, I almost think she’s as stubborn as you.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment, I think,” Obi-Wan returns, sarcasm an automatic, subconscious response.
“I wouldn’t need to talk you in circles if you two just talked to each other.”
Shaking his head in bemusement, Obi-Wan gently fixes Ahsoka’s slika beads to lay properly around her montrals. “I’m afraid there’s quite a lot of history there, little one; most of which I’m sure Jango did not actually share with you.”
She wrinkles her nose. “No, he refuses to tell me anything except that you met on a mission. And that he saved your ass from Jabba the Hutt.”
Obi-Wan snaps his eyes to Jango, who looks absolutely anywhere but at him. “Is that how you remember it going, my dear?”
“Could we do this later?”
“Because if I recall correctly, and I do, this is not the first time you’ve lost your armor to a sarlacc.”
Jango looks to the ceiling for patience.
-
Mando'a:
buir — “parent”, gender neutral
Mand’alor — “Sole ruler”, contended ruler of Mandalore.
edee — “teeth”, “jaws”, used here as an affectionate name for Ahsoka. because she teeth.
#thinking about opening the ask box again but keeping anon off#i miss y’all ꒰๑·̥﹏·̥๑꒱#WHY DO I KEEP WRITING 3000 WORD PROMPT FILLS#well i mean it’s cause i don’t want it to seem slapdash or not thought out and i always have so much plot#but it’d still be nice to not put my chaptered fics on the backburner ‘cause i can’t multitask between them T0T#prompt fill#crispy writes#jangobi#jango fett#obi wan kenobi#ahsoka tano#captain rex#prequel trilogy#au#force sensitive boba#alternate events at and post galidraan#medic jango#clone oc#oro is mine (ノ*´▽`)#real talk tho#i’m super fucked up about everything happening with achievement hunter right now#it’s been a rough couple of days#i hope you’re all safe and healthy and taking care of each other#believe victims not abusers#hashtag crispy stop tagging so much
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Older Boba/That One Cadet?? I like that very much!! How about a first kiss? :3c
Thank you for prompting this because it made me look up his name. Jax! His name is Jax. I love him. I'm sorry for what I put him through in this.
They're like fifteen and this didn't go how I expected, they took over. As you'll see by the word count.
a taste of wasting time
T. Boba/Jax. 1580 words. Inspired by every summer camp I've been to, but the kids have actually been taught weapon etiquette which unfortunately includes the Bullying. Dumb teenagers, mean kids, Boba's potty mouth, survival training but fun, mushrooms, first kiss.
Boba likes the nights on Concord Dawn.
Staying back on Mandalore, in Sundari, is fine. That’s where most of his family is. Para and their riduure, Paz, Kix and Fox, Sati’bu, Ba’tat Arla, the Babas.
He loves his family and he doesn’t really feel a desire to be spending all his time in the Slave I for another couple years straight and he doesn’t really ever feel like spending more than a couple weeks up here with the Mereel side of the family.
And he’s not even here with them, right now. Out of all of the family members he’s stuck with right now, it’s Omega. Sure, a few of the counsellors for the training camp are clones, and more than a few of the other verd’ike are clones, but that doesn’t mean a lot. Most of the other clones that Boba even knew before Para’s quest were Alpha class or Commandos. A few others he’d seen, yeah, but no one is really family-family instead of clan-family.
He’s in a squad with two other clones and three kids from other clans. Omega is off with her squad, well away from Boba, and it’s funny how a training camp that they were both at is the only time in the last two years that he’s gotten space from his sister.
He pokes at the fire in front of him, mostly occupied with staring at the sky while his squadmates are off setting up camp. He got teased for being the spoiled one and how this was probably all he could do.
Omega would probably have tried to take their faces off with her teeth.
He’ll show them, later. This is their first night in the wilds and he’s a damn good shot and Be’baba has been running him through training almost every day since Ursa Wren dragged him to Mandalore. And that didn’t stop after he got his first beskar, like he knows some of the other clans do, leaving training to the Academy clubs and these training camps.
He doesn’t know about what the other clones will have been used to since leaving Kamino, but he knows he’s been shooting and camping long before they ever got to.
“Oh, hey, you got the fire going,” one of the other clones in his squad says, dropping down beside him. It’s the one with the red tint to his hair—Jax—instead of the one who has her dark hair buzzed low—Vril, he thinks.
“What, think I couldn’t even manage this?” he asks, glancing at him derisively.
Jax shifts uncomfortably.
“You didn’t,” he realizes, furious.
“You like in a palace,” Jax points out.
“And you either live in a really nice apartment or on a clan compound,” he points out. “I learned how to start a survival fire when I was four. And I learned how to cook on a fire a couple years later when Buir decided I wasn’t going to fall into a soup pot.”
Jax snorts and covers his mouth before he breaks into giggles.
“Seriously, my squad last year wasn’t nearly as” mean “shitty.”
Jax at least ducks his head, ashamed.
“You do realize I live with my ori’vod, right? The Mand’alor? Do you really think they’d leave me defenceless and unable to take care of myself? We may be a family, but shit happens to everyone.”
“Hey,” Vril shouts, “Stop yelling at Jax.”
Boba and Jax both swivel their heads to her and Boba.
Well, Omega is preferable right now. Even if she might insight a feud over this. And she’s still a last ditch place to go. This area of Concord Dawn is pretty safe for someone wandering on their own.
