Chapter Text
When Wolffe first hears that the General is taking on a Padawan, he’s skeptical. Or maybe that’s not the right word. Suspicious, hesitant, resentful - all of those play into his thoughts about this new, unnamed Jetii that will suddenly be taking on the role of commander beside him.
He doesn’t know a lot about the Jedi Order - only what the Alor has taught him, and what he learned on Kamino to prepare him for serving under them. But he knows that a Padawan is effectively the Jedi equivalent of a cadet; a soldier in training, under the guidance of someone more experienced. His memories of himself at that stage, along with those of his vod’e - young, over-confident and desperate to prove themselves - don’t fill him with hope for what to expect from this new addition. Nor do his few interactions with General Artaega, who was also apparently their General’s padawan at one point and who Wolffe once saw leap head-first off a cliff while chasing down a pack of clankers just to win a bet with Rascal.
He’s not sure if the rest of the 104th share his reservations, but it’s all he can do to repress a sigh as he leads them out of the LAAT/i and into the hangar where General Plo is waiting. Helmet tucked under his arm, he fires off a quick salute and comes to stand in front of the Kel-Dor.
“General,” he greets, and the Jedi gives a nod of his own.
“Commander Wolffe,” he rumbles through the anti-ox mask. “I trust there were no issues coming back from Kheva-7?”
“Not at all, Sir. Assisting General Secura with her relief mission was a welcome change from getting blasted at by clankers.”
The General gives a low-pitched chuckle. "I'm sure. I would have accompanied you as usual, but of course there was another matter that needed my attention."
At that, there's a shuffling of robes and Wolffe gets his first impression of their new Jedi Commander.
'She's… short.'
He has to look down to meet the wide, curious eyes of a brunette child, clad in light grey and blue Jetii robes which almost swamp her. She's gazing around the hangar with barely concealed wonder, not that Wolffe can blame her. At that height, the place must look cavernous.
"Commander Wolffe, meet Jedi Padawan and Commander Kaedrekuin Luctis."
The kid - Kaedrekuin, apparently - bows in the way he's seen Jedi do when they greet each other. Did nobody tell her that there were different practices for the GAR?
"It's an honor to meet you, Commander. Master Plo speaks very highly of you and your men." She addresses him formally, but there's a spark of excitement in her blue eyes that reminds him distinctly of the shinies when they first join the battalion - untested and eager for action.
Great, just what he needs. Trying to make sure this Jetii'ad doesn't get herself killed on top of all his other responsibilities.
Still, he responds with a salute that he hears echoed in the clanking of armour and shuffled movement behind him.
"Welcome to the 104th, Sir."
It's a standard response, the action drilled into them from their earliest training, but clearly that doesn't stop Sinker from leaning toward the man beside him to mutter,
"That's the new commander? She looks like she's just out of her tube."
Wolffe makes a mental note to remind the sergeant of appropriate forms of address for a Jedi Commander. Even if, privately, he agrees.
The thought quickly becomes redundant, as the little Jedi's gaze lands on Sinker's helmeted face, singling him out with a speed that's impressive considering they all sound identical.
He's half expecting her to try and reprimand him. Truly, he's not sure how he would have kept a straight face. Instead she juts out her bottom lip and crosses her arms over her chest.
"I'm almost twelve! I wouldn't even be able to survive in an amniotic fluid tube anymore."
The petulant rebuttal sends a wave of stifled laughter through the men which seems to dissolve the caution and formality the meeting had started with. None of them are used to feeling uneasy when the Alor is around, so Wolffe understands the desire to break the ice somehow. Even if it does border on insubordination. For his part, Wolffe remains as impassive as he can - he's still their commander, and as quickly as the others seem to have warmed up to the Jetii'ad, he's still skeptical as to the viability of putting a naturally aged pre-teen in a position of military authority.
The General might have sensed his hesitation - or maybe he's not got as good of a sabacc face as he thinks - because he places a large hand on the newly-appointed Commander Luctis's shoulder and addresses the men at large.
"I understand that these changes will require some getting used to, but I personally chose to take Kaedrekuin on as a Padawan, in part because I felt that she would be well-suited to help lead the 104th. In time, I hope to be proven right."
Beside him, the Padawan nods earnestly, her voice soft but full of conviction when she speaks again.
"I promise I'll do my very best as a commander, and do everything I can to help protect this battalion and achieve victory over the Separatist forces."
Wolffe leaves the assembly alongside the others, any reservations they might have had now overtaken by playful cracks about their new commander's ikad'troan and slightly oversized robes. Even he has to admit, her attempt to emulate the demeanour and appearance of a grown Jedi despite the lingering traces of baby fat softening her features is endearing in the same way that watching cadets sketch out designs to paint their future armor is endearing.
Her verbal commitment to her role seems to have abated most of the uncertainty. A pledge of genuine care for their ranks went a long way amongst the vod'e - but Wolffe can't help feeling reluctant to accept the kid so readily.
After all, how much help could a child, even a Jedi child, possibly be during active combat?