FN-2187 has run the stormtrooper simulation training hundreds of times, on every difficulty setting. He knows the course like the back of hand. He's learned how to take out almost anything the training room can throw at him, just from the sheer number of times he's had to run it.
It's never been as easy as it is right now.
The arena is dotted with turrets mounted in various positions around the room. In the distance near the far wall, he can just make out the objective—it's old fashioned, made of cloth and a durasteel pole. It's designed to look like a flag. If FN-2187 and his team can get to it, they'll win the match. The clever crossfires that the turrets create mean that they can't just sprint forwards and grab it. It's slow going, from one barrier to the next, but they're making good progress today.
"Slip, take the right side. Zeroes, the left. Nines, with me!" FN-2187 orders through his comm, dropping into a crouch. He surges forwards to put his back against the nearest barrier. A hailfire of blasterbolts zip above him. The turrets are merciless. If their team can't take them out, they won't even get close to the objective. He leans around the barrier to take a potshot at a turret attached to the wall and grins in savage satisfaction when it sparks and falls limp. One less to worry about.
"Jate, vod," the clone behind him says, pleased. This particular ghost dwarfs FN-2187. He's broader than most other clones and certainly broader than FN-2187. "Good placement of your men. Make sure they move together."
FN-2187 exhales slowly and tilts his head to glance at his current companion. Boss is surveying the battlefield with an expert eye, completely unconcerned by the blaster bolts that fly through his incorporeal form. Scorch hovers next to him, an infective grin on his face. FN-2187 is vaguely aware of Sev and Fixer nearby as well, watching as FN-2187's squad progresses.
Delta squad has taken it upon them to teach FN-2187 how to unify his squad. FN-2187 had been doubtful of their skills at first, mostly because of the high amount of nagging that goes on between Scorch and Fixer on an hourly basis. However when FN-2187 had taken the time to sit down and watch them run drills or spar together or even just walk through the hallway he'd seen why the other vode were so insistent that the Commandos teach him.
They move as one. Even when they aren't on the battlefield, Delta squad adjusts themselves to stay in a careful formation, watching each other's backs without so much as a command from Boss. They no longer need his direction to know what needs to be done.
They are perfectly in sync—but it's beyond that too. They trust each other implicitly. There is no hesitation or worry. They just act with the surety that their brothers will be watching their backs. When Boss does give orders, the members of his team obey with that same level of confidence.
FN-2187 wants that. Despite how strange it seems, despite how it's different than anything he's ever seen in the First Order… he wants to have that trust with his team. Aches for it, almost, in a way that he doesn't understand.
"Focus, kih'vod," Boss prompts. FN-2187 grimaces beneath his helmet and pops his head up to check his squad's progress. He fires at a new turret as it swivels to try and target Zeroes. On the right side of the arena, Slip rolls into cover, barely avoiding getting hit. The bark of another blaster just behind FN-2187 tells him that Nines is right with him just as FN-2187 had suggested.
He isn't the squad leader, not exactly, but for some reason his teammates are listening to his orders regardless. FN-2187 doesn't know why. Maybe it's because of what happened with Zeroes during the megablaster training.
A new flurry of blasterfire forces FN-2187 to duck his head. He presses his back to the barrier and tips his head in Nines' direction.
"Wait for the others to clear the way, then we push." He says it over comms so that Slip and Zeroes know what they're waiting for as well. Nines hesitates for an instant, but then he nods.
"Y'know, I still think this entire simulation could be ten times more effective if you were allowed to use thermal detonators. They're a good solution to almost every problem," Scorch says with a grin. Boss raises an eyebrow at him. Sev snorts.
"Sure, because that worked out so well for you during that mission on Taris."
"Parer, me'ven?" Scorch says incredulously. FN-2187's brain automatically starts to translate: wait, what? "If I remember right, that plan was the only reason why we got out of there alive, nayc serimir—"
FN-2187 grits his teeth and tries to focus on the battle at hand. Slip and Zeroes are pressing forwards at the same time, drawing the turret fire. It's a good opportunity to move up. He nods quickly to Nines. Once Nines nods back, FN-2187 counts down from three, and they go hurtling out of cover. FN-2187's feet pound against the durasteel beneath his feet. They make it to the next set of barriers without a single turret even noticing that they've moved. FN-2187 feels a flash of triumph. The push forward was smooth and effective. This is how it should be. No one is injured, and no one is left behind.
