Chapter Text
“You’re good to go.” A gruff, middle-aged man with a no-nonsense face told you as he handed your papers back.
You gratefully take back your papers and legal documents from the man. “So… is there anything I should bring?”
“You will come back tomorrow with approved items.” He hands you a packet that has to be at least two inches thick. “And a shuttle will pick you up and take you to training. Read that.” He taps the manuscript with his yellow-tipped fingers, a sign he smokes death sticks, and the smell that lingers around him. “And you’ll have a grand time serving the Republic.”
His reply is sarcastic, and it’s clear he wants you to leave. You don’t blame him. If you got paid to sit around on your butt all day doing nothing, you would be pissed if someone came in and made you do your job. It was dead silent when you came in to ask if you could join the war effort, and it remained that way as you got ready to leave. The man behind the counter was stone-faced and clearly too busy reading the holo-news to care that you'd come in. You had to tap the desk to get his attention.
“Thanks.” Your smile is tight-lipped, almost a snarl. You hate the idea of the GAR, but what you hate more is that you seem to be the only civilian signing up from your planet to fight alongside the clones.
You look down at the packet. It has everything you need to know about being a civilian specialist in the GAR, with specifics for you as a communications specialist. You already know a lot about the different communications channels, having worked at your planet's radio station for years now. Both on the technical side and by hosting your own radio show. The thought of making sure communication continues at such a large scale for war makes you nervous, since you’ve only had to do it locally on your planet.
You leave much like when you entered, the only sound being the scuffing of your boots on the polished floor as you leave. You couldn’t get out of that place fast enough. The whole bureaucratic process pisses you off with how long it takes, but signing up to die for the Republic only takes you saying you want to do so. Taking a deep breath, you try to calm yourself down; it does you no good to be upset over things you can’t change. But your foot falls heavier on your way to the speeder you parked outside the small government building.
The drive home is silent; the magnitude of what you just did calls for a time of reflection. You just signed your life away to die for an ideal you do not believe in. The idea of the Republic is nice. A coalition of planets that work together to help maintain peace in the galaxy. But you don’t see it that way. It is a way for those in privileged positions to consolidate more power for their bigger planets while pushing the burden to the smaller planets, like your own, so they can keep living their lifestyle that costs more than your planet's GDP.
Nothing upsets you more than Chancellor Palpatine and his absolute power over the Senate. He has no one to challenge him, and frankly, he’s too old to be making decisions that affect the galaxy. He might be a “good guy”, but no one in politics is really good. Well, maybe a few people, but the majority are greedy for the power, money, and prestige that comes with the position. Now that the war between the Republic and Separatists is on, you can’t help but see it as a grab for power by the Republic to start a war.
And you would be content to see it fail, but then you saw the news that the Republic had a clone army to help fight this war. It raised more questions than it answered. Just how long had the Republic known about the clones? Did they order them in advance? Are the clones sentient? If so, is that not just slavery? Who raised them? Do they actually know what they are fighting for? What do they know? All questions you can’t answer. But a little investigative journalism never hurt anyone. That’s not true, and you know it. You’ve seen the censorship that happens to people who speak out about issues against different governments.
Is this worth it? That’s the question you’ve been asking yourself since you bravely- more accurately, dumbly- marched your happy ass to the recruitment center and signed up. Everything you’ve ever known is about to be challenged, all because you wanted to know what the clones were like, and what they go through. You could have just asked them while they were on shore leave. Do they even get shore leave? Surely they do. The moral ambiguity of it all is killing you. And as much as you hate change, the galaxy is making a bold change with the clones and their lives.
It isn’t fair that the clones have to carry the burden of the war.
Before you know it, you’re parking your speeder at the only home you’ve ever known. Gathering your belongings from the speeder only delays the inevitable of going inside and packing your life up into a few duffels and moving to Maker knows where.
“Mom, Dad, I’m home!” You call out once you enter. There’s chatter in the living room; following it, you see your Mom and Dad on the couch watching some holo-movie together. You take a deep breath to help steel your nerves before you face your greatest challenge to leaving. Your parents.
“Where’d you go off to, Bug?” Your Mom asks, using an old nickname you haven’t heard in years. She must be in one of her reminiscing moods. Her sharp gaze shifts to you from the holo-film. It’s not nasty, just who she is. But she can tell you're keeping something from her, with the focused look on your face and you shifting from foot to foot.
“I went to the Republic recruitment office. I go to training tomorrow to be a communications specialist.” You reply simply and stiffly, knowing that this will be a fight and that it is best to stick to facts early on.
“You what?” She asks, and for a second the world stops at her words. The calm before the storm.