He tosses the stick into the fire and heads out into the trees, strolling until he’s far enough they won’t hear him break into a run, angry tears prickling at his eyes. He wants the Lieutenants, and Para and Mij and Fordo and Ven’ti, and the Babas. He wants people who don’t want to see the worst in him. He remembers Korkie talking about this kind of thing, when Boba first started going to the Academy. Hell, he remembers stuff like this himself from his first months there.
He makes himself another fire when he comes to another clearing and has made sure none of the animal tracks around it are the kind of things that would bother him or be bothered by him. No tent, but he’s slept without a tent or a sleeping bag plenty of times.
Maybe an hour has passed when he hears more human-like footsteps, and he unholsters the blaster he brought—not one of Buir’s blasters, not for a few more years—and fires a warning shot.
The bolt of plasma sends a tree branch cracking down, and a clone yelps.
He doubts it’s Vril.
He sighs and reholsters the blaster. “I’m this way,” he calls, making another skewer of friendly-familiar mushrooms he’d found around here and setting it at the edge of the fire while he grabbed his own from where it had been roasting.
Jax steps through, rubbing his head. There’s a little scratch on his cheek that looks like it might bruise. “Hey. You...really got far out here. I don’t think I’d have gone this far.”
He shrugs. “I’ve always had to be kind of alone.” He peeks a mushroom off of the top of the skewer and pops it in his mouth.
Jax stares.
“There’s more,” he points out, motioning to the pile he’s made and the roasting skewer. “Wait for it to get brown, though.”
“Oh, uh. Okay.”
Again, Jax sits next to him.
“Sorry about, uh. All of that. I set her to rights about what we’d been talking about. The others, you know, they didn’t believe you?” Jax laughs hollowly. “They told me to come get you back because they’d get in trouble if you died out here, and Vril was too stubborn to come apologize.”
“I’m not going back until in the morning, then,” Boba decides, smiling as he eats another mushroom. “Let them sweat. I have my comm and I was going to ping our counsellor soon. Probably my ori’vod, too. Need to tell some member of the family, but if I tell my sister she’s liable to commit homicide. If not get her squad to join her.”
Jax laughs and finally it sounds like something that he’s letting himself be fully amused by.
Boba averts his eyes and goes back to munching, but he picks the skewer he set for Jax up as soon as it’s hitting the perfect shade and passes it to him.
Eventually, Jax eggs him into an actual conversation, and they chat about education modules—though Boba doesn’t mention his are for university classes. They give a report to the counsellor who agrees with Boba’s decision to let them get anxious with a kind of vicious smile that makes Boba wonder what happened last year. When the counsellor commends Jax for avoiding getting drawn in by bad influences, he really wonders.
But he doesn’t ask, not when Jax looks so beat up about it.
The next morning, after a night where they’d doze until an alarm warned them to check the fire, then doze some more again, they head back to their squad’s initial camp, after bagging up the rest of the mushrooms that they don’t eat for firstmeal.
When they get to the camp, they watch from the woods as the counsellors are scolding the rest of the squad about losing two members and how they’re going to have to send out a search party! Now why would those two have run off, hmm? Did this have anything in common with last year, hmm?
Jax finally has enough and Boba shrugs and starts whistling as they head into camp, the bag of mushrooms over his shoulder.
“Hey, Ordo, I got some of those mushrooms you like,” he tells the counsellor who had been in charge of his squad last year.
She grins, pushing the other young teens out of the way and going for them. “I don’t get how you always find these, Fett’ika! Seriously. I should never have told you they were my favorite, now you have bribery available.”
He sticks his tongue out at her.
“Anyways,” she adds, “We’re adding you two to Squad Beta. It’ll be fine.”
Boba raises an eyebrow. That squad is one from the above year. “If you say so.”
“Saxon’s in charge of them,” Ordo adds with a roll of her eyes.
“Oh, yes, then it will be fine,” he agrees.
Jax looks between the two of them. “Really?”
“Yeah, Aden’tra likes me best,” Boba says.
The rest of the camp goes fine, though Boba doesn’t find out what happened to the rest of his first squad of the year. They’re all packing up to leave when Jax takes him aside, then knocks him back into a tree and kisses him.
“I, uh, sorry. I hadn’t really said that. About the first night,” Jax says, looking down as Boba stares, shocked at him. “I, uh. Really like you. I’m sorry, if that was, uh!”
Boba kisses him this time, then grabs his comm and types in his code. “That’s me. You can ping me whenever.”
“Boba!” Aden’tra hollers. “Come on, Korkie promised to make the fritters if we get back before nightfall!”
He snorts. “I gotta go. Send me a message, okay?”
“Yeah,” Jax says, “Okay.”
#my fanfiction#prompt fill#star satin#Boba Fett#clone cadet jax#look they're very dumb#and I love them very much#after this Boba malfunctions and stops being smooth but that's after Jax can't see him
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(ONE SHOT) chaabar STAR WARS
He can’t breathe.
Tucked inside the darkest corner of the maintenance closet, 7567 knots his fingers into pale blond curls and pulls, trying to ground himself as he wheezes. Tears are hot on his bruised cheek, and it makes the swollen skin sting - Trainer Reau must have split the skin open with her gauntlet when she’d punched him - but, not ever the pain of the injury can distract the young cadet from his panic.
