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#clone shenanigans
legobenkenobi · 9 months
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the way the clones and the Jedi’s cultures became so intertwined always gets me so teary.
Airo was literally the youngest of young for soldiers (he’d been named for a grand total of one day), and his dying words are still a Jedi / Force saying.
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he didn’t have to spend years upon years with Obi-Wan for the Force- for the Jedi- to mean something to him. it just did. naturally. because he heard what the clones said about Obi-Wan and the Jedi and he trusted them and it wasn’t just him.
they all trusted and loved their generals, and the Jedi trusted and loved them in return. and that’s why Order 66 is SO deeply gutting
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obligatorytropeinsert · 8 months
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Coruscant Reporter: Excuse me Sir! Do you have a self-care routine for the stress of your demanding job?
Fox: Repeat 'Keep going bitch,' to myself in the mirror until the anti-depressants kick in.
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Jesse: What if the person who named Walkie Talkies named everything? Jesse: Pregnancy tests are Maybe Babies Hardcase: Socks are Feetie Heaties Fives: Defribilators are Hearties Starties Rex: Nightmares are Dreamy Screamies Echo: Stamps are Lickie Stickies Dogma: I hate you guys so much
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Therapist: And what do we say when we feel like this?
Rex: I deserve this
Fox: More espresso, less depresso
Thorn: More beers, less tears
Fives: My illness is chronic but my tits are iconic
Thire: Add to cart.
Cody: Mood.
Echo: I'll just chuck it in with all my other smoldering resentments.
Thire: That's the senate for you.
Bly: Time to get a new tattoo
Therapist: No.
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literallyjustanerd · 9 months
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Should've Switched Majors (Clone Shenanigans)
Summary: A very unfortunate grad student at the University of Coruscant is just trying to finish her thesis for her Investigative Journalism degree. Unbeknownst to her, she's picked the galaxy's worst interview subjects.
Words: 1,492
Characters: Commander Cody, Captain Rex, Domino twins, Waxer, Commander Fox, Commander Bly
University of Coruscant School of Arts Student Number: 218249662 Student Name: Lila Un’qara Course: Masters of Media and Communication – Majoring in Investigative Journalism Final Thesis: Unsung Heroes: Silenced Voices From The Republic’s Front Lines
[Recording Start]
Lila: Okay. The time is now… 0935 standard hours. We’re here in Briefing Room B of the GAR headquarters on Coruscant level 5127, where I’ve been graciously allowed time to speak with some of the Republic’s most decorated soldiers. To start, I’m sitting down with CC-2224 of the 212th Battalion. Though if I’ve been informed correctly, I believe you go by Cody?
CC-2224: Commander is fine, thank you.
L: Oh. Uh, right. My apologies, Commander.
CC-2224: Don’t mention it.
L: So… Your records indicate you’ve been in active service since the beginning of the war.
CC-2224: That’s right. I was decanted from Kamino with the first batch of Clone Commanders.
L: I’m looking at a transcript of your prior operations. There are some major battles here – Christophsis, Ryloth, Saleucami… You’re a true veteran.
CC-2224: As much a veteran as any of us can be, I suppose.
L: And as a Marshal Commander with such a prolific record, you must be highly regarded among your peers and superiors?
CC-2224: My brothers trust me as their Commander.
L: And your GAR command? Generals and Admirals? The Jedi?
CC-2224: …What about them?
L: Do they afford you the same level of trust?
CC-2224: That’s… [pause] Yes, I am trusted. My decisions and conduct are respected as any Commander’s wound be.
[Audio file is silent for 6 seconds]
CC-2224: There are those for whom it takes more for us clones to prove our competence. I don’t allow that to impact my performance. My record speaks for itself.
L: Must get frustrating, though. The pressure to demonstrate your worth. Probably leaves you without much time to let your guard down.
CC-2224: It’s our job. We do it with pride.
L: Surely you can’t keep that up all the time, though? It’s only human to want to have a little fun.
