Inducted into the Coruscant Guards

The mess of the Coruscant Guards was a bubble of tranquility and familiarity against the cacophony of the city-planet. Sketch had only been here for one day and already he missed Christophsis - even with the droids sniping away as the squads patrolled around the main city and refugee camp. Mostly, he missed Punch.

He'd been shunted through the brand-new Kaliida Medical Station for his transfer physical. The station was still being retro-fitted from what it had been before and there'd been workers all over, you could hear the pounding, scraping, grinding, and high-pitched whine of drills. The medics carried their packs and went into some half-finished room where a clone waited. The medical he had received had been quick. The other clone had taken his file chip, quickly glanced through Ferritin's notes then up into Sketch's face. 'Come here, sit down, you're clear'. Sketch could only figure out that he passed because he could hear the medic, see the chair, and follow the order.

He had stared out the clear panels of the crowded LAAT as they landed on Coruscant. Sketch had a moment of agoraphobia as he stared at the city. Three was no planet to see, it was covered with buildings both high and wide. There were some green areas, parks in regiment regularity, but the LAAT moved into the innermost city. There was still green; most around some of the larger buildings and quite a few rooftop and sidewall gardens. Sketch glanced upward, knowing he'd never see a star on this light-saturated planet. He'd never see the meteor showers and the bright asteroids that inhabited the skies of Christophsis.

Everyone on the LAAT had been shunted to an orientation of the Coruscant Guards. Everyone else was direct from Kamino; a shiny, a rookie, and so excited to finally get to their assignments. Had Punch and he been so excited when they'd been assigned to Sergeant Slick? Sketch felt old as they looked at the history of his armor. A clone lieutenant gave them a quick welcome briefing and passed out flimsi booklets provided by the Coruscant Tourist Board. Jester gave a mirthless chuckle at noting that. The booklet would be useless for a clonetrooper. His fingers softly rubbed the flimsi; it was high-grade and would take nicely to colors or even a regular stylus like the one he'd been given to take notes. Flipping through it, Sketch noted a lot of blank, virgin space for drawings.

Only once did the briefing lieutenant pause as he divided the shinies into squads and tell them where to report.

"You're the transfer from the 212th?" His voice was merely curious, not accusing Sketch of anything, and merely confirming what the armor told him.

"Yes sir."

"You'll wait in the mess for Commander Fox. He'll be a while; finishing up with Senate meetings. I don't expect him until 1730 but he wants to talk personally to all transfers.

"Yes sir," Sketch nodded as he grabbed his gear bag with one hand and the stylus and booklet in the other then made his way to the mess.

Sketch froze as Commander Fox strode into the mess. His meeting must have been canceled, he was early. Sketch glanced down at the flimsi document, the words of the orientation booklet wreathed with tiny drawings, and the stylus in his hand.

Slick hadn't liked him wasting time with drawing except when Slick wanted something drawn. 'For the morale of the squad, Sketch,' he'd say, providing supplies, and Sketch would draw what Slick demanded. It had started reasonable – like so much in that squad – so reasonable. A few drawings of the refugee camp to illustrate some point or another for the command group, a pretty girl for the barracks. Then forbidding Sketch to draw, taking the drawings and...

Sketch relaxed his breathing from his chest tight in fear as he twisted the stylus in his hand and tucked it into his gauntlet, hopefully unseen.

What would Commander Fox say?

Carefully casual, Sketch slid the greater part of the flimsi manual under the helmet he'd set on the table as Commander Fox strode to his table.

Maybe Commander Fox wouldn't notice.

"Hello, Two eighty-seven," began the commander and Sketch stood to attention waiting until the commander gave a salute back.

Commander Fox looked at him quizzically at that. "Welcome to the Coruscant Guards." Commander Fox set his own, crimson-trimmed helmet on the table. "You can call me Commander Fox. If you're comfortable doing your in-brief here in the mess, I have no objections. Your squad leader will give you a more in-depth briefing as well as keeping a close track of your training so this will mostly be an introduction and overview of the Guards."

It was a genuine question from the commander disguised as a statement, not a command phrased as a request. Sketch had learned to tell the difference. For a moment, he was worried he'd need to explain why he'd been transferred, need to explain what had happened on Christophsis without actually telling the commander anything that had happened then he nodded. "Certainly, sir. Shall I get us some caf?" He was already turning even as Fox stood.

"Thanks for the offer, but I can manage," Fox chuckled. "After being in that Senate briefing all morning and a good part of this afternoon, I'm grateful for the chance to actually move around." He smiled slightly. "First thing I'll tell you is we're usually not so formal. There's no need to salute unless there are civilians nearby or it's official communications in my or an officer's office."

They got their caf, Sketch taking careful note of how the commander preferred his, just in case. As they walked back to the table, Sketch was quiet, waiting for a comment or a question; waiting for something to tell him what Commander Fox wanted from him. They sat across from each other at the table, Sketch leaning forward a bit to hide the drawings with the side of his arm.

Commander Fox took a good drink of the caf and held it in his mouth before swallowing. "As I said, welcome to the Coruscant Guards. We augment the Corsucant Security Force and the Senate Guard in their policing and protection duties of government personnel, buildings and information systems as well as assisting law enforcement in Coruscant among civilians. Our duties are various and can include anything on any given day; from regular city patrols to criminal investigations, counter-terrorism and counter-intelligence operations to crowd control and evidence custody. We maintain the skyways and, of course, the military defense of Coruscant. We're a secondary police force for Coruscant, as it were."

He paused a moment and Sketch nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Our Diplomatic Escort Group also supplements the Senate Guard by providing personal protection and escort for senators, the Supreme Chancellor, and other ranking members of the Galactic Republic government. The DEG is an adjunct force of the Guards, run by CC- 5869 and his second, CC-4477; Stone and Thire. With all the treaty making and breaking going on, Stone usually dips into the us rather than the Guards for more manpower."

That made sense; the Senate Guards were born-men rather than clones. Clone commanders preferred clones; they were familiar as was their training.

Fox took another sip of his caf. "You'll be spending your first few weeks taking courses; from flyer training to diplomatic protocol. We spar with both the Security Force and the Senate Guards, as well as any regional policing forces visiting here in Coruscant. We train you in riot control and non-lethal weapons. You will receive a stipend as part of the Coruscant Guards." He gave a slight grin, "but don't let that go to your head; you'll also receive a class on budgeting and filing vouchers as well as a list of what you are and are not permitted to purchase."

"Credit?" Sketch was incredulous. He'd be receiving money? The commander saw the shock in his face and shrugged.

"It's the way Coruscant operates. As a mentioned, you'll receive a thorough grounding in it."

For a moment Fox was still, his fingers beating a tattoo on the table and his face sternly inspecting Sketch. Then he spoke, his voice not as friendly as it had been, harder with warning. "Sometimes troopers get sent to me because they're trouble but not enough trouble to go back to Kamino." Fox stared into his eyes. "I straighten them out. Are you one of those kinds of troopers, Sketch?"

"No, sir," replied Sketch quickly.

The commander gave Sketch a long, measuring look then relaxed and gestured with a finger at the drawings peeping out from under Sketch's bucket. "You've got talent, trooper. Why haven't you painted your armor?" The commander pulled on his bucket as Sketch's mouth dropped open, even as he realized that his answer would give away too much.

"You'd have every trooper and his brother here asking for help." Then the commander turned and moved quickly from the mess.

Sketch's words were a whisper to the back of Commander Fox. "I wasn't allowed, sir."