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phoenixyfriend · 2 years

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Human Pleasure Droid

Chapter Three

The uniform they build for Kenobi is partly clone greys, partly his own clothing, and partly some refitted armor that the quartermaster got printed by Engineering.

Kenobi’s wardrobe is largely made up of things that are fit for a courtesan, but his more modest garments are relatively appropriate. Almost Jedi-like, maybe.

Quinlan’s still not a fan, but jewel-toned tunics and partial armor over grey synthwool trousers makes Kenobi look at least a little professional.

“Well? Do I pass inspection?” the droid drawls.

“Adequate,” Quinlan says. “Still don’t think I need an aide, but if Commander Cody signed off on it, then fine. Do you actually have a reason for the datapad, or is it just a prop?”

“I may not need a datapad to see things, but anyone I speak with will,” Kenobi clarifies. “And the information security teams have confirmed that my firewalls are up to spec for military clearance levels.”

“That’s good news,” Quinlan says.

Kenobi smiles, thin and a little mocking. He pulls at something that’s attached to his tunic, which comes away with the telltale whirl of a retractable clip. “I’ve even got an official civilian employee badge. Fancy that.”

“I don’t know what you’re trying to get at, but I don’t like it,” Quinlan tells him.

“Why, General Vos,” Kenobi dimples, “whatever do you mean?”

Skywalker’s clothes are very much toeing the line of decency, but he’s more covered up than General Secura, so Rex decides to let it go. The pants might be skintight, but at least they cover everything. The top tunics may be sheer, but at least they’re layered enough to be… mostly opaque. The boots may have heels, but at least they’re closed toe. There’s makeup, but Rex cannot bring himself to care about Skywalker putting on kohl or lipstick. There’s no midriff or peekaboo nipples, and minimal trailing fabric to be a safety issue, and that’s really all he cares about.

“Should I ask about the mismatched arms?” Rex prompts.

One of said arms comes up so Skywalker can wiggle his fingers in a wave. “Flesh integration was a bust on this one. Gangrene. Swapped out for full mech since they didn’t have time to grow a new set of skin and muscle cover.”

Hello, regret.

“I’ll let medical know that’s something you’re vulnerable to,” Rex says. Skywalker seems disappointed by something. “I’m escorting you to the hangars.”

“An escort? Good sir, I’m flattered to—”

“Don’t,” Rex says shortly. “I’m doing this because I don’t have any troopers to punish with your presence.”

Skywalker’s flirtatious smile drops. He actually looks a little hurt. Arms go crossed, and lips go pouty, and Skywalker is no longer meeting his eyes. “Fine.”

Rex would feel more guilty if he didn’t need to keep shutting Skywalker down in the first place. “Come on. You’re set to work eight hours at the hangars. Familiarize yourself with the people and where everything is. Do not flirt. Do not try to get into anyone’s bed or pants. Do not offer sexual services. Follow not just the letter of these orders, but also the spirit.”

“And if I don’t?”

“You will be locked in the assigned room and refused access to the rest of the ship,” Rex tells him. “You were not invited aboard in the first place, and this is a military vessel. Violate orders, and find yourself remanded to the one room. Are we clear?”

Skywalker’s glaring. “As crystal, sir.”

“Good.”

(Continue reading on AO3)

#Obi Wan Kenobi #Anakin Skywalker #Quinlan Vos #Commander Cody #Ferus Olin #Captain Rex #star wars #the clone wars #phoenix files #sexbot au

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not-really-a-writer · 2 years

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Please Stay: Part 3

Summary: More time passes, You stumble upon the opportunity of a lifetime, and you receive a message.

Clone Trooper OC "Gage" x fem!reader

Warnings: no smut this chapter. allusions to possible controlling spouse? non-canon stuff, made up space corporation, more slow burning. ~2.6k word count

<<Part 2

>>Part 4

Crimes in your area have been persistent in the past several weeks, and you are wondering if there is anyone doing anything about it. It had been two months already since your encounter with Gage. And honestly, you didn't think of him at all at this point. While you managed to stay clear of any more incidents since that night, you had seen reports of other attacks in your area and beyond. Seemed like it all intensified out of nowhere. Things were generally good during the daytime in the lower business district where you work and live, but it was hard to go anywhere late at night when businesses close, and workers go home. You can't help but feel somewhat forgotten down there beneath the layers of citizens above you, so you continued to bury yourself in your data pad books, job searching, and of course, your day to day at work.