“Mom I-“
“No, because what the kriff is wrong with you!” She yells, standing up quickly enough to jostle your Dad from his spot on the couch. Her face is just starting to turn red with anger.
“It’s my life, Mom! I can do with it what I damn well please.” You argue, all logic leaving you immediately. “You always told me I should live a big life, and here I am doing something with my life, and you're getting mad at me!”
“Because what you’re doing is stupid! You’re joining the army to what? To piss your father and me off?”
“What? You and Dad fought in the army! Why is me wanting to help so different?”
“Your father and I joined Lothal’s national army. Which is different than the GAR. Smaller and more localized.”
“I have to grow up and do things on my own.” You hit the nail on the head. Your Mom doesn’t want you to leave.
“No, I want you to grow up, but you were never supposed to join the army. You’re supposed to get a good job, get married, and have kids.”
“I’m going. I have a shuttle with my name on it for tomorrow. I’m going.” You remain firm, and, Maker, it is hard to do so with your mother. You know she loves you, and she’s just worried, but she just doesn’t want to see you leave like this.
“You are not going, young lady.” She counters with a firmness you’ve never seen from her before. Sure, you and her fought a lot when you were younger, but this is different. She has something to lose permanently, and she’s not letting you go.
“You should go, Kid.” Your Dad pipes up for the first time since you came home. He’s standing next to Mom in support, his hand on her shoulder, and your heart sinks.
“You’re kicking me out?” The hurt is evident in your voice as you watch for something-anything from your parents that’s not a rejection.
“What? No! Kiddo-“ He sighs, wiping a hand down his face with a grumble. “What I meant is you should go on your big adventure with the GAR.”
“What!” Both you and your Mom look at him in shock. Yours is happy shock at him taking your side, but your mother looks horrified.
“She’s right, honey; it is her life. And she gets to choose what she does with it. I don’t agree with the way she is going about it, but she’s nineteen and can make her own decisions.” He reasoned to his wife.
“Now, instead of being upset and angry, let's enjoy the time we have left with her before she leaves.” He continued. It was weird seeing him on your side. Rarely do they disagree, much less when it comes to you. But he has always wanted you to leave the nest and spread your wings, while your Mom has always wanted you to stay safe at home.
“Thanks, Dad”
Mom’s eye twitches; you can tell she’s fighting demons right now not to keep arguing. You really don’t want your last night home to be miserable. She takes a breath to calm down.
“Bug. Are you sure you want to do this?” She asks with such gravity that it sends you reeling. You’ve never heard your Mom sound this serious before, and it makes a pit form in your stomach.
“It’s what’s right.” You remain firm in your resolution to serve and try to help the clones as best as you can from the inside. Of course, you don’t tell your family that part; that part will get you in trouble with the Republic.
“Please tell me you're not on the front lines.” She said, her voice soft and cracking at the end.
“I’ll be deployed as a communications specialist. So, I’ll be on a star destroyer, so near the action, but not on the front lines.” You reply softly, trying to assure her that you’ll be alright. But you both know that there is no guarantee of your safety.
“Promise me you’ll be safe.” She’s not asking.
“I will.”
“Go start packing. Then we’ll talk more.” She lets you go, and you take the chance before she changes her mind. As you head to your room, you hear her and Dad talking, but you’re too relieved to be allowed to pack to really hear what they’re saying.
Plopping down on your bed, you take in the small room that is so full of life. You know this will be your last time like this for a while, knowing that barracks will be communal spaces and you won’t have room for all your knickknacks. The little silly things that make you smile every time you see them. You don’t think you can bring any of it with you. Well, maybe a few, but you don’t know where you would put them in a shared space without them getting broken or stolen.
With a sigh, you open up that two-inch packet the recruiter gave you before you left the office. Skimming it, you find the page about what you can pack for training and what would be allowed when you get deployed. Just like you thought, you can’t bring much with you. You set out to pack what little clothes you can. Mostly workout clothes, sweats, and jammies, and the rare pair of civies you hope you get to wear on shore leave. From what the packet told you, a uniform will be provided, and that will be what you primarily wear during working hours.
Packing your bag went faster than expected with how little you actually get to bring. You know you’ll smuggle in contraband later when you’re established on your warship. For now, you read that force-forsaken packet to get an idea of just what exactly you are signing up for.
It looks like you’ll be in an accelerated program where the Republic will make sure your skills are up to par and make sure you know all the jargon and lingo that they will be using. As well as some physical training, which you are not looking forward to. Not having to do it, but knowing that you will be judged because you are bigger than the clones and whoever else has signed up for the war. You hated your body for a long time; only recently have you been able to look in the mirror and not feel disgusted. It’ll be okay. The training is only a month; that’s plenty of time to be able to pass whatever physical training they have.
