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The plastoid slipped into place just like a second, plated skin. Just as natborn children learned to put on clothes when they were young, clones learned to don their kits. The analogy was unsurprisingly fitting. Natborn tubies learned to lace up their boots, and clones learned to equip their armour, a sure example of their fucked up purpose, even at their youngest age.
Thigh plates, knee guards, and then the chest plate. The motions were practiced, familiar. If he closed his eyes, Thorn could pretend that the plastoid was his white armour, painstakingly painted with detailings that only a high ranking Coruscant Guard officer could have, and not the crimson of inverted corrie colours.
He could pretend it was his armour and not Fox’s.
In 4 hours, the Negotiator would be dropping out of orbit with several high ranking prisoners to be transferred to the Republic Judiciary Central Detention Centre. As Marshall Commander, Fox’s presence was required to oversee the transfer.
General Kenobi was expecting him there. Commander Cody was expecting him there. The Supreme Chancellor would be expecting him there.
He snapped on the utility belt.
It was a simple and relatively basic operation. Fox wouldn’t even have had to do much, just stand there and look gruff as their men took the prisoners into their custody. The real issue was his batchmate. Commander Cody might have been able to share a few words with Fox. If he was really lucky, perhaps he could’ve stolen Fox for a while after—maybe even gotten a drink with him. Little Gods knew Fox needed it.
Thorn placed the bucket on his head and it compressed with a loud hiss.
As the final piece slotted into place, Thorn’s muscles tensed with anticipation. Something in him expected Fox to shoot awake and spring up from his cot, eyes wide with irritation as he caught the sight of Thorn wearing his armour. After all, his reputation as omniscient didn’t come lightly. For all his claims that shinies’ beliefs were ridiculous, untrue, and born of his intimidating reputation on Kamino—the Big Bad Fox, a strict tyrant who knew all—the Commander did have a knack for seemingly knowing everything, even things he shouldn’t conceivably be able to know. It was a saying in the Guard: that Fox always found out.
Yet nothing happened. Fox remained motionless beside him, pale and stagnant. The only sign he was even alive was his weak intakes of breath and the steady beep of the heart rate monitor.
They have done this many times now. The routine was almost as familiar to Thorn as it was equipping his own gear for the day. Fox may protest every time, but there wasn't much he could say when he was unconscious in the medbay after a gangster decided right where the Commander was standing was a perfect place for a thermal detonator blast.
Fox’s presence today was not just expected, it was required. If Marshall Commander Fox did not attend today’s prisoner transfer, there would be haran to pay by the Chancellor. He wouldn’t be obvious about it, Manda, no, but there would be consequences. Consequences delivered in a sickly sweet tone or the swift retribution of denied requisitions.
The fact that Fox was not cleared for duty or even conscious would not matter. Fulfilling his duties was what mattered. Following orders. Good soldiers followed their orders.
(The words were ash on his tongue. He tasted them every time he woke up in the aftermath of a blackout, always accompanied by the thick, metallic taste of blood.)
The distant clacks of Stitches’ keyboard as he worked echoed from his office, a small side room branching just off the main medical bay, the only reminder that Thorn was not alone right now.
He felt alone right now.
He gave Fox one last long glance, drinking in the sight of him still breathing, still okay, then stepped through the medbay’s automatic doors.
Only a few troopers spared him more than a glance and a salute as he made his way to the ship. Fox’s hospitalization wasn’t common knowledge throughout the Guard yet, and anyone who did know knew enough not to say anything.
The detention centre wasn’t located far from the Senate district, only a short LAAT/i ride away. Thorn regarded the men on the ship cooly, slightly tilting his head in acknowledgement just as Fox did.
Some of the troopers likely knew it was Thorn under the marshall commander armour, and some had no clue. The Coruscant Guard learned quickly not to question when a commander showed up in two places at once.
All too quickly the LAAT/i arrived at the prison and Thorn steeled himself as the distant, tiny figures of Commander Cody and General Kenobi standing expectantly on the platform came into view. It was not his first time meeting the famed 7th Sky Commanders, but nothing could quite shake the instinctual fear and awe at being in the men’s presence. He felt like a shiny in fresh, white paint at the mere sight of them.
As he stepped off the cruiser, he made sure to keep his chin level and his back straight, unflinching as Commander Cody’s piercing gaze focused on him almost instantly. It felt like it was burning through his armour, as if Thorn didn’t have a helmet on at all. Thank the Manda clones couldn’t be force sensitive, otherwise the 212th Commander would have fried Thorn’s armour through sheer willpower alone. The urge to shift in his boots like a shiny prickled up his spine. Kriff, how did Fox stand being batchmates with this guy?