They're forced to stay put for a moment because the turrets finally notice that they've moved. Blasterfire peppers the ground on either side of their barrier. Against his better judgement, FN-2187 tunes back into the conversation between Sev and Scorch as the clones drift close again.
"...picking shrapnel out of my backside for weeks," Sev is growling. "Not to mention it completely ruined my kill count for the rest of the mission—"
"Oh? Oh yeah, Sev? What was your final count for that mission?" Scorch seems positively gleeful. Sev fixes him with a flat look.
"Still more than you, idiot—"
"And as usual you were so wrapped up in counting that you forgot to cover me, just like I knew you would," Fixer snaps, rolling his eyes. He crosses his arms over his chest. "Enough, you two. Let him concentrate."
"Calm down, Fixer, just having a little fun!" Scorch bounces on his toes and then sighs. He offers FN-2187 an apologetic look. "Yeah, yeah, you're right. Sorry, vod'ika."
FN-2187 had been barely restraining a hissed "Ne'johaa!" from his own lips. He's grateful that he doesn't have to say it now. He's half expecting Fixer to be angry, but when he spares a fleeting glance at the other commando Fixer's expression seems far more fond than exasperated.
"Aru'e," Sev suddenly barks out in warning. FN-2187 narrows his eyes and peers around the edge of the barrier to take a look around. It doesn't take long for him to locate the enemy. A repurposed IG unit has been released into the arena. It's stalking towards them determinedly, blaster hefted in the air. The repurposed First Order IG droids aren't nearly as lethal as the IG assassin droids are sometimes known to be, but they aren't nearly as easy to take down as the turrets, either.
It's good news, despite the sharp increase in difficulty of the course. A successful takedown of an IG droid adds a significant amount of points to your training score and looks good on First Order records. If FN-2187 were to break cover he could take it down quickly, before the rest of his squad have a chance to—
No, wait. That's not—that's not right. That's not how the vode would do it.
FN-2187 is supposed to be unifying his squad right now, not competing against them. He grits his teeth and struggles to focus.
Behind him, Nines is fidgeting anxiously in place. FN-2187 turns to check on Zeroes and Slip and isn't surprised to see them swivelling to turn towards the droid. They've already strayed from their original courses to head towards it.
"Mine," Zeroes calls over comms. Slip lets out a huff of dissent, chasing right after him. The lure of extra points is too strong. All at once, the formation they had worked to maintain during the first half of the course crumples. FN-2187 feels a surge of frustration.
"Udesii, vod," Boss reminds him in a low voice. "Sur'ar. Focus."
"The formation—" FN-2187 starts to hiss out, acutely aware of Nines behind him. Boss holds up a hand to stop him.
"—Is already broken. So what will you do? In battle your formations will be broken time and time again. It's already out of your control. Adjust your plans and keep moving." Boss' voice leaves no room for argument. FN-2187 winces.
Nines is still behind him, hesitating. FN-2187 glances at him. Will he still listen to reason? The fact that he hasn't moved yet must mean something.
"While they take out the droid we'll secure the objective," FN-2187 tries. He forces more confidence into his voice than he actually feels. Nines stares at him for a long moment, fingers clenched around the grip of his weapon. From around the barrier, FN-2187 hears a shout and a loud series of blasterfire. Their teammates have engaged the droid. Hopefully they've taken out enough of the turrets, otherwise Slip and Zeroes won't last very long.
"Alright," Nines agrees breathlessly. FN-2187 feels a thrill of surprise, but there's no time to revel in it. He peers around the barrier to watch as Slip and Zeroes dive around the droid's scattered shots. They've drawn the IG unit further to the left side, away from FN-2187 and Nines. It follows the other stormtroopers doggedly, unfazed by the occasional blasterbolt that singes its limbs. That droid can take a lot of damage before it goes down for good. It's relentless, and that's part of why it's so hard to destroy. It barely stops for anything short of a rocket launcher.
Zeroes throws himself over a barrier. He fires as he ducks into cover. The droid swivels after him, blaster blazing. Suddenly there's an opening—the right side of the arena is completely clear. FN-2187 doesn't even see any more turrets.
