"Look Skirata... my contract wasn't with the Jedi, or the Republic... it was with the aihwa-bait. And, your contract... was with me! You accepted the job, and now... the job is over. Your creds should already be in your account. You earned them. So, go. But don't ever whine to me about what'snot fair in this galaxy, Kal. So what, if these clones...my clones, mind you... are denied a 'normal' life? Quite frankly, they can all just get in line!"

- Jango Fett... to one of his Cul'Devar-

...

-'T'ad'- (26 standard hours after leaving Kamino...)

"What's that your reading now, C-T, 3-0-3-4...?" I asked Quay, as I entered his and Trey's room. "Another one of your 'contraband' holo-comics?"
It wasn't until then that I noticed... I hadn't heard our littlest brother make a sound while I was in the 'fresher, or since I walked into his quarters. The whole time, he'd been laying on his bunk... reading some new holo-zine. "He must really be interested in it," I figured... "because, normally... when he's reading... he can't keep his trap shut!"

Being around Quay, while he immersed himself into one of his favored illustrated adventures... was to get a virtual 'play-by-play' of the action unfolding on the pages.

Curious, I walked over to where Quay was reading on his bunk, and deftly snatched the flimsi from his hands. "Let's see here...", I declared, all 'Sgt-On-Deck'. "...what kind of insane quest", I asked him. "Is your buddy, 'Lance Lightspeed'... on this time, eh?"

Quay, suddenly looking very flush, made a quick grab to retrieve the pages... but 'his sergeant', was just a little bit quicker.

"NO!", he cried out, emphatically... then stammered on. "Sarge... umm... that's not a holo-comic. It's... uh, something-uh... else..."

Intrigued by his reaction, I pressed the issue further, by reading aloud whatever it was in my hand... that my littlest brother didn't want me to see. With a dramatic clearing of my throat, for effect... I began reciting the text on the flimsi in my hand.

"...his strong right arm held her trembling body firmly to him. At first she resisted... but soon, the feeling of is hard-muscles pressing against her... gave rise to a fire deep within. One, that she long believed... could never be rekindled. He gazed deeply into her eyes as their mouths met, and explored each others..."

Although, I'd never read one of Quay's comics... I somehow knew that this story... wasn't going to end with 'Lance Lightspeed' saving the day...

"Hey! What is this?"

"I don't know...," Quay declared innocently. "I got it from one of the crew."

Then, Deuce's voice came booming out from the open 'fresher door. "Hey, Oni... why'd you stop?"

I almost blew my top! But, as angry as I was... I wasn't really angry, at Quay. I still don't know what had infuriated me so, about the scenarios being discussed in in the page's text.

Even now, hours later... I can't figure it out. But, at the time... I just raged.

"We're in-transport to our first mission! Our first real mission... And, THIS...!", I waved the illicit collection of flimsi around wildly. "This... is the kind of distractions we don't need right now!"
Finally, Deuce came fully from the 'fresher wrapped in a towel, and grabbed the offensive papers from his sergeants hand. He appeared to scan the pages with characteristic dismay, then flipped one over... and his big, brown eyes got even bigger.
Deuce didn't startle easily, so I asked him at once... "What? What is it, 'Three-Two?"

Deuce turned the page of flimsi around, and (with that big, dumb grin of his) thrust it right up close... to within inches of my face.

"Look, Sarge...", he announced... as if, he'd discovered the secret to unlocking the galley's sweets-locker. "...PICTURES!"

Caught flat-footed, I just stared at the image being help up before me... mouth hanging slightly open... my head, slowly tilting sideways.

"Careful, Oni...", Quay said teasingly. "That's definitely not 'GAR-Approved Reading Material' you're looking at!"

Trey... who had carefully crept up behind me, to peek over my shoulder at the 'subversive' images... joined in. "Yeah, sarge... and THOSE," he pronounced, as he reached over, and pointed... at a particular part of the dual-flimsi image, on the pages Deuce held out before me. "...sure aren't 'GAR-Issue', either!"

As if I'd been caught napping on guard duty, I sprang into action. Snatching the pages away from Deuces grasp, I crumpled them up, between my shaking hands. Without another word... because I simply couldn't trust myself to speak, just then... I stomped out of the cabin, tossing the crumpled holo-zine pages into the trash receptacle by the hatchway as I passed through.

I stood there, outside in the passageway... wondering why I had lost my cool with my brothers. Inside, I could overhear them... making fun of 'Mr Regulations'. I hate that nickname. As I asked myself, again... why a sergeant seemed destined, to be unable to connect with his men... I listened to what my 'vode'.. really thought of me...

The remaining triplets were silent for only a moment, before the snickering commenced. After only a few seconds, however, one brother put a halt to the merriment.

"Maybe Oni's right, guys." Quay said thoughtfully. "We can't let all this civie-stuff ruin our focus!"
I thought for a hopeful moment, that just maybe... Quay had really bought in to what I had said. It made me wonder if Quay knew that the holomag wasn't what I had really been mad about, after all. Maybe, they really did understand...! That, I'm only hard on them, because I care! For a moment, it felt good.. to be appreciated.

But then, Quay broke into his imitation 'Oni-voice'... (complete with an exaggerated version of my crossed-arm stance, I'm sure...) And, most probably... with his finger wagging around the room, as he spoke.

"This stuff will make you soft, men!... S-O-F-T (I heard him slapping his hand into his palm, to emphasize each letter). "SOFT! Just look at you, trooper...", I peeked in, around the corner of the open doorway... to see...

Quay... pretending to be Me... swaggered over, and push his finger into Trey's bicep. Trey gamely flexed his strong arm, contracting the muscle into sinewy-harden rock. Psuedo-Oni, however...was ever, unimpressed.

"You call that a muscle, trooper?", Quay yelled imperiously. "Feels more like a stolen bread-meal roll, from the galley!" Pulling out his imaginary Rule Book, Quay continued.

"Article 3-4-b-2-s-r-5-7-x.1-3.78 CLEARLY states... that, 'NO Food Stuff shall be allowed as BODY PARTS', Trooper! Now, drop and give me three-hundred and thirty-three push-ups, Trooper! ...Now!" (I have to admit... that part was pretty funny!)

Trey threw up a (rather sloppy!) salute, to 'Mr Regulations'... and began imitating the performance of his 'exercises'.

Turning to include Deuce in the fun, Quay singled-out their 'largest' sibling by pointing at him directly. "...and YOU, C-T-3-0-3-2-.05-7-6- and three-quarters...!, the next time I find you reading non-authorized, civilian-filth... or, anything else... you'll each take turns, hand-pressing my skivvies!"

Our two other brothers hurriedly and made "Oh-no, no, no!..." comments, then returned to all laughing at my expense. (Personally, I didn't think it was a very good impression... but...)

Deciding that Quay'd had enough fun, Deuce walked to the wastebasket (I had to duck back into the hall quickly, out of his sight)... and pulled the few, crumpled pages from the within, and tossed them back to their previous owner.

"Here you go, little brother...", he said ruefully. "I'm not exactly sure whats goin' on in those pictures, but..."

"So far,", he concluded. "...it's the only thing in the known-galaxy, that seems to be able to shut you up!"

Quay collected together the mixed pages of his holo-zine that were scattered across his bunk. Then, he stuck his tongue out at Deuce and said, "Just for that, I'm not gonna tell you what the civies told me to do with the pictures! Ha!"

Quay then jumped from his bunk, and dashed past Deuce... into the empty lav... slamming and locking the door behind him.

Deuce looked at the 'fresher door, then at Trey... then shook his head mockingly, and muttered...

"Sometimes, I think one of us is adopted!"