Actually, that one answered itself, birds of a feather and all that.
He nodded in acknowledgment of them but made no move to approach the duo. Instead, he found his way to the back of the platform and hung back, observing the other shock troopers as they stepped forward to take the prisoners.
Commander Cody’s bucket followed the movement closely, and even from across the platform, Thorn could read the frown through the tilt of his bucket.
It was only Fox’s presence that was mandatory. There was nothing to be said about how social he was. Cody could cry about it later in his batch group chat for all Thorn cared.
The first convict hissed as a 212th trooper shoved them forward, a long tongue flicking out of a snarled, reptilian mouth. He was a bounty hunter, infamous for working at the Separatists’ beck and call. Claws raised his shockstaff, the low crackle of the electricity making his threat clear as he took the bounty hunter’s bound hands into his own and forced him towards the large prison doors.
The second bounty hunter, the reptilian's partner, was much more amicable to the two flanking shock troopers who herded them towards the prison.
They’d tried their luck with the 212th a few weeks ago, and were unsurprisingly easily captured and subdued, by General Kenobi himself no less. Now, they were the Coruscant Guard’s problem.
Commander Cody turned to General Kenobi and said something to him that Thorn couldn’t make out. All he could see was the slight tilt and bob of Cody’s bucket, signaling he was speaking, and Kenobi nodding an affirmative before the clone commander started to make his way towards Thorn.
He bit back a curse. Shit.
“Fox,” Cody greeted as he finally reached him, a rare warm lilt to his tone.
“Commander Cody,” Thorn said coolly. “It’s good to see you are well.”
Cody snorted, “Maybe you would have already known that if you'd checked your messages.”
His hands curled into fists at his side, but he quickly unfurled them before Cody could catch the movement. It wasn’t Fox’s fault that he rarely had time for the other commanders. The man rarely caught a break as was, and the amount of time it took to send more than even one message to his brothers was far too costly.
The words rose up in his throat like bile. It would be so easy to spit every vindictive comment, to give Cody a real piece of his mind about how it actually was on the home front. He opened his mouth—
“Maybe I would check my messages more often if you all didn't flood them all with inane jabber.”
It wasn't a lie, and it was just the thing Fox would say. He couldn't see it, but he could practically feel Commander Cody’s eyeroll.
“Look—Cody,” Thorn shifted, focusing his attention solely on the prisoners being escorted into the LAAT/i and pointedly not on the commander invading his personal space, “I have to go. I’ll comm you later.”
Or rather, he would make Fox comm him later. He may not be Cody’s biggest fan, but even Thorn could see how much good it did Fox to stay in contact with his brothers.
Thorn moved to leave, the prisoners had been transferred and the LAAT/i would be departing shortly to return to the Coruscant Guard’s base, but he was stopped in place by a firm hand wrapping itself around his arm.
“Obi-Wan’s given me explicit permission to catch up with you, actually.”
Why on earth would the natborn do that? Did Cody lie to his general? Thorn hoped not. He'd really rather not take the fall for the other commander’s sentimentality. But Fox would be upset if Cody got hurt or in trouble for trying to speak to Thorn. At least if he dealt with it, it would be nothing out of the usual.
Thorn ground his jaw. “Cody. I have work.”
“After your shift, then.”
No, no, no. After this Thorn had to go fill his own shift at the central power distribution grid. Then, if he had a few hours, steal away to Fox’s office to tackle the prisoner transfer reports as well as the latest patrol reports that would be pouring in with the next shift change.
He also wasn’t Fox.
“I can’t, Cody.”
“Come on vod. You can't take five minutes out of your schedule to just talk?”
No, Fox can’t, because he's unconscious in the medbay with multiple broken ribs after an explosion and the Chancellor is demanding him to be here but of course he can take five minutes out of his schedule because Fox has the easy posting—
“No.” Thorn grit. “I can't."
“Please?”
“Cody–”
“Five minutes.” Cody pleaded. “Thats all I ask.”
Thorn sighed. Commander Cody wasn't going to drop this, was he?
“Five minutes,” he finally said. “Then I have to go.”
Cody grinned sunnily, scar curving around the crinkle of his eyes, victory practically radiating off of him. He didn't stop to bask in his victory, tightening his grip on Thorn and yanking him away from the platform as if he knew if he gave Thorn a moment to think about it, he’d reconsider.