Eights is gone. Eights is gone, he’s been taken away for decommissioning, and 7567 is afraid. He’s next, he knows this, because he’s the only one left to take. He’s the mutant, the mistake, and he knows too well what the Longnecks do to mistakes. His entire was defective, all but one, and now there’s only two of them left. Keeli is perfect though, he has dark hair and dark eyes like every other clone, unlike the rest of their batch.
Keeli will be safe, but 7567 isn’t.
The scientists will be coming for him, 7567 knows, because trainer Reau had taken great amusement from telling him so. They’d come for him, and they’d take him to the labs - they’ll cut him open while he’s still awake to see where they went wrong. They’ll tie him down and make him watch as they put pieces of him into jars, and when they have all they need, they’d feed the rest of him to Trainer Vau’s striil. He’s so defective, they won’t even bother recycling him.
The memory of Trainer Reau’s voice has panic crawling up 7567’s throat like the bugs she had forced him to eat during survival training, with hundreds of legs and sharp pincers. He sobs harder, curling tighter around himself, breath catching in his throat and rattling in his chest. He itches and burns like there are things under his skin, and his nails dig into his scalp. He claws, scratches, and hiccups - anything to make the panic go away.
He doesn’t want to be decommissioned.
He can’t breathe - can’t get enough air past the bugs in his throat. He feels like his heart is clawing out of his chest, like his stomach is twisting itself into knots. He doesn’t want to be eaten, he doesn’t want to be taken away.
Panicking as desperately trying to muffle his cries, 7567 is still aware of the door to his little closet opening, casting light over his huddled form. He curls tighter in on himself, trying to hide away from the eyes watching him, burning against his skin. Then, the light is gone, plunging the closet into darkness once more, and 7567 shakes in fear, hyper aware of another person’s breathing invading the space he had hidden himself in.
“Hey,” A voice nearly identical to his own speaks, and despite himself, 7567 finds himself relaxing at the comforting sound. “Hope you don’t mind, I’m looking for a place to hide too.” 7567 sniffles, pushing his face further into his arms. “Can I come sit?”
He hiccups, then shrugs, despite wanting to tell the other boy to go away. He’s a mutant, if another cadet actually wants to be near him, then there’s not actually anything he can do about it. He’s the lowest of the low, barely even a clone, nothing he wants matters.
There’s a shuffle of fabric, and 7567 knows without needing to see that the other cadet had sat down just outside of his arm’s reach. “Priest is on a warpath.” The other boy says cheerfully, “But I think Baar’ur Gilamar is trying to stab him with a scalpel, so he won’t be looking for me for awhile - so I gave the medics the slip.” 7567’s breathing calms the longer the other cadet speaks, and he lets himself relax as his voice washes over him. “Alpha won’t be very happy with me -” 7567’s breath catches, “- he says I shouldn’t be running around with a head wound.”
Only CCs trained with the Alpha-class clones. There’s a CC hiding in the closet with him. He wasn’t supposed to be near the CCs; he’s a CT, they’re not supposed to be around him, they’re not supposed to talk to him unless it’s to give orders. Even worse - he’s a mutant CT sitting within touching distance of a CC.
“You’re a CC.” He whispers in horror, panic cresting once more. Trainer Reau would be so angry with him if she knew he was contaminating a CC.
“Well, yeah .” The other cadet says easily, like it wasn’t a big deal. “I’m CC-2224, who are you?”
“I’m not supposed to talk to you.” 7567 says numbly.
CC-2224 scoffs, “Why not?”
7567 shakes fearfully; Trainer Reau was going to punish him so bad for this. She’d probably send him right to the Longnecks - he’d prefer another beating to being sent to the scientists. “You’re a CC .” He says again, voice growing shrill, trying desperately to make this CC understand.
“Yeah.” CC-2224 repeats slowly, but there’s something calculating in his tone. “What about it?”
“I’m a CT .”
“So?” The Command-classer asks, suspicious now. “I talk to CTs all the time.”
“During training!” 7567 cries, tugging on his hair. “We’re not supposed to talk to you outside of training!”
“What?” CC-2224 sounds stunned, “Why? That’s ridiculous!”
7567 just starts sobbing again. He was going to be decommissioned for this, Trainer Reau was going to be so angry.
“Please don’t cry.” CC-2224 says in alarm, and a small hand lands on his arm. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
“They’re gonna decommission me!” 7567 wails, and hands pull his fingers away from his hair before he can start pulling on the ugly curls again. He squirms, flinches, but CC-2224 holds tight, reeling him in so that he could wrap his arms around him. 7567 finds himself pressed against CC-2224’s chest, his head tucked under the other cadet’s chin. Hands rub his back, warm and grounding. At a loss and overwhelmed, his emotions shutting down, 7567 melts into CC-2224’s hug, heart racing and tears on his cheeks.
He doesn’t know what to do with this.
“It’s okay, vod’ika.” CC-2224 promises, voice hard. “I won’t let them decommission you.”
He wants to ask what CC-2224 could do to stop the Longnecks if they came to take him, but there’s determination in the other cadet’s voice. There’s a hard conviction to his words that chases away any doubt that he wouldn’t stop them. 7567 finds himself believing him; he wants to believe him.
“Let’s go find Alpha.” 2224 says, and, to his confusion, he gently headbutts 7567. “He’ll help.”
