4: Small Victories
"He's Agricorps," Tim explains, in between long gulps of caff. The tone suggests he's surprised that Kon didn't know already. "They're a service branch – farming and biome recovery, ecologists, you know?"
Kon frowns, eyes on what is already the commander's second cup, and thinks of ways to get it away from him without him noticing. "I thought all Jedi were the same."
Tim shakes his head as he takes another swig. "Service Corps are different. Bit looser in philosophy, take a more direct action approach to the whole service to the Republic thing. Most of them never made Knight, but they're still technically Jedi – at least on flimsi anyway, and that's all that counts after Geonosis, as far as anyone's concerned these days."
He shrugs, managing to keep his cup just out of reach, and adds, "It's not something most people choose, if that's what you're asking. But some people just really like having their hands in the dirt instead of politics."
"Sounds smart to me," Impulse, one of the latest shinies, comments.
Tim gives him a look, which gives Kon the distraction he needs to snatch the caff cup.
"No," he tells him when the commander turns his attention on him. "You've had enough."
"Ugh," Tim groans, rubbing his face with both hands. "Why are you all like this?"
"Just lucky, I guess," Kon says.
"Speak for yourself," Impulse laughs, slipping into a jog towards the Canteen, "I was built this way!"
There's a pause as they watch him run off, and Tim looks longingly at his caff cup. "Look, can I just get one more sip?"
"Match's orders," Kon informs him, upending the cup and spilling its contents.
Tim visibly sulks, watching the spilled fluid pool in the dirt. "I outrank him."
"Medic," Kon reminds him and the commander deflates further.
Everyone, even the Jedi, know that medics are not to be ignored and can get mighty wrathful when they feel like someone has refused to trust their good sense and listen when told what's good for them. Even though the 222nd sees less direct combat action than other units, Match is no different from any good GAR medic that way. Oh sure, Tim could try and get more caff – and Kon can almost see him trying to work out how to do it on the sly – but Match would find out and he'd probably tie him to a bed for some proper rest before the day was out.
There are no secrets on base, after all, or at least none that stay secret very long.
And if there is anything Knight Tim Drake is great at it is cost-benefit analysis.
"Ugh, it's too early for this," Tim groans, at last, and slumps onto a supply box.
Kon privately considers this a victory.