A soft knock on the door breaks your concentration on the reading in front of you. Your Mom peeks her head in, not waiting for your answer before she comes in. At least you knocked before she opened the door; there were plenty of times she would just barge in while you were changing.
“Hey, Bug, I just wanted to see how packing was going.” She takes a seat next to you on the twin-sized bed. It’s a tight squeeze, and while you normally don’t care much for touch, you know that this is the last time for a long time that it’ll be you and her like this for a while.
“I think I’ve got everything.” Gesturing to the two packed duffel bags on the floor with a tilt of the head.
“You have enough underwear? Bras? Things for that time of the month?” She questions. She’s just worried and wants to make sure that you have everything you could possibly need for training. The things you take for granted while living at home.
“Yes, Mama,” you smile at her, your tone is one of exasperated fondness. You knew she was going to ask you that the moment she opened her mouth. “They don’t let me bring much, but I packed what I could.”
“Why?” Such a simple question should have a simple answer. And it does, but it’s not one your mom will accept. She presses more in your silence. “You don’t care much for the Republic, and you’ve never shown signs of wanting to work for them. What changed?”
“I think the creation and exploitation of the clones is wrong, and morally evil. They shouldn’t be the ones to pay the price for a war that they had no part in making.” You admit, knowing you can’t hide it from your mother. No matter how much you wish you could keep your mouth shut, you can’t bear lying to her by omission. “I want to help them, and the best way I thought was to go where they are and figure out how they live and how they’re treated. So I can help them where they are.”
She sits there in silence, taking in what you just said. “You’ve always had a strong sense of justice.” She sighs. “Just be smart; don’t let your mouth get you in trouble.”
“I’ll try my best, Mama.” You smile cheekily at her, knowing full well that your mouth will be quicker than your brain and, in fact, get you in trouble. But for the pursuit of truth, it was worth it.
“You know I don’t like this. And now I’m feeling what your Granny felt when I went to join the Army. I raised you to be a strong and independent woman, which is a good thing, but knowing you as your mother… that will get you in some hot water. So please be careful, baby, and keep your head down, even when you don’t like what’s happening. It’s better that way.” Her voice is soft and gentle, trying to soothe you as much as she’s trying to soothe herself. They say a mother never stops worrying about her children, even when they get older and leave. This was true about your Mom when your older siblings left, and it’s true for you now.
“You know they’ll say something that will really get me. But Mama, I will try my best. And I’m sure that I’ll make friends who will have my back and make sure I don’t get into too much trouble.”
“I know you’ll make friends; you were always good at that. Don’t forget you have a family here, and that we’re always going to be here for you. No matter what.”
“I won’t.” You mean it. No matter how difficult family can be, you still love each other despite any hardships you went through. She wraps you in a hug, squeezing you tightly as if you might just disappear right here and now from her arms. You return it just as fiercely; it’ll be one of the last times you get a hug like this from her for a while.
“Get some rest; you’ve got a big day ahead of you, and an early morning.” She stands up from the edge of the bed and kisses your forehead.
“Good night, Bug.” She says as she starts to leave the room. “Love you.”
“Love you too, Mama.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Waking up before the sun did was a struggle, but you managed. If only because you were hyped up from the anxiety you were feeling, which had you ready to go. Getting ready and doing your routine was so bizarrely mundane that you thought that it could use more grandeur as you leave everything you’ve ever known. The mundanity was exactly what you needed, because at the end of the day, what you were doing was nothing special. Millions of people before you have gone to war. You are not the first, nor will you be the last.
It was just so normal that for a split second you thought it was like any other day. But it was not going to be any other day. You are going, even if the nerves are starting to get to you about leaving.
It’ll be exciting. My big adventure. You think to yourself as you gather up your bags so you can put them by the door, ready for you when you leave.
Mom and Dad are already awake. The smell of caf is strong once you leave your room and head to the kitchen. Where you find your parents cozied up next to the caf machine you had gotten them for Life’s Day one year ago. How fitting that they would send you off with something you got for them.
“Someone’s finally up.” Your dad jokes as he hides his smile in his cup. He thinks he’s so smart and funny.
“Har Har.” You taunt back as you grab your favorite blue mug from the cabinet. It was chipped at the lip, revealing the white clay beneath the blue glaze. You’ve teased the idea of throwing it away, but it was a gift from a friend who thought blue was your favorite color. In some respect, it is, because blue makes everything taste better. Especially caf.