Alpha-17 doesn’t know what to think of him, that much is obvious to 7567 when CC-2224 drags him into his batch’s bunkroom. The older clone tears into 2224 for leaving the infirmary with his injury first, a massive thing hidden behind bacta bandages that hides one half of 2224’s face, and 7567 is shocked that the other cadet - he's barely taller than 7567, they’re probably in the same growth cycle, even if 2224 is a little older - could still move around and speak properly with the wound.
Then, once his cutting words for 2224 dry up, Alpha-17 turns to 7567, dark eyes studying him with growing interest. His attention is constantly pulled back to 7567’s hair, but there’s no disgust in his expression, something 7567 had grown accustomed to, but instead it’s calculation. “How old are you, cadet?”
7567 snaps to attention, “Three, sir!”
Alpha-17 hums, circling 7567 like a predator, and 7567 turns to always keep him in eyesight. He’d learned that much from Trainer Reau, and it seems to amuse the Alpha-classer. “Must be good, huh, vod’ika - to have made it this far with hair like that.”
“I’d like to think so.” 7567 says before he can stop himself, then kicks himself - Keeli was always saying he never thought before he spoke, and it got him into a lot of trouble with their trainers. But Alpha-17 doesn’t lash out, instead he snorts.
Next to him, 2224 grins, “What d’you think, Alpha?”
“I think you put yourself into danger you didn’t need, kid.” Alpha-17 says sharply, turning a glare on the smaller clone, but 2224 only lifts his chin stubbornly.
“He said they were going to decommission him.” CC-2224 retorts, “That’s not fair!”
This is the wrong thing to say.
“Life’s not fair, Kote!” Alpha-17 thunders.
The room goes quiet - there’s horror in 2224’s squadmates’ expressions, and agony in Alpha-17’s. 2224 himself just looks confused as the silence grows.
“Who’s Kote?” Once again, 7567’s tongue gets away with him, and he bites his tongue hard enough to taste blood. He’s not supposed to ask questions.
“Doesn’t matter.” The older clone says harshly, and 7567 flinches. Alpha-17 stays tightly wound for a moment, before he lets out a rattling breath and forces himself to relax, his expression rearranging into a carefully neutral mask. “You have potential, kid.” He tells him, then glances at 2224 for a moment, “I’ll do what I can.” Alpha-17 grumbles, rubbing a hand aggressively through his short hair. “Now get out of my sight.”
7567 bolts.
(The next day, 7567 and Keeli report to their training room, but Trainer Reau is nowhere in sight. Instead, an older clone stands in front of them, arms crossed over his muscular chest and a sharp grin on his face. He's as tall as Alpha-17, and just as heavily muscled, and it almost hurts to look up at him; his dark hair is just a touch longer than regulation length, and there's a deep scar scored across the bridge of his nose, more visible scars peeking out from his training reds. He had seen fights, and he'd walked away from them in one piece.
“Hey there, verd’ike.” The clone says, voice darkly amused. “A-77 at your service - or Fordo. But you can call me Captain, or Sir.” His smile grows wider, more dangerous, and 7567 swallows nervously, Keeli shifting awkwardly next to him. “You answer to me now.”)
#cole writes#fanfiction#star wars#whumptober 2020#no.18 panic at the disco#commander cody#captain rex#alpha-17#alpha 17#captain fordo#Emperor Cody AU
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Alpha-17: “We’re gonna have to name this kid eventually, suggestions?”
Fordo: “Killer?”
Alpha-17: “No.”
Fordo: “ Skull crusher!”
Alpha-17: “No, something nicer.”
Fordo: “Fine, dream killer. How about Elroy? Or Bitsy? Or Arnold? Bugsby? Crawdad? Scissor hands? DeVito? Antidisestablishmentarianism? What about Bieber? Do any of those tickle your fancy?”
Alpha-17: “What The hell is wrong with you?”
Fordo: “Ive got it! Marlboro!”
Alpha-17: “Absolutely Not! We’re naming a person here, not a pet! And even if this was a pet they deserve a more dignified name than those!”
Fordo: “God, you’re such a fun sucker. Well, that and… other things.”
Alpha-17: “The fuck did you just say about me!?”
Fordo: “Oh, noting but the truth.”
Alpha-17:”….your lucky there’s children around or else I’d shove your own foot so far up your ass you could taste it. Get tf out of my nursery.”
Fordo: *flipping him off as he walks backwards out* “This is why Jango doesn’t love you.”
#prime gave them all their names why not#17 has a name but refuses to use or acknowledge it#alpha 17#captain fordo#incorrect clone wars quotes#tcw#the clone wars#sw#clone trooper#the clones#alpha arc#arc trooper#the prequels#there vry much siblings your honor#nothing is more special than that oldest sibling rilvary bond and accusing each other of being a hoe#the kid is Rex btw#my post#corrie guard#the 501st legion#certified shenanigans
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Hey I got three prompt idea for your alpha fic (that I just finished reading, and I loved it): 1) Alpha, Fordo (and the rest of the ARCs of hypori, if you want, because a squad of ten arc have potentiel) and Satine meet while Kenobi are left in the middle of this. 2) Alpha and Fordo meet Ahsoka, Ahsoka fangirl, because Alpha ARC trooper, Fordo is puzzled and Alpha discover there is three of them now. 3) the Alpha ARC meet the newly promoted ARC, your choice if this goes good or bad
Ooh all of these were so fun, anon! Although I do have to admit I think the first one was my favorite to write - Alpha has no time for Kenobi's drama, but he's not above making Obi-Wan's life difficult. XD
And to no one's surprise, the ARC in the third little snippet is an OC! I haven't actually written much with him, but he's been taking up some space in my brain for a while now.
