Chapter Text
“Sir?”
Deadbolt shifts from counting the specks in the ceiling towards Trap who stands in the doorway. Extending his hand to his chair, he remains sprawled on his back in his drawers hoping at some point the humidity will break. The sticky, sweat that leaks from his pores has him yearning for the harsh, dry climate of Geonosis.
“Go, go go!”
The hum of larties surround him as he jumps from the ship onto the cave floor. Adrenaline pumping, he aims at the ugly buggers, easily mowing down the first line with his blasters. Years he’s trained for this moment, and it comes easily until sweat begins dripping into his eyes.
“Commander?”
Deadbolt swipes the sweat from his forehead. “Trap?”
“Sir, I noticed you didn’t inform Edge of the mandate given by the senator and Jedi. What happens should he mention the war?”
“Go, go, go!”
“Matty, Red Zero. Red zero, Matty! Now! Matty?! Matty, can you hear me?”
Drawing a breath, he pinches the bridge of his nose and fixes his gaze on three specks in the shape of a triangle. The irritating buzzing momentarily detracts from the sweat soaking the bed as he slaps the pinch on his thigh. “What if, Trap?”
Rubbing his palms across the blacks on his thigh, the lieutenant clears his throat. “Would be an infraction against us, Sir.”
“Could.”
“Matty?”
“I don’t understand the play here, Commander.”
“Matty?!”
“Let it work itself out, Trap.” Pinching harder, Deadbolt knows the cartilage might snap at any moment. It hurts, but it’s not enough to chase away the echoing of his scream in his mind. Thick air clouds his surroundings as the trooper is swallowed by the mist.
“Matty!!”
Digging through the wreckage, Deadbolt loathes the slimy ooze congealing in his veins. A feeling and discomfort so discombobulating, it slows his fingers which keep slipping over the edge of the carriage. As the larty burns hot enough to melt the durasteel, Deadbolt switches to slamming the butt of his Decee into the latch again and again and again.
“DB?”
Muscles locked, Deadbolt’s lungs burn but he can’t inhale. Is this the end?
“Deadbolt?!”
Water splashing over his sticky skin, Deadbolt splutters and coughs. He grips the scratchy sheets as a hand pats his back.
“Happened again?”
“Like it ever stops,” he mutters and rests his arms on his thighs.
Slumping onto the edge of the bed, Matty heaves a heavy sigh. “I’m here, DB. You got me out.”
“Y…Yeah,” he breathes as screams echo through his mind. Jaw clenching, the durasteel melts as vode shriek in pain and terror—
Matty places a firm hand on his shoulder. “Wasn’t the first squad you lost. Just like those, you couldn’t help what happened on Geonosis. None of us were prepared for that. They were nothing like the simulations. And only the strongest survived those.”
“Not sure that helps, Matt.”
“Fine. You’re a commander for a reason. You make the difficult decisions in the face of impossible odds.” He draws a deep breath before his gaze drops to the floor. “We have more pressing matter. I assume you’re not warning Edge for a reason?”
“Dunno.”
“Yes, you do. You always do, even under trying circumstances. It’s why we follow your lead.”
“Follow the lead of a defective clone,” Deadbolt responds softly and bows his head. “We weren’t created to feel this way. Perhaps if I didn’t have this flaw, more would survive.”
Matty gives a dark chuckle. “The aiwha-bait didn’t plan on errokos, yet there was Rex’ika. We now have Trap and Edge in our family. Perhaps erroko is more than just the seen. After all, it seems to be there are lots of things the long necks couldn’t control.”
“Like the Nulls,’ Deadbolt replies as a smirk stretches across his face.
“Or us.”
“Or us.” Laying back, he huffs a sigh and looks at the ceiling. “I just hope this works, Matty.”
“Whatever it is, I’m sure it will. It always does.”
*｡.•°•.｡*
Seated on the balcony, Ellie gazes over the multitude of green leaves across the forest. The little flecks of shade she’s sought to stay cool do nothing to keep the sweat from slipping down her brow, chest and back. It’s grotesque to feel as if you’re swimming in thick air, but ladies to not swipe and this is what she must accept until the senator decides otherwise.