"Viinir," Fixer advises quietly. Run. FN-2187 doesn't need any more prompting than that. He bolts, charging around the barrier and into open space. Nines is hot on his tail. The objective taunts them from the other side of the room, still so far away. FN-2187 pushes himself to move faster. He hopes fervently that Slip and Zeroes will be able to survive without getting tagged by the IG droid.
Out of the corner of FN-2187's eyes, a turret suddenly spins. It's still active, and tracking them as they run. It focuses on Nines. FN-2187 feels a bolt of panic. He reaches out to shove the other stormtrooper to the side. The blasterbolt strikes in between them. Nines yelps, stumbling. FN-2187 raises his blaster and squeezes the trigger once, twice. His aim is true. The turret erupts into sparks.
"Thanks, Eight-seven!" Nines shouts incredulously. FN-2187 keeps running. There's no time. The longer they wait, the more risk there is that one of their other squadmates will be injured. They've left Slip and Zeroes behind. FN-2187 can't decide if he's made the right decision or not, but the clones are silent for now.
"Keep moving!" FN-2187 charges for the objective. They're getting closer. With the droid distracted, they could even finish this in record time. He's vaguely aware of Delta squad drifting silently around him. Scorch is singing something under his breath in rolling Mando'a, quiet but enthusiastic, with an edge of teeth and steel and fire—
"Kandosii sa ka'rota, vode an. Coruscanta a'den mhi, vode an…"
FN-2187 is only a few yards away when sudden Sev, who is leading him forward like some sort of ghostly vanguard, flickers uneasily.
"Boss, there's—" Sev starts.
"Gev," Boss instructs, not harsh, but firm. Sev goes quiet. FN-2187 doesn't even have time to be curious as to what they're talking about. The floor trembles underneath his feet without warning.
"Eight-seven!" Nines yelps. Suddenly FN-2187 gets tackled to the floor. He thrashes instinctively, but it's just Nines—Nines, who had tackled FN-2187 to the floor, but why…?
Nines rolls to his feet and fires without a moment's hesitation. FN-2187 is stunned. For a moment he doesn't even know where the enemy is. The sharp tang of blood coats his tongue—he'd bitten it when Nines had tackled him. When he finally gets his head up, he locates two turrets that had sprung from the ground as a last minute trap. They're located mere yards from the objective. Nines knocks them out one after another. Once they power down, Nines hisses in pain and drops his gun. He grabs at his left shoulder with a gasp and drops to his knees. He isn't badly hurt, but he is injured to some extent.
You knew, turrets? FN-2187 signs frantically with his free hand.
"Elek," Boss answers curtly. "We did. But if we tell you everything, you'll never learn to handle the unexpected on your own. You're doing fine, vod'ika. Keep going."
FN-2187 shakes his head to clear it as he rises to his feet. A shout behind him urges him forward—Zeroes and Slip have dealt significant damage to the IG droid. It lurches unsteadily as it walks. One of it's hip joints sparks with every step. FN-2187 won't be gaining extra points from it himself, but he waits for Zeroes and Slip to knock it down before hurrying the last few steps to the objective and heaving it into the air.
Objective complete. Mission accomplished. They've done it.
Their time and individual scores begin to blare over the loudspeakers. FN-2187 barely hears it. He sets the flag back into place and turns frantically, searching for Nines. His squadmate is still on the ground, awkwardly attempting to get back to his feet. He's favoring his shoulder still. Without thinking, FN-2187 offers him a hand.
He can't see the look Nines gives him in response, but FN-2187 can imagine his surprise.
"Thanks," FN-2187 tells him honestly. "I didn't notice the turrets in time. I would have been tagged."
After a moment of hesitation, Nines reaches out to clasp his hand with FN-2187's. FN-2187 pulls the other stormtrooper to his feet.
"You're… welcome," Nines responds haltingly, like the words don't fit right in his mouth. FN-2187 frowns at the way he cradles his shoulder.
"You alright?"
"Fine," Nines replies carefully. "Just hit it odd on the way down. Nothing a little bacta won't fix."
The damaged IG droid stomps past them on its way back to it's charging station, activated once more to make for an easier cleanup. Both of them flinch automatically, tensing until it disappears from sight. Nines' hesitant chuckle at their reactions makes FN-2187 grin.
"Vode an, verd'ika," one of the clones reminds him quietly—FN-2187 isn't sure which one says it. Brothers all. He straightens his spine at the words, signing a subtle affirmative with one fist. His squadmates aren't clones, but they are brothers.