CC-2224: [clearing throat] I maintain a respectable bearing at all times, as do my men. We were trained from birth to uphold the highest standards of professional conduct and I take pride in the reputation of the 212th Battalion as highly proficient, honourable, and—”
[Sound on audio file is briefing room door opening]
CT-2534 (“Waxer”): Hey, Cody…? Remember that thing you said not to do? Uhm, Boil’s in medbay and Fox says you gotta go bail Wooley out before—oh. Uh, hello.
CC-2224: [heavy sigh]
CT-2534 (“Waxer”): Is… this being recorded?
[Recording stop] [Recording start]
L: Thank you for moving our appointment up, Troopers. The Commander had to leave on some… unexpected business.
ARC-5555: Ha! Guess Waxer wasn’t bluffing after all.
ARC-1409: You owe me five credits.
L: May I refer to you as ARC Troopers, or do you prefer—
ARC-5555: Fives, please.
ARC-1409: Echo.
L: Great. So, the two of you serve under General Skywalker?
ARC-5555: Didn’t start off that way, but now we do, yeah.
ARC-1409: Captain Rex picked us personally to join the 501st as ARC troopers. We joined for him. But serving under General Skywalker is an honour, too.
L: Do you feel he respects your input as clones?
ARC-5555: You kidding? He’d be dead ten times over without us, and he knows it!
ARC-1409: Some of General Skywalker’s strategies are… hit or miss. But we owe him our lives as much as he owes us his.
ARC-5555: Nah. It’s 23-19 in our favour. I’ve counted.
ARC-1409: 23? You’re counting the Naboo thing?
ARC-5555: Far as I’m concerned, that’s the closest the General’s come to karking it.
L: Can you elaborate? What happened on Naboo?
[ARC-5555 begins to speak but is silenced by ARC-1409. Sound on audio file is ARC-1409 hitting ARC-5555 on the back of the head]
ARC-1409: Sorry. Sworn to secrecy. ARC Trooper’s honour.
L: Seems like you’re pretty close with your General. Can you tell me—
ARC-5555: So you’re a student, right? Coruscant University? What’s it like?
L: What’s… Uhm, it’s an excellent school. Good facilities, knowledgeable professors, the courses are highly-regarded. Now, if we could get back to—
ARC-1409: So –sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt, I just– you can study anything you want? You just get to pick?
L: …Yes, that’s how it works.
ARC-1409: What if you don’t like what you pick?
L: You can change your course. Back on topic, we were discussing—
ARC-5555: You can change your course? You’re allowed to do that? Whenever you want?
L: Yup.
ARC-1409: Did you ever do that?
L: I’m starting to wish I had.
ARC-5555: Wish we could’ve done that. I’d have been a Naval Officer. Way better uniform.
ARC-1409: [chuckling] The navs would hate you! They’d have you decomm’ed on the first day for unruly behaviour.
ARC-5555: The navs wish they had the honour of my unruly behaviour.
L: Can we get back on topic. Please?
ARC-1409: What was the topic, again?
L: [heavy sigh]
ARC-5555: Hey… the 501st is on shore leave for the next two days. What are you doing tonight?
L: …Uh.
ARC-1409: We could…. continue the interview over a couple drinks at 79’s?
L: I… hm.
[Recording stop] [Recording start]
L: As a member of the Coruscant Guard, you’ve seen more than most other clones of the galaxy’s capital and its senate. Commander Fox, has this given you any opinions you feel are different to other clones about the war?
CC-1010: No.
L: Nothing? You don’t think being able to witness the senate debates has given you any sort of insight into the politics at play here?
CC-1010: Nope.
[Sound on audio file is CC-1010 sipping from a mug of caf for approximately 9 seconds]
L: Uhm. Well. There aren’t many people, clone or otherwise, who get such a close audience with Chancellor Palpatine. Are you and the other Coruscant Guard troopers close with him?
CC-1010: Hm. No.
L: …Thank you for your time.
[Recording stop] [Recording start]
L:  Captain Rex. I appreciate your willingness to, uh, actually speak to me. Have you given much thought to what might happen once the war is over?
