Chapter Text
“Are you happy to be heading home?”
Rex glanced back at his commander, who, to her credit, immediately noticed her error. “Well, not home per se, but at least getting a break?”
Rex snorted. “Trying to keep the boys in line on downtime is hardly a break.”
Ahsoka clapped him on the shoulder. “It can’t be all that bad!”
Images flickered through his mind: Hevy and Cutup, blackout drunk. Hardcase and Jesse sheepishly waving to him through the bars of their cell. Droidbait running up the side of the Jedi Temple (and sliding back down before he got ten feet). Kix exacerbated to near tears. Echo coming back to the barracks with a black eye and a rather large amount of credits. The Ninth-Hour Paint Incident. He shook his head. “It is.”
“Welllll….if I can help you in between my trainings and meditations at the Temple, I will!” Rex had no doubt of this; as much as the Jedi mystified him, he knew that meditation was not this particular Jedi’s strong suit, nor her preference.
“Looking forward to it, Commander.”
“Happy to help!” Ahsoka snapped a salute and turned to leave. She had done it on the wrong side, but Rex decided it would be funnier not to correct her and see where it led. She was nearly out the door before she hit her head with the heel of her palm. “I almost forgot! Rex, Anakin told me to tell you to pick some of your men for a special project while we’re on Coruscant.”
Rex felt a flicker of anxiety. Special project? On Coruscant? This was either going to be dangerous or… “What kind of special project?”
~*~*~*~
A standard week prior, a committee was over an hour into their discussion.
“It’s an interesting idea.” The senator removed his hand from where it had been stroking his chin. “But will it achieve what we want it to?”
“I think it will,” said Senator Chuchi. “What we need is to remind people not only why we fight, but who fights for us. And that they deserve our support.”
“Hear, hear!” The meeting room burst into applause, as the Committee for the Preservation of the War Effort in the Eyes of the People approached the end of its time slot. Riyo Chuchi and Padmé Amidala shared a conspiratorial glance. While on its surface, the proposal was nothing more than creating wartime propaganda, both senators were of the mind that the project would help individualize & humanize the clone troopers in the minds of Republic citizens, and thus would help pave the way for clone rights. It was a long game, but they were prepared to play it.
Senator Organa spoke up. “Now that we are clearly in agreement on the proposed measure, are there any suggestions as to who should carry them out?”
“We could try the Aexrin-“
“No, they have too many Separatist ties.”
“What about-“
The meeting room turned into a cacophony. Artist after artist was proposed, only to be immediately shut down for one reason or another.
“MEESA HAS AN IDEA.” Jar-Jar Binks’ voice cut through the noise. All turned to him in somewhat stunned silence. Most in the Senate put up with Jar-Jar in varying degrees of success and politeness, but almost no one thought he was…ahem…particularly good. At anything. And this is coming from the Galactic Senate, where incompetency and corruption were constantly battling for supremacy.
Jar-Jar stood grandly, and promptly tripped. Senator Mallin bit the inside of his cheek and struggled not to laugh. Senator Binks was remarkable, if nothing else for his clumsiness. Said senator recovered, and addressed the room. “Meesa would like to propose Cesy Jobar as artist for da Republic.”
Senator G’k’rr’l gave a series of whistles and clicks, which C-3PO translated. “I had the pleasure of witnessing Jobar’s work on the duneworms in exhibit a few years ago. Her talent is bar none. I second Senator Binks.”
“Senator Amidala, isn’t Cesy Jobar from Naboo? What do you think?” Padmé was thoughtful. Despite the fact that she had been working on this project in an unofficial capacity for some time, she was entirely unprepared for Jar-Jar’s suggestion. She had planned to propose another artist, one from Mon Cala, who was rapidly ascending to fame and had a good body of work. And to be honest, she was a little surprised that Jar-Jar knew anything about the galactic art scene, let alone enough to have an idea—a good idea. “She hasn’t worked from Naboo for a while, but she is well-known, and very talented. Her style would lend itself well to the project.” Jobar was a bit of a radical, but that might be exactly what they needed. And her current popularity amongst the galactic elite didn’t hurt.
In the end, the committee decided that Jobar was the right person for the job. And, within the week, a light cruiser entered Coruscant airspace.
“Prepare for docking,” came a voice over the intercom. Vera Jobar looked over at her cousin, who was busying herself with looking out the viewport and fiddling with a datapad.
“Are you ready?” Cesy gave no indication of having heard, and continued to fixate on something that her assistant could only guess at. Vera waited patiently. Eventually, Cesy spoke.
