FN-2187 crashes down to the mat so hard that he sees stars. Everything hurts. His black undersuit doesn't do anything to soften the blows of his opponent. He's been doing this for too long and he's tired and he just wants to sleep and maybe take some painkillers because there doesn't seem to be a single inch of him that isn't bruised, but he can't. Not yet.
His squad has been selected for this training personally—as a reward for good simulation scores, they'd been told, but FN-2187 definitely feels like it's more of a punishment at this point. The trainers are taking immense pleasure in wiping the floor with them, and FN-2187 isn't entirely sure if this is part of the close-quarters combat course or just the instructors blowing off steam.
"Sithspit, that guy hits hard. You've gotta get the jump on him, vod'ika."
FN-2187 doesn't even bother to glare at the assembled clones standing at the edge of the mat, occasionally shouting out advice but otherwise not doing anything—not that they could if they wanted to. FN-2187 would normally be embarrassed about such a horrific defeat, but he can't even bring himself to care right now, too busy gasping for air instead. He raises himself with trembling limbs and forces himself to face his instructor.
"I am not impressed, trooper," the officer says, barely looking ruffled. FN-2187 isn't a pushover. He's done his basic training and he knows how to fight, but this officer is specially trained. FN-2187 can't touch him. "Are you really the best this facility has to offer?"
FN-2187 doesn't flinch, doesn't say anything in his own defense, because the First Order thrives on all sorts of mind games and FN-2187 doesn't doubt that this is one, too. He raises his fists and charges, but his tired body doesn't have the fine control that this spar requires anymore. The instructor sidesteps and drives a hard fist into FN-2187's kidney. FN-2187 inhales sharply in pain, struggling to shift his weight and twist and strike while he's close but his legs get swept out from under him and he goes down again before he can blink.
He lets out a hiss of pain, throat dry. He doesn't want to continue, but he can't stay down. He can't appear weak, or they'll get rid of him. So he starts to stand again. The officer smirks at him, tilting his head.
"Aw, what the heck," FN-2187 hears a clone say darkly. FN-2187 tries to ignore the voice, but it's hard when said clone suddenly appears directly in front of him.
The armor coloring is orange and white, and the clone settles into a loose fighting stance next to FN-2187, feet apart, shoulders back, and fists up. A long scar curls around the side of his face.
"Come on, kid. I'm not letting this nibral kick you around anymore."
"What the—Commander Cody, have you gone actually kriffing insane? Sir?" a clone squeaks from out of sight. Cody rolls his shoulders.
"I may not be able to touch him, but I can tell you exactly where he's failing, vod'ika," Cody tells FN-2187. "Stay low. You've got a habit of trying to come from above and force your enemies down, but he's using that to throw you around."
FN-2187 tries to copy Cody's stance and nearly staggers. Force, he's tired. His limbs are like deadweights, and his torso throbs with pain.
"Had enough, trooper?" the instructor asks apathetically from the other side of the mat. FN-2187 exhales slowly.
"Sur'ar, kid," Cody says quietly. "Start for him slowly, then go fast and from below at his right hip. He's too careful on it—there's an old injury there. A weak spot that he's trying to protect."
"Sir," FN-2187 slurs out in acknowledgement through his teeth. The word makes Cody's brow furrow, but FN-2187 doesn't have time to analyze the expression. He obeys the Commander's words and takes a few shaky steps towards his opponent. The instructor lifts an eyebrow, unimpressed, waiting for FN-2187 to come to him. FN-2187 picks up a little speed, but not much.
"Jii, nynir," Commander Cody barks, and FN-2187 doesn't understand those words but he recognizes the tone of an order and his body reacts accordingly, adrenaline surging.
He drops his body weight from his shoulders to his hips and strikes out, low to the ground and much faster than he'd been advancing before. The instructor jerks in surprise. He twists to get out of the way, but he's not fast enough to stop FN-2187 from slamming into him, knocking him back.
"Keep him under pressure," Cody growls, unsettlingly close to his ear even though FN-2187 is still moving and it shouldn't have been possible for him to keep up. "Don't let up."
FN-2187 obeys, aiming a few frantic punches at the instructor, who regains his balance and deflects them easily enough, eyes narrowed. FN-2187 tries not to give him room to go on the offensive, stepping forwards.
"Good, vod'ika. Down," Cody orders, and FN-2187 drops as the instructor lashes out with a kick that probably would have knocked FN-2187 unconscious. FN-2187 feels the breeze of the movement above his head, and—
Suddenly there's an opening. The instructor had expected his hit to land and had placed his full weight into it. Now he staggers, the weak hip that Cody had mentioned earlier buckling.
