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In Boil’s defense, he’d been off duty. There had been no reason to be so vigilant, especially considering his current location which had to be the second safest place in all of Coruscant. Who the kriff would be stupid enough to attack the Jedi Temple in broad daylight?
With Waxer busy seeing a batchmate who was stationed in the Guard, Boil had found himself with nothing to do but to admire the Temple’s architecture. Maybe about half an hour ago Boil had started wandering around the Temple and had at that moment been walking through one of the larger hallways, the vaulted ceiling so high above him that it was a wonder the place didn’t echo like a cave with each step he took. Mindful of the noise his boots made, Boil had taken extra care not to stomp like a rancor in a strop, so it wasn’t like he had been unable to hear anything.
That’s when his commlink had just about exploded as someone decided to flood the Ghost Company chat with holopics of various tookas doing tooka things.
With one eye on his commlink, Boil scrolled past dozens of comments, ranging from annoyance to delight, as he used the other eye to make sure not to walk into anyone.
And yet, Boil nearly stepped on someone.
Someone short and wrinkly, and alarmingly High General Yoda-shaped.
Except, Boil realised once he mentally unstuck himself from the lofty ceiling, they were even shorter and less wrinkly than High General Yoda.
With his heart finally slowing from its attempt to punch its way through his cuirass, Boil looked over his right shoulder, then his left shoulder. Then he turned and looked behind.
Somehow, he and this little Not-High General were the only ones in this cavernous hallway.
Swallowing, Boil looked down and met those large, dark eyes. And they were large; Boil had seen the High General from a distance once and he was pretty sure his eyes weren’t that big.
From the neutral-brown shade of the weird, almost sack-like robe the little Not-High General was clad in, Boil guessed them to be a Jedi. Or a Jedi-ling. No wait, that’s what they were called. Younglings! Yes, Boil was pretty certain that the little Not-High General was a Jedi youngling.
But what were they doing here, all alone, Boil wondered with a frown, tilting his head.
Boil’s left eye twitched when they suddenly tilted their head just like Boil had, one large ear folding against the thick collar of the little one’s robe. They took a small step closer, and Force, Boil realised that the Not-High General barely reached his knee! One teeny-tiny hand reached out and three little digits that ended in claws tapped his left greave, curious.
Boil swallowed the high-pitched noise (of shock, not adoration, never!) when those ridiculously large ears tilted up at the sound. He watched how the little one rapped the scuffed plastoid again, harder this time. The louder sound had the tiny wrinkles on the little one’s forehead turning more prominent when those large eyes somehow grew even larger, shining in delight, Boil realised.
Looking up again, Boil tried to spot a proper Jedi General (or Commander, he wasn’t picky) because if the Jedis were anything like the Kaminoans, younglings should be contained in their designated areas just like the tubelings were back at Tipoca City. This little Not-High General shouldn’t be walking around alone, Boil was 100% certain of it. He could probably comm Commander Cody and ask for help since he was most likely somewhere close to General Kenobi, if not glued to his side, who would definitely know what to do with Boil’s situation.
Carefully, Boil went down on one knee but even so, the little one’s arms wrapped around his leg, jostled by the movement. When they had climbed to stand on top of his foot, Boil had no idea but he was willing to bet his candy stash that it had something to do with the Force.
“Uh, sir?” Boil spoke.
The large ears perked up again and holy kark, how was Boil going to be able to look at the High General ever again and not think of him doing something like that? At least when the kid did it, it looked cute.
Boil blinked, mentally rewinding his thoughts. When had he decided that the General-to-be was cute? Boil didn’t do that. Waxer did. Waxer was the one who turned mushy when he saw something supposedly cute, all gentle smiles and soft, soothing words.
There was another “tack tack” sound against the plastoid, and Boil looked at the green, wrinkly face. The tiny mouth parted, revealing two rows of pointy little teeth that seemed a little concerning on something so small as they cooed at Boil. A small part of Boil had expected them to speak as the High General did, so to hear the odd word (what did they say? Patu?) was a surprise to him. It only confirmed Boil’s suspicions about the little one being very young despite all the wrinkles.
The dark brown eyes peered up at him with curiosity and then the Not-High General lifted their arms in a motion Boil knew very well.
Hesitating, Boil looked around once more to see if anyone had magically appeared from thin air but again, the giant hallway was empty of any soul besides the two of them. The little one cooed again, insistent, and Boil sighed. He briefly wondered if neglecting a plea (or was it a demand?) from a future General would earn him some kind of demerit, as he carefully picked the Not-High General up like he would a live bomb.
