Chapter Text
Tup couldn’t sleep.
Umbara had been… Tup shuddered just to think about it, his heart clenching painfully as he remembered the vod’e they had lost so needlessly to Pong Krell’s insidious plot.
Oz.
Ringo.
Lucky.
Even Hardcase was gone, a notion that physically hurt to think about. The heavy gunner had been one of the first vod to welcome Tup to the 501st as one of their own as he showed Tup how to assemble and use his Z-6 rotary blaster cannon. Tup had just fired off several successful rounds when Hardcase pulled him into a mirshmure'cya before enthusiastically blurting out “ni kar'tayl gai sa'vod”.
I know your name as my brother.
Now, so many of his vod’e were dead, and Dogma was just gone, and Tup couldn’t sleep for the aching in his heart.
So instead of sleeping, Tup was simply laying in his bunk – but not really his bunk, since they were planetside on Coruscant for the foreseeable future – awaiting the results of the ongoing investigation into what, exactly, had happened on Umbara. Tup didn’t truly know much of what was happening now, just that Rex had explained that the entire 501st – especially those who had assisted in apprehending Pong Krell – were required planetside in case the Jedi Council required their testimony.
Tup doubted that they would want to speak with him.
He knew, though, that his constant tossing, turning, and fidgeting would eventually irritate his vod’e – many of whom were already on edge, each hurting in their own way. So rather than continue his pointless attempt at sleep, Tup pushed himself up and out of his bunk and began pulling on his boots, keenly aware that his sudden movements had drawn the attention of several of his vod’e. Thankfully Rex was still barricaded in Commander Cody’s private quarters, the Commander doing whatever he could to support his cyare as the Captain struggle with the fallout from Umbara.
Rex would have never let him leave the barracks without a reasonable excuse.
As it was, Fives was watching him keenly from the bunk directly across from his own – probably wishing that Tup hadn’t quietly asked for space when they turned in for the night – while Jesse and Kix shifted from where they were curled around each other in another bunk so that they could see him better, matching expressions of concern on their faces.
Tup waved them all off, muttering something non-committal about the ‘fresher before slipping out of the bunkroom and into the darkened hallways.
~~~
Wooley couldn’t sleep.
It wasn’t such an uncommon occurrence, really – especially not when they were planetside on Coruscant, surrounded by vod’e from so many other battalions. Wooley still felt most comfortable bunking in the Command Barracks aboard the Negotiator, but with the ongoing investigation into what, exactly, had happened on Umbara, Cody had explained that the entire 212th – especially those who had assisted in apprehending Pong Krell – were required planetside in case the Jedi Council required their testimony.
The thought of the Jedi Council calling on him honestly made Wooley less nervous than his knowledge of which battalions were planetside right now, bunking in the same compound as the 212th.
He’d gotten to know several members of the 501st on Umbara, but they were still largely unknown to him, despite Commander Cody’s well-known relationship with Captain Rex. Regardless, their relative anonymity to Wooley wasn’t overly concerning – not once Wooley learned that the 104th was also planetside, recovering from heavy casualties on Felucia during their last campaign.
Which meant Blunt and Sten were also likely planetside.
Wooley knew that Helix had the datachip with the holo that the pair had recorded after the 212th had returned them to their own battalion, following the events on Krystar. He hadn’t watched it, and hadn’t been sure that he ever would.
But now…
Helix would be in the barracks Med Bay. There weren’t many members of the 212th still recovering – most had been cleared – but their baar’ur had put Boil under observation for the foreseeable future, confined to the Med Bay while the scout came to terms with the sudden loss of his cyare on Umbara.
It would be good to check on Boil, even if he didn’t end up wanting to watch the holo, Wooley decided.
Mind made up, he pushed himself up and out of his bunk and began pulling on his boots, keenly aware that his sudden movements had drawn the attention of several of his vod’e. Thankfully Cody was still barricaded in his private quarters with Captain Rex, doing whatever he could to support his cyare as the Captain struggle with the fallout from Umbara.
Cody would have never let him leave the barracks without a reasonable excuse.
As it was, Crys had looked up from whatever he was doing on his datapad, brow furrowed, while Trapper and Longshot shifted from where they were curled around each other in another bunk so that they could see him better, matching expressions of concern on their faces.
Wooley waved them all off, muttering something non-committal about the ‘fresher before slipping out of the bunkroom and into the darkened hallways.
~~~
Comet couldn’t sleep.
It wasn’t even the whole mess on Felucia keeping him awake, despite the pangs of sadness he felt when he thought of his lost vod’e. No, in Comet’s mind, what happened on Felucia was just part of this never-ending war that was slowly grinding away at him and his vod’e.
It hurt, but so did every battle.
The truth was, Comet never slept well when they were planetside, the thought of bunking in the same compound as so many unknown members of the GAR putting him ill at ease. Not that many of the natborn officers bothered to venture into the distinctly clone areas of the compound, but still… Usually, he elected to stay onboard their ship, assisting with repairs and general maintenance rather than descending planetside with the majority of his vod’e.
But their ship had sustained serious damage on Felucia, and was now planetside along with the entirety of the 104th, undergoing extensive repairs in Coruscant’s shipyards while General Plo Koon assisted with the Jedi Council’s ongoing investigation into what, exactly, had happened on Umbara.
Into what Pong Krell had done.
The mere thought of his former General sent shivers down his spine, and Comet fought the urge to curl into himself pitifully as memories of his time with the 442nd flashed before his eyes. So far, Commander Wolffe and General Plo Koon had done as Wolffe had promised and kept Admiral Thalcorr – and the rest of the 442nd – far away from Comet.
This, though, they could not control.
Commander Wolffe had assured Comet that Admiral Orron Thalcorr had no knowledge of Comet’s presence on Coruscant, and that the Admiral would be more than busy testifying to the Jedi Council regarding his knowledge of Pong Krell and his actions during his time as the General of the 442nd.
Still, the knowledge that the Admiral was nearby still unsettled Comet though, and he knew that he wouldn’t sleep well until either he or Thalcorr left Corsucant. And, if he was being honest with himself, he’d rather meet the Admiral on his own terms, rather than have the man catch him unawares, as he had so many times before.
Mind made up, he pushed himself up and out of his bunk and began pulling on his boots, keenly aware that his sudden movements had drawn the attention of several of his vod’e. Thankfully Wolffe had left the barracks hours earlier, after promising to keep an eye on things, expression grim and shoulders tense as he stalked away from the Wolf Pack.
Wolffe would have never let him leave the barracks without a reasonable excuse.
As it was, Wildfire’s eyes were drilling holes into his back, while Boost and Sinker had shifted from where they were curled around each other in another bunk so that they could see him better, matching expressions of concern on their faces.
Comet waved them all off, muttering something non-committal about the ‘fresher before slipping out of the bunkroom and into the darkened hallways.