FN-2187 doesn't need Cody to tell him what to do here. He grabs the instructor by the waste and heaves, slamming him into the mat. FN-2187 gets on top of him, takes a punch across the face, and tries to put the instructor in an armlock, but the man bucks so hard the FN-2187 gets flipped and is suddenly face down on the mat with a knee in the hollow of his back.
He thinks, for a brief moment, that it's over. He goes limp.
"K'oyacyi, don't you dare give up now!" Cody shouts in his ear, and it's like FN-2187 has been struck by lightning. He musters up his strength and throws himself to the side, dislodging the instructor. He scrambles to get his feet underneath him.
"Muun'bajir, vod!" he hears a clone shout in excitement from the sidelines. FN-2187 whirls and strikes out at the instructor doggedly, trying to catch him off guard again.
"Legs, kid. You've got them, so use them."
Cody's curt reminder inspires FN-2187 to kick out, catching the instructor's ankle. The man hisses in pain and throws himself back out of FN-2187's reach. FN-2187 is following him, when suddenly the man thrusts his fist into the air, fingers curled tightly in the halt signal. FN-2187 is conditioned to respond to it, so he freezes. The instructor catches his breath and narrows his eyes.
"Looks like you have some fire in you after all," he says slowly, staring at FN-2187 down his nose. "With some work, you could become a powerful tool for the First Order."
FN-2187 lifts his head. It's a high compliment. Cody snarls, body twitching as if he wants nothing more than to tackle the instructor to the floor himself.
"What's your serial number, trooper?"
"FN-2187," FN-2187 responds, on autopilot. The adrenaline is dying away, leaving FN-2187 to focus on the pain throbbing through his body. The instructor nods.
"Very good. You will be recalled for further training. Until then, you are dismissed."
FN-2187 blinks. He glances at the gym around him and is surprised to see his squadmates, and their respective instructors, all waiting for them on the sidelines. FN-2187's squadmates are bruised, battered, and glaring at him with thinly-veiled jealousy. They were not told they would be called for additional training. FN-2187 swallows nervously.
"Oya!" a clone yells, from where he and his squadmates are jostling each other. Each one is wearing armor striped with grey. The word gets repeated by the surrounding ghosts with enthusiasm. "You showed him, vod! That's the way!"
FN-2187 blinks at him, making his way slowly off the mat and approaching his squadmates and wincing with every step. They don't even look at FN-2187, already gathering their things to leave. FN-2187 sighs inwardly, but before he can focus too much on their clear dismissal, Cody is in front of him again, grinning.
"You make me proud, kid. The First Order taught you some bad habits, but that's nothing that can't be broken with a little bit of training. Good work."
FN-2187 inhales sharply, caught off by how the praise makes his heart soar. It's so much different from the clones than it is from First Order personnel. A tiny smile forms on his face before he can stop it, and he offers Cody a silent nod of thanks. Cody quirks a thoughtful eyebrow suddenly.
"Next time you get some free time, we'll be drilling your form on that kick. We could get it so fast that the instructors won't even see it coming, if you're willing to put in the time."
"Oh, kriff," a clone in orange-streaked armor mutters. "If Cody teaches him to kick, he'll be unstoppable."
"Quiet, Longshot," Cody tells him smugly. "You up for it, vod'ika?"
FN-2187 feels a surge of excitement despite his exhaustion.
"Yeah," he whispers. Cody smirks.
"This," Echo enunciates, sticking his index and middle fingers out in the shape of a v and jerking it from his forehead to his chest, "means brother."
FN-2187 copies him jerkily, curling the necessary fingers and letting the v follow where Echo had demonstrated, resting above his heart at the end. Echo nods.
"Yeah, that's good," he compliments. "Now, take that same hand shape, but send it up instead of down. He starts the v at his forehead but flicks his wrist upwards so that his fingers jerk out above his head. "This means superior officer. In the old days, most officers were still brothers, so the sign kept the base shape."
Fives snorts.
"That's different now, but it's too late to change the sign. Oh well," he mutters. FN-2187 frowns.
The barracks is completely dark except for the two clone ghosts, seated on the edge of FN-2187's bed, legs dangling down into the room. Their translucent forms cast just enough light for FN-2187 to make out dim shapes across the room.
He shouldn't be awake. They have training tomorrow, but Echo and Fives had been determined to keep him awake until the lights had gone off and FN-2187's squadmates had fallen asleep, perched stubbornly on the edge of the bunk. They had been determined to get FN-2187 alone so he could talk.
"Echo, are you kriffing kidding me? This isn't fair!" someone hisses.