Holding them in the air, arms straight, Boil noticed a pair of three-toed feet peeking from beneath the robe and as he watched, the little one started swaying them back and forth. This little detail was just as absurd as the whole situation, and Boil made a noise somewhere between a snort and a laugh.
It must’ve sounded funny because the Not-High General’s ears perked up and they cooed again with a small smile, those dark eyes sparkling.
Yeah, Boil was man enough to admit his defeat. The little one was very cute.
“Alright then, let’s find someone who’s ranked high enough to deal with this situation,” Boil announced to them.
The announcement received another pointy-toothed smile and a coo as the small hands reached to pat at Boil’s hands, the little claws clicking against the plate protecting the backs of them.
Realizing that it must’ve felt a bit uncomfortable to be held like a sack, Boil awkwardly shifted to hold them in his arm, recalling how the General had held that little Twi’lek, Numa, back on Ryloth. But as the Not-High General was smaller than she had been, Boil had to adjust his hold until they sat in the crook of his arm.
“I can’t really keep calling you Not-High General, sir,” Boil said out loud, snorting as the little one twisted to look up, one of their ears getting squished against his chest plate. “Let’s see… You’re not old enough to be a Commander, let alone a General, but you’re not really a cadet either, are you? So, how about Major? Would that be alright with you, sir?”
They said that odd word again and Boil smiled when they nodded as well.
“Sir, yes sir. So, Major, which way did you come from?”
The Major used one tiny hand, the one not holding onto Boil’s thumb, to point forward before they looked up at Boil again.
“Affirmative. Let’s move out.”
Fifteen minutes later, after Boil had walked through several more hallways, following the directions the Major kept pointing out, they came across a rather flustered-looking Trandoshan Jedi with red-colored scales. Unlike most of the Jedi Boil had seen (not that there were many), the simply embroidered tabards they wore crossed over their chest.
“There you are! Do you have any idea how long we’ve been sssearching for you?” the Jedi, presumably a Crèche Master, declared, and Boil guessed from their voice that they were a female. He also presumed that the pronounced sibilance was a sign of frustration. “My thanksss, where did you find him?” she asked, raising her hands expectantly.
“I found the Major alone in one of the hallways, sir,” Boil replied and, a little reluctantly, held the Major out to the Jedi, who gently took them. Boil raised his brows when he watched the Crèche Master unceremoniously tuck the little one into the tabards like some kind of harness.
“Major?” the Crèche Master repeated with a slow blink of her orange eyes, only to look down as the Major cooed something to her. “I see,” she commented after a moment. “His name’s Grogu and he’d like to say thank you for helping him to find his way back to the Crèche. Wouldn’t you, Grogu?”
From the way she spoke to the Maj – er, Grogu, Boil guessed that she wasn’t really that impressed with the little one’s behaviour.
“It’s really nothing, sir,” Boil replied and swore inwardly as he belatedly stood at attention, saluting sharply. After all, he was in the presence of a Jedi General. “I was only doing my duty.”
He had never seen a Trandoshan express uncomfortableness, so the way the Crèche Master in front of him became flustered and hurried to reassure Boil took him by surprise. “There’sss no need for any of that in the Temple, trooper,” she said, earnestly, “Grogu would’ve been found sssooner or later, although thanksss to you it was a lot sssooner. I just hope didn’t give you any trouble.”
“No trouble at all, sir,” Boil replied and he glanced at the little one, a smile forming on his lips when Grogu waved a tiny hand at him. “Working with the Major was a delight.”
“Ssstill, I feel like we ought to show our gratitude in some way. This little troublemaker should’ve known better than to bother a trooper like you,” the Crèche Master explained, the sibilance easing as she calmed down. “Oh, I know! It’s almost naptime at the crèche and with the younglings asleep, we can offer you some tea,” she announced, clearly excited.
The Ma – Grogu must’ve felt her eagerness through the Force or something because he raised his arms with a happy croon-squeal.
“That’s not really necessary, sir,” Boil started, the sudden thought of getting served by a General or Generals sounded rather intimidating. “I can just find my way out and – “
“Nonsense,” the Trandoshan interrupted good-naturedly and linked her arm with Boil’s. “I know the rest of the Crèche Masters would love to meet the one who just saved us another hour of search through the Temple.”
“Uh, sir – ?” Boil tried again as he had to speed up to stay abreast of the Crèche Master who, Boil realised, was taller than him and the arm holding onto his nothing but pure muscle.
Tucked in the harness and with one ear smushed against the Crèche Master’s chest, Grogu smiled at Boil as he reached over to pat his rerebrace.
The first time General informed Waxer of Boil’s whereabouts he thought he’d misheard it.
He didn’t believe it the second time either.
