(A/N) I began the original Just Another Pawn as a medium to practice writing storylines and to come to terms with Karen Traviss's separation from the Star Wars franchise. I only had a vague idea of what I wanted to do when starting my tale, and then I just came up with a few things as I went along, with Mandalore the freedom giving me great tips and suggestions. I discontinued the original version because of personal issues I was going through at the time.
As it is now, I wish to rewrite this story as I see fit. Though it will likely be more of the same, I have an actual outline now and want to refine my execution in some areas.
I entitled the new version as Just Another Pawn – Endurance. It is in the same crossover category of as the previous entry but is now rated M so that I can have more freedom as things develop.
Just Another Pawn – Extraneous will consist of side stories to the main story, of plot bubbles I thought of but never found a good spot to place it in.
This particular entry is simply a proofread version of my 2014 holiday special; as I said, there'd probably be more of the same.
If you decide to stick around, please enjoy.
X
THEN
Kamino
"The hell is Christmas?" Grain asked bluntly.
Soixante Squad was enjoying a simple card game in the barracks, sitting beside their lockers. They weren't in their armor save for Pawn, who had just finished participating in a Mandalorian-hosted Capture the Flag match as a benchwarmer. Of course, he ended up playing anyway, but that was beside the point of his story.
"One of Sergeant Sym's RCs talked about it during half-time," Pawn continued, playing a card that made his brothers groan in irritation. "Pakku, I think. It's a holiday that Sym was introduced to by her sister-in-law. Sym apparently loves it. Humans mostly celebrate it, but the holiday itself isn't that common even among them nowadays."
"So what's it celebrate?" Cypher curiously asked.
"Something about giving each other gifts and supporting the values of materialism. There's some spiritualism stuff, too, but they're more of an afterthought to please the masses."
"You just said it isn't that common," Livewire pointed out. "What masses?"
"I'm just telling you what Pakku told me, alright?" Pawn took a swig of his relaxing eggnog. "Anyway, there's this big, round, red-clothed, white-bearded guy called Santa Clause that makes gifts for everyone. He has his own slave army of little guys called elves that do all the legwork to produce the gifts."
"Awesome," Livewire deadpanned, "a holiday about the corruption of modern business practices and economics."
"Let me finish," Pawn said in response. "So Santa travels across the galaxy in his red space ship, but the ship doesn't have a hyperdrive. Instead, it covers distance thanks to the 'Galacta-Reindeer.'"
Aside from Dice, everyone stared at Pawn for a second.
"I didn't come up with the name, or the concept. The story goes that Santa drives his ship like a horse-drawn carriage, except with space-faring deer. He drops off gifts to all the good little boys and girls he stalks through his magic viewing-globe."
"A child predator?" Grain snorted. "This holiday just keeps getting better and better."
"Now, now, this is an aliit-oriented holiday. Innocent adike are kept ignorant of the more obscene implications that could be made."
"Did Pakku say the word, 'stalk'?" Livewire skeptically asked.
"Yeah, actually," Pawn admitted. "When he said 'stalk,' Sergeant Sym slapped him, hard. I'm guessing she must really like the holiday.
"Christmas actually sounds like a cute holiday, if you get past your corrupting words," Cypher spoke. "I could see her celebrating it."
Pawn shrugged. "I don't know, but I make it a more interesting story, don't I?"
"True," Cypher relented. "Did Pakku and his team plan on celebrating it?"
"Hopefully. Christmas involves big dinners that include plenty of meat. Pakku owes me a few favors, so if he gets any good food smuggled in, I'm getting us something good."
"Oh god, really?" Cypher unintentionally allowed a little drool to appear on his face. "If you do that, I will love you forever, vode."
Grain whispered to Livewire, "Kaysh guur' skraan, huh? Boy just can't get enough food, man."
"If I do get some fresh meat, I'll save the drumsticks for you and you only, Cypher," Pawn reassured.
"Hold on," Dice interrupted, a hand stoking his small goatee. "Isn't there a Wookie holiday called 'Life Day' that involves giving gifts, too?"
"Since when have you known anything about involving Wookies?" Grain asked.
"Coric's movie nights," Dice answered. Meanwhile, Pawn was staring off into the ceiling, having an epiphany.
"My God, you're right," he said, his tone full of amazement. "Both holidays involve decorating a tree. Both celebrate the birth and rebirth of life. Bother involve the exchange of presents. Both involve prayers, and both involve spending time with aliit."