A clone phases through the wall and immediately shoves Echo off of the top of FN-2187's bunk. FN-2187 flinches, expecting a clatter of armor against durasteel, but there's no sound apart from Echo's abrupt swearing. Fives roars with laughter until two more clones appear and try to pull the same stunt with him. He kicks out at them before they can get close enough to succeed.
"Slana'pir, ad'ike!" he growls playfully, and promptly gets tackled by one, toppling head first off the bunk with the other clone in tow. Once again FN-2187 flinches, but once again, there's no sound. The last clone settles comfortably in Fives' vacant spot, waving cheerfully at FN-2187.
"Hello, vod'ika!" he says. "Dunno if you ever got the rest of our names. I'm Droidbait. The one pinning Echo to the floor is Hevy, and the one trying to bite Fives is Cutup."
FN-2187 looks down and yes, Cutup is trying to bite Fives, mostly because Fives has him in a headlock and Cutup probably won't get free without playing dirty. Fives seems to be aware of Cutup's thoughts and is carefully shifting his arm as Cutup moves so that Cutup's teeth can't get close. The sight makes FN-2187 snort in amusement.
"This is the rest of our squad, kid," Echo introduces in a strained voice from his spot underneath Hevy. "They call us Domino."
FN-2187 glances at the room around him, a little brighter with the light from the three additional ghosts. FN-2187's squadmates are completely still.
"Good to meet you," he breathes, so quiet that he barely hears it himself. Droidbait grins brightly at his voice.
"Remember me?" Hevy asks, twisting so that he's sitting on Echo's chest and can look up at FN-2187 on the bunk as he speaks. Echo chokes, slapping at Hevy's legs.
"Force, get off of me you deadweight—!"
"Yes," FN-2187 answers Hevy. "From the hangar. Before…" Before he had fainted. He ducks his head in embarrassment. Hevy laughs and gets to his feet as Echo gasps dramatically for breath.
"Yeah, sorry about that," Hevy says easily. "I didn't mean to freak you out. The Captain chewed me out pretty good, so I won't do it again."
"That's… okay," FN-2187 tells him, a little unsure of himself.
Cutup makes a peeved noise from where Fives is still holding him still.
"We've been begging for you to teach us ARC signs ever since you died and you two di'kute have kept it close to your chests for years like greedy jawas!" he complains. "You can't teach it to him and not to us!"
"He can't talk without having to worry about getting the First Order equivalent of reconditioning," Fives says, tightening his grip for a second before letting Cutup go. Cutup steps away from him and scowls.
"Oh, come on, Fives," Droidbait huffs. "You've been holding this over our heads for so long, just so you can gossip without us knowing. Teach us already!"
"You could have asked anyone to teach you," Echo points out incredulously. "We've been dead for ages, I don't know why you've waited for so long. There are plenty of ARCs. Literally any of them—you could have even asked Captain Rex, or—"
"Yeah, well, it wouldn't have been the same," Hevy drawls. "And I bet you two have made plenty of different signs between the two of you that no one else will understand, ARC or not."
Fives exchanges a guilty look with Echo, and Cutup crosses his arms.
"There, see? Now teach us!"
Fives takes a long look at their determined expressions and cracks a grin.
"Well then. They're finally getting it out of us, Echo. Took them long enough," he teases. Droidbait kicks at him and Fives ducks with a glare. "Coopani mirshmure'cye, vod?" Droidbait sticks his tongue out at him.
"What does that mean?" FN-2187 blurts out quietly before he can stop himself. "What is that language?" Five sets of eyes blink at him, and FN-2187 shifts nervously. "I mean—if you want to explain—that is—"
"No, it's okay," Echo soothes immediately. "We just… forgot that you don't understand. We haven't been able to talk with someone who isn't a clone in a while. Force, I'm sorry. You must have been confused."
"Confused, no," FN-2187 says. "Sometimes I get general meanings with context. But I was…" He pauses. Curiosity is such a dangerous thing. He doesn't like to admit that he has it out loud.
Domino squad assembles around him quickly, perching themselves on the edges of FN-2187's bunk. One of Hevy's arms goes through Droidbait as he adjusts and Droidbait flinches, shooting him a disgruntled look but otherwise not protesting.
"Does that hurt?" FN-2187 asks him. Droidbait shakes his head.
"It's just uncomfortable," he responds.
"The language is called Mando'a," Fives explains once they've all stopped fidgeting. "It's the traditional language of Mandalore. The original template for the clones knew it, so we learned as well in our free time. We aren't mandalorians, but it's the closest thing we have to a mother tongue besides Basic. It's special to us clones."