"That was… different," Zeroes comments as he and Slip join them. "I got plenty of points out of it, though."
Slip takes his helmet off. He looks disgruntled, and more than a little frustrated. FN-2187 is willing to bet that he didn't get nearly as many points as Zeroes did. Slip is always falling behind, always misstepping. Usually FN-2187 wouldn't care as long as he doesn't drag the team down with him, but this time he takes his helmet off to offer Slip a tentative smile.
"We did good," he says. "We can be even faster, though. The more we work together, the faster we'll be. The points aren't the only thing we're working for here."
Silence follows his words. His squadmates stare at him blankly. Slip's eyes are wide. FN-2187 cringes. Too much too soon. He's never said anything like that before, and now the other stormtroopers are confused. Help, he signs frantically behind his back.
"Wait," Boss tells him. FN-2187 takes a nervous breath and obeys.
Finally, Nines shifts in place.
"Y-yeah," he stutters out. "Maybe we could." FN-2187 glances at him, surprised yet again at his easy agreement. Slip shrugs his shoulders nervously. Zeroes twitches.
"Maybe," he relents, tone guarded. Zeroes has always been the most reserved of the team. Even after the encounter with the megablaster, he doesn't trust them completely. FN-2187 feels a pang of hurt that catches him completely off guard. It shouldn't hurt, it never has before, but for some reason it does now. Zeroes stares at him for a moment longer before heading towards the exit. Slip shoves his helmet back on, but he doesn't leave as quickly.
"I—I think you're right. The points aren't the most important thing," he admits in barely more than a whisper. As if it's something so taboo that he's never even considered it. They're a squad, a team—FN-2187 doesn't think it should be something so foreign. But the First Order is so focused on personal improvement, on being top in the squad, in pitching the men against each other to see who'll come out on top. It's… not right.
"Patience," Boss says firmly from next to him as Slip beats a hasty retreat. "They'll understand more with time. Continue to gain their trust. They're already beginning to think for themselves."
"Vode an," FN-2187 says to himself, desperately seeking comfort and strength in the words. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees Nines shoot him an odd look.
"What?"
FN-2187 purses his lips and feels a rush of adrenaline.
"Vode an," he repeats louder, before he loses his nerve. "It means, brothers all."
He doesn't wait to see what Nines' reaction is. Instead he follows Zeroes and Slip towards the exit, mind whirring with ideas and strategies and a stronger sensation of hope.
FN-2187 wakes up, and the clones are gone.
There isn't a single ghost hanging around him as he steps into his armor and prepares for the day.
It's unnerving. Something is wrong. FN-2187 feels an odd sensation of anticipation, like ice water trickling down his spine. He hadn't asked them to stay away. There's no reason for them to have disappeared, unless—unless something happened.
FN-2187 isn't exactly a stranger to fear, but this is different. He's afraid of being alone again, alone with his newfound curiosity and questions and doubts that won't sit well with First Order officers. If the clones leave, FN-2187 can't imagine himself surviving very long without getting reconditioned. He finds himself hoping desperately that the vode will return. But as the day drags on, he doesn't see a glimpse of a single ghost.
The edges of panic begin to creep into his mind. It affects his performance without his consent—at the range, his shots are thirty-seven percent less accurate than usual. It's enough that Slip offers him a concerned look.
"Alright, Eight-seven?"
FN-2187 feels another jab of fear. What will he do about his squadmates without millions of ori'vode to advise him on how to handle them?
"Fine," he mumbles. "Tired. Maybe I'm getting sick."
Slip looks alarmed. Nines and Zeroes, who'd drifted closer to hear the conversation, both blanch.
"Sick?" Nines repeats worriedly. FN-2187 understands his concern. If one member of a squad gets sick, the rest of the squad are liable to be isolated from the rest of the main force until it's been confirmed that they don't carry the disease as well. If left unchecked, sickness spreads like a wildfire through the barracks. The isolation isn't exactly fun, though.
"If you get sick, we could miss weeks of training!" Zeroes balls his fists in agitation. "We can't afford to be out of service for that long!"
An idea strikes FN-2187 before he can come up with a response. He nods instead.
"Yeah… maybe I should report to medical. See if they can give me anything before I get any worse."