“Clouds.” Vera raised an eyebrow. Today wasn’t going to be a talkative day, apparently. It was just as well. Cesy Jobar was a force to be reckoned with any day, but when she was feeling chattery it was next to impossible to contain. It made public relations a nightmare. But the artist continued. “They are…strong. Sharp.” She turned to Vera, a glint in her eye. “They hide themselves in the guise of harmless gasses, scarcely worth a glance, but NO!” She whirled back to the viewport and pressed her face against it. “At any moment, they are ready to strike.”
As if on cue, a brief flash illuminated the cabin, followed by a resounding crack of thunder. Vera checked the schedule. They were slightly behind. Hopefully the storm wouldn’t cause too many problems. At this rate, they’d have to rush through getting the supplies into the studio she had reserved if they wanted to meet with the senators in time. And if she knew anything, she knew that they would value punctuality. She took a deep breath. It would all work out. She had given them an hour of buffer time, it would be enough. She hoped.
Miraculously, the weather held until they had unloaded the last box. In almost record time, they had located the studio and unloaded their supplies. Their apartment was just next door, and Vera flicked the light on as she entered. It was small, but it was clean. She gave the rooms a once-over, and laid Cesy’s blanket on her cousin’s bed. There was still a little bit of time before she had to wrangle her cousin into a couple hours of meetings, so she used the refresher and changed into a set of clean clothes.
Feeling much more presentable, Vera went back into the studio, where she had left Cesy unpacking her paints. The paints were still there, neatly laid out in order of hue and viscosity. A few rags were already scattered around the room. A large crate in the center of the room was opened, drapings of various colors spilling over the side. But the artist was gone.
“Kriff.”
Vera turned on her heels and bolted back into the apartment. Maybe she had gotten past her? But in her heart of hearts, she already knew that it was futile. “Cesy?” Closet, empty. “Cesy?” Refresher, empty. “Cesy?” Kitchen, living space, empty. “Cesy?!” Both bedrooms, empty. Back to the studio. “Cesy?!”
“Oh hey!” Cesy was standing in the middle of the room, absolutely soaked through. In one hand she held a bouquet of wilted flowers, in the other, what looked like a chunk of duracrete. “Check these out.” She lifted her treasures out and up, as if offering them to the gods. Then she let them go. They fell with a swish and a thunk, respectively. “Incredible.” She looked at her cousin. “I believe this bodes well for our coming journey.” She wrinkled her nose. “When do we have to leave again?”
Vera blinked and tried not to lose her mind. “In five minutes. You need to get ready.”
“Oh.” Cesy paused for a moment, then began to survey the room. This was the wrong track, but Vera didn’t have the time to let her sort it out herself.
“You don’t need your paints; we’ll get them later. You need to get dressed.” She hustled her cousin back into the apartment, and shoved her into the refresher. “Strip. And brush your hair.” Then she went through their luggage. Smock. Smock. Dirty smock. Stained smock. Underwear! Clean, fortunately. Vera set that one aside and continued to hunt. By the time Cesy had finished combing her hair out, Vera had supplied her with a clean, dry outfit, complete with an elegant coat in a Nubian design. “Let’s go.” And off they went.
“Good afternoon. We have an appointment with Senator Amidala.” The guard inspected the Jobars’ credentials, then hit his comm.
“I’ve got Jobar here.” He cocked his head, listening to his helmet’s interface, then straightened. “Alright, you’re clear. Up the stairs, to the left.” He waved them through. On the other side, they were greeted by a golden protocol droid.
“Good day. I am C-3PO, human-cyborg relations. You must be Cesy and Vera Jobar.”
Vera inclined her head. After a moment’s pause, Cesy did the same. “We are indeed. I trust you are here to guide us to the Senator?”
“Right this way.” C-3PO led them down winding hallways, chattering incessantly. Every now and then Vera had to backtrack to grab her cousin, inevitably fascinated by something or other. In a building meant to bring the galaxy together, there was a great deal to be distracted by.
Finally, they reached the door to Senator Amidala’s offices. The door opened with a soft whirr, and the women followed the protocol droid inside. Amidala was seated behind her desk, but rose to greet her visitors.
“Senator Amidala,” said C-3PO. “May I present Artist-in-Residence Cesy Jobar, and her assistant, Vera Jobar.”
“I am at your service.” Cesy gave a deep bow. “We will do great things together.”
Padmé smiled. “It is so good to meet you. I trust you had a pleasant voyage?” Vera assured her that yes, their voyage was peaceful, and their accommodations were exactly what they required.