CT-7567: Of course. All of us have. But you tend to stop thinking about that pretty early on in your service.
L: Oh? Why is that, do you think?
CT-7567: There’s just not much of a point to it, really. We’ve got too much on our mind every day trying to keep our heads up and keep ourselves and our brothers alive. The end of the war, it’s just not really a factor for us.
L: Right. You’ve been fighting for years now. That must take a toll.
CT-7567: I suppose, but in a sense, it’s just our way of life. We’ve never known anything besides war. How can we imagine a life after it? To a clone, the galaxy has always been, and will always be, at war. I don’t think I would know any other way to navigate the world.
L: That’s… actually very insightful.
CT-7567: You sound surprised?
L: Never mind. Does—does it frighten you, then? Not knowing what might come after?
CT-7567: Not at all. The future might be an unknown, but whatever happens, I know—
[Sound on audio file is the briefing room door opening]
CC-2224: Your boys are at it again.
CT-7567: [groan] Which ones?
CC-2224: All of them. They’re in the quad, Wooley said something about a stolen speeder.
CT-7567: So it’s your boys, then. Your boys who just got bailed out of Corrie holding this morning?
[Sound on audio file is CT-7567 standing]
L: Wait, no, we were just getting somewhere, don’t—
CC-2224: My men stepped in to control the situation.
CT-7567: Face it, your troops kriff around and blame mine when the osik hits the filtration system.
[Sound on audio file is CT-7567 and CC-2224 bumping the microphone as they move toward the door]
L: Captain? Commander? Please, if we could at least finish what we—
CC-2224: All I’m saying is, this wouldn’t be the first time the 212th have had to step in to clean up the 501st’s mess.
CT-7567: Mhmm. Is that what happened on Naboo, too?
CC-2224: That’s different and you know it.
[Sound on audio file is briefing room door closing. Following sound is approximately fifteen seconds of Lila groaning increasingly loudly]
[Recording stop] [Recording start]
L: [long sigh, followed by approximately 7 seconds of silence] It is currently… 1743 hours. I’m still in Briefing Room B, I’ve deleted more useless material than I’ve kept, and I am questioning… every choice I’ve made in my academic career. So. Commander Bly. Can you tell me a little about your relationship with your Jedi General?
CC-5052: No comment.
L: Oh, kark this.
[sound on audio file is Lila removing her lapel mic]
L: …Do you know how to get to 79’s from here?
[Recording stop]
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elismor · 3 months
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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/Clone Trooper Wooley Characters: CC-2224 | Cody, Clone Trooper Wooley (Star Wars), mentions the rest of ghost co, CT-8893 | Flood Additional Tags: Snow, Snowball Fight, Clone Trooper Shenanigans (Star Wars), cohawk, oh yes i'm making cohawk happen Series: Part 2 of The One With All the Prompts (2024), Part 13 of Still Waters (And How They Run Deep)
For @petrifiedforests who requested some Cohawk (oh yeah, that’s a thing now) for the “Fear me” prompt and with thanks to @kartaylirnaak, who helped me across the final mile.
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teaospin · 1 year
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Any Clone Battalion: Exists
Battalion Clone Commander: OK LADS, Listen up!
Battalion Clones: SIR!
Clone Commander: We are going to link up with the 327th after the next rotation, they need help dealing with another exotic planet! So get yourself a set by then men!
Battalion Clones: Sir Yes Sir!
Clone Commander: …
Battalion Clones: …
Battalion CT 01: Sir?
Clone Commander: You know what that means troopers…
Battalion CT 02: Oh…
Battalion CT 01: Oh yeah, THAT…
Battalion CT 03: Awww, we just painted them!
Clone Commander: Do you troopers want the 327th to launch you all out of an airlock?
Battalion Clones: No sir!
Clone Commander: THEN GET TO SCRUBBING THOSE SECURA PAINTINGS OFF THE GUNSHIPS.