But, as they said back in Kamino, the third blaster made the shot and Waxer tried not to show his shock at the information that Boil was currently surrounded by tiny Jedi Generals and their caretakers. Also, the way the Commander was glaring at Waxer from behind the General’s shoulder really helped to clear his ears. He was gracious enough to deny the Gerenal’s offer to guide him to the crèche, especially since he had been the one to interrupt his commanding officers’ afternoon tea. Waxer was very apologetic of that, Commander, please don’t mind him, he’d be out of their hair faster than a greased cadet. Waxer winced mentally when he heard the General asking the Commander what “a greased cadet meant” and quick-marched out of the door as quickly as possible. He kept his fast pace all the way out of the residential wing of the Temple before politely stopping an elderly Jedi General and asking him for directions to the crèche. The Cosian seemed intrigued that a trooper would be interested in visiting the crèche but didn’t stop Waxer. Instead, he decided to personally guide Waxer there, telling Waxer stories about the younglings of the Hawk-Bat Clan he’d taught several decades before the war.
“ – sadly, it wouldn’t be the last time young Arath would find himself falling into the pond,” said Master Sinube, as he had told Waxer to call him.
(“I’m no General, Waxer, not an old man like me.”
“But High General Yoda’s older than you.”
“Well you see, Master Yoda can’t dodge certain titles no matter how many frogs he decides to eat in front of others just to make them go away.”
“Eat what now?!”)
“You mean he fell for the same trick again?” Waxer asked, fascinated by the idea of Jedi younglings playing such pranks on each other.
“Oh no, the rest of his clan members came up with a whole new trick,” Master Sinube explained, chuckling a little before stopping in front of a pair of doors. “Ah, here we are,” Master Sinube said as he laid a hand on one of the remarkably engraved doors, “I can feel your friend here but please, let’s be quiet unless we’re ready to face the full wrath of the worn-out Creche Masters.”
Waxer raised an eyebrow at the rather cryptic warning but before he could ask anything, the old Jedi gently pushed one door open. The action had Waxer wondering why they even had actual manually opening doors here instead of sliding ones before his attention was stolen by the room that came into view on the other side.
Gasping, Waxer took in the different colors used on the walls, the billowy curtains, and the furniture, all different shades of pale blue, pink, green, and yellow. As Waxer followed Master Sinube inside, he looked around and saw large baskets full of toys, the little nooks on the walls filled with soft pillows that were tiny enough for a Jedi youngling to crawl into if they wanted to.
The colorful room seemed to only highlight the shades of brown and cream clothing of the two Jedi who were standing in the middle of the room’s plush carpet. The red-scaled Trandoshan Jedi tilted their head at their arrival while the much shorter Lannik Jedi raised a warning finger to his lips.
“This better be important, Master Sinube, we just got them to fall asleep,” he half-whispered while staring at them with an unmistakably unhappy expression, and suddenly Waxer realised what Master Sinube’s warning had been about.
“But of course, Crèche Master Otti-Lia, we’ll be as quiet as possible,” the old Cosian promised softly as he approached the Crèche Masters with remarkably silent steps despite his cane. “Waxer here is looking for his friend, who according to Master Kenobi, he’d find here,” Master Sinube explained calmly as he waved a hand at Waxer.
Waxer swallowed as the sharp gaze of the intimidating Crèche Master turned on him. “Master Kenobi knows full well not to disturb naptime,” the Lannik Jedi only said but his expression relaxed when the Trandoshan Crèche Master placed a hand on his shoulder.
“You are Boil’s friend, aren’t you?” she asked, seeming rather pleased when Waxer nodded. “He told the younglings about your ARF training and mentioned you by name several times,” she explained with a toothy smile, “your friend has the gift of storytelling, Waxer; I haven’t seen the younglings so captivated in ages.”
Boil? Telling stories to a bunch of Jedi younglings?
For a moment Waxer thought this was some kind of grown-up Jedi prank but the Trandoshan Jedi seemed so sincere that he decided to just take it at face value for now.
“And where would this Boil be now, Créche Master Aliissha?” Master Sinube asked politely.
“Oh, he’s taking a nap with the younglings!” Créche Master Aliissha informed them brightly. “After I offered him some of the tea and cookies the kitchen sent for the younglings and us, Grogu and the rest insisted he join them in the nap room.”
For the third time that afternoon, Waxer thought he’d misheard things. “Nap room?” he managed to reply, dumbfounded. There was a whole room just for napping?
“Mm-hm,” Crèche Master Aliissha hummed with a nod. “But perhaps you could to wait until the naptime is over before taking him away. The younglings have him, ah, surrounded?” she added, looking a little bashful, and Waxer had never seen a Trandoshan look bashful.
