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English
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Part 4 of Walk Softly (but carry a big lightsaber) , Part 2 of Jedi Shmi Fusion
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Published:
2021-06-06
Updated:
2021-06-06
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1,993
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8/?
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Adapting to Change is a Competitive Sport (and I’m Winning)

Summary:

Terror Squad is some of the 144th Battalion’s finest.

No, really.

Notes:

Chapter 1: Terror's (second) first run

Chapter Text

Major Slick’s orders are very clear, and they buzz through Terror Squad’s internal comms.

 

“All right, Terror Squad, listen up. One. You do not let the General out of your sight. Two, you do not let the General get roped into her son’s antics. Three, this will be harder than you think. Jedi think family bonding means competitive LAARTI-hopping.”

 

“Sir—”

 

“While they’re still airborne.”

 

Scrap very audibly gulps.

 

General Shmi huffs, and makes a face at her bracer as she holds onto the ceiling straps of their descending craft. “Major Slick, there’s no reason to scare them, I’m not nearly so bad as all that. The only ones who engage in sick stunts, as my son puts it, are my son and his padawan.”

 

“Sure, General,” Slick retorts.

 

“Honestly—”

 

“Kuat Shipyards.”

 

General Skywalker has nothing to say to that.

 

“Pretty sure this wasn’t in my design specs,” Scrap protests quietly.

 

“It’s okay, kid, this is why we have the jetpacks,” Toss promises, and claps his huge hand on Scrap’s shoulder.

 

Joy is already strapping hers on, wiggling back and forth to get it to settle right over her shoulders. “This’ll be fun. Who doesn’t like several kilos of tibanna flush with their vital organs?”

 

“You are an adrenaline junkie,” Pierce mutters, “with no sense of self preservation.”

 

“Firstly, that is a karking lie and I take kriffing offense,” Joy declares with glee. “I am a highly trained expert who knows exactly what she’s doing.”

 

“Two months out of ARC training and she thinks she’s hot osik,” Sayle says over internal comms.

 

When the LAARTI lands with a slight bump, there’s only a few troopers waiting for them, all painted in 501st blue. There is a conspicuous lack of Jedi Knights, aside from the one traveling with them.

 

“Captain Rex,” General Shmi greets. “I thought we’d be continuing the assault with my son.”

 

The Captain sighs heavily. His shoulders slump. He looks down at the ground. Then looks up at the sky.

 

And keeps looking up at the sky.

 

“They’re on their way, sir,” Rex says, world-weary.

 

Oh, look, Scrap realizes. Rex is wearing a jetpack. Scrap follows the captain’s gaze skyward.

 

Yep. ‘Bout a kilometer up. That’s a nat-born with a lightsaber in freefall.

 

Oh! Wait! Two nat-borns with lightsabers in freefall.


“Told you,”  Slick says, so smug.

Chapter 2: New orders, straight from the top

Chapter Text

Every one of them handles sleepless nights differently.

 

Joy trains.

 

It’s a holdover, an old habit, one Pierce knows she clings to in the same way he packs and repacks the contents of his field medic kit. So the fact that he’s asking isn’t so much a what as an unspoken why.

 

“What are you doing here? It’s late.”

 

Joy’s arms tremble and shake, but she pulls herself up until her chin is over the bar and her feet hang high over the floor.

 

“Training.”

 

“Take a break.”

 

She glares off into the middle distance, and slowly lowers herself. Even with her shivers of exhaustion, she’s still stubbornly trying to prove she’s in charge.

 

A wise decision. Never defy the medic.

 

Pierce holds out a water bottle. Joy takes it, but doesn’t seem happy about having to lift it all the way to her mouth.

 

“The Brass want me to go to Kamino.”

 

“What?”

 

“The Special Ops one, the one who’s taken charge of the slicers. Rano. He and Captain Trip want to send me to Kamino for ARC training.”

 

“That’s…” Pierce’s voice stops in his throat before he forces it through. “Great. That’s great. You’ve always been—”

 

“With the squad,” she interrupts with a tear-thick voice. “With Terror.”

 

Pierce is ori’vod to half the brothers, sisters, and siblings in Arqet Company. Joy’s been with them longer than most, but none of them like being out of each other’s sight for too long. He knows things are different now, since General Skywalker stood between them and that… general, that demagolka. He’s just got to convince his vod’ikase of that.

 

(And himself, but that’s a later problem.)