You head off to the laundromat, refreshed by your most recent day off. Today is another mindless day loading garments, unloading bins, changing out filters and cleaning chemicals, folding, and the like but you embrace the day as you normally do. You had applied to several more starcraft dealerships and mechanics shops since you got shot down by Olia's husband, but got no offers on a position so far. You had a list, though, and you weren't done yet. Not yet ready to give up.

You receive a bin of garments from one of your coworkers. Immediately, the luxe fabrics and textures jump out at you. You start unloading the garments into your bin and notice a logo. You had seen that logo before. Not in person, but somewhere on the holonet. You recognized that it was the logo belonging to a fancy private college attended by some of Coruscant's elite. They are uniforms from a university in the upper levels. It was odd. The laundromat where you worked didn't normally service such wealthy clientele.

"Hmmph," you wonder aloud, "Why did they send these all the way down here?" Your coworker chortles, "I dunno but I laughed my ass off when I saw that fancy service droid bringing all that up front. Surprised it made it down here without getting ganked." You look up to the laundromat storefront where Olia is processing payment with a particularly fussy droid that looks very out of place in the workers district of lower Coruscant.

You look the droid over and you have never seen such a sight: It is bright royal purple, intensely shiny as if covered in glitter, and perhaps best of all, it is wearing a wig consisting of waist-length acid green locks. "Oh wow, it even has hair," you whisper through a tight smile directed at Olia. The three of you are trying not to laugh.

As soon as the droid leaves, you approach Olia. "Weird, right?" you say as she turns away from the register to face you. She lets out the laugh that she was holding in, and you can't help but laugh with her. "The droid said their normal place was closed and that they really needed to get these uniforms processed. There's a rush on cleaners right now because of graduations coming up. Of course, everyone waits till the last minute to get their stuff ready. Something we all have in common no matter what level you're on." Olia snickers good-naturedly. "But good for us, it keeps us at work, right?" she adds.

"Right," you agree. You go back to your bin to begin processing the garments for cleaning. Shirts, pants, jackets, skirts of all sizes. All the same shades of royal purple and white, the school's colors. You pick up the last garment, a pair of pants to place in the cleaning machine when you notice a 'crunch' in the feel of the fabric. There is something in the pocket.

You reach inside the pants to remove a paper which had been folded sloppily into a rough shape. You would normally toss this away as garbage as it is common to find things in people's clothing pockets, but you were curious. This wasn't an ordinary pair of pants. It belonged to the offspring of someone rich and powerful on Coruscant. Someone your own age who lived a very different life from you. Someone who was getting ready to graduate and face the galaxy as a young adult. No-one you knew went to a fancy college. You didn't even know anyone who knew anyone who went to a school like that. You always wondered what that life could even be like, and here you now stood with a little piece of it in your hands.

You toss the pants in with the other garments, then configure the machine to run the cleaning cycle. You remove your gloves and take the balled up paper with you and sit at a table that you use for smoothing out and folding garments. You take the paper and unfurl it flat against the table with your hands to reveal what it is: It's a flyer.

== Attention Graduates ==

Looking for the opportunity of a lifetime? Look no further than Ceres Corporation! We are searching to fill openings in our Agricultural Conservators Program. Is this position right for you? See details below.

The flyer says that Ceres Corp is looking for highly capable beings for their conservator positions, though it doesn't specifically say what they mean. It does ask for only 'serious applicants' as conservator appointments are for 10 years. Hmm when they say serious, they mean serious, you think.