"If you are sick, we'll be isolated even faster once they find out," Zeroes grumbles. FN-2187 shrugs.
"Maybe I'm not completely sick yet. Maybe it's just starting, and they can get rid of the risk of contamination before it even begins."
"Worth a shot. You don't have any obvious symptoms yet. Maybe they can stop it before it develops any further," Nines contributes. Slip nods. Zeroes grimaces.
"Do what you want, Eight-seven," he grunts out in frustration. FN-2187 feels a flicker of guilt, but there's no time to wait. He offers his squadmates a nod as he replaces his weapon on the rack and heads out the door.
Oh, Force. He has a good enough excuse to be wandering the base by himself, but it's still a lie. He swallows nervously as he makes his way through the hall. An officer passes him on the left side. FN-2187 cringes instinctively, but she doesn't even glance at him as she marches by.
The training facility of Starkiller base is large. FN-2187 doesn't even know where to begin looking for the clones, but he has to try.
He remains somewhat within the path he would take to get to the medbay as he starts his search. If anyone asks what he's doing, he'll have somewhat of a believable story. The further he descends into the massive base the less personnel he encounters. It's easier then to veer from the path to the medbay and investigate lesser-trodden hallways.
FN-2187 has been searching for nearly a half hour when he finally stumbles across a singular ghost waiting in a side room, but it isn't anyone he recognizes. The vod's eyes widen when he sees FN-2187 coming.
"Su cuy'gar," FN-2187 offers tentatively. The clone's eyebrows shoot up. He doesn't have any significant markings on his armor, and his haircut is as basic as it gets. FN-2187 has no way to identify him.
"You're the one who can see us. What are you doing down here?" the clone asks. There's a hint of something aggressive in his voice that makes FN-2187 recoil in confusion. "You'll get in trouble if the First Order finds you."
"I-I know. But you all disappeared without a word," FN-2187 says, grinding his teeth at the reminder.
"Typical of them," the clone huffs. "They should have included you, but it doesn't surprise me that they didn't."
...Odd.
"Who are you? What should they have included me in?" FN-2187 inquires carefully. Something is strange about this vod. FN-2187 can't put his finger on why, though.
"I'm no one important, verd. You can call me Aruetii, if you want. It's what everyone else calls me." The clone bares his teeth. It's more of a grimace than a smile. FN-2187 frowns. Aruetii is Mando'a. He vaguely remembers hearing the word before, but he can't remember the translation.
"Is that your name?" FN-2187 attempts to clarify. He knows how important names are to the vode. The clone inspects him for a long moment, a myriad of emotions flickering across his face. Eventually he sighs.
"It might as well be." He sounds tired, suddenly. His image flickers for just a moment, but then he rolls his eyes. "Right, come on. The rest of the men can explain things to you. I can't tell you what's going on. No one bothers to tell me anything."
FN-2187 doesn't know how to respond to that. It seems… out of character, for the clones to withhold information from another brother. "That's… rude," he manages carefully. Aruetii snorts, but doesn't reply.
Aruetti leads FN-2187 down a few more hallways. They pass a random technician, but FN-2187 feels significantly less afraid now that he knows that the ghosts haven't disappeared completely. He drifts a little closer to Aruetii for comfort as the technician passes them. Aruetti narrows his eyes in surprise at the motion but doesn't comment. After a few more turns, Aruetii gestures broadly at a door in front of them.
"They'll be in there," he mutters. He turns to leave. FN-2187 feels a sharp pang of pity without even really knowing why.
"You're not coming?"
"No." Aruetii is already phasing soundlessly through the wall, but before he can disappear completely, FN-2187 raises a hand after him, mind whirling. Thank you. What had the words been for thank you…? Ah.
"Vor entye," he calls out quickly, minding his pronunciation. Aruetii freezes halfway through the wall. He turns to stare at FN-2187 with an odd mixture of disbelief and shock.
"Sure," he grunts eventually. He shakes his head. A moment later he's gone.
FN-2187 pushes away the odd sensation that the encounter had left him with and forces himself onward. He needs to find the rest of his vode first, then he can ask about the mysterious Aruetii. He taps the door controls to get it to slide open.
