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The Jedi Temple should not be a surprise.
Like all of his brothers, Colt had studied the building from both a historical and tactical perspective. Every vod understood the site was important to their Generals, in addition to being a high value target.
And yet.
The Temple was formidable, looming and solid, in the heart of rushing city spaces.
And his presence had been requested inside the Temple itself, not in the garrison where he and his men had been staying.
The Rancor troops had been assigned ‘information gathering’ missions with their brothers on-world - spending time with the Guard, Ghost, Star and Torrent as ‘Battalion Liaisons.’ It was good for them to spend time with their brothers, even if Colt had yet to invent the language he’d need in his report for the GAR value of visiting food stalls.
Shaak had requested him, and here he was.
But, as a Temple attendant led him along, Colt wasn’t too proud to admit he’d have felt better with one of his brothers at his back. All he knew was that Shaak would meet him when she was available. He’d tracked every turn and stair but where he was being led and why he’d been summoned were still questions that lingered as his escort told him to wait at the gate of a small garden.
It was a nice spot, but nothing out of the ordinary from other similar gardens he had already been led past. A bench in one corner, some greenery, a small tree, nothing out of the ordinary. There was another gate on the other end, the whole thing nothing more than a courtyard or more likely a meditation area or something.
This wasn’t the Council chambers, or even the creche she’d told him about.
The Temple was a well-guarded, well-protected space. He removed his helmet and tucked it under his arm. There were plenty of vode within hailing distance if something went wrong. Colt talked himself down and slammed his mental defenses even more carefully in place. Shaak had a reason for him to be brought here, and he would trust in that.
Distance voices caught his attention, and Colt snapped to attention, watching the other gate.
Instead of his Jedi, a Cosian appeared over the row of hedges moving toward the gate, speaking seemingly to himself.
“Here?” A vod grumbled behind Colt. “Why?”
“Please wait inside the garden, Commander.” This new attendant didn’t sound too impressed, and Colt grinned under his helmet. He heard the moment his vod’s steps pulled up and chose not to react. Neyo hated when he didn’t have the upper hand.
The Cosian was only just coming through the gate, still speaking and now Colt would see who he was speaking to, a row of younglings following his steps.
Neyo started closer. “ Karking-- ”
“Language,” Colt spoke in reflex, sooner than he wanted to. It was better to give Neyo time, let him feel the need to speak. He could hear Neyo’s snort through his speakers. The last youngling rounded the corner, a little taller than most of his squadmates, eyes scanning the garden as he entered, just like a cadet would.
“What are we doing here, Colt?”
Not even a hello. “Watching.”
He took his eyes off the younglings long enough to steal a look at his brother. Neyo was slouched, sulky and disinterested. Even with Neyo’s helmet still on, Colt could see the moment that changed. The moment he saw that one of the younglings was a vod.
“That’s him.” Neyo didn’t turn to Colt.
“Yeah, vod. That’s him.” Colt understood why he’d been summoned. He nodded to the bench. “Take a seat.”
Neyo didn’t, likely because Colt told him to, but he did tuck his own bucket under his arm.
Ottoo grinned in their direction, and Colt gave a quick wave.
“Don’t distract him,” Neyo snapped, before sitting beside Colt, elbows on knees, attention fixed on the vod’ika.
Because Neyo didn’t know Jedi weren’t trained like they were. Colt hadn’t known it either. Shaak had told him about growing up with her clan of younglings, their training and education, and Colt had held her in his arms and watched the storms outside her window, imagining what his brothers could be if they’d had the same.
Ottoo said something in reply to his trainer, no, his teacher, and Colt could feel Neyo tense beside him. Cadets didn’t offer opinions.
Jedi younglings did, Shaak had explained. They debated ideas, were encouraged to have opinions, even when they were little.
Whatever Ottoo said earned him a nod of approval from his teacher and the Tholothian youngling next to him flashed a quick grin in his direction. The tension drained out of Neyo’s shoulders.
“Asking questions is one of the ways they show they are learning,” Colt explained, as he felt pride in their brother swell in his heart. Shaak had promised their vod’ika was doing well, was every bit as talented and capable as the rest of his initiate clan, but to see it put a lump in his throat.
“Explains why the Jedi are a pain in the shebs,” Neyo huffed.