"And how do you know so much about Life Day?" Grain turned his head to Pawn.
"Guys," Pawn ignored the question and rose to his feet. "You don't think that Sergeant Sym's… sister… is really," he waved his arms dramatically, "a Wookie who told her Life Day was really a human holiday called Christmas?"
His audience of four was silent.
"Such an overactive, random imagination," Livewire murmured. "I think you've had enough eggnog," he said louder as he swiped Pawn's cup. He froze, however, when a familiar scent reached his nostrils from the cup. He didn't quite like the fact it was a familiar scent, so he acted accordingly: Livewire stretched a hand over to the carton of eggnog, took off the cap, and sniffed.
"The hell are you doing, ner vod?" Grain questioned, resting his arm on his knee.
"Pawn hasn't been drinking eggnog," he responded, walking to a trash bin and pouring the contents of the carton out. "This is Corellian ale, a strong one at that."
"A what-now?" Cypher said in confusion.
"It's a beverage of the gods!" Pawn proclaimed, raising his hands up in excitement.
Dice crossed his arms. "Where did you get that, 4214?" He wasn't speaking disapprovingly; more so with weariness.
"Sergeant Sym gave me it at the end of CTF," Pawn explained. "She told me to share it with you guys, but do you know what I said?"
"That you're a selfish prick that would keep a perfectly delicious drink to yourself?" Grain guessed.
"You said, 'Thank you, Sergeant Sym. I will honor your gift by making sure it is enjoyed to its fullest potential," Livewire said as he returned to his seat.
"I bet you said you'd share that ale like she wanted, but you said so with clever words that confused even her," Cypher suggested brightly.
"You needed something to get the edge off after last month, so you kept the drink for yourself," Dice claimed.
Pawn flicked his two hands toward Dice, forming hand guns with his fingers. "Give the man a prize!" He then rubbed his lower leg. "I still owe Jaing a sucker punch for what happened."
Livewire shook his head, Cypher snickered, Grain snorted, and Dice ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. When each clone performed each action within the immediate vicinity of each other, they were all saying the same thing.
Goddamn it, Pawn.
Some were thinking in either good jest or irritation, but Pawn always loved it when he made his brothers do their classic reaction. The alcohol made him more bold than usual to do more reckless and weird antics.
"Don't let one of the officers find you with that drink, boys," an elderly voice croaked out. Soixante Squad gave nonchalant salutes to the fellow clone.
"99! Care for a drink?" Pawn stretched an arm out with his cup. However, Livewire quickly filched it away and got rid of the liquid.
The older, malformed clone closed his eyes for a moment as he chuckled. He walked over and patted the shoulders of Cypher and Dice. "Did you soldiers enjoy the Capture the Flag match? Helluva a show."
"Enjoy it?" Pawn exclaimed. "I got kicked in the bloody groin!"
"I saw." 99 gave Pawn a sympathetic and knowing smile. "That was quick thinking, using the flagpole itself as a weapon."
"The shock factor worked in my favor."
"Why are you boys still up, anyhow? It's pretty late."
"Squad isn't very tired," Dice answered. "Drills start later in the day tomorrow for us, so we're just taking advantage of some downtime."
"Well, you guys are starting to make quite a racket. I need you to clean up and hit the beds." Grain, Pawn, and Cypher groaned. "Those are orders, need the lights turned off."
"You heard the man," Dice reaffirmed. He didn't want to get their favorite non-squad mate clone on in any trouble. Livewire was already gathering their cards. Dice motioned for the rest to get into their bunks while he whispered to 99, "You aren't going to say anything about that drink, right?"
"Work hard tomorrow, and you'll have nothing to worry about," the elder man whispered back. Then he called out to Pawn. "Not you, Pawn'ika. There's something I need help with."
Pawn sighed as he walked away the ladder to his bunk. Grain and Livewire were already in bed, but Cypher was still climbing up when he paused and asked, "What is it?"
99 gave Cypher a pleasant, disarming smile. No other clone knew how to smile like him. "It's nothing. Just something with Little Boba."
"What about Boba?"
Dice pushed Cypher up the ladder before climbing up after him. "Probably another late-night infiltration into the RC barracks with Jaing and Lord Mirdalan. Just let Delivery Boy get stuffed in the trash compactor again." The sergeant fixed his gaze toward Pawn for a second. "If that does happen, don't let Vau catch you again, or I'll be the one to kick your shebs this time."