Pouring what is most likely your last good cup of caf for a while, you make it to your liking before taking a long draw from it. It was good, and you knew it would be; your parents live off caf. Naturally, they had pretty good blends on hand, especially after they got a fancy new machine.
A quiet falls over the three of you as you stand around the kitchen just drinking caf. It is so far from the norm of your house. The house was never this quiet; there were always siblings fighting or laughing with one another. People yelling to be heard during shared meals, and just to be heard in general. This was not a bad silence, just unusual for the house and the people in it.
“You’re sure about this?” Your Mom breaks the silence as she places her empty cup on the counter beside her. She might as well have dropped the mug, and it shattered on the ground, with how jarring her question breaks the comfortable quiet of the morning.
“I’m sure.” Your reply was resolute. It had to be. If not, you would crumble from uncertainty and not show up for the shuttle. You know you want to do this, to help, but maybe this is not the right way.
You’ve never made such a big decision like this before, and you worry if you’re choosing the right path. You know what your path would look like if you stayed at home; something safe and well worn. But this path you’re going on is less traveled, full of uncertainty and turns that you are unsure where they will take you. You have no concept of what you are about to embark on. It will be a more difficult path to take, but deep in your soul you know it is the right path, and it will be worth it.
“Are you-?” Your Mom is cut off by your Dad.
“She already told you she was ready, don’t make her doubt her decision.”
Nodding in agreement, you set your mug down; the only thing left in it was some grounds that had slipped through the filter.
“I think I’m ready to go.” You had glanced at the chronometer to see that it was getting close to when you had to leave the house. You would rather leave now to have time to say your goodbyes at the station before being shipped off to training.
“Fine. Let me get my shoes on, then we can go.” Your Mom relents, seeing that she is outnumbered on this.
You and Dad pack the speeder with your things, and you buckle in, waiting for your Mom. The drive seems longer than it was yesterday. Maybe because today, you had the consequences of your actions catching up with you. It was not bad, though; you talked to your parents, and some good music was playing on the radio.
As the conversation lulled, the station you were told to go to came into view. You hoped you were in the right place since there didn’t seem to be anyone else but you there to be whisked away to training.
“This is it.” You grumbled, glaring at the lack of others at the station. The only reason you knew you had the right place was that the shuttle was GAR-themed. A giant cog was plastered on the side of the vehicle.
“At least we get the best parking spot.” Your Dad jokes, trying to lighten the mood in the speeder as reality started to sink in more and more. He pulls up to the closest spot to the shuttle.
Well… It’s time to face the music. With a sigh, you grab your belongings before you hop out the side of the speeder. Mom and Dad walk with you to the entrance of the shuttle. There, you find the same man from yesterday waiting with a clipboard.
“Looks like you’re right on time.” He drawls out, sounding bored already.
“Where is everyone else?” You question, gesturing to the empty lot around you.
“You’re the only one who signed up. You get a VIP experience in this POS.” He gestures to the vessel. It is smaller now that you are closer to it, which makes sense now that you know you are the only passenger. “Say your peace and get on. We don’t have all day.”
Turning to face your parents, you hug your mom first. You haven’t even left yet, and she already has tears streaming down her face. Knowing this would happen, you squeeze her extra tight.
“Love you, Mama.” You speak it into her hair so she can’t see that you aren’t crying like her.
“Be safe.” She holds you like you are the only thing that could keep her together. Like you leaving would cause her to break into a million tiny pieces. “Contact us as soon as you can. We want to know what’s going on.”
“I will.” You squeeze once more before you let go so you can move on to your Dad. You give him a hug that he returns with less fervor than your Mom. Dad had never been a physical guy. You let him know you love him, and he does the same.
“Give ‘em hell, kid.” It's the last thing he tells you before you step away to the shuttle.
A melancholic smile takes its place on your face as you walk onto the shuttle, taking a seat near the front after you put your bags in the overhead. The door closes with a hiss, a finality you don’t think should be possible from a door. In a way, it is final. Closing you off from the only life you knew as you go in blind to something you never saw yourself doing.
Before you can continue with that thought, the shuttle lurches forward with a jerk. You barely catch yourself before you hit your chin on the seat in front of you. Looking out the window, you see your parents waving. Mom is still crying, and Dad’s face is surprisingly neutral. Waving back, you hope they can see you and blow kisses at them like you used to do when you were little, and they left you with a babysitter. In a way, the GAR was about to become your babysitter.
The thought made you laugh. Making you momentarily forget all your worries of if you chose the right path or not. It didn’t matter; you were already moving, whether you liked it or not.