She led them over to a sitting area, where another senator rose to greet them. Padmé introduced Riyo Chuchi and the Jobars to each other, then invited them all to sit down. “I’m afraid that we are still expecting one more person before we can truly get started. May I offer you some refreshments?”
A few minutes into their cakes and light chit-chat, a clatter announced the last of their party. Cesy jumped to her feet. “Jar-Jar!”
Jar-Jar was ecstatic. “Cesy! Issa so good to see you!”
She ran forward to embrace the Gungan. While they were both bouncing excitedly, Riyo turned to Vera in slight bewilderment. “I take it they know each other?”
Vera nodded. “Jar-Jar Binks was instrumental in her studies on Gungan cuisine. He was an invaluable guide, and is a good friend.” She smiled. “As Cesy likes to say, they are kindred spirits.”
The spirits in question had now calmed down enough to join the group in a pleasant, if still somewhat exuberant, manner. Vera was relieved. For all her eccentricities, Cesy could hold her own in polite society, but it drained her. Having a good friend nearby helped.
“So, let’s get to business.” They all reseated themselves. Vera pulled a case out of her bag, and handed it to Cesy, who then set it on the low table and opened it.
“I’ve been thinking about your request,” Cesy said. “And I’ve pulled together some conceptual art, as well as highlighted some of my past work that I believe is conducive to your intentions.”
As the senators perused the prints in front of them, the artist continued. “My artistic ethos is to draw attention to those things that are frequently overlooked, and have them be appreciated for their true nature. There is so much richness and intensity in this galaxy, if we only bother to look. Most don’t. I intend to help with that.”
"Now, my thought," Cesy grabbed a few select images and brought them to the top of the pile scattered over the table, “was to create a series of paintings that revolve around specific battalions, even soldiers, rather than the army as a whole.”
Cesy shuffled the flimsi a bit more, and Vera took that as her signal. “Republic citizens already know about their army as a concept. In highlighting individuals, they can come to a greater appreciation of the whole.”
Padmé and Riyo glanced at each other. This was exactly what they were hoping for. It was almost too good to be true. They then looked over at Jar-Jar, who was only half-listening and instead looking through the images with considerable interest. He crowed upon finding a striking image of bright blues and greens, ostentatious curves, and a quiet resplendence. “Dissa da tongue-grabbin!”
“Yes! It was incredible to see them in their natural habitat, as well as the way in which you’d hunt for them.”
Well, it was Jar-Jar. It was about time that his ridiculous amount of dumb luck rubbed off on them. They’d take what they could get.
As her cousin and Jar-Jar continued to reminisce, Vera explained. “It’s a slug-beetle; Gungan delicacy. It only lives—“ she paused, not quite able to remember. She turned to ask Cesy, but Padmé knew exactly what she was talking about.
“Under the perlote tree, yes? Native to Naboo?”
Vera looked at her in astonishment. “Yes. It’s not very common. How did you know?”
“Ah, it’s a long story.”
Riyo Chuchi placed the poster she was holding back down on the table and folded her hands in her lap. “So. What can we do to help you accomplish this?”
Vera was prepared. “We’ll need interviews with some representatives from various battalions. Models would be great, but we understand if that’s not feasible. I’ve drawn up a list of some things that would be useful to have for reference purposes.” She handed a datapad over to the senators.
Padmé quirked an eyebrow. “A DC-17?”
“It doesn’t have to be loaded. Actually,” Vera shot a quick glance towards the end of the seating area, where Jar-Jar was currently on the floor, trying to reach a piece of flimsi that he had dropped, and Cesy was trying to help him. It was obvious that all they were doing was getting in each other’s way. The assistant looked back at the women. “It would be preferable if there was no live ammunition.”
At that, Cesy bolted upright. “No! It is important to experience the object in it’s fullness!”
“Perhaps, a demonstration?” Riyo suggested. “I’m sure Commander Fox could facilitate that.”
“That would be more than enough, thank you.” Vera shot her cousin a look, and any protest quickly died. “Back to the subjects. We will need to interview some troopers, get to know them a little.”
Cesy cut in. “It’s an important part of my process.”
“We don’t really have any contacts within the GAR. Could we trust you to facilitate some meetings?”
“Of course. I already have a few in mind.” Padmé smiled. “In fact, the 501st Legion is due planetside in the next couple of days. I’m friends with the general, I’m sure they would be happy to help.”
As they continued to iron out the details of the project, Cesy smiled. Good things would come of this, she just knew it.