"Ha!" Pawn shouted in an over-the-top manner. "As if you could get your hands on a knife that cold and sharp."
Dice kicked Pawn's behind before getting into bed. "Don't let him off his leash, 99. He's more energetic than you usual, makes him more likely to bite."
"How dare you harm a delicate lamb like me?!" Pawn slurred indignantly, rubbing his mildly injured gluteus maximus.
"Just don't get into trouble," Dice ordered sternly. Pawn waved a dismissive hand as he made his way to the exit.
"I'll watch him," 99 said goodheartedly to Dice. They exchanged salutes before the elder of the two went on his way.
99 found Pawn leaning back on a wall in the hallway. He was slowly drinking from another shot glass. Where did he get it? 99 knew he wouldn't get a proper answer.
"Come on." 99 pulled him off the wall by the shoulder. They sauntered down the corrider. "You may be a little drunk, but a good soldier like you will do fine."
"What's the problem with Boba, anyway?" Pawn asked, his voice notably steadier and more focused. In return, 99's cordial manner shifted to a slightly more serious one.
"He's becoming too rebellious than Jango and some other higher-ups would like. Some are blaming the Nulls. Others, including me, think it's your influence."
Everyone who knew 99 knew he was always a loyal soldier. He always followed orders. His orders mostly consisted of janitorial work, and he resented a lot of it, but he was still obedient to his superiors. He believed in the ethics many of the Mandalorian sergeants enforced. 99 was somewhat flexible with these ethics, but not flexible to the extent of Pawn's preference.
"Rebellious as in stupid, relatively harmless pranks or rebellious as in a Jacobin extremist views?"
99 stared at Pawn blankly for a moment.
"Sergeant Sym loves to talk about obscure human-related history and culture a lot." True, some of her reviews are clearly biased, Pawn thought, but it's nice to learn about the galaxy without those pesky flash-training piercing your eyes.
99 shook his head in disgruntlement. "Some are blaming her, too. It's a wonder why Jango lets her look after him."
"Model Surrogate Mother of the Year, everybody!" Pawn sweepingly declared, raising his cup toward the ceiling before taking another sip. "If only Jango was younger and looking to get married. Am I right?"
"You're going off topic, Pawn. The thing with Boba –" 99 was interrupted by a small entity colliding with his abdomen. He coughed out and slipped over whatever had hit him. There was a muffling sound that followed from under him. A compact figure in a smaller version of clone cadet armor wiggled out.
"Boba!" Pawn cheered enthusiastically and spreading his arms. The younger clone paused in his escape to stare at the Delivery Boy. "Allow me to give you a belated happy seventh birthday!" Pawn lowered to his drink to the Fett. "Take a swig! Best eggnog on the whole planet!"
Boba raised an eyebrow at the liquid. He tried to push it away and get pass Pawn, but the trooper accidently tripped him.
"Sorry," Pawn apologized as someone ran pass him. The new figure picked up Boba by the back of his belt. Boba wailed and grunted, but the Mandalorian armored fellow wagged a finger and spouted a scolding.
"You can't always just run away from your problems, little one," the Mando chided. "You need to cover your tracks better before trying to escape."
"But there was no time," the child bitterly muttered, flustered and not making eye contact with anyone.
"What did he do?" Pawn asked. The Mandalorian glanced at him before presenting Boba in front of him. The boy felt exposed and embarrassed at being manhandled.
"This little rascal tried to dump my Christmas gifts into the ocean and replace them with shitty ones. What kind of training sergeant gives their commandos fabric softeners and taco coupons? No one even eats tacos on this planet!"
Pawn chuckled. "Did the kid succeed?"
"Just barely. Fei caught him opening an air vent in my storage unit. We've been chasing him all night."
"Pawn wanted me to do it," Boba gave as an excuse. "He said he'd let me watch Dragon Ball with him!"
The Mandalorian gasped. Through the T-shaped visor, a glared was sent Pawn's way. "You put him up to this?"
"Of course!" Pawn tried to put the tip of his cup to Boba's mouth. "Congratulations, have a drink."
Unfortunately for Pawn, Boba's captor swiped the cup and threw its contents into the trooper's face. Pawn didn't bat an eye. "Why would you offer a seven-year-old alcohol?"
Pawn barked another laugh, saliva getting onto the visor. "Technically, I'm seven, and guess who gave me alcohol in the first place?"