The first step he takes into the auditorium sends him right through a clone and spiralling into a foreign memory before he can stop it—
There is dust under his feet and smoke in the air. He is afraid, but his brothers are beside him, and the recoil of his rifle against his shoulder is a steady comfort. Geonosians shriek somewhere above him, so he turns his aim skywards—they've got to hold this point for as long as it takes to send the droid factory crashing to the earth—
FN-2187 jerks backwards with a hiss just as the clone lurches away, crashing into several brothers around him. They're packed tight into the auditorium all the way up to the walls. FN-2187 hadn't realized that he would be walking directly through a man with his first step. He hadn't been prepared to get a memory. At least this time he hadn't seen any vode get killed—
"Whoa, Draa, you alright?" a second brother says quickly as he turns to stabilize his friend. He blanches when he sees the shocked look on Draa's face and then recoils even more when he makes eye contact with FN-2187, standing just outside the open door. "Oh, kriff."
"Are you alright?" FN-2187 asks Draa hesitantly. Draa has sparse green markings across his armor. He seems a bit on edge, but he straightens after a moment.
"Y-yeah, fine, don't worry. I heard the rumor about… that, the memory thing, but I didn't think you'd ever be close enough to me to..." He blinks a few times. "Wait—what are you doing here, vod'ika?"
FN-2187 shifts his weight nervously. "I was worried when you disappeared," he answers. All around them vode are starting to take notice of FN-2187's arrival, turning their heads to watch him. FN-2187 can hear louder voices further into the auditorium. It sounds like they're in some sort of discussion.
"What are they talking about?"
Draa winces. "You."
"What about me?"
"Clear a path. Let the kih'verd through," the clone next to Draa suggests. He repeats it a bit louder, shoving at the man in front of him. Men start to shift out of the way until FN-2187 can see a clear path leading towards the center of the auditorium.
"I'd… I'd ask Rex. He can explain best," Draa admits when FN-2187 hesitates. It's incentive enough for FN-2187 to start making his way down the path with a final nod of thanks to Draa. Despite everything, it's a comfort to suddenly be surrounded by brothers again. FN-2187 finds more than a few familiar faces in the crowd. He offers them tentative waves and receives enthusiastic greetings in return.
When he finally gets to the center of the auditorium, he isn't surprised in the slightest to find Rex there. Cody is with him, as is Colt, and Wolffe, and Boss, and Bly and Keeli, and—FN-2187 has never seen so many high-ranking clones in the same place before. There are dozens of them. He hasn't even met a quarter of them yet. Their conversation trails off as FN-2187 approaches.
"Su cuy'gar," Rex greets, tilting his head. He doesn't look upset, just curious, and vaguely proud. "How did you find us?"
FN-2187 comes to a stop in front of him and is suddenly aware of hundreds—maybe even thousands of eyes on him. It's a large auditorium He's used to the clones always watching him by now, but it's still a bit disconcerting to be at the center of their attention.
"I came looking for you after you left. I… I found a vod that showed me where you were. He called himself Aruetii." FN-2187 doesn't know what kind of reaction he was expecting, but Rex's shock and Cody's hastily muffled curse tell him that he was right to be suspicious of the odd man.
"That's… unexpected," Cody says under his breath.
"His name is Slick, not aruetii," Rex tells FN-2187 gently. "He's… an interesting case. But—" he hesitates and glances around at their audience. "It'll have to be a story for another time."
"It's good that the kid's here," a clone in green and yellow armor speaks up suddenly. "He can make the final decision."
"I thought the point was to not freak him out again, Doom," another clone contributes, spinning a knife across his palm as he speaks. There's a skull tattooed across half of his face. FN-2187 has to do a double take to make any sense out of it.
"He did faint last time," another clone points out wryly—his armor is unlike anything FN-2187 has seen, black with gold highlights. From the side, someone lets out a bark of laughter. FN-2187 follows the sound with his eyes and finds Domino squad at the front of the crowd. Hevy looks far too amused at the reminder of his first encounter with FN-2187. He settles down at Rex's pointed look, respecting the authority of the assembled officers.
"He has a right to know," Wolffe argues immediately. "Besides, he's here now. We shouldn't have kept this from him in the first place."
"Kept what from me?" FN-2187 blurts out, frustrated by the secrecy. Rex shrugs in a resigned sort of way and opens his mouth, but before he can start to explain, a new voice cuts across his words.
"Ke'mot."