Like Colt didn’t remember his too-charming, too-smart vod back in second cycle trying to talk 6 into and out of everything. Neyo was still like that in some ways, but after that, things were different.
Colt shoved his shoulder against his brother’s. “You good?”
“Yeah, buir. Nothing but sunshine.” Neyo snorted to pretend the question annoyed him, but Neyo shoved his shoulder back into Colt’s and stayed there.
The younglings began to move around the Cosian, sitting in a circle on the grass like they were about to play nuna, nuna, convor. The conversation was quieter, the littles speaking in turn.
Neyo kept inching closer to the edge of his seat, his elbows creeping towards the ends of his knees. He wouldn’t ask, Colt knew.
“They’re discussing.” Colt allowed himself to rest a hand on Neyo’s backplate. “How they get their quals. Demonstrates they understand the material.”
“No screens. No headsets. Just… talking.” Neyo shook his head, pushing back from his knees to sit up. “How does that even make sense?”
To be honest, if Colt hadn’t spent a year at Shaak’s side, it would have been hard for him to believe too. “Ask a Jedi, they’ll tell you all about it.”
Neyo grimaced, shifting away from Colt’s side. He should have spoken more carefully. His brother didn’t know a Jedi like Colt did. “That why I’m sitting here? Some Jedi thinks I need an adjustment ?”
The question was meant to be bladed, but Colt knew better than to react. Colt had a few guesses why Neyo had been brought to sit in a garden with nothing purposeful to do. Those guesses included some Jedi or CC mentioning Neyo was on planet within Shaak’s hearing, and his brilliant, beautiful Jedi knowing Colt worried about his brother.
“A Shebs asshole calls me halfway across a Galaxy, and now I need a Jedi-lesson…” Neyo was grousing to keep himself busy, and Colt knew it. He would assume Cody had also called Neyo in, and given how his own meeting with Cody had gone, Colt could guess what Neyo had been called in for. It wasn’t a slip that his brother mentioned it, it as a breadcrumb trail. That didn’t mean Colt would follow it. He had promised Cody, promised his Vod’alor, their conversation would stay between them. If Neyo had made a similar promise, there wasn’t much to say.
The younglings stood from their discussion, and Neyo shifted like he would stand with them.
Colt understood. He’d worried too. He’d tried not to overwhelm Shaak with questions, or with demands for updates, but he’d worried that Ottoo wouldn’t fit in, wouldn’t be able to be whatever it was that made a youngling good enough.
Maybe he’d debated asking too loudly, but it was more likely his Jedi had anticipated his worry. Almost every holocall to the Temple ended with an update on the youngling clan - a general remark or two on their progress, but they knew better. He and Shaak were not convinced their comms off Kamino were as private as promised, but the longnecks had no reason to particularly care about a Jedi Master checking on future Padawans.
There was a sharp inhale beside him as the younglings cheered and scampered to gather items as marksman-droids appeared.
The littles made a wide arc and Neyo finally spoke. “Not much cover.”
Even with the years apart, Colt knew the language of words unspoken.
This is dangerous.
He might get hurt.
What if he fails?
This wasn’t Kamino. Ottoo wasn’t just another disposable clone. The Jedi didn’t decommission younglings. If Ottoo struggled to keep up with his squad, Shaak promised the only consequence would be more time working with the teacher. But, the whirl of floating droids that shot bolts hovering in front of a row of younglings wasn’t the most comforting sight. He was a CC, designed to protect a Jedi in danger. No one ever limited that to a General. That meant even the littlest Jedi.
If Colt had to step in, Shaak would back him up.
“Fuck,” Neyo grit out as Ottoo and the others lit small lightsabers.
Colt should scold him for the language, but seeing Ottoo holding a lightsaber, bright blue beam shining next to his row of squaddies, stole every ounce of his attention.
“He’s barely second cycle,” Neyo growled. “He’s not trained for this.”
Cadet training was rough, even for the littlest vod’ikase, but the little floating ball droids were reserved for the older cadet running training sims, or as targets for snipers. Not for the youngest cadets to stand only meters from.
Ottoo pulled on a helmet and Colt wanted to be relieved he’d have some armor instead of brown cloth, but then the helmet hung over the vod’ika’s eyes.
“He can’t see.” Neyo pushed off the bench and Colt just barely got ahold of the top of his backplate to pull him back down.
“None of them can.”