Battalion Clones: *dejectedly* Sir Yes Sir…
Clone Commander: I leave for one week and you all regress to degenerates… I swear, I’m glad we have a old geezer for a General.
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arcsimper5 · 6 months
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Clone's night out at the funfair!
After a frankly hilarious discussion with @dukeoftheblackstar this morning, I'd like to propose a Clone's day out at the funfair!
Setting:
The war is over! The Clones have their freedom, and their General's decide it's time to let loose!
Who knew Palpatine was deathly allergic to seafood? Certainly not Fox, who bought him a lovingly made prawn cocktail sandwich. So sad. R.I.P. Anyway.
The funfair has descended on Coruscant, and it's open to all!
What are your boys doing?
OC's welcome too!
Hardcase is being physically restrained from jumping in the cotton candy machine by Dogma and Kix. It won't end well for a number of reasons, but the glint of chaos in Case's eyes is enough for them to jump into action and stop his rampage before it's even begun.
🍭
Echo and Fives are lost in the mirror maze. One of them is crying. Rex would help, but he's currently sat on a bench with a cold one, live-tweeting the entire thing to Cody, who refused to come, knowing the chaos that would ensue.
🪩
Plo decided to enjoy the bumper cars. Wolffe, Boost and Sinker decided that anyone who even came near their General was going to be bumpered into oblivion.
🚗
Waxer and Boil are arguing over what the best food truck is. Waxer is currently slapping Boil's hand away every time he tries to grab some of his purchased good while the latter pouts.
🍲
Jesse is desperately trying to win the strong man hammer game while Wrecker watches and laughs, only serving to make Jesse hit it harder while the old lady owner watches in horror.
🔨
Crosshair had won every single prize from the shooting games within 5 minutes of arriving. Omega is now a walking stuffy collection, her squeals of delight echoing around the entire fair.
🧸
Tup is being followed by some Nat-born women, completely out of his depth and looking for Fives while pretending not to be overwhelmed. He's planning to break for the ferris wheel and just ride it until he can spot his vod again.
🎡
Feel free to add your own! 😊
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bitchin-beskar · 1 year
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Wolffe: You fuckers don’t know about my knife stick. It’s a knife taped to a stick and it’s the ultimate weapon.
Cody, not looking up from their book: Spear.
Wolffe: BLOCKED.
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mangomakoshark · 1 year
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Cody: *visiting the 501st* Hello, I just came to- Cody: * sees Fives shoving Hardcase into the washing machine while Echo records and Rex watches* Cody: *retreating* Something suddenly came up.
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sweetiepie08 · 2 years
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Cody: No.
Shiny: But-
Cody: I said no, trooper.
Shiny: Please...
Cody: No! You cannot name yourself Jedi, Master, Senator, Your Majesty, or God. Pick something else.
Shiny:.... Winner?
Cody: ... *sigh* Fine.
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legobenkenobi · 10 months
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i think it would be really funny if Rex and Cody never reconnected after Order 66 but Cody did go to Tatooine and live with Obi-Wan because it means the way Rex finds out Cody survived would be through Luke
Luke meeting Rex and being like “woah you look like Cody!!” and Rex is SO fucking flabbergasted. “YOU KNOW CODY??!”
and then Luke goes onto explain that, yeah, he knows Cody!! he babysat him when Cody’s husband went out of town. and that is how Rex finds out Obi-Wan and Cody got together after the war
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obligatorytropeinsert · 10 months
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Senator: How come the Jedi are forcing us to be baby-sat by clones?
Fox: Well you see, the explanation is perfectly simple and scientific. Its because shut up. Shut up is why.
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spacedustmantis · 8 months
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ok why does my evil clone hate cookies? what's that guy's problem?
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Headcanon: It’s a good thing Fox and Quinlan agree on 95% of everything because when Quinlan and Fox fight, it's the same as an unstoppable force meets an immovable object. Everyone is surprised that this delicate balance has maintained to the point that the two get married.