You learn from the flyer that the conservator program is like a sharecropper program with several twists. Ceres Corp engages in planet-friendly agricultural production. They assign conservators to a corporate-owned plot of land where they provide housing, farming droids, equipment, and basic supplies in exchange for the conservator's work on the property. Work consists of maintaining the droids and equipment, filling out business reports on farming production as well as soil, air, and water quality testing. Ceres Corp handles the business of brokering transport and sale of the harvest to local markets and they allow conservators to take a percentage of the profit as a stipend to supplement their livelihood. As an added bonus, they allow conservators to keep a generous amount of their own harvest for their own personal consumption. This also gives conservators a personal stake in the outcome of their own harvest.

Hmm, very cool, you think. You continue reading.

The flyer fails to give any specific requirements for applicants as far as qualifications, education level, or experience needed. It only says that applicants are chosen through a 'highly selective' entrance exam series along with some testing dates and locations.

The rest of the day, you can only think about the flyer and the program you read about. A nice place to live, clean air, fresh grown food, fixing up droids and farming a plot of land by yourself on some sparsely populated planet. A chance to leave Coruscant behind. Lonely, you suppose but you think that you're already lonely living in the most populated place in the galaxy. The irony of it. It's intimidating but alluring all at once. The conservator lifestyle would be a massive improvement for you. No more barely scraping by. This really sounded like an opportunity of a lifetime. You feel hopeful. There's a program entrance exam in two days, just when you happen to be off work.

---

You arrive at the testing location. It is a large lecture hall inside one of the nicer university buildings in the upper levels. You are a little sweaty from your long hike out there, or maybe it was your nerves. Either way, you settle into the lobby area and try to relax. There are about 30 others there with you. Mostly very sharply dressed people - probably from some of the universities - as well as a few others from various walks of life.

A Ceres Corporation representative steps out of the lecture hall and into the lobby area. "Welcome," they say in a friendly tone, looking across the small crowd that has gathered. "Is everyone here for the conservator program entrance testing?" they ask. A chorus of "yes" is murmured by the crowd while they look around at each other. You think about this question, and suddenly it is funny to you. You don't exactly know what the others are here for. You don't know them. They could theoretically be there for some other reason. You feel a little cheeky, so you say quietly, "I dunno about everyone else, but I am," then you laugh awkwardly at your own joke. Nobody seems to hear or appreciate your joke except the Ceres representative, who returns your laugh with a chuckle of their own. "Good answer," they say with a smile, and then they begin to wave the other applicants into the the lecture hall.

"Take a station, any station," they announce into the room. The room is set up with a computer station at each seat along with a headset. You take a seat at one of the available stations and await instructions.

The Ceres representative tells you all that your computerized test will gauge ability and aptitude for the conservator program. They lay out some rules for the test and how to use the computer station. Each question is timed, so you will have to answer with your gut if you do not know the answer right away. Finally, they announce, "We have no interest in what school you went to, who your parents are, or where you came from. For the conservator program, we only care about what you can do. Best of luck. Begin!" Hmm. Kind of mysterious, you think to yourself.

You begin the test by putting on the headset and watching the monitor for your first question. It asks you to watch a short video, then it asks you questions about what you saw and what you would do. Hmm, not what I was expecting. You try your best to answer the questions, though absolutely none of them have anything to do with farming. Nothing about droids, or agriculture. Nothing about planetary science. Most of the questions had answer choices that all seemed correct, yet you could only pick one. Other questions allowed you to enter your own answer.

After what feels like forever, your monitor screen goes blank except for the words saying: "Test Complete." You remove your headset and stand up to find the lecture hall is empty. You were the last one to finish. Was I the slowest one? Did I fail? You exit the lecture hall per the Ceres Corp representative's instructions, and run into a much smaller crowd than you started with. In the lobby area stand ten others from your original group.

The Ceres Corp representative stands waiting in the lobby. "Ah, so you're the last one done," they say to you. Turning to face the group, they continue, "Good job everyone! I know you probably weren't expecting a test like that, but trust me we have found that performance on that type of exam to be an excellent indicator of an applicant's success in the conservator program. Congratulations all, you've made it through Round 1."