His men all stiffened with more than just attention as they passed them, visors fixating on Cody’s hand and their hasty retreat. Thorn waved his one free hand, singing an all clear, and safe.
General Kenobi smiled as they passed him, making Thorn’s stomach roll uncomfortably. Just what did Cody tell his General?
The Marshall Commander led him a ways away from the detention centre. They passed building after building, speeder after speeder, until finally they stopped in between two large buildings. Cody tugged him forward again, leading him into the alleyway.
Thorn swallowed with trepidation, and Cody must have felt it because he turned back to face him.
“Just for privacy, don't need any nosey vod’ike overhearing us.”
Right. That made sense. Cody wanted to talk to Fox as his brother–not commanding officer to commanding officer. Another clone overhearing them talk informally could prove disastrous, provoking rumours and gossip about anything Cody said. Of course they would need somewhere away from other clones and natborns.
Even so, the knot of anxiety in Thorn’s chest only tightened further.
The steel grip around his arm finally disappeared and Thorn was quick to wrench it back, crossing his arms in annoyance. He wanted this over and done with. He wasn’t lying when he said he had work to do, and the longer this went on, the more it would pile up.
“What do you want, Cody?”
The marshall commander hummed.
“I haven't seen you in months. I just wanted to spend time with you.” He sighed, “No need to be so accusatory…”
Thorn bristled. “Says the one who pulled me into an alleyway.”
“Can you at least take off your helmet? I never see your face anymore, not even during holocalls.”
Of course that was what the commander focused on. He shook his head. “I’m still on duty. It’s against regulations. You said you wanted to talk, so talk.”
Cody’s arms swung up to remove his own helmet. He pulled it away, and Thorn winced at the commander’s pinched expression. To his credit, he was quick to shake it off and smoothen out his features, not letting his hurt show.
Thorn swallowed, tongue unfairly dry in his mouth. This wasn’t fair. Nothing about this was fair.
“How have you been doing?” Cody asked, tentative in a way he usually was not.
If he was avoidant, Cody would get suspicious. If he was honest, Fox would be furious. Thorn pursued his lips.
“I’ve been…doing.” He shifted from side to side, thumb absentmindedly rubbing against his elbow plates, “It's no frontline battle, but it's been quite busy here.”
Cody hummed, “So I've heard. It’s been a troublesome few weeks for you here. Big disturbance within the senate district, right?”
The Stevenson Robbery, why would he be bringing that up—
“Yeah. The Senate was in uproar after that. All the senators were convinced it was separatist activity, as if things like this didn’t happen all the time.”
“Right,” He drawled, and fuck no question where Fox got his piercing gaze from, “and it was you who was first to the scene?”
“No…” Thorn said slowly. It wasn’t Fox who responded to the scene. It was… “Commander Stone was. Why?”
Cody stared.
Thorn shifted uncomfortably. This was wrong. Something was wrong and his instincts were screaming at him to leave–
“You’re five minutes are up.” He turned to leave, “I'm sorry, but I have a meeting and–”
“Fox.” Cody’s firm tone halted him in his tracks. Something had shifted—in the Commander or himself, he wasn’t sure. All he was sure about was his instincts screaming at him to get the fuck out-
“I’ll comm you later!” He hastily called out, eagerly, perhaps too eagerly, turning the corner of the alleyway back onto the
For a few moments, there was nothing but blessed silence and the industrial hum of the Senate District as Thorn made his way down the street. He hadn’t realized how far away from the prison Cody had led him.
If he knew anything about Cody, he was nothing but persistent. By all means, the Marshall Commander should have called out to him by now, or at least attempted to follow him. He couldn’t count the amount of times he’d seen that happen after an argument between Fox and Cody. The 212th Commander always needed the last word. So why did he…
Kriff.
He cast a quick glance over his shoulder, and cursed again when he caught sight of orange and white plastoid in his peripheral, confirming his suspicions. That shabuir was following him! And not even bothering to hide it!
Was Cody just being an annoying brother? Or had Thorn been made?
He started to steadily move quicker, his pace becoming more and more hurried as panic started to set in. Eventually, he broke out into a full blown sprint, shoving past streetgoers and angry natborns. His efforts earned him multiple muttered curses and a few attempted elbow stabs to his torso (he doesn’t even know why they bothered, after all, he was clearly wearing armour).