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literallyjustanerd · 11 months
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Scenes From The Caf Hall
So I had a lot of ideas for fun clone shenanigans but none substantial enough for full fics, so I put them into a sort of montage of moments I like to believe have gone down in the GAR caf at mealtimes. No consistency in timeline, just some harmless clone fun. Enjoy!
Note: one of these scenes references there being an abundance of Chancellor Palpatine biopics in the Star Wars universe. I saw someone mention that that would be funny in a text post once but try as I might I cannot find who that was. If you know what I'm talking about please let met know so I can credit them for the inspiration!
“I’m not kriffing drinking it, Fives. I won’t do it.” Fives lets out a low, pained groan as he drops his tray on one of the benches, head lolling back in a heavy circle over his shoulders. “Then don’t,” he says, for at least the third time. Echo pays him no mind. He may as well be speaking to himself. “Why would they change it? The one good thing I could count on every day, but no, let’s take that away, too. Kriffing Republic budget cuts. Kriffing quartermasters…” Hardcase is already grinning when he joins the two, watching in amusement as Echo’s rant fades to a low, sharp muttering. “What is it this time?” he asks, sounding almost excited. Echo is too busy stabbing at his salad like he wants to draw blood to answer.
“They changed out the brand of tea in the stores,” Fives says, head propped up on his fist. A hand slapped across Hardcase’s chestplate accentuates his feigned shock. “Not your precious Tarine!” he gasps. “What would they ever replace that with?” Oblivious or uncaring of Hardcase’s mocking tone, Echo’s fury is reignited. “Generic brand.” He spits the words like poison and scowls at the taste they leave in his mouth. Like they’re profanity. Which is ironic given how he continues; “I’ll be karked nine ways into the void before those shabuire make me drink the osik’la generic brand.” “Nobody’s making you drink it, Echo,” Fives reminds him, though by now he’s resigned, fully aware that he is little more than background noise. Echo growls at his tray. A couple of nearby shinies speed their steps to hustle past their table.
“Personally, I could never taste the difference,” Jesse pipes up. He’s so unfazed by the scene that nobody had even noticed him sit down. Fives sighs. That was not the right response. “The difference is night and day!” Echo blurts, voice surely close to reaching the upper limits of pitch. “They’re making us drink dirt water!” “Not making you,” Fives mumbles. “We lay down our lives for their war every day and this is how they repay us?” “Bit dramatic.” “We work our shebse off and you’re telling me I can’t even get a decent brew after an eighteen hour shift?” Fives pauses, tilts his head. “Yeah, no, okay. That’s fair.” At last, Echo acknowledges his presence in the form of a single, righteous nod.
Across the table, Hardcase flashes that look like a child about to poke a sleeping loth cat. “Why not just drink caf instead?” Echo falls deadly silent, eyes narrowed to a slit. His response is whip-fast. “Why don’t I just shoot you right here?”
***
“Telling you, things got wild that night. Don’t remember most of it, of course, but man, it was fun.” Waxer’s pride swells at the awed gazes across the table. His new 212th vod’ike, the gold on their armour barely dry, eyes wide with awe and demanding to know more of their superiors’ exploits. It’s like a drug, the wonder and admiration, and by now the 212th veterans know the best way to get it. Battle stories were great for gaining respect, sure, but if you wanted to really wow your rookies, stories of shore leave misadventures were far more effective.
“We woke up the next morning in a motel room on the lower levels,” Boil recounts with a grin. “No clue how we got there.” “What about the twi’leks?” one shiny demands, on the edge of his seat. “The ones from 79’s, what happened to them?” Waxer and Boil share a smirk, and Waxer delivers the kicker. “No idea,” he chuckles. “But they each left one of their numbers written on our vambraces.” “I really oughta call him sometime,” Boil muses. “See if they’re free again for this New Years’.” “She really was something else,” Waxer affirms. The shinies have gone silent before them, smiles wiped clean and suddenly sitting bolt upright. It takes the lieutenants a painfully long moment to realise why.