---

The next day, you rush off toward work, excited to tell someone, anyone about your experience. It was so odd, but awesome at the same time. It felt like you were finally allowed to play a game you were never allowed to play, and you won. It made you want to see how far you could go. Just for kicks. Logically, you knew your chances of getting into the program were probably pretty slim in reality. You were up against a lot of competition and who knew what kind of tests remained in the entrance exam series? Maybe that's when they would lay on the technical questions about crop biology and things you never took classes for. You only had a basic education from the Republic schools in the lower level, and your library readings. You knew better than to get your hopes up too high.

You arrive at the laundromat and start putting away your lunch bag in your locker. You look over to Olia's workstation, expecting to find her there, but instead you find the station has been mostly cleared off. Olia's caf mug is gone, her family pictures gone as well. You walk out to the storefront area to spot Olia with a box, packing up a few personal items from near the register area. "Hey, what's going on?" you ask. You didn't know Olia very well, outside of work that is, but you knew she was there for your first day at the laundromat. She was there before you. Before she met her husband. You knew she loved her job. She was a manager and was responsible for the operation of the business.

Olia looks up from her box and gives you an apologetic look. "Today's my last day. I'm quitting," she says with a forced smile and a hint of sadness. "Oh, I didn't realize you were planning on leaving, " you say gently. "I wasn't," she starts, "but, my husband and I talked things over and decided that my job down here is more trouble than it's worth." Not worth it? She makes more than enough to cover the taxi fares, you think. She tells you that her husband got a substantial raise at work and would be sending her to a trade college. "Oh," your eyes light up, "what trade?" you ask. She rolls her eyes lightly and replies with a chuckle, "Mechanical work."

"I had no idea you were into that," you say. "I mean, that sounds like a fun change of careers, right?" you say, a little unsure of yourself. Olia doesn't look or sound too excited.

"Well, I'm not exactly into it. But he says it pays well. And well, he's proof that it does. Our son is apprenticing now, so we're just making it a family thing I guess, " she says half-heartedly.

"Olia, congratulations," you say and offer her a hug. But deep inside you're not sure what's happening is something good for her. However, you decide it's not your place to judge her for her decision. She and her husband must have weighed the variables and decided together that this was the best thing for her and their family.

"I'm gonna miss working with you," Olia says sincerely, scooping the box up and tucking it under her arm. You walk with her out the door to her speeder taxi and say goodbye.

You go back inside to your folding table and begin sorting garments for the day. In Olia's absence, one of the owners had come to the laundromat to take over operations while they train her replacement.

As you go through the motions of work, you think about Olia. You used to think her life was so ideal. She wasn't lonely like you. She had a place in a better part of the city. Her husband and family. She had someone to go home to every night. Someone to love and love her back. A pretty picture of a life you thought you wanted. But today you think differently.

BEEP! A chirpy beeping ringing out from the office desk breaks you away from your thoughts. You look from the office desk back to Olia's station to see if she left anything behind. All clear. She may have left something in her locker, you think. You go to answer the comm because you will need her locker combination to get in anyway.

You check the transmission. It's just a message, no image or audio. But it's not Olia. The message begins with your name, then "I know it has been a while, and I'm sorry I haven't reached out sooner. I wanted to let you know I haven't forgotten about you. Would love to see you again. Would you be interested in meeting up?"

It is a message from Gage. He wants to see you. Despite not hearing from him for over two months and not even thinking about him recently, you can't stop yourself from replying.

You begin your reply with three letters, "Y....e....s."

#clone trooper oc x reader #clone trooper x reader

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clonewarslover55 · 4 years

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Commander Bacara relationship headcanons (SFW and NSFW)

Here are some headcanons nobody asked for!!

Note: There are no gifs of him on this hell site. The only one I found is of his fucking boots. If you don’t know what this hottie looks like please look him up

SFW

Bacara is the strong silent type

He’s also seen as a loner

He will not talk to you unless he has to. So getting this man to just talk to you is a challenge

When you first hear his voice you’re surprised that it’s deeper and rougher than other clones

But! Bacara is a Marine! This means he’s very cocky(Just like Marines here in America! No offense, but I’m right)

This means if you challenge Bacara, or ask him about something badass he did, he’ll talk to you

Bacara especially loves to be challenged in fitness and such

We all know Bacara has railguns, so he can probably bench press you plus a lot more

He’s beefier than some other clones, and it’s all muscle. He weightlifs a LOT.