He’s promised her they will move from Thyferra after the gala. His tenure as a senator will be complete, and she will be given the opportunity to explore the galaxy as she desires. Master Rada has encouraged the idea as long as she continues to follow instruction.
Ellie isn’t certain she believes her master, but Senator Karrock has promised her opportunities before and followed through.
Unlike her master, he is a man of his word.
‘We could explore the forest.’
“I’m not certain when they’ll return,” she tells Beats. The brightly colored bird with violet and scarlet plumage fluttering between branches sings a soft melody which weaves its way through the branches. “You know, the senator worries about the beasts of the forest. My safety is of his utmost concern.”
‘Safe,’ Beats grumbles in a low whir of gears as he watches the avian.
“You understand the clanka?”
Ellie turns to see a soldier observing her. Armor gleaming white and untried in the bright sunlight contrasts the black blaster rifle held loosely in his grip. Given the absence of a pauldron and his lack of intensity, she denotes he must be of lesser rank.
‘What’d he call me?’
“Clanka?” she questions with a gentle tilt of her head.
“The tinnie on your shoulder, Miss?”
Pulling Beats—who’s now chirping exceedingly impolite beeps—into her arms, her gaze narrows. “He is not a… a…tinnie. Or your… clanka. His name is Beats, and he is my best friend.”
“Meant no disrespect, Miss. Just… you’re… You’re friends with i… him?”
Ellie nods. “Nearly ten years.”
“Ah, my apologies.” His T-visor turns towards the forest as the toe of his boot twists back and forth on the marble. “So, you… like it here?”
Shrugging, she resumes watching the vibrant bird who’s turned its attention on the soldier. “There are occasions where I miss home.”
Approaching the railing, the soldier leans against it and sets his blaster on it. “Where’s home?”
“Coruscant.”
“Triple Zero? Are all Jedi from there?”
“The Temple resides there, but we’re oftentimes born elsewhere. I was born on Corellia, but all I’ve ever known has been the Temple.”
“That so?”
Nodding, Ellie observes him lean forward to gaze at the ground far below which is reminiscent of a child, and not so different from her own behavior—a thought that sends a shock through her veins.
Shoulders easing, she debates the options before her. While she’s no good at using the Force, though she’s certain she hasn’t met this particular soldier, she wonders if he’d be interested in removing his helmet. She knows he’s uncomfortable under it since the humidity here knows no boundaries. However, should her master return, will she face repercussions for her kindness?
“You can remove your helmet if you wish.”
“Ah, no thanks, Miss.”
“I can tell it’s unpleasant and for good reason. Our climate can be unbearable—especially during midday.”
The T-visor turns towards her, silently regarding her—judging her, reminding her that she is not worthy. Even as his snaps a cuff along the bottom and pulls the helmet off with a hiss, it’s merely to get a better look at the failure she is, at the nuisance he has to watch over.
Setting the helmet on the railing, the soldier wipes a gloved hand over his sweat-soaked face. “Thanks, Miss.”
Ellie’s managed her way into Master Rada’s dossiers a few times over the last few days. They contain information on every soldier assigned to this battalion but could never prepare her for the one who stands next to her. When she saw his silver-hair in the holophoto, she had been fascinated, but seeing it shimmer in the daylight takes her breath away.
She clears her throat. “I’m sorry you’re forced to wear armor, Edge.”
The way his blue eyes widen as he gasps softly, and his cheeks darken. In the next second, he looks to the brightly colored bird and clears his throat. “Our armor provides resistance against all weather conditions. That dress you’re decked out in is likely worse.”
The soldier isn’t wrong. The heavy, pearl embellished dress carries a tight corset and three petticoats. Most days she longs for the leggings and tunic she always wore as a youngling, and that she knows the Council wears. Master Rada, however, says that an appropriate outfit is needed in battle which is why he dresses so decadently.
And given how she received this dress, she should be thankful. “The senator gifted it to me. If it pleases him, it pleases me.”
“That how it works?”
“How what works?”
“You an’ him?”
Ellie lifts her chin as Beats hops onto the railing for a closer look at the soldier. “I am uncertain as to what you’re implying, but Senator Karrock is a generous man who makes certain I have all I need while we’re stationed here.”
Those light blue eyes narrow slightly. “You seem more like a senator’s wife than a Jedi.”