“Sorry to interrupt, troopers,” Cody says from behind the pair, sending bolts of ice through their veins, “but this wouldn’t happen to be last New Year’s you were talking about, would it?” Waxer and Boil both fall over themselves, mumbling sheepishly in the affirmative. “Interesting…” Cody hums. “Because I seem to remember things taking place differently.” “O-oh, is that… Is that right, Commander?” Waxer sputters, and tries immediately to move the conversation on. Cody doesn’t let it. “That’s right. As I recall, the two of you had to be carried out of 79’s well before New Year struck, and sent back to the barracks in a cab, drunk off your sorry faces.” Boil swallows audibly. He too is cut off when he tries to speak. “Can’t remember which one of you it was who was crying at the time, though.” His face is trained, his smile thoroughly measured, though his amusement is still glaringly clear. “Strange how our memories play up, isn’t it?”
He leaves it at that, and turns to walk away. One of the shinies, evidently a bold one, pipes up from the table, much to the horror of his batchmates. “Commander,” he calls, and Cody pauses in his step, turns back to face them. “How would you know what happened that night, unless… unless you were at 79’s, too?” After a moment’s pause, Cody merely flashes a grin. He turns to walk away, throwing one last comment over his shoulder: “Welcome to the 212th, boys.”
***
It’s been on Jesse’s mind for a while, but only now does he get the chance to bring it up. “There are three pieces of cake on your tray,” he says. Kix doesn’t look up from his work, datapad in one hand and sandwich in the other. He looks tired, but then, Kix always looks tired. “Very observant, vod. Good job.” “You got out of night shift last week.” “Mhmm.” “And I don’t think I’ve ever seen you on fresher duty.” “Okay?”
Jesse rolls his eyes, peeling the lid off his preserved jogan fruit. As if to illustrate his intended point, another trooper passes by their table and surreptitiously slides a pack of biscuits across to Kix like it’s a drug deal. When Jesse’s raised eyebrow gets no response, he clears his throat pointedly. Kix finally stops tapping away at his pad. “Why does everyone keep giving you their stuff?” Jesse demands. He doesn’t like the responding smirk that passes across Kix’s face. “Why do you think?” he asks, amusement tinging the edges of his words. Jesse sighs, lacking the energy to play this game. “Would I be asking if I knew?”
The look Kix gives is weary, bemused. He drags a hand over his eyes and takes a short, sharp breath, then begins. “Being a medic sucks.” “…Uh-huh?” “Long hours, always on call, the datawork never ends. People expect me to heal three-inch stab wounds in three minutes.” Jesse’s brow furrows, hoping there’s a point to this beyond his brother’s bitching “I’m… sorry?” “But as much of a pain in the gett’se as it is,” he says, finishing the sentence around a mouthful of cake, “being in charge of keeping all you di’kute alive it has its upsides.” Jesse can only roll his eyes. “Quit being so mysterious and get to the point.” Kix sighs sharply. “Jesse, I haven’t paid for a drink in over two years.” But the dots remain unconnected, Jesse’s expression still perplexed.
Begrudgingly, Kix sets the datapad down on the table and adjusts so he’s fully facing Jesse. He scrolls back on the pad through a plethora of files until he finds one. Jesse suddenly feels like a cadet again, called into his sergeant’s office. “0742 hours. Morning after last year’s Festival of Stars. You presented to medbay. Do you remember what for?” Kix needn’t have asked the question: a searing flush has already flooded Jesse’s skin, one that draws a sadistic grin from his vod. “Don’t worry, I’ve seen it a hundred times before and since. Never in that place, though...” Jesse’s head is in his hands as Kix continues. “Didn’t know how you’d managed it at first. Course, you told me the whole story. Spotchka and pain meds are great at loosening tight lips.”