Waxer opened his mouth before quickly closing it again as an idea came to him. “Sure, but would it be alright for me to check on him quickly? I promise to be quiet and not wake up the younglings,” he added, flashing a grin at the still displeased Lannik Jedi.
“But of course, this way,” Crèche Master Aliissha agreed and waved her hand to a closed door on the other end of the room, half-hidden by long curtains.
“Don’t you dare, Aliissha, it’s been ages since they all slept like – ,“ Crèche Master Otti-Lia started but was interrupted by Master Sinube, who moved quite deftly in front of them.
“You know, it’s been ages since I visited here,” the old Cosian announced cheerfully even as he linked his arm with the smaller Jedi. “Would you show me the new Clan Trees? Marvellous, let’s go then.”
Waxer bit his lip to hold back his grin when Master Sinube led Crèche Master Otti-Lia away. Next to him, the tall Trandoshan Crèche Master had no trouble laughing quietly.
“Please don’t mind Otti-Lia, he’s just so glad the little ones fell asleep so fast. They’ve been so restless these past months,” she explained with a sigh as they approached the door. “The younglings are even more sensitive to the changes in the Force than us adults.”
Uncertain how to reply to that, Waxer nodded. “I guess it’s a bit similar to some of the troopers when they first leave Kamino for the first time? We’re so used to Tipoca City and the rain that seeing something else, especially space, makes them a little queasy at first.”
He wasn’t sure why he said that but the quick look Crèche Master gave him made him blush a little.
“Even though I’ve met troopers before you two, it still surprises and saddens me to hear something like that…,” she murmured as she gently pushed the door open.
Behind the door was a dimly lit room, slightly smaller than the one they currently were in, but there were several shallow pits on the floor, all of them full of pillows and bedding. Waxer realised they were beds when he noticed the small, robe-clad figures sleeping in them in twos or threes. There were three more Crèche Masters carefully moving around the room and Waxer spotted another two sitting in the sunken beds, both cradling what looked like a tubeling.
Following the Crèche Master, Waxer had never felt more conscious of his armor. Usually, the sounds that followed a trooper on the move were comforting but here, surrounded by all the sleeping little Jedi-lings, Waxer did his best to muffle the creaks and clacks. The reassuring smiles the Jedi gave him as he passed them eased Waxer a little, but he still nearly missed spotting the sunken bed that was close to the left wall of the room.
When Waxer did see it, his eyes widened in shock as he gasped in surprise.
Boil had at some point taken off his upper armor, placing it on a neat pile next to the bed, and he was laying on his back in a hollow that was too short for him, meaning his legs were resting on a pillow outside the sunken bed. On either side of him, snuggling against his chest were two tiny younglings, a Rodian and a human, and Boil had a protective arm wrapped around both of them. Next to his head, sharing the rather soft-looking pillow, was a being that looked unmistakably like the High General Yoda but was even smaller, one of their adorably large ears twitching now and then.
Waxer slapped a hand over his mouth, holding back the coo that threatened to escape at the sight.
“Boil found Grogu wandering about and kept calling him Major,” Crèche Master Aliissha whispered with a toothy grin, “and Grogu himself was very insistent that Boil should come here. In his words, Boil needed a cookie and a hug.”
The urge to coo became even stronger and that must’ve somehow leaked into the Force because the Trandoshan Jedi let out a quiet, hissy laugh.
“You can come and wait for nap time to end with the rest of us,” she suggested, winking. “We’ve still got some cookies left.”
His hand still glued to his face; Waxer barely looked away from the cutest cuddle pile ever as he nodded. He expected to leave straight away but when the Crèche Master didn’t immediately move, Waxer regretfully tore his eyes from Boil and the younglings to find Crèche Master Aliissha looking at him with what could only be mischief.
“Would you like to take a holopic as a memory?” she asked.
The very, very quiet squeal Waxer let out was loud enough to make all the adult Jedi laugh silently but luckily, quiet enough not to disturb any of the sleeping younglings or Boil.
Slowly, Waxer lowered his hand. “Is there a way to get a copy in flimsy as well?” he whispered urgently, all but vibrating in his armor at the thought of having actual physical evidence of Boil napping with cute Jedi younglings.
As Waxer waited for Crèche Master Aliissha’s reply, he considered his options on what to do with it (if he hung it by their bunks, Boil could also see it!).
“But of course; we can even have it sealed in see-through cast-plast to make it waterproof.”
All six Crèche Masters blinked in surprise when all the younglings sighed, slipping into deeper, happier dreams, as a wave of intense joy flared in the Force, spreading its warmth all over the crèche.