 

“Yeah. You have been. But are you so scared because you might go, or because you want to go and you know you will?”

 

Joy takes a shuddering breath, and sits down on the bench. “I’m not infantry. I’m a slicer.”

 

“You’re always going to be a slicer. You’re always going to be Terror. Just because you want to be something else, too… it doesn’t change what you already carry with you. And you will always carry Terror Squad with you.”

 

He sits down next to her, and kisses her sweaty hair. She leans into his side.

 

“You don’t need to be scared, kid. You’ll land on both feet, and we’ll be cheering you on the entire time. We’ll call you every day,” he promises.

 

“Oh, Force.”

 

“Make sure you’re eating your vegemeal.”

 

“Kark, no—“

 

She hides an awfully soft soul behind her brash and daring shell, his little sister.

Chapter 3: Heckled, with love

Chapter Text

“Oya, sir!”

 

“Come on, Basilisk!”

 

“Basilisk, Oya!”

 

“He’s never gonna make it.”

 

“Shut up, he’s gonna make it.”

 

“He’s not gonna make it.”

 

“Look, I know that, but—”

 

“Torrent’s Cap was trained by the Marshal Commander himself! Slick’s a vod.”

 

“You’re a vod. Derogatory.”

 

“No… no, I’m just saying Slick’s like. A man of the people. Captain Rex is like. Vod Royalty.”

 

“Knockoff royalty, maybe.”

 

“We don’t have royalty. We’re an autonomous collective.”

 

“That… really doesn’t mean what you think it means.”

 

“Oh come on. Look! The Captain’s just toying with him now.”

 

“What a jerk.”

 

“Nah, they’ve got a history. Slick used to be 501st.”

 

“How the kark did you hear that?”

 

“Rano.”

 

“Wow, couldn’t even do the work yourself.”

 

“Oh, kark you. Rano has ears everywhere.”

 

“Oof, there he goes.”

 

“Wow. He’s getting back up.”

 

“The Major functions solely on spite and water.”

 

“Gotta hydrate.”

 

“That shit’s important.”

 

“Wait, wait, back up—c’mon, Major! Oya! —back up, you’re saying he was 501st? How’d he end up following the General around?”

 

“ ‘Cause get this: he got out. And then he came back.”

 

“... he what?”

 

“You heard me. Slick got out, got a bunch of brothers out too when the Kaminoans went after that one trainer’s family. You know, Sarad? And Sarad knows the General, I guess. And when the General decided she needed to start looking for shit Jedi and reading them the riot act, Slick tagged along to make sure she didn’t get herself killed.”

 

“I feel like you’re paraphrasing.”

 

“Cross my heart, I am not. That is the full, absolute story.”

 

“Seriously?”

 

“Seriously.”

 

“He came back? For us?”

 

“Uh, yeah. What other reason would he come back for?”

 

“... oh.”

 

“Oya, Major!”

 

“Basilisk, pick up the pace!”

 

“Oya!”

Chapter 4: Sayle experiences the Force Yeet

Chapter Text

“It’s perfectly safe,” General Shmi promises. “It’s barely forty feet.” 

 

Sayle stares at her flatly. “Sir.”

 

“Sergeant, I’ll have a hold of you the entire time.”

 

Logically, Sayle knows the General isn’t just going to fling him onto the far outcropping. She needs a sniper, and he’s a sniper, and snipers have both an inherent and practical need to be tol.

 

(He’s not sure why the different spelling of tall matters, but Scrap says it’s important.)

 

“Just… we could have brought jetpacks,” he grumbles, but obediently starts walking backwards.

 

“I know, Sayle, and I’m so sorry about it, we won’t make the same mistake again.” That’s reassuring. “I’ll make sure jetpacks become an essential part of the standard Basilisk kit.” That’s the opposite of reassuring.


“If it’s all the same to you, sir, I’ll take the yeet,” Sayle decides, and takes off running forwards at full tilt, trusting that his general will handle the rest.

Chapter 5: Immovable objects and unstoppable forces

Chapter Text

“To our trainers, initiates, what say, we do?” Master Yaddle hints.

 

“Thank you, Captain Rex. Thank you, Major Slick,” the crowd of nat-born children parrot obediently.

 

Slick glances sideways at Rex. Rex glances sideways at Slick.

 

“Teach you, they will, while Master Skywalker and Knight Skywalker report. On falling, in combat.”