“You kept that on file?” Jesse says in a strangled whisper. Kix shrugs, unfazed. “I’m required by Republic protocol to keep a record of all assessments and procedures carried out.” Jesse’s eyes fall to the extra cakes on Kix’s tray. Kix’s smile grows, tapping his datapad proudly. “And I carry out a lot of procedures.” Jesse curses under his breath, eyes wide in the dawning realisation. “How much dirt do you have on us?” he breathes, caught somewhere between awe and abject horror. Leaning his elbows on the table, Kix raises an eyebrow and grins.
“All of it, vod. You boys are animals,” he chuckles. “The things I’ve seen…” “You mean like—” “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s worse.” “What about—” “Worse.” “You don’t mean—” Kix leans further forward over the table, tilting his head down at Jesse. “Worse.”
Jesse swallows, leans back in his seat and acquiesces to Kix’s warning look. As much he itches to dig further, he knows Kix is probably doing him a favour by keeping the details obscured. “So. There you go. Maybe I get out of fresher duty. But with what I see on a daily basis, I think I’m within my rights to a few gratuities in exchange for my discretion about certain topics,” he says. “Like someone’s very inventive use of contraband fireworks…?” An uncomfortable silence falls between them, dragging on until Kix finally breaks it, eyeing Jesse’s tray. “Say, that jogan fruit looks—” Jesse’s handing it over before Kix has finished the sentence.
***
“Eight times in the last week he’s lost it. Three in one day, once. One of these days I’m going to weld that blasted saber to his hand.” Rex is slumped in his seat, shaking his head at the table. His brothers all murmur their commiserations around him, in various states of consciousness. Beside him, Cody jolts upright after almost falling face-first into his mug of caf for the fourth time. Ponds puts down the spoon he’s been using to mindlessly stir his porridge for the last ten minutes straight. “Least your general lets you have fun. General Windu makes us do weapons inventory and maintenance in every single minute of free time,” he grouses. Rex huffs. “I wish General Skywalker would order us to do weapons maintenance. I’m the only reason anything gets done in the 501st.” He gets a few affirming moans, half-hearted complaints about their own generals neglecting the more unglamorous responsibilities of commanding a battalion.
“You all have it easy.” It’s Fox who throws in next, hauling himself up from where he had been splayed across Wolffe’s back. He waves away the answering protests with a lazy hand. “Didn’t you go to the theatre last night?” Bly retorts. The disdain in his voice gives away his expression, which remains unseen; he’s on his back on the floor beside the table. The jab gives Fox a sudden burst of vindictive energy. “I did, Bly. I did go to the theatre last night. And do you know what I saw?” he says. “I saw another kriffing biopic on Chancellor kriffing Palpatine’s noble and heroic rise to power.” He spears a fillet of grey meat on his tray. “If I have to sit through another minute of some actor the Chancellor wishes he looked like making an empowered speech about the sacrifices he’s made for his people, you’ll all see me at the tribunal when I’m court marshalled and decommissioned.” The others say nothing, dredging up little more than sympathetic winces or groans. A few note that Fox’s hair seems just a little greyer than it did the last time they met up.
“General Kenobi jumped off a cliff on our last assignment on Onderon,” Cody offers a short time later to break the silence. He’s barely lucid enough to mumble the words. Nobody is at all surprised by the report. After a long draw from his caf, Cody continues, seeming bored by his own words. “Found him at the bottom totally unharmed and petting a bogwing. Asked him how he knew it would be there and let him ride it down, and do you know what he said?” The vode raise their weary voices to join him in chorus for the answer: “He didn’t know it would be there.”
Silence again. Someone snores, though it’s impossible to tell who and nobody can be bothered to try. Those awake enough to think straight mourn the state of the evening so far. It was a small miracle that this many of them were all in the one place to begin with. They’d planned for drinks at 79’s after dinner. And maybe they’d still rally and somehow make it out there. Maybe, with enough caf and the GAR’s famous resolve. But for now, they’re a sorry sight to behold. Soundly and thoroughly defeated. “Why does General Yoda talk like that...?” It’s Gree, his voice a pained whimper, muffled against the table. The question is directed at nobody. “Nothing he says makes any sense. He doesn’t need to talk like that.” Bly’s hand appears from below to pat his vod’s shoulder. With a shaking breath, Gree asks it again, barely a child’s pitiful sob: “Why does he talk like that?”