Basic is the only language FN-2187 knows. There are stormtroopers who know other languages for translating purposes, but FN-2187 had never scored high enough on the intelligence tests to qualify for the training.
"I like hearing it," FN-2187 admits. "It's nice."
"We'll teach it to you as well, then," Cutup says. "Mando'a and ARC signs, so that we can always communicate."
FN-2187 tilts his head.
"Is that… okay?" he dares to ask. "I'm not a clone."
Hevy snorts.
"It's not about being a clone," he says decisively. "It's about the heart. Esprit de corps, and all that."
"What does that mean?"
"Oh, uh… it's not Mando'a, actually," Hevy says sheepishly. "I dunno what language it is. But it means… pride, I guess? Echo?"
"It's a feeling of… fellowship," Echo contributes. "Or common loyalty between troops. It isn't dependent on who you are, but more on how you act and what you value. If members of a group are unified and work towards a common goal with enthusiasm… you have esprit de corps."
"Aliit ori'shya tal'din," Hevy says. "That gets my point across better, and that one is Mando'a. Family is more than blood. Blood hardly matters at all when it comes down to it. Mando'a belongs to people that have a warrior's spirit in them."
FN-2187 frowns.
A warrior spirit. Well. That disqualifies him pretty quickly, doesn't it. FN-2187 can't imagine that the downtrodden spirit of a cowed stormtrooper fits the Mandalorian standard.
"So!" Cutup says excitedly, "Repeat after me, kid: vod."
"Vod," FN-2187 repeats mindlessly, and then jumps.
"I thought you said Mando'a belongs to people that have warrior spirit," he whispers. Droidbait frowns, and the look of pity that flashes across his face makes FN-2187 squirm.
"It does. So that's why we're teaching you," Fives says firmly. "Same place as where we were in ARC signs, one of the most important words: vod means brother. Vod'ika means little brother. Ori'vod means older brother."
FN-2187 blinks at him slowly.
Vod'ika. He recognizes that word, because it's been said to him since the moment the clones had started to interact with him. He hadn't ever bothered to ask what it meant, and now the realization makes his heart skip a beat. He stares at Domino squad in shock, breath stalling in his lungs and eyes wide. He can't help it.
They've been calling him little brother.
He remembers Waxer and Boil crooning over Numa's datafile, and Commander Cody grinning at FN-2187 triumphantly during the earlier training, remarkably proud. He remembers Captain Rex answering his questions, patiently and with more care than FN-2187 has ever received from anyone.
Aliit ori'shya tal'din. Family is more than blood. The phrase hits him like a landspeeder.
"You broke him, di'kut," Cutup accuses sharply. Fives reaches forwards like he wants to grab Hevy's shoulder, but he pulls back at the last moment, brow furrowing.
"Hey. Kid? Gonna faint again? Are you—?"
"Fine!" FN-2187 forces out so that they stop worrying. "Fine, I'm fine!"
Brothers. FN-2187 feels an odd sense of wonder come over him. He's always wondered what it would be like to have a brother, and now he has… thousands. Millions, maybe.
"Are you sure? If you need us to go, we can—"
"No!" FN-2187 says loudly, and then freezes, waiting for movement from his sleeping squadmates. No one stirs, and FN-2187 purses his lips nervously. "No," he repeats softly. "I promise I'm fine. Teach me more?"
Domino squad offers him matching smiles.
"Elek," Droidbait says. "Let's get started."
A/N: Esprit de corps: a feeling of pride, fellowship, and common loyalty shared by the members of a particular group.
Mando'a:
vod'ika- little brother
nibral- loser, failure
Sur'ar- focus
Jii, nynir- now, strike
K'oyacyi- Hang in there, stay alive
Muun'bajir- "educate hard", trounce, kick butt
Oya-expression of triumph, literally "let's hunt!"
Slana'pir- get lost
ad'ike- used informally with adults as 'guys' or 'lads'
di'kute- idiots
Coopani mirshmure'cye, vod- You looking for a smack in the face, mate?
Aliit ori'shya tal'din- Family is more than blood
Elek-yes
OKAY DONT YELL AT ME BECAUSE IM BIASED AND PUT DOMINO SQUAD IN HERE AGAIN. Have you seen my other fic? I can't help myself at this point.
There will probably be... one or two more little chapters of Finn figuring out where he stands among the clones until we get to events that start tying in with the Force Awakens. I know they're short chapters, but they're short so that I can handle them while I'm working on larger projects, so have patience!
Hope you enjoyed, thank you for your never-ending support! 3 meridianpony :)