Taglist: @delta-the-mando @merspots @the-mandalorian-clone-lover @dudewhynotthis @a-lil-perspective @trashynishiki (because I know Obi-Wan amuses you to no end)
Alpha has been General Kenobi’s second long enough to know far more about the man’s various romantic pursuits than he ever wanted - there’s no way to avoid it, given the rate at which rumors whirl through the ranks and grow more ludicrous every day.
As for the second parties in question - Kenobi always becomes conveniently deaf at any mention, so Alpha has limited information for comparison - he is convinced that the Mandalorian duchess is the worst.
He very deliberately avoids catching Fordo’s eye; if his brother cracks, then it’s over for both of them. The clipped exhale picked up on his helmet audio confirms his suspicions.
Kenobi casts Alpha a look of warning. Alpha spreads his hands to indicate that he will not be acceptable for the aftermath when Fordo finally snaps and turns his attention to the duchess.
Her face is set with the same polite disinterest he’s seen on Coruscant politicians, although this time it’s accompanied by a distinct sense of disapproval. Alpha returns the look with interest. He doesn’t like her, and seeing as Kenobi is too busy trying to salvage his dignity, someone has to let her know.
Unfortunately, the Force tips him off, or maybe the general knows him too well by now; whatever the reason, Kenobi clears his throat before Alpha can think of a fitting comment for the situation.
Alpha plays innocent. Kenobi may know him, but Fordo is a wild card, and his brother certainly has a mouth -
“So,” Fordo says, and Alpha can hear the wicked grin in his voice, “I take it you and the general know each other?”
Kenobi’s face is a study in abject horror, the duchess’ somewhere between outrage and mortification, and Fordo looks duly pleased with himself. Alpha, for his part, is intensely grateful for his helmet. He certainly couldn’t care less about Kenobi’s private life, but he has a feeling that he and Fordo both will be getting an earful before the negotiations conclude.
_________________
Skywalker’s Padawan - General Skywalker - is a scrap of enthusiasm and curiosity wrapped up in an undeniably impulsive package.
She’s learned her lessons a little too well, Alpha decides, catching the look on her face. It’s somewhere between wary and inquisitive as she considers the ARCs with a thoughtful tilt of her head.
Suddenly she brightens. “You served with Master Skywalker.”
“It’s been a while,” Alpha says reluctantly. He’s acutely aware of how young she is; even the cadets on Kamino don’t give off the same sense of naivety. He’d rather not admit it, but he’s not at all sure how to handle her.
Fordo slings a companionable arm over his shoulder. “And I’m sure the general has taken your lessons to heart.”
Alpha glares - or he would, if Tano weren’t watching raptly.
“He’s told me about you,” the commander says, and Alpha knows in no uncertain terms that the grin spreading across Fordo’s face means trouble for him in the very near future.
Right on cue, his brother asks innocently, “Has he?”
Alpha jams his heel into his Fordo’s foot at the same time Tano starts rattling off every campaign and minor skirmish Alpha and Skywalker have ever been involved with. It’s almost impressive, her recall and her ability to list every planet and star system without pausing for breath in between. As it is, Alpha finds the attention uncomfortable.
When Tano’s recitation finally comes to a close, Alpha seizes the opportunity to put in, “Don’t forget Captain Fordo’s squad, ma’am.”
The dismay is written plainly across Fordo’s face as he tries to minimize the damage, saying, “It’s really not that exciting - ”
“Shabuir,” he hisses five minutes later, when Tano is hurling questions at both of them left and right. Alpha merely smirks in response.
They manage to escape within the hour, citing a briefing for a mission command is unaware they’ve assigned.
“Well,” Fordo says at last, “she’s Skywalker’s, alright.”
Alpha can’t help but make a face at that. Even Skywalker knew when to keep his mouth shut. Tano, on the other hand, has yet to absorb that particular lesson.
“Captain!”
The voice carries clearly through the hallway, and Alpha comes to a grudging halt. Tano catches up to them, twin lightsabers bouncing on her belt as she tries to maintain some measure of dignity.
“What can I do for you, Commander?” Alpha asks, wondering if she can sense his exasperation.
“I think my Master is supposed to accompany you on this next mission,” the commander explains. She smiles up at him with all the confidence in the world. “It only makes sense that I go too, don’t you think?”
“Well - ”
“D’you know, Master Kenobi was younger than I am now when he went on his first mission.”
“He might’ve mentioned it - ”
“I’m sure he’d be happy to have you on this one,” Tano continues cheerfully.
“I, uh, have a new assignment…”
“Oh, don’t worry, Alpha,” the commander says, patting his arm amiably. “Master Kenobi can pull some strings.”
Alpha, already intimately familiar with Kenobi’s methods, has to work to keep his dismay from showing on his face.
_________________
Alpha wakes abruptly after a particularly tiring training session to find Fordo waving a datapad perilously close to his face.
“What are you doing?” he demands, awake enough to be irritated.
“New ARC recruit,” Fordo announces, and the datapad whizzes by Alpha’s nose to land on his stomach.
Alpha smacks Fordo for good measure and picks up the datapad. As reluctant as he is to indulge his brother’s antics, he’s intrigued by the news. ARC recruits are few and far between these days.