Neyo swatted Colt’s hand off with enough force to bruise, shaking his head. “They’ll--”
The droids fired their first shot and both Commanders flinched.
The younglings didn’t.
The row of little Jedi struck defensive poses, all different, deflecting the bolts. Even Ottoo, who took the first one and then the two that followed like he knew where the shots were before they were taken.
One of the others, a Rodian down the line, was struck by a bolt a few blasts later, and both commanders were on their feet. The youngling shook it off and resumed their stance until the teacher called a halt to inspect the youngling’s arm.
No blood, no damage.
The others lifted their helmets off, and Ottoo looked at the pair of them.
“She’s fine,” Ottoo called out to them. “It doesn’t even hurt.”
“Does too!” The Rodian pouted. “It tingles.”
“It does hurt just a little,” Ottoo corrected generously while his face made it clear he did not agree. “Way less than the old ones did.”
Ottoo was young enough on Kamino to only have been trained with foam pellets. At worst, they would leave a bruise now and then, and the first cycles often enjoyed throwing them at one another for fun.
“I see we have visitors,” the Cosian said, and Colt cringed. They weren’t there to interrupt Ottoo’s training. “I am Master Sinube.”
“Excuse the interruption, Jedi Master.” Colt shifted to attention, hoping all appropriate deference would soothe any offense. “Commanders 1016 and 8826, sir. We were instructed to await our General here.”
“Yes, very good of Master Ti. The younglings enjoy guest speakers.” Master Sinube waved them closer. Colt did not have any suggestion that was what Shaak had intended.
“May I greet my brothers, Master?” Ottoo spoke out of turn, and Colt could hear Neyo fail to entirely bite back a groan.
“Yes, Ottoo, you may. Very polite of you to ask.”
Colt tried not to look too surprised by the answer. Shaak might have understated when she said younglings were not treated like cadets. He knelt down to let Ottoo run into his arms, and Colt hugged the vod’ika, careful the plastoid didn’t bite or pinch.
“Missed you,” Ottoo said with his face tucked into Colt’s neck. “But General Ti said you’d visit me.” Ottoo pulled back grinning and reached for Neyo’s hand. “It’s okay, sir. I’m safe here.”
Colt had been careful to keep his shields in place, keeping his worry from reaching the younglings.
Neyo had probably never met a youngling.
Which meant all of his brother’s emotions might have been broadcast to Ottoo, as well as the other younglings.
“I’m… I’m glad you are,” Neyo choked out.
“This is Commander Neyo,” Colt said as he let go of the vod’ika. “We were the same cadet squad.”
“These are also your brothers?” The Tholothian youngling asked, creeping up to Ottoo’s shoulder.
“Only two of them. I have lots.” Ottoo turned to face the rest of his clan, one hand holding Neyo’s, the other hooked on Colt’s belt. “They are Commanders, so they are really smart and good at doing their jobs.”
Colt couldn’t help himself. He brushed a hand fondly through Ottoo’s dark hair. The vod’ika had no idea how much good he was doing.
“Commanders work with Jedi.” The Rodian youngling came to stand in front of Colt. “So, who’s your Jedi?”
“Commander Colt spends all his time with Master Ti.” Ottoo answered before Colt could, bringing a flush to Colt’s cheeks. “They spend all day together, watching over my little brothers.”
That could have gone worse, Colt conceded.
“Do you have a Jedi?” One of the humans, or human-like, younglings asked, frowning up at Neyo.
Neyo looked over to Colt before attempting his own answer. “Mundi sometimes? When we’re out with the Marines.”
The human gave a little, sympathetic sigh. The other littles deflated with him.
“Sometimes it’s Vos though?” Neyo tried again. That didn't do much for the littles.
Colt liked Vos, but he didn’t seem like the most youngling-friendly Jedi.
“You don’t have your own Jedi, sir?” Ottoo tugged at Neyo’s hand. “Like Commander Colt has Master Ti?”
“Not like that, no.” Neyo couldn’t keep the smirk out of his tone. Colt mentally demoted Neyo one brother lower in the ranking.
“So, maybe I’ll be your Jedi when I’m a knight.” Ottoo grinned, bright and gap-toothed.
“Then you don’t have to work with Master Mundi anymore.” The human youngling looked very pleased with that outcome.
“What if he has to work underwater? Then I can be his Jedi too!” A Mon Cala objected, arms crossed.