The rapid thumps of GAR boots followed him closely, and Thorn wished he had looked back so he wouldn’t have been as surprised when Cody sent him careening to the ground. Before he even had a chance to regain his bearings, he was already being pulled into the next alley, and his back was slammed right up against the wall. Cody’s weight kept him there on the ground, pinned with the rough stone digging straight into his plastoid.
“Who are you, and where is Fox.” Cody growled. Thorn shivered.
“Cody, what are you—I am Fox! What?!”
His already slit eyes narrowed even further, his previous patience clearly forgone. “No you're not. If you are, then did you run?”
“Because you were chasing me!”
Cody grunted, digging his fingers into the gaps between Thorn’s shoulder plates.
“I–Manda, Commander!” Cody’s eyebrow raised and Thorn cursed himself internally. Now there would be no fooling Cody.
He felt more than saw the Commander’s hands fumble with his helmet, unclasping it and ripping it right off.
“Thorn?” Cody asked in disbelief. Thorn rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, it's me. Now would you get off?”
The hands disappeared from his shoulders, but Cody made no move to remove his weight from where he was still pinning Thorn down.
“Why are you in Fox’s armour?” the Marshall Commander frowned.
Thorn grunted, shifting his weight to try and throw Cody off of him. He didn’t owe him anything, certainly not an answer. Unfortunately for him, Cody had several more pounds on him and a much more advantageous position. He dug his knees in, locking Thorn into place.
“Cause he couldn't attend today's prisoner transfer—get off—”
“Why?”
“None of your starsdamn business!”
“I think my vod’ika’s well being is fully my business.”
“Well, it’s not.” Thorn grit, continuing to squirm in an attempt to throw the clone commander off of him. “If it was, you would already know–”
“Then tell me—”
“No!”
They tussled on the ground for a moment longer, Thorn attempting to break out of Cody’s hold, and Cody trying to keep him still.
“If you would like to book a formal appointment with the Marshall Commander, you may do so through the Coruscant Guard front desk.”
“This was a formal meeting with Fox.” Cody frowned, ducking down to avoid a jab from Thorn’s elbow. “And I don't see him anywhere.”
His teeth ached with how hard he’d been grating them. This wasn’t fair. Thorn shouldn’t be dealing with this and for that record, neither should Fox. Fox should be able to attend to his duties and visit with his batchmates and Thorn should be able to visit his own batchmates but he couldn’t because they were dead and Cody wouldn’t get off—
“He’s in the medbay!” Thorn finally exploded, unable to stop himself. “He’s in the medbay because he was caught in an explosion and couldn't make the meeting.”
Cody’s movements faltered, facing freezing. If the situation was any different, Thorn would have laughed at his dumbfounded expression. “What?”
Thorn didn’t waste his advantage. He surged forward, bracing his arms against Cody’s shoulders and flipping his weight around so that he ended up on top of the GAR Commander. He frantically scrambled to his feet to regain his bearings, after all, he knew all too well how quickly Cody could steal back the upper hand.
Thankfully, the other clone didn’t seem to be in the mood to continue their wrestling match.
“He was in an explosion? When?” he demanded.
“A week ago, just after the Stevenson robber–” Thorn froze. “Were you interrogating me earlier?”
Cody rolled his eyes, “Obviously. Why else would I have pulled you all the way out here?”
What. Thorn couldn’t even—
“When did you know it was me?” he asked, gobsmacked.
“Immediately.”
“What!” Thorn squawked indignantly, “how?”
“You think I can’t tell my own batchmate apart?” he raised an eyebrow, “I’m hurt, Thorn.”
“No one else ever has.” Thorn grumbled, rubbing his elbow. Note to self, don't try to elbow a fully-armoured trooper.
Cody watched with a scrutinized expression, and a familiar shine in his eyes Thorn would call regret. He’d seen that expression on Fox’s face too many times. He and his brothers had made that face all too many times.
“You’ve done this before,” he said. It wasn't a question.
Thorn stuttered, “A few times. But usually just to cover a shift– nothing to worry about–”
“I’ll decide what I worry about.” Cody huffed, and oh Fox was going to kill him. Every trooper knew Commander Cody was incapable of letting things go. He caught on to problems like a bloodhound.
Apparently Thorn’s regret showed on his now bare face, because the clone huffed again and offered his hand, “Alright, come on.”
“What?” Thorn took the hand and was swiftly pulled up in one smooth motion.
“We’re going to go see Fox,” Cody said, eyes glinting with a shine that only spelt trouble. “Then, you're going to explain to me everything that's been going on here.”
Thorn swallowed. osik.
Fox was gonna kill him.