It’s one of Skywalker’s di’kute, cross-trained from the infantry ranks.
“And you’re in luck,” Fordo continues, helping himself to the spot on the bed by Alpha’s feet. “He’s on planet now. You can give him the ARC speech.”
“ARC speech?”
“You know, do honor to your brothers and Jango, et cetera. The usual osik.”
“Shove off,” Alpha says. “I don’t give a - ”
“Whatever you say, ner vod.”
“I’m not - don’t look at me like that!”
“Like what?” Fordo asks innocently.
“You little - ”
Just as Alpha readies himself to throw something at Fordo - or tackle him head-on - the door slides open, followed by an uncertain, “Sir?”
Alpha straightens in time to see a trooper in full armor tuck his blue-striped helmet under one arm. His face is studiously blank, but there’s a smile playing on his lips.
“Four-one-oh-eight, sir,” the trooper says unprompted, apparently unbothered by the awkward silence. “I hope I didn’t disturb you.”
“Not at all,” Alpha says, and takes care to step on Fordo’s foot as he approaches the trooper. He ignores the ensuing yelp and instead opts for, “What can I do for you?”
“The general referred me to you. Seemed to think I could pick up a few pointers.”
“That would be Skywalker?”
“Got it in one, sir.” Now the trooper gives a wry grin. “He recommended me for ARC training.”
“Got a name, kid?” Fordo asks, playing the steady ori’vod he absolutely is not.
“Ike, sir.”
“Well, Ike,” Fordo says, “glad to have you.”
“Don’t let Skywalker get in your head too much, yeah?” Alpha puts in.
Ike’s grin widens. “Yeah, I’ve heard stories.”
“If you’ve made it this far, you’ve already got more self-preservation than the general,” Alpha reassures him, offering a sardonic smile of his own.
“I’d like to think so, sir,” the trooper answers, almost sincere if not for the look of mischief in his eyes.
Yeah, Alpha likes this kid. If he’s careful, he may even make it past his first deployment.
Alpha claps him on the shoulder. “Welcome aboard, ner vod.”
#alpha-17#alpha 17#captain fordo#obi-wan kenobi#satine kryze#the clone wars#star wars#fic prompt#thanks for the prompt!#my askbox is always open#clone trooper#clone trooper oc
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Alpha being a dad
That's it that's the prompt
Someone give this poor man a break he has no idea what he’s doing -
I may have drawn on my experiences babysitting my three little cousins, who were (at the time) 8, 6, and 4. All boys. 16 year old me was not prepared for the chaos.
(Feat. Cody being the embodiment of chaos, Bly being his partner in crime, Wolffe being done with his brothers and Gree and Neyo causing trouble in the background.)
“Ouch - quit hanging on like that, you little - ”
Alpha remembers far too late that he is dealing with highly impressionable children who will no doubt soak up every word he says and spew it back at him at an inopportune moment. Osik, if he isn’t about ready to call the whole farce once and for all -
The cadets can’t be much older than eight standard years, smart enough to know exactly where they’re not wanted and cheeky enough to poke their noses in the minute his back is turned. They’re nothing short of utter chaos, Alpha is starting to realize, thoroughly dismayed.
By now he knows better than to carry any weapons when they’re in range. It’s not that he’s worried they’ll hurt themselves; quite the opposite, in fact. They’re entirely too clever for their own good and could easily hit a target at fifty meters, and with his luck he’ll be down range at the precise moment they discover it isn’t very difficult to turn the safety off.
Of course 24 is the ringleader, the little brat. He’s the strategist of the lot, and Alpha doesn’t doubt he’s the mastermind behind it all. It would be funny if it weren’t downright alarming how quickly the boys get into trouble - or cause their own, if there’s none to be found.
“Would you let go,” Alpha repeats irritably. 36 releases his leg, sullen-faced.
24 places himself in front of Alpha, hands linked behind his back and a look of harmless innocence pasted on his face. “We’ve finished our lessons, sir.”
Alpha isn’t fooled for an instant. “And I’m sure I won’t find out you bullied one of your vode into doing everything himself. Speaking of, where’s - ”
“He’s fine,” 24 answers before Alpha can finish his sentence. His unconvincing smile grows. “We’re all fine, sir.”
“I don’t suppose I would find Oh-Four in the armory right around now, would I?” Alpha asks with a stab at nonchalance.
Unfortunately, he’s never quite gotten the hang of it. 24 now appears faintly bored, as if he couldn’t be bothered to remember his brother’s whereabouts. “Oh-Four said he couldn’t be bothered with our pran - practice.”
“Practice.”
“Yessir. You see, we thought, we ought to review some of the forms you showed us the other day.” Alpha knows the look on 24’s face all too well. He’s Fordo, some years younger, crafting his most baldfaced lies to Fett himself. Far more disconcerting is Alpha’s desire to laugh.
He quickly stifles the urge. He’d lose whatever authority he has left if the cadets see him lose his bearing now. Not to mention he’s sure Fordo would manage to be even more insufferable than he already is if he caught wind of it.
“Odd that only the three of you thought you should practice,” Alpha remarks, pinning 52 with a look. “Ka’ra knows you could use it.”
“We’re doing fine,” 36 protests.
As this isn’t part of 24’s script, 24 glares at 36 until he scowls and looks away. Alpha hasn’t the faintest clue where the kid learned to be so obstinate - he’s certainly never taught them as much.