If you watch him workout he shows off, but he won’t admit it

That’s how he flirts. He shows off. He will not flirt in any other way

When he’s shirtless you get a good view of his tattoo sleeves.

The tattoos are wavy and spider web like as they run down his arms, with very detailed patterns in them. They connect at his shoulders and turn into a tattoo that traces his spine

Most of his tattoos are death related, so that says a lot about his personality. One of his tattoos is a shattered clone trooper helmet with the skull visible, a droid head beside it.

You also quickly notice that both of his ears are pierced twice, with black studs

If you do somehow get Bacara into a relationship with you it’ll be hard

He seems generally disinterested in everything, so reading him is difficult.

He doesn’t seem to give a flying fuck about anything, so you didn’t know if he actually liked you at first

Bacara isn’t a fan of the streets of Coruscant. He’d much rather be sleeping or lifting weights

When he does get time for leave he hates leaving the barracks, but he will come over to your place

Once you invite him over once he officially lives there. It’s like when you feed a stray cat once, they instantly becomes yours

This means a fully armored Bacara will show up at your door at anytime, just because he can

You don’t mind because he’s an amazing cook

One time you walked into your apartment and Bacara was cooking dinner, wearing a dumb bright pink apron that said, “Kiss the cook.”

Bacara has that odd sense of humor. You know where he’ll do something absolutely hilarious while keeping a bemused look on his face.

It’s always surprising and hilarious when he does something like that

You asked him how he can cook and he said he taught himself, because he hates ration bars

Bacara is also very neat, you’re pretty sure he has mild OCD

If you touch his stack of armor he slaps your hand and stares at you till you back away

Your date nights are never going out somewhere fancy, it’s usually you two relaxing at your place

Sometimes he’ll make dinner, or you’ll just have a movie night. No matter what, Bacara will make sure the date is perfect and rememberable

You’ll have to buy him comfy clothes to sleep in because he doesn’t own any

Soft pajama pants?? Bacara loves them.

Bacara loves cuddles. He won’t admit it, even as he crawls on top of you to rest his head on your chest so he can listen to your heartbeat

He has pretty high maintenance hair that he takes pride in.

His hair is snow white and in the typical clone haircut, but with purple(Or whatever color his armor has on it) patterns shaved in on the sides

Bacara always has a five o'clock shadow, but never an actual beard

If you volunteer to help Bacara with his hair it becomes your permanent job.

He melts as you wash his hair. This leads to you two taking a lot of bubble baths together

Once you two have been in a relationship for a while he still isn’t talkative

Bacara never wants to talk about his issues, he keeps his PTSD and other issues buried deep down

He really enjoys killing, like his brother Neyo. He won’t ever tell you that though

He also seems rather cold sometimes, but he’s rarely cold around you

Bacara can be kind of mean sometimes though. He’s never aggressive or abusive, he can just be mean with his words

When he’s pissed off you know it though. His jaw clenches and he gets very tense

Bacara cusses like a sailor when he does talk, so when he’s pissed it gets worse

Calming him down is like calming down a pissed off and spooked horse. He’s big and scary, and very mad. It takes a few minutes to get him to relax

Being a Galactic Marine, he may be away for longer times

He always makes up for being gone though!

Sometimes he might bring you something he thought was cool from one of his missions

Like a pretty rock. He brings you rocks.

But other than that he never really gives you presents.

He spoils you with forehead kisses and cuddles though!

Bacara will fall in love with you pretty quickly, but he won’t say it for a while

He eventually says it while cuddling you after some intimate sex

He’ll love you till the end of his days, and that’s a promise.