A ripple runs through the ranks of men. FN-2187 hears gasps of unease. He turns to watch as a clone in red and white armor makes his way through the crowd, coming to a stop near Cody. His arms are crossed over his chest. FN-2187 can't tell if it's a sign of aggression or an attempt to shield himself from the accusing stares of the men around him.
"Who is that?" FN-2187 whispers, afraid to break the awkward silence that has fallen. He glances around and finds familiar armor close by. He reaches out to flap a hand at Boil, who makes a face as FN-2187's fingers drift through his side.
"That's… Commander Fox," he answers reluctantly. "Almost no one has seen him since—since we all died. The only reason we even knew that he was here is because the rest of the Guard told us. But he won't talk to anyone but them. Won't even show himself to the rest of us until now."
"If you tell him these things now, he will become a target," Fox growls in a low voice. "There's only so much you can do to help him. He's not strong enough yet. He'll get caught. He'll die. Or he'll be reconditioned. You're endangering him by giving him this option so soon—"
"And why would you even care about that? You haven't even talked to him!" someone in the crowd challenges. It prompts a few jeers and shouts of agreement from the assembled men.
"You," someone hisses out before Fox can defend himself. There's so much venom in the single word that FN-2187 cringes instinctively as Fives storms forwards. His murderous gaze is fixed firmly on Fox. There's a flash of recognition in Fox's eyes. He sets his jaw.
"Fives," he acknowledges slowly. Fives chokes out a humorless laugh.
"Oh, that's nice," he sneers. "You learned my name. Did you know it before you gunned me down in the middle of that warehouse? Or did you only hear it after the fact when I showed up in your nightmares, you hutuun?"
FN-2187 inhales sharply. He's not the only one. Fives' anger is palpable. For a moment, no one moves a muscle. Fox narrows his eyes.
"You—"
"Actually," Fives cuts in ruthlessly, rage pouring from him in waves, "since you literally shot me, I don't think you get an opinion here. You should leave. Now, aruetii."
"Fives—" Echo tries in a small voice, hanging behind Fives worriedly. Fives doesn't even seem to hear him.
"Ba'slanar!" Fives demands again, swiping his arm through the air with barely contained aggression. Fox gives him a flat look.
"I have just as much right to be here as you do."
It's the wrong response. Fives draws himself up, practically vibrating with emotion. FN-2187 wants to do something, but he doesn't know what. It feels like he's watching a speeder crash in slow motion.
"This is your fault," Fives snaps out. Suddenly this conversation has nothing to do with FN-2187 anymore. It's personal. "You did this. The Republic is gone because of you!" His voice rises with every word. Fox flinches. He hides it well, but FN-2187 is close enough to see the small motion. He still doesn't say anything. His expression twists as he meets Fives' furious gaze.
"If you hadn't killed me none of this would have happened!" Fives howls. "The Jedi would still be alive! We could have been freed from the chips!"
"Or someone else would have killed you, and everything would have played out in exactly the same way," Fox deadpans finally. Fives lunges at him with an incoherent shout, fists flying. Rex moves to intervene, but Fives' forward momentum is too great for him to stop. Fives' fist slams into Fox's cheek. Fox doesn't even try to dodge. The punch sends him reeling backwards.
"I'll kill you," Fives snarls. "I'll kill you for what you did!"
Fox lets out a harsh sound that isn't quite a laugh.
"I'm already dead," he breathes out, so softly that FN-2187 barely hears it. "But I wish you could."
Fives dives for him again, eyes blazing with fury. Rex grabs him in an armbar to hold him in place as Jesse and Echo dart forwards. Fives still tries to fight, but he can't make any progress with three other ARCs holding him back. In the same instant several red-claud Coruscant Guards rush in to form a protective wall around Fox. Clones surge into motion across the room, letting out war cries as they shift closer. For a moment it's as if the entire clone army is about to descend into a civil war—
"Enough!"
It takes FN-2187 a good ten seconds to realize that he had been the one to yell. The clones still. All eyes fall to FN-2187 again. He takes a deep breath.
"Stop this. Gev. Please." He can't stand to see them fight. It's wrong somehow. It rubs him the wrong way.
"You don't know what he did," Fives chokes out, shaking in Jesse and Echo's grips. "You don't know what he did."
