More Than Orders
Chapter 1
Tipoca City, Kamino, 8 years before the Battle of Geonosis
The nursery was crowded, and noisy. But then, what would you expect from a room meant to house a few hundred babies, along with Kaminoan technicians and care-droids moving about? The man sighed, moving out of the way of a droid carrying a rather fitful baby.
What have I gotten myself into?
He, along with ninety-nine other beings, had received an encrypted message from Mando'lor, Jango Fett. They were told they were going to be paid an enormous amount of credits to train commandos, on the condition of disappearing from the galaxy indefinitely. Fett, however, neglected to mention a key point: not only were they training troops, they were raising them.
I don't know anything about kids. Stang, Fett. What were you thinking?
"Sergeant Vallen." He cringed slightly, turning around. A female Kaminoan stood behind him. Gray eyes. Technician. I think.
"I'm not a sergeant yet. Just call me Vallen. Or Luc. I don't care." The Kaminoan hesitated, neck swaying.
"Luc. The units require sleep. It would be best if you left. The droids will take care of them."
It bothered him very much when the natives referred to the kids as units, clone or not. Another sergeant, one who already had six trainees, utterly despised them, though he didn't know why, having just recently arrived. He'd have to ask.
As he was exiting, he ran into another man.
"Oi! Watch yourself." He brushed by Vallen, muttering under his breath. The guy wasn't wearing armor, so he probably wasn't a Mandolorian. Currently, there were thirty-six or thirty-seven of the intended one hundred beings on Kamino, and twenty-four were Mandos.
He found the irony of the aruetiise being outnumbered for once extremely amusing.
A horrid smell invaded his nostrils and he slapped a hand over his lower face, trying not to gag. Only one thing could produce a stench that awful. Sure enough, the culprit shot around the corner, golden fur flapping behind it and slobber flying everywhere. Vallen moved out of the strill's way, hand still over his nose and mouth.
It paid him no mind as it continued chasing...whatever. There was no sign of its owner. Truth be told, Vallen was a bit happy. There was something off about the man; he was a little wary of him.
Just as he neared his quarters a few minutes later, a noise had him looking to his left. Two little boys, about four or five, were watching him. He instantly recognized them as clones, probably the ones the other sergeant was training. He wondered what they were doing this far from him.
"Is the strill gone?" One of them asked. He nodded.
"It ran that way." He waved his hand in the general direction. "What are you two doin' here?"
"Hiding," the other answered.
"Dare I ask why?" The boys smiled.
"Probably not." He laughed.
"Well, ya better not let the Kaminoans catch ya." Their faces darkened, and he knew he hit a nerve.
"They can't do anything to us now. Kal says so." Kal. So that was his name. Wait a minute.
"What do ya mean, now? They try something before?" Both boys shut up, looking like they thought they said too much. Huh. "Sorry. Bad question. What're your names?" It's supposed to sound like an afterthought.
The boys don't say anything for a moment.
"I'm Prudii." The boy on the left said. "That's Kom'rk. Who're you?"
"I'm Luc. You two should get back to your sergeant before the Kaminoans come through." He lowered his voice. "Just so you know, I don't like them either." The boys hesitated before scampering off in the opposite direction of the strill.
"Vallen!" He turned, his hand still in mid-air towards the keypad next to the door. The doctor, Gilamar, made his way to him, holding a datapad.
"Yeah?"
"This came for you. Jango didn't have time to deliver it."
"Thanks."
He knew what it was before he turned it on. Divorce contract. His missus wasn't happy when he'd disappeared, knowing her, but that was a given.
"Sorry, vod." He started. He hadn't realized Gilamar was still there. He shrugged, playing it off as no big deal.
"I figured this was coming. I wonder how she knew to go to Fett, though? Never said a word to her."
"Lucky guess, maybe. What are you going to do?"
"Sign it and send it back, I guess. We have no idea how long we're gonna be here, do we? Might not let us leave, ever. Better for her, and me." Gilamar shrugged.
"Probably. Better get back. I need to chase those aiwha-bait out of my sickbay." He jogged off before Vallen could reply.
He typed in the code and entered his quarters, heart aching. He wouldn't break down and cry, but he would drink himself into oblivion, hang-over be damned. He made his way to the kitchen area and pulled out a bottle of tihaar, silently thanking Fett for it as he popped the cap. Without bothering to get a glass, he drank straight from the bottle.
"Here's to a long forever," Vallen muttered before retiring to his room. "Those damn creds better be worth this."
These are terms and such for Mandolorian. Take a look if you don't know what things are. And yes, I am a geek. No, I do not care.
Mando'lor- Head chieftain of Mandolore. (MAHN-doh-lor)
aruetiise- Non-Mandolorians, traitors, or outsiders. There's a difference between the first and third. Singular form is aruetii. (ah-roo-AY-tee; ah-roo-ay-TEE-say)
vod- brother/sister*. Plural form is vod'e. (vohd, voh-day) Vod'ika means little brother/little sister. (voh-DEE-kah)
*the language doesn't specify gender
A strill is a hunting animal, found only on the planet. Has both parts (from what I gather), so can be mother or father.
Luc Vallen belongs to me. Think "luck." His accent is something like Irish.