NSFW

You wouldn’t think Bacara would have much experience, but you were wrong

Bacara makes you cum almost immediately, and that’s how you learned Bacara knows his stuff

He can read you like a book, so after a time or two he’ll know exactly what makes you scream

He’s still the strong silent type in bed. The only way to get him to be vocal is if he's tied up and being teased

Bacara will give you short one word orders though. His rough voice sending shivers down your spine

He loves being in control. But sometimes he will let you take the reigns

He’s a brat when you’re domming him though

Bacara is a very very patient man, so he’ll tease you and drag orgasm after orgasm from you

He loves seeing you writhe and moan underneath him

He doesn’t care how you two fuck. He’ll go fast or slow, rough or gentle. It all depends on both of your moods

Bacara will not talk about his kinks, but if you bring up yours he’d listen

He’s pretty kinky, but you’ll always have to bring up something new for you two to try

He’s surprisingly eager to try new things

You quickly learn that he loves spanking, both on you and himself

(He drinks his respect women juice so pegging)

He also loves choking

Bacara also loves to give oral, he is addicted to your taste

He often wakes you up with his very skilled mouth

The first time you give him oral he is very unsure at first

He quickly learns that he loves being in your mouth

All the clones have a breeding kink, but his is dialed down because he hates kids

So he doesn’t care if he cums inside of you or on you

His cock is very big, just like the rest of him

He loves it when you trace his muscles, most of which are covered in tattoos

Bacara is up for quickies, especially before he has to leave for a long mission

With aftercare he usually takes a hot shower or bath with you

Sometimes he will just clean you both up with a hot rag before passing out beside you

Aftercare depends on what you two do and how much energy you two have left

He loves it when you fall asleep in his muscular tattooed arms

Tags: @catsnkooks @captainrexstan @valkyrieofthehighfae @peacelandbread

#commander bacara #bacara #commander railguns #bacara and his railguns #commander bacara x reader #commander bacara x you #commander bacara x y/n

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startrekandwars · 4 years

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Mistakes

Word Count: 1947

Tags: None

Summary: Ramirhe Jacora gets sidelined because of a single mistake, all while finding out his request for a padawan has been fulfilled at the worst time possible.

AN: This was written for @celebrate-the-clone-wars prompt Unplugged

Ramirhe Jacora has a cybernetic left leg. He lost his leg protecting Senator Alyeil Laygos of Lothal before the clone wars in a speeder accident. Fitting seeing as how his master, Pavi Bevu, ended up losing both of her arms in an explosion while she was still a padawan. Normally his cybernetic isn’t a problem, he does regular maintenance on it between fights and as long as he doesn’t get too much sand in his leg, it works wonderfully. Thus his problem is as follows, he can’t be near EMP pulses if he wants to keep standing in a fight, which includes droid poppers. If he stands too close, his leg gets shut off and he risks falling over because he can no longer balance. This is something all of his men are aware of, and they’re very careful about their usage of droid poppers.

That’s the current problem he has right now. A droid popper didn’t get thrown far enough, and now he can’t move his leg, “Haar’chak!” Ramirhe Jacora, one of the best lightsaber duelists of his generation, felt his leg get zapped and then felt it lock. His balance was only maintained by the fact that he had planted his left leg in his fighting stance, but it wouldn’t last, especially if he tried to shift his weight at all.

“Who was the di’kitla who threw that droid popper?!” Jasavo had been keeping track of where his General was, and realized that the droid popper was thrown too close to the General. “Bevinn- get the general out of there now!”

Bevinn changed directions on his bike to weave into the droid ranks. “Consider it done, Commander. Hang in there a little bit longer, General.”

“I don’t seem to have a choice, Bevinn.” As Ramirhe said that, he used the force to pull a droid close so that he could slice it in half before he pushed the broken droid into some of its still functioning comrades. It was a risky move that almost led to him falling over.

Just as he stumbled, Bevinn pulled him onto the speeder. “Welcome aboard, General. Your orders?”

Ramirhe let himself relax some before tightening his grip on his lightsaber, “Get me as close to the droids as you can, Bevinn. Do you have any droid poppers on you?”

“Yes sir.” Bevinn answered, changing direction again before handing the bag of poppers over. “Ba’slan shev’la?”