A little more moaning later, they seem to come to the consensus that their Jetiise (and Chancellor) were just confounding and infuriating by nature, and that they were tragically and inescapably doomed to a life dealing with their bantha shit. “They’re hopeless,” Ponds sighs. “Ridiculous,” Bly agrees. “Children,” Rex laments. “Maniacs,” Cody says, with finality in his tone. A voice rumbles from across the table – the first time that night Wolffe had made it known that he was awake at all. “What did you say?” Rex yawns. Wolffe raises his head. “I said, speak for your kriffing selves.”
***
The table in the corner of the caf hall may as well have a reserved sign on it. It does, in a way: Wrecker carved a crude ‘99’ into one of the benches months ago. The regs tend to steer clear, although on days like these, Echo can’t really blame them. He hears it before he sees it, the first signs of an argument beginning to escalate. “Get out of my face before I blast yours off,” Crosshair snarls.  Echo almost turns and walks away. But someone will need to be around to pick up the pieces if this all goes sideways. He steps through the remaining crowd to find his place at the end of the table. Opposite him, Crosshair is hunched over like a wolf with its hackles up. Tech is beside him, one finger poised delicately approximately an eighth of a centimeter from Crosshair’s shoulder.
“I will,” he says, “the moment you explain why you are so put out when I, clearly, am not actually touching you.” The plastic fork in Crosshair’s hand snaps. “How long?” Echo asks with a heavy sigh. Hunter, eyes occupied sharpening his knife, replies, “Going on fifteen minutes.” “Think there’s a point?” Hunter shrugs, slots his knife back into its sheath. His eyes flick from Tech to Crosshair, to Wrecker, who is watching the stalemate with rapt attention like it’s a nail-biting bolo-ball match. “Supposedly it’s a study on patience and stress levels,” he says. “But he hasn’t done it with anyone else. You know, Cross did trash his goggles last week.” Echo nods vaguely, sipping his tea and watching the rest of the exchange play out with distant disinterest. It would be imperceptible to the regs passing by, but Echo catches the slant in Tech’s tone, the tiny quirk in his eye. He’s enjoying this.
“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” “I don’t know what you mean. I’m still not touching you.” “Knock it the hell off, or you’ll wake up tomorrow to all your datapads melting in the kriffing furnace.” “I'm not touching you, though.” “This isn’t a joke. I—” “Not touching you.” “Hunter!” Crosshair hisses, shifting away yet again. He’s crammed onto the last three inches of the bench now, but Tech advances quickly to narrow the gap. Hunter cocks an eyebrow. “Oh, no. I’m not getting anywhere near this one.” “Some Sergeant you are.”
Echo tries to tune it out and enjoy his stew, as the threats grow increasingly crass and Wrecker eagerly demands the two get on with it and fight already. How they could lose themselves so shamelessly in such childish antics he does not know. He turns his gaze to the rest of the caf, the grid of tables packed with troopers he’d rather be sitting at. Though as he watches, he soon spots a table in the opposite corner of the hall; two shinies are locked in a fierce arm wrestling match, vode around them whooping and jeering. A few troopers at another table take turns lobbing berries in the air and trying to catch them in their mouths. More than one table has a perilous game of five finger fillet going. He looks back to Tech and Crosshair, inching towards all-out war, and lets his thoughts wander back to his old squad. Nights spent in this very same caf, breathless with laughter as Domino squad tried to one-up each other with outlandish dares. Lobbing wadded-up napkins into their commanders’ drinks. Sneaking behind the serving counters to steal extra desserts. Echo himself had definitely had his moments, dropping ice cubes down the back of Fives’ blacks when he wasn’t looking.
Across the table, Crosshair is reaching the end of his rope. “Are you all just going to sit there and watch?” he seethes. Echo feels a wry grin pulling at his lip. “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says glibly. “He’s not even touching you.”
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