Chapter Text
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Deadbolt gazes down at a mostly green planet strikingly different from the sterile halls of Kamino and vastly different from the dead-brown of Geonosis. The dossier states this world is half-covered in alazhi bacteria. The other half, still green but with more cloud-cover, is said to be plentiful rainforests. The report calls it beautiful, stunning.
He terms it a defeat.
This is not a battlefield, nor does it resemble a simulation. It is a far cry from Geonosis where so many of his vode fell. This is a stain on his exemplary record, and he questions why the Kaminoans did not view his merits before assigning him here. He is better suited for war where he will proudly greet the valiant death promised.
Instead, he has been assigned protection detail of bacta on Thyferra.
Nothing happens on Thyferra.
Is this punishment for Geonosis?
‘Cos perhaps his record isn’t so exemplary.
“We’re on guard duty?”
Glancing to his right, Deadbolt gives a minute nod to Alpha-87—better known as Matty these days. The captain crosses his arms as he shifts to his other foot and his scowl deepens.
“My men won’t like this.”
No, they won’t, Deadbolt agrees.
Matty’s pilots are some of the finest to come out of Kamino and this is a complete disgrace. They should be soaring through the galaxy taking out Seppie ships of every shape and size. They should be destroying the enemy before a clanka even reaches a planet.
They should not be grounded for guard duty.
‘Cos of me?
“We are to serve the Republic in any and every capacity needed,” Deadbolt replies, quoting the manual.
“Osik’la and you know it.”
For as excellent a pilot as Matty is and as great a leader as he’s proven himself to be, there are rough edges to the man. He isn’t afraid to speak his mind, which can make him more dangerous than a tripwire. Some days Deadbolt wonders how his vod made it off Kamino.
Though each day he’s grateful Matty did.
“You’ll fly us down in the larty. Trap will accompany me in meeting the general and senator.”
“Osi’kyr!” Matty’s gaze turns icy as his shoulders straighten. “How do you think that will look to them? I’m your second—”
“Like I’m the one in charge,” Deadbolt states and rests his hands on his decees. “Do you plan on disobeying a commanding officer?”
“Rank? Tsk. You’re no pilot—”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” he chuckles, ‘cos both of them know Deadbolt scored exemplary on piloting. He had his pick of branches to choose from and decided the first path presented was best. “Matty, are you done spewing?”
Itching his nose, Matty gives a cadet shoulder shrug. A clear sign he knows he’s out of line but isn’t willing to admit it.
“I need you on reconnaissance.”
The captain breathes deeply before leaning his back against the viewport. “Why didn’t you lead with that?”
“’Cos upsetting you is my life’s goal,” he teases, pleased to see an annoyed—albeit amused—look on his vod’s face. “Are you ever going to trust me?”
His shoulders soften as do the panes of his face giving way to a smirk. “Guess I could do that a bit more.”
Deadbolt chuckles as he resumes his surveillance of the planet.
Looking over his shoulder, Matty’s lips purse to the right as he studies the blues and greens of Thyferra. Slowly, his face scrunches and the unnatural stillness that overtakes his body indicates hesitancy. “You know something seems amiss about this mission, don’t you, DB?”
“Yeah, Matt. I do.”
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Patting the black and white astromech, Matty’s fingers linger on the dent in his clear head. “It’s okay, Ehn,” Matty reassures. “I’m sure the humidity won’t affect you too much."
The soft whine of beeps produced, along with his nervous little jig, indicate he’s not any more thrilled about this mission than the others. Sure, the shinies are happy to lap up this osik ‘cos they don’t know the difference between battle and babysitting, but even the droid is cautious about such an assignment.
And for more than just the fear of corroded wires.
“Why aren’t we all going?”
Hand pausing on Ehn’s head, Matty looks up to see a silver-haired vod ducking under the larty wing. “Did you question the commander this way, Edge?”
“Found you first.”
Intentionally. Matty snorts before leaning against the belly of the ship. “You wouldn’t take this tone with Deadbolt, let alone interrogate him.”
“I would ask the commander if he was around.”
“You won’t even refer to him by his name.” Ushering the astromech toward repairs, Matty waves a hand for Edge to follow. “But come on, I’ll take you to him.”
Trailing, the kid rubs the back of his neck. “Uh… I… Look, we’re curious is all.”
“You be a good boy and get shined up to meet new people,” he coos, brushing a hand over the droid’s dented head. The Republic would never pay to repair something they deem a cosmetic issue, though most days Matty wonders if they’d pay for something internal. Trash is trash to most, after all.
Turning to the kid, he crosses his arms and shifts his weight to his left foot. “Who’s we?”
“Havoc and Ox. Probably Pulsar as well, though he’d never mention it.”
“What about Scythe? He follows you around like a massiff pup.”
Edge gives a shrug. “He might’ve been wondering.”
Moving to his ARC-170, Matty runs a hand over the cool metal of his beautiful girl. “I’ll trade you the information, Edge. Tell me what Stellar is up to, and I’ll tell you what you want to know.”
The kid’s brow furrows and his lips purse. “Stellar’s…up to something?”
Innocence in certain shinies often softens Matty’s coarse exterior, and now is no different. In the few rotations he’s been with this company, Edge has caught his attention. Given he’s an erroko, his life hasn’t been easy—making his boldness a rarity. Even with loyalty being important, many of his vode give hell to those who have undesired traits.
Despite loving Ninety-nine, Matty thinks.
Leaning against his ship, he meets the kid’s confused blue gaze. “Orders are to settle here. Deadbolt’s headed down with Trap and me to gather intel, discuss finer details, and find out where camp’ll be.”
“Stay?” he breathes as the glint of hopes and dreams fade from his eyes. Shoulders falling softly, he clears his throat. “We—We’re on guard duty?”
“’Fraid so.”
Edge makes a quiet strangled noise as if smothering a heavy sigh. Placing his hands behind his back, he gives a firm nod and his gaze tightens. “I’ll find out what Stellar’s up to, Sir.”
“I know you will, Edge.”
Once the kid’s taken his leave, Matty hops into the cockpit of his fighter. Sighing, his fingers trace over the numerous buttons and switches that fill the cabin. His hand grips the flight stick which he gently shifts left and right before he throws his head back against the seat.
Is this punishment for Geonosis?