The red haired Jedi nodded, “We’ll weaken their forces and then retreat.” He then took out three droid poppers and thew them as far as he could into the droid ranks as Bevinn drove.

Jasavo grinned a little bit under his helmet as he watched Bevinn weave through the droid ranks, “Ba’slan shev’la! The General’s creating a distraction. And Then I Want To Know Who Threw That Droid Popper So Close To The General!” He climbed onto his own speeder bike to help thin out some more droids and pick up an injured clone trooper. “Hang in there, vod. We’ll get you medical treatment soon enough.”

“Thank you sir,” Coil mumbled, leaning into his commanding officer. “I think I may have thrown that droid popper sir.”

“Easy, Coil. We’ll ask Blow later.I don’t think it was you. You know better than to do that and I didn’t see you take any droid poppers when we left.”

The Commander slowed down as he got to their ‘base’. Really it was a well defended encampment they set up. The Bes’bavar try to be as efficient as they can be. “Baar’ur- Coil needs medical treatment.”

Baar’ur looked up from one of the other clones and winced when he saw Coil with the shrapnel in his side. “I’ll get right on that, Commander. Also when you see the general, tell him that Admiral Shul needs to speak to him.”

“I’ll be seeing him soon, I have to fix his leg.” The commander grabbed his tools and watched as Bevinn parked his bike before helping the general walk over. “General- are you alright?”

“Outside of my leg, I’m fine. If it weren’t for your quick thinking or Bevinn’s fancy driving I might not be standing here to talk to you,” he answered before sitting down on a crate. “Just tell me you can fix it, Jasavo.” He rolled up his pant leg so that the commander could see the cybernetic prosthetic.

The Commander took his helmet off and then started to take off the outer casing, “I should be able to. Since droid poppers cause EMP blasts, I should just have to jump your leg... it will hurt though.” The nerves that the leg connect to would get the same shock that the cybernetic needs to turn back on, sending shooting pain through the General’s leg. “We could also wait and see if it will wear off.”

“No, we don’t have the time to wait for it to cycle back on.” Ramirhe looked at Jasavo and then smiled, “It’s alright, Jasavo. I trust you.”

“I’m glad. I just don’t want to get kicked in the head because of this,” he half mumbled as he set up the jump. Without warning the jedi, he powered it on, sending a strong shock through the cybernetic.

“Haar’chak that hurts like hell- What happened to warning me about shocking the leg?” Ramirhe had gripped the side of the crate the moment Jasavo shocked his leg. “Thank you for fixing my leg but was that necessary?”

“K’atini. With all due respect, suck it up, general. You’d think I did something more than just rebooting your leg.” The clone grinned as he started to do more repairs on the cybernetic, “Necessary? No, but you’re less likely to try to move the leg if I don’t warn you. I’m going to do some other minor repairs since you’re sitting here still. And the Admiral needs to speak with you apparently.”

“Hmmmm, I’ll answer that now then.” Ramirhe pulled out the holoprojector from his sleeve and turned it on, “Admiral. You need to speak with me?”

Brisco Shul is a fairly well built man who is generally very kind. Today, however, he appears to be very serious. “Indeed. A youngling is insisting that she is your padawan and should be allowed to go down to the planet’s surface with you.”

The young girl in question was a Rattataki, and she looked defiantly at Ramirhe, “Master Ramirhe Jacora? I am Padawan Learner Aubewem. The council has assigned me to be your new padawan, and Admiral Shul isn’t letting me go down to the surface.”

“That... may be for the best at the moment, Padawan.” He winced as Jasavo realigned something in the prosthetic. “We’re a little busy down here and it’s not save to fly to our landing zone. After we meet up with Master Bageeh’s forces- then you can land and we can meet properly.” Ramirhe hated putting this off, but he wasn’t going to make any of his men fly in this. “I shall contact you personally when it’s safe, Aubewem. Haat, Ijaa, Haa’it. I promise.”

She studied her new master’s face before nodding, “Very well, Master Jacora... I’ll... watch the Admiral quietly then.”