“I don’t really need a--”
Colt fixed a buir-level glare at his brother.
“I don’t really need just one Jedi,” Neyo amended. “Working with a lot of different Jedi would make sense.”
The younglings brightened at the prospect, and Neyo’s stance softened, leaning closer to the littles.
“The Commander makes a very good point.”
Colt turned to see Shaak enter the garden. Ottoo dropped his hold on his ori’vode to run a few steps toward her before checking back with his teacher. Master Sinube nodded with the kind of resignation that suggested this happened often.
Shaak scooped up Ottoo when he reached her. The sight wedged itself into a soft, vulnerable spot in Colt’s chest, but his Jedi continued to speak to the rest of the clan like this was nothing out of the ordinary. “A Jedi must learn to communicate with as many Commanders, and Troopers, as they work with in order to complete a mission.” She came to stand beside Colt. “And valuing the knowledge and experience of those you work alongside will lead to a smoother path to resolution.”
Colt saw the moment even endlessly-stubborn Neyo could absorb the intent of her words. Shaak valued them, valued their training and struggle. She wasn’t one of those Jedi, and she didn’t want the cadets to grow up that way either.
“Ottoo told us all about his brothers.” The Rodian nodded. “Ottoo says they work so hard to be good soldiers, they don’t even think our training droid hurts.”
The human youngling rolled his eyes. “Even I think the training droid doesn’t hurt.”
“Just because we don’t think it hurts any doesn’t mean Zees doesn’t feel it.” Ottoo sounded cycles more mature than his clan, and Colt wanted to wrap him back up in his arms.
“Very wise, youngling,” Master Sinube nodded.
“Cadets were like that too. Some of them were really tough, but others weren’t as tough, and it was important that they still did a good job, and that was hard.” Ottoo left Shaak’s side and returned to Neyo’s side, putting his shoulder into the commander’s hip. “Master says it’s okay to tell people how you feel.”
Colt wondered what his brother was projecting that Ottoo was picking up. Neyo rested a hand on the vod’ika’s shoulder and said nothing more.
“Thank you for the meeting, sir.” Colt didn’t know where to begin to thank her for including Neyo, or allowing them to see for themselves how well their brother was being cared for.
Shaak smiled, but it was rueful. Colt could tell that now, he knew the minute twist of her lips and cant of her head. “Don’t thank me too quickly.”
“Ah, there she is!” General Kenobi and the rest of the Council trickled into the garden.
“Master Sinube, perhaps the younglings would like to show Commander Neyo their next lesson?” Shaak kept her smile in place as the littles began to twitter and tug at one another’s sleeves to discuss the prestigious Jedi who had somehow arrived at their lesson.
“A valuable suggestion, Master Ti. Come along.” Sinube clapped his hands. “The Commander as well, if he is interested in joining us for mealtime?”
“The food is better here,” Ottoo promised, tugging on Neyo’s hand. The vod’ika paused for a moment to throw himself against Colt for a hug. “See you soon, Commander Colt!”
Neyo took one look at the increasing concentration of Jedi, flashed Colt a perfect copy of 6’s maniac grin and grabbed up Ottoo to race after the rest of his clan.
“Stuck with us, eh Commander?” Vos threw an arm around Colt. “Don’t worry, politicians aren’t the worst.”
“Politicians?” Colt stole a look at Shaak. “Sir?”
“They are only nearly the worst.” Vos assured him. “And you and your brothers all wear the same size, don’t you? So a dress uniform should be no trouble if you didn’t bring yours.”
Colt glanced at the collection around him. Kenobi’s eyes were on his bracers as he stroked his beard. Vos’ grin was wild and unrepentant.
Shaak offered him an apologetic shrug. “We have been assigned a very sensitive mission.” Her smile would have been a grimace of a person with less grace. “A number of us will attend a Senate function.”
“Don’t fear, Commander Cody has been pressed into service as well.” General Kenobi was practically radiating mischief. “He and a few of your fellow Commanders have been recruited. We will strategize as soon as they get here.”
“I understand, sir.” Colt did his best to look properly put upon as Shaak causally brushed her fingers against the unarmored inside of his wrist in thanks.
“And while we wait, you can tell me all about your new armor upgrades.” Quinlan Vos was a menace. “Rancor Battalion really has an unbeatable flair for design.”