“It’s not like we can get into the armory anyways,” 52 ventures. “You and Captain Fordo are the only ones who have the access codes.”
“And my brother isn’t above pulling some di’kutla prank.” Alpha folds his arms. “You’re not exactly reassuring me.”
“Fordo told us himself he’s too busy,” 24 rushes to say, agreeable as anything. “I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about, sir.”
Which just about confirms his suspicions that the other little terrors are up to something. Alpha would rather stay out of it, but no matter how he frames it, he’s pretty sure this one falls to him. And here I thought this might be an easier assignment for a change…
“They’re in the armory, sir,” 36 announces. 52 and 24’s objections are immediate and loud. 36 looks rather disinterested as he continues, “Fordo let them in. Oh-Four and Two-Six are there now. Fordo said something about testing some of the new ordnance - ”
Ka’ra help us. Alpha doesn’t spend too long wondering what could happen if 04 or 86 got their hands on some of the higher grade explosives. Or Fordo, come to think of it - his brother’s always had a penchant for what he terms the finer things in life.
Fordo, predictably, is unrepentant when Alpha storms into the armory. 04 and 86 are curiously absent. He’ll have to check the vents later; the gremlins are still small enough to squeeze their way through. With any luck they’ll hit a growth spurt soon and outgrow their days of running rampant through the network of vents in Tipoca City.
“They’re going to be the death of me,” Alpha grumbles. He hasn’t decided just what to do with Fordo yet, so he lets his brother think he got off easy. “I turn my back on them for two seconds…”
“It’ll do you good,” Fordo retorts. “Maybe you’ll lighten up.”
Alpha scoffs. “Not a chance. I’m supposed to be training commanders.”
“And there it is,” Fordo mutters with an aggrieved sigh. “You know, you haven’t changed much.”
“I could say the same for you. I seem to remember you trying to sneak around after hours.”
“Difference is I never got caught,” his brother says with a grin. “I don’t think you ever sold me out, either.”
“I considered it, believe me.”
“Yeah, but you like me too much for that.” Fordo tilts his head, considering. “You might want to get eyes on Two-Four’s squad, by the way.”
“Why?” Alpha demands.
“I happened to overhear that they’re planning something.” Fordo holds up a hand to stall any interruption. “I don’t know what exactly, but I’m pretty sure Oh-Four said something about paint. Or maybe it was glue. Your armor? Or - ”
With no shortage of disasters in sight, Alpha is long gone before Fordo can finish. They’ll run him ragged and then some, these cadets. He can only hope he’ll have enough time to catch up on his sleep someday soon.
#alpha-17#alpha 17#commander cody#commander wolffe#commander bly#commander gree#commander neyo#alpha-77#captain fordo#the clone wars#star wars#thanks for the prompt!#my askbox is open#see i can write fluff#go me
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Can you do one where Alpha is the one who taught Cody all those crazy moves like spin kicking droids and dogpiling general grievous, or better yet, one where he didn't teach him that and its stressing him out how over the top it is. Like hes watching the ARC's practice and is just like "what is he doing???? Who showed him that???"
Haha I love the idea of Alpha being utterly confused by his recruits and wondering just where he went wrong.
I borrowed Fordo for this one too. :P
Alpha is starting to think that assigning 24 to Kenobi was a mistake.
He’d initially thought Cody would balance out Kenobi’s dramatic flair, but watching some of his former trainees spar for old times’ sake, it’s beginning to dawn on him that Cody did not in any way turn out to be the sensible commander Alpha once hoped for.
Alpha is pretty sure he never taught Cody to risk shifting his balance to one leg in order to kick an opponent’s face. And he is absolutely certain he never once instructed his recruits to throw themselves bodily at an enemy.
Unfortunately, Cody doesn’t seem to think this is a problem. If anything, he looks pleased with himself - rather like Kenobi, in fact. It’s almost alarming.
(Of course, Alpha wouldn’t put it past Skywalker to pull a stunt like that. The kid inherited Kenobi’s theatrics and then some.)
Alpha decides on the spot to put a stop to it while he can - partly to spare Cody getting his head blown off, partly for his own blood pressure because he will probably implode if he sees Cody do that one more time.
Even though his first batch are off commanding the best the GAR has to offer, Cody promptly obeys himself front and center when beckoned.
Alpha attacks the issue in his usual direct manner. “Looks like someone’s been taking pointers from General Kenobi.”
Cody looks baffled. “Sir?”
Alpha raises an eyebrow. “You’re fighting like a washed out Padawan. Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten what I taught you.”
Cody’s face is a mixture of embarrassment and guilt. “Of course not, sir.”
“Then I’m sure you won’t mind proving that I got something through that head of yours,” Alpha says nonchalantly.
“Oh… well, I’d really - I don’t want to bother you - in fact, I have some mission reports to - ”
“Mission reports can wait,” Alpha interrupts. It takes some effort to keep his amusement from showing on his face. Cody, meanwhile, has a harder time disguising his growing dismay. “Give me five minutes, al’verde. Then you can go fill out all the shabla mission reports you want.”
Half an hour later, Commander Cody is considerably worse for the wear. A number of bruises are blossoming on his face and arms, and although he makes a valiant attempt to walk normally, it’s clear his left leg is refusing to support him properly.