“That sounds agreeable.” Ramirhe stood up once Jasavo had gently tapped his prosthetic to give the okay. “Admiral, I shall contact you the moment Master Bageeh and I have begun our final assault. Ret’urcye mhi, Admiral.”

“Oh we shall certainly meet again, General Jacora.” Brisco ended the transmission, leaving Ramirhe staring at a holoprojector for a few moments.

Bevinn ran over from the speeders and stood in front of the two, “General, good to see you back on your feet. General Bageeh’s made his move sir. The Droid Army is completely cut off. We won’t get.a better chance to defeat them.”

“Well, then let’s get going.” Ramirhe jumped onto the closest walker after taking a few test steps. “Bes’bavar- It’s time to make our final move! I only have one real order for you since you all know your assignments- k’oyacyi!” Stay alive was always the final order he gave. As always, it was met with a a chorus of yes sirs as they moved out.

Once again, there was the sound of blaster fire and tank fire as they once again confronted the droid army. This time, he could see two sets of blue blaster fire, signifying that the droid army was indeed cut off from further support. “Well done, Master Bageeh. Well done indeed.”

Ramirhe Jumped into the air, grabbing onto a droid’s flying speeder and kicked the droid off, flying into the chaos of the fight and using his lightsaber to deflect incoming blaster fire. He had noticed that his leg felt stiff when he jumped but he tried to pass that off as residual stiffness from when it had locked earlier.

“Master Jacora, it is good to see that the Bes’bavar really do enjoy acting as the calvary,” Arif’s amused voice crackled over their commlinks. “I was expecting you to have already been in combat though.”

“You’ll have to forgive me, Master Bageeh. I ran into a little problem with my leg. I had to call a tactical retreat or risk dying, and I made a promise to a certain senator that I would come back alive.” Ramirhe countered lightly Jumping from his small speeder to one of the Vulture droids that flew by. He landed heavier than he would have liked. “And I might still be having problems with my leg. If you’ll excuse me.” Ramirhe’s lightsaber was the only thing keeping him on the Vulture droid as it spun. “Jasavo- there’s still something wrong with my leg.”

“Sir- Kriff how did you get on a Vul- never mind. Try to get on one of the walkers. We can finish this without you getting hurt because of your leg. I’ll run a full diagnostic after the fight.” Jasavo could have sworn he did all of the necessary repairs but its possible he missed an underlying problem.

The vulture droid Ramirhe was barely hanging on to, ended up getting shot down by another vulture droid, leading to Ramirhe barely sliding off in time before he got caught in another explosion. He rolled through the sand and felt something break in his prosthetic before he responded to Jasavo. “I may have to take your advice, Commander. Bevinn I need a pick up. Again.”

“I’m on it sir, I was heading towards you anyways. It Looks like General Bageeh has it covered though.” Bevinn commented, once again weaving through the fight to get to his general.

“That’s good.” Ramirhe opened his holoprojector. “We’re making our final move Admiral. The fight should be over shortly.”

“I understand, General. I’ll send your padawan down once we’re done up here,” Brisco answered before hanging up again. If Ramirhe were anyone else he would be insulted, instead he was just amused.

Bevinn held out his hand for the mandalorian jedi to take, “Sir.”

“I think I broke something else in my leg. Thank you for picking me up, Bevinn.” He accepted the hand and climbed onto the speeder, his left leg not moving at all.

“Not a problem, general. Let’s finish this.” The Lancer then started up the speeder, fully trusting his general to keep them from getting shot at from behind.

Just as soon as the fighting had begun again, it ended with a full surrender. “Finally... now I can get my leg properly repaired.” Ramirhe stayed on the speeder as he heard and watched the clones celebrate their victory, and he couldn’t help but smile. Not all was lost, even if he was pretty sure his prosthetic was done for.

#oc: Ramirhe Jacora #oc: Commander Jasavo #oc: Arif Bageeh #oc: Admiral Brisco Shul #oc: Coil #oc: Bevinn #oc: Baar'ur #oc: Aubewem #star wars the clone wars #star wars #writing wednesday drabbles

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