 

“Why do we have to learn how to fall?” a tiny, high-pitch voice calls from somewhere in the middle of the horde.

 

Slick clears his throat. “Falling is important. Knowing how to fall teaches you to watch your own instincts and control your momentum. There’s a big difference between falling and doing, uh, a somersault, right?”

 

“Don’t do a somersault,” Rex interrupts, pointing sharply at a terrifyingly-tiny Rodian on the cusp of vaulting themselves. 

 

“And no pushing!” Scrap realizes.

 

Khi’vode were never this tiny… right?

 

~

 

Shmi stands blinking in the doorway to the creche.

 

“Good with children, your troopers are,” Yaddle approves. Anakin moves so fast he ruffles her robes, throwing himself into what, in any other circumstance, would appear to be an all-out brawl between two grown men and roughly sixteen younglings of various species.

 

Slick and Rex are doing their best to be careful, but it honestly seems like the initiates are winning. Anakin dives in with a cackle to intercept a gently-tossed Toydarian, allowing Rex a split second to slump in relief.

 

A mistake. The wookie child drags him down.

 

“It seems to be an educational undertaking,” Shmi agrees blandly.

 

“For the younglings, hmm? Or the men?”

 

“Yes.”

Chapter 6: You've been Toggled

Chapter Text

“Where’s my ARC, Luna?”

 

Captain Luna of Krayt Company ignores the comm from Captain Trip of Arquet. She carefully balances her holorecorder.

 

“Luna, come on, I need all of Terror back,” Trip all but whines, the baby. She’s gonna send Joy back. Eventually.

 

She mutes the comm, but sends him a quick text-based message.

 

Luna: Ad Skywalker’s ARCs wanted to play. Joy’s been toggled. I’m en route.

 

Mostly true.

 

She gets a near-instant reply.

 

Trip: What the fuck is Toggled?

 

She snaps the holo of a Togruta padawan napping atop a pile passed-out of ARCs, five painted blue and one painted green. The General’s gonna love this.

Chapter 7: You weren't supposed to just point it out like that

Chapter Text

Fives knows he’s clever, handsome, charming, and, of course, modest, but he didn’t think his joke about blasters was that funny.

 

Toss, Joy’s partner, is bent halfway over his prosthetic legs as he cackles. The expression on Joy’s face is half-mush and half-indignation, and if Fives isn’t mistaken there’s a dusting of embarrassment around her ears.

 

“I… I can see… why you’re all friends,” Toss says between snorts. “Sorry, sorry.”

 

Fives glances at Echo and back. “It’s fine?”

 

Joy is making slashing motions over her throat, but she stops when Fives looks over.

 

Toss grins. “It’s just, you all are very similar.”

 

“We’re what?!”

 

“Are you out of your—”

 

“Okay, first of all—”

 

Toss starts laughing again.

Chapter 8: Only slightly starstruck

Chapter Text

Captain Luna stands bright and starlike next to the General, positively glowing as she shows off the two racks of what absolutely, positively, and certainly are not regulation jetpacks. Joy’s crush on Krayt Company’s CO has never felt more vindicated.

 

“One for each of Basilisk,” the Captain explains. “And sir, with your blessing—” Luna passes the General a datapad with a cheeky grin. “ - and your signature, we can have enough for a full company in two tendays.”

 

The General’s eyebrows lift. “That’s quite fast, Captain. I’m impressed.”

 

Luna preens - as would anyone who garners General Shmi Skywalker’s approval. “Thank you, sir. I’ve seen the packs in action with Torrent and the Wolfpack, I’d like to take a few squads of our best on a test run before I start drafting up some strategies.”

 

General Shmi glances around the engineering chamber, and Joy does her best to appear eager and professional (and also a deadly-edged blade honed in ARC training and decorated for service). Scrap, sitting nearby and hunched over a battledroid skeleton, snickers into his work.

 

Punching him would, of course, be unprofessional.

 

But something about them must light up in the Force, for all the General has ever told them about it. Her eyes land on Joy and Scrap.

 

“I’d imagine Terror Squad to be equal to the task,” General Shmi muses.

 

“Terror’s ready and willing, sir,” Joy promises.

 

Shit. Did she agree too fast?

 

Luna hums consideringly. “Trip’s specialist squad, right?”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“Well then, terr’ika.” Little Terror. “Let’s see what you and yours can do.”