Alpha, on the other hand, leaves the room feeling as though he’d have better luck with one of the other Alpha ARCs. Cody may be a perfectly competent soldier, but even he doesn’t come close to one of Alpha’s brothers.
“Been busy?” Fordo calls when Alpha pushes his way into their barracks.
Alpha smirks. “Something like that.”
Fordo responds with a crooked grin of his own. “Want another round?”
“You know it.”
#alpha 17#alpha-17#commander cody#captain fordo#arc-77#the clone wars#star wars#fic prompt#thanks for the prompt!#as always I'm happy to do more
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Alpha comforting some of his cadets??
Alpha being a perpetually exasperated older brother counts as comfort, right? XD If some parts don’t really make sense, please know I wrote the majority of this at midnight lol
And yes, I threw in an OC again. Guilty as charged.
Alpha doesn’t consider himself particularly sentimental, but he can’t help but notice that these would-be commanders seem to be getting younger and younger with every batch that’s rotated through.
It’s been just over a year since his original batch graduated. They’re scattered across the galaxy now, doing what they can to keep the GAR from buckling under increasingly fraught odds. It’s only a matter of time before the Senate is faced with the repercussions of spreading an army so thin - but such things don’t go far towards raising morale, so Alpha keeps his thoughts to himself.
Even the youngest cadets possess a sense of grim purpose now. News from the front is limited on Kamino, but they’ve heard enough to know they’ll be lucky to see their armor become chipped and tarnished. He isn’t surprised to see them take to their training with new vigor; it’s easy enough to fall into the trap of maybe we’ll be the first.
Alpha himself attacks his duties with a similar vitality. His latest batch of cadets may be the youngest yet, but they’re every bit as capable as their ori’vode. It’s hard to pinpoint what drives each of them, but he thinks he recognizes the same loyalty that once drove him and his brothers.
He walks a fine line most days; they have to be prepared for everything the galaxy will throw at them, but some part of him hesitates to rob them of their conviction. There’s no room for idealism, and yet…
And yet they’re still just kids, however much he tries to separate the means from the ends.
(This wasn’t supposed to be complicated.)
They’re also wonderfully different. Even now he doesn’t understand how that comes to be in such a sheltered world; still, it’s a victory, of sorts, to see each grow into his own person. They’re soldiers and commanders, but they're human, too.
So they’re acutely aware of the heightened demand for success. Greater odds means greater effort; greater effort means greater risk for failure. They’re going to fail - he’s never shied away from that, has told them as much from the start - and they need to be ready for it.
It’s asking too much of them, he knows, but it’s better than the alternative.
________________________
The cadets are about midway through the program now. He’s gotten a feel for each of them, knows where one stumbles and another excels. He doesn’t need to tell them the stakes will only be higher from here on out; they’re fully committed now, and no one is looking to be dropped.
Given that, it’s not much of a surprise to find one of his cadets running through the latest set of unarmed combat drills by himself after hours. Alpha withholds a reaction until he sees the kid’s foot start to slide out of the stance he himself demonstrated earlier.
“‘S not bad,” he proclaims. Judging by the way the kid flinches, he hadn’t been aware that he was being observed. “But you have to keep your weight evenly distributed, or an enemy will be able to unbalance you before you can land a hit.”
Alpha lunges before he’s finished speaking. Caught off guard, the cadet finds himself on the floor. Only 34 would take being knocked down so well; his face is thoughtful rather than annoyed.
“And if you can’t take them head on,” Alpha continues, offering the kid a hand up, “use the enemy’s momentum against them.” He slows down his movements so 34 can follow. “It’s about timing rather than raw strength.”
They keep at it for another hour. 34 - a spirited, inquisitive kid who generally doesn’t bother to think before he speaks - seems more than willing to continue on longer, but Alpha eventually calls a halt.
“You need to sleep,” he says firmly. “You'll be back out here soon enough.” 34 looks mutinous, so Alpha changes tact. “You can’t be an effective leader if you’re exhausted.”
“I can’t be an effective leader if I don’t train, either,” 34 argues.
Guts, but no sense. Alpha shakes his head. “How do you expect to perform if you can’t stay awake? Part of being a good officer is knowing when to stop.”
34 lets out a sigh. “As if I’ll ever be a good officer.”
So that’s what this is about...
“You’ll do fine,” Alpha says bracingly. “I wouldn’t have let you get this far if you didn’t have the right stuff.”
34 brightens. “Really?”
“Ori’haat.”
The kid’s face is painfully delighted. Alpha can almost forget that he’ll be marching off to war soon enough. It would be in 34’s best interest to remind him as much, but Alpha lets him have his victory. Experience has taught him it’s the little things that make all the difference.
“We’ll make a commander of you yet,” he assures. “Now get going, before someone catches you out here. Fordo isn’t as forgiving as I am.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” 34 says with his usual cheek. “What with you being so merciful and all - ”
“Get out of here,” Alpha interrupts, cuffing him good-naturedly. “And mind your balance tomorrow. I’d like to see you wipe the floor with an opponent one of these days.”
“I’ll do what I can,” 34 promises, and dashes off before Alpha can reprimand him for being mouthy.
Alpha shakes his head again and makes his way back to his quarters. He never can tell just what he’s getting into when a new batch rotates in.
#alpha-17#alpha 17#clone trooper oc#the clone wars#star wars#fic prompts#thanks for the prompt!#feel free to send more
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