Silence. "And just why did you have Jango Fett's son ruin Christmas?"
"You know what Sergeant Sym?" Pawn barked back condescendingly. "Christmas is a lie!"
Sym sucked in a quick intake of. "Copaani mirshmure'cye? The hell do you mean 'Christmas is a lie'?"
"Is your sister-in-law a Wookie?"
"Yeah," she answered, sounding both angry and a tad confused. "What does that have to do with –"
Pawn interrupted, "Do you know what Life Day is?"
"No." The sound of a "thud" rang out, but Sergeant Sym paid no mind to it.
"Christmas rips off all of the holiday traditions of Life Day while perverting everything about it," Pawn accusingly said with pride.
"The hell are you on about?!" Sym demanded indignantly, placing her hands on her hips. "Christmas is a beautiful, innocent holiday! Do you have a mir'shupur or something? Didn't Pakku explain its brilliance and beauty?"
"Pakku thinks it's a weird holiday, too." Pawn received a Keldabe kiss. In other word, his exposed forehead received a fully-helmeted head-butt. Pawn fell back, and in his disoriented descent, he landed in 99's arm.
"Desecrate the holiness of Christmas anymore," Sym warned in a low voice, "and I will make your training tomorrow hell."
"Sergeant," 99 chimed in. "Boba got away." He nodded behind her. She looked around, and the younger clone was nowhere in sight.
"Haar'chak," she muttered before returning her gaze to Pawn who had gotten back to standing on two feet. "You planned that, didn't you?"
"You needed to be distracted or Boba wouldn't get away," Pawn casually explained, seemingly unaffected by the hostility Sym was emitting. "You can get overly emotional, and we're on good enough terms, so I thought I could get away with insulting your 'sacred holiday' without getting too hurt."
Sym looked to the side. Pawn assumed she was thinking through his explanation. He expected to get some sort of physical retribution, but instead, he was presented a question. "Why did you put Boba up to this?"
Pawn shrugged. "You, Jaing, and Mereel introduced DBZ to my squad, and I thought if Boba proved that he could be as mischievous as us, than he deserved to be exposed to it, too."
"That show is a bloody privilege I gave you. I can take it away if I wanted to."
Pawn snorted. "You wouldn't take our favorite shows away, just like how Sergeant Skirata won't stop bringing in cake for his commandos. You love us too much."
Sergeant Sym was silent for a moment, just staring at her subordinate. Pawn still had his drunken smile. There was a bruise forming on the edge of his temple.
She decided to kick him in the gut. Her decision brought about the clone on his knees, coughing and gasping for air. 99 went down to check on his injuries.
"That's for ruining my holiday." Then Sergeant Sym kneeled down and took a look at Pawn's bruise. She scavenged her pockets and took out some simple first-aid supplies. "This is for helping get little Boba out of his shell. He's growing out of his quiet stage now, been a bit more social than usual."
"That was part of my plan," Pawn huffed out, hugging his stomach. 99 patted his back.
"You're doing a pretty good job." Sym patted Pawn's shoulder. "You're not off the hook, though. I'll make sure one of Doran's fanboy squads gets paired up with yours tomorrow."
Pawn grunted in response. "Affectionate as always, Sergeant."
"You're just lucky I like to spoil you boys." Sym nodded to 99. "Can you help him back to the barracks? I think we should let Boba go."
He gave her his kindhearted smile. "I'll get it done."
"Thanks, 99. I'll be seeing you around." With that farewell, Sergeant Sym went on her way. "Happy Holidays!" she added.
"Love you, too, Sergeant," Pawn called back, rising to his feet, somewhat recovering from the blow to his gut. "Happy Life Day!" Something hit the back of his head. A blaster magazine landed between his toes. "Is this another gift, aside from the physical abuse?"
"Sure, let's go with that." Sym's voice faded as she walked farther away.
99 picked up the cartridge. "Come on, Pawn. Time for you to get some sleep."
Pawn wrapped an arm around 99's shoulders. "I love you, too, 99. Merry Life Day." He bumped 99's chest with the previously forgotten cup. "Have a drink!"
"I don't drink," 99 said calmly. He looked at Pawn's hand. "And the cup's empty."
While Pawn began to talk about one thing or some other in his drunken spool, 99 ignored most of it, only faintly paying attention.
You're a great soldier, Pawn, and an even greater brother, but one of these days, your hijinks are going to bite you in the shebs.