“Well, perhaps that is due to the fact I am not a Jedi.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be?”
Lips thinning, the comment stings worse than Lady Vehara correcting her posture with a firm backhand. Ellie readjusts her dress and considers the fact she once dreamed of being a Jedi Master. Those were hopes and dreams of a child who failed to grasp her place in the galaxy. Now…
Who am I kidding? I was never going to be a Jedi anyway. I’ll be lucky to glean the teachings of the Force.
“Isn’t it your master’s job to train you to be a Jedi?”
“You best not let Master Rada catch you speaking that way,” she responds, finding her voice. Smoothing her dress again, she nods to Beats who hops onto her shoulder. “He’s doing his best to train me in the ways of the Force. Unfortunately, I am not prone to mastering my emotions.”
“Seem pretty mastered right now, Ella.”
“Not Ella.” She narrows her gaze with a huff. Teeth gritting, the spike of her heel digs into the marble terrace. “Ellie. My name is Ellie.”
“Oh. I’d heard… Forgive me, Miss.”
The gentle shock in his voice draws her gaze. As she considers his questions or comments, none of them seem to convey anything other than curiosity or observation, so why would he have intentionally said that name? Even now, his blue eyes shine with an inquisitive nature instead of malice.
“You’re… different than the others,” she says.
“Called an aberration. They’re frowned upon.”
“Is that so?” Gently, she reaches up and fiddles with the tips of his silver hair. “Differences can be an asset. Everyone is allowed to have separate attributes. Makes us all individuals in the end.”
“Not if you’re a clone,” he objects and turns towards the forest. Arms folded over his chest, he watches the bird flutter away. “Not meant to be different, Miss. Us clones are supposed to be the same.”
“If you’re all the same, how would you handle tense situations? Wouldn’t it mean you’d all make the same decisions and choices meaning you’d be predictable to the enemy? I mean, if you had come across those battle droids from a few years back you’d be as predictable as them, I assume.”
“They still think separately.”
“Think—” Ellie tilts her head. “What do you mean still? They were destroyed.”
The soldier’s brow rises. “No, Miss. The Separatists created their own army, the droids, to fight instead of enlisting citizens.”
“You’re not…” Biting her lip, Ellie looks at Beats who leans forward on her shoulder with his head tilted. “Are you telling me…”
‘Is there… If there are soldiers there must be a war,” Beats chimes as he turns to her. ‘What war?’
“There’s a war?”
The soldier’s eyes lock on hers, scrutinizing her every word before he replies, “You don’t know?”
Ellie shakes her head.
A soft squawk emanates from his left arm. Tapping a glowing button, the soldier remains still until it chimes. “Sir?”
“Eagle’s nesting.”
“Understood.” Grabbing his helmet, he slips it over his head and returns to his post by the door.
“Wait!” She follows after him. “What about—What are you doing?”
Stiffening into a silent statue, the T-visor doesn’t acknowledge her presence. Frowning, Ellie questions if her question about war turned him frigid and cold. Was that question to childish for him? Did it offend him? Who’s eagle?
Glancing at Beats, she notices his antennae twitching softly as if he’s receiving a communication. That can’t be. No one has reached out to her for years.
“They’re back,” the droid alerts.
Inhaling sharply, Ellie dashes to the sitting room. Settling on the stiff, floral-stitched sofa, she smooths her dress and slows her breath. Footsteps clomping down the hall echo louder and louder indicating Master Rada’s approach. As he enters the room, Ellie isn’t surprised to see Senator Karrock next to him.
“What have I told you about posture?”
Straightening her spine, Ellie lifts her chin into proper position with her gaze averted from the men. She notes whatever errand they were on must not have worked in her master’s favor. The singes of reds and black whip past her like the scorching noon heat.
“Ease up on her, Klaus. You cannot blame her for our miss.” The senator gives her a soft smile. “Come now, Ella. A delivery of dresses from Corellia accompanied our return. I’d like for you to pick your favorite for the gala.”
Swallowing roughly, Ellie inclines her head as she rises from the sofa. How her stomach manages to drop through the floor as nausea swells in her throat is beyond her. With the soft tap, tap, tap of her heels, she leaves the soldier behind.