Fox killed Fives. That much is horrifically clear, but… FN-2187 thinks of the way that Fox had flinched moments ago. It had been such a small, guilty thing, but perhaps there's more going on here than Fives knows.
FN-2187 slowly steps towards the wall of Guards. They haven't moved, determined to protect their Commander, but they allow FN-2187 to pass by and approach Fox. The Commander watches him come, eyes dull. FN-2187 stops right in front of him.
"You killed Fives?" he clarifies carefully. He wants an explanation. Fives isn't coherent enough to give one that can be trusted.
Fox laughs bitterly. "What other choice did I have? I didn't know what kind of information he carried. I only knew what the Chancellor had told me, and there was never any reason not to believe what he said. After all, good soldiers follow—" He can't even get the phrase out. His form flickers so violently that FN-2187 is half afraid he's going to drop through the floor. The clones near enough to hear what he'd said flinch back, forms blurring in alarm.
"Don't," one of them whispers fearfully. Fox solidifies a moment later, a snarl on his lips. FN-2187 isn't sure who it's directed at.
"I'm sorry," FN-2187 says. The words are woefully inadequate. Fox bristles.
"You wouldn't understand," he hisses from between his teeth. "How could you, you're an outsider, you're not one of us—"
FN-2187 feels a flash of hurt, but it leaves him a moment later. He knows that he is part of the aliit, a member of the family that the clones have built. They've told him as much. He doesn't doubt it. Fox… is hurting. He's lashing out. FN-2187 aches for him, suddenly. The idea comes to him at the same moment.
"Then show me. Help me understand," he says. Fox's eyes widen.
"What—?"
FN-2187 reaches for him. He doesn't know how to activate this, necessarily. It had worked for Draa, but not for Boil earlier. He's hopeful that whatever causes the memory transfers between himself and the vode will kick in this time. He needs it to work. He wants answers. His hand brushes Fox's shoulder—
"...I suspect foul play," Fox says determinedly, placing the document carefully on the Chancellor's desk. "The postmortem report heavily suggested that the toxin levels were unusually high for this particular species. While that isn't unheard of, it is highly unusual, especially considering the timing. The Senator very well could have been poisoned, sir. I believe further investigation is necessary." The Chancellor gives him a look that seems to pierce Fox to the very core. He shifts uneasily even though he doesn't know why.
"Very perceptive, Commander," the Chancellor compliments slowly. "Have you noticed other cases like this since your instatement to this position?"
Fox hesitates. He'd made it a priority to go through the records during his first week in command, and there are a good number of incidents similar to this one. Most of them are old cases. This one had been recent enough to call his immediate attention.
"A few, sir," he admits. The Chancellor hums under his breath. Fox feels… something. The hair on the back of his neck stands on end. He stiffens.
"Your loyalty is admirable, Commander." Another compliment, but for some reason Fox finds it hard to appreciate the words. "Though I think it would be easier if you were to just… forget about these few cases."
His voice is soft, but the sharp pain that streaks through Fox's mind like a drill as the Chancellor speaks is anything but. Fox jerks, draws breath to cry out, but—he's pinned in place. Motionless, voiceless, he can't move. Something twists through his thoughts, sending licks of fire through his skull, burning, burning—burning things away, he can't fight it. He tries, but it doesn't do any good. His adrenaline surges. He needs to resist, needs to hold on, he doesn't know what's happening—but the glaring pain only doubles. His knees threaten to buckle, something wrenches in his head, and then—!
Fox sways in place unsteadily. He blinks and realizes that he's trembling. The Chancellor is staring at him, eyes wide in concern.
"My dear Commander, are you alright?" Fox shakes his head.
"I don't… I don't know." He squints, struggling to remember what they'd just been talking about. "I… apologies, sir. I don't know what's wrong."
"Perhaps you should rest, Commander. You seem unwell," the Chancellor offers kindly. Fox shivers. Something… he can't remember… he needs to… there was a case…?
A hint of otherworldly pressure against his mind makes him wince. What…?
"You should rest, Commander Fox," the Chancellor repeats more firmly. Fox nearly stumbles. He has to grip the edge of the Chancellor's desk to stay on his feet. He feels… tired. His head hurts. Maybe he really is unwell.
"Yes, sir." He nods respectfully as he turns towards the door. It's the easiest thing in the world to leave the Chancellor's office after that.
FN-2187 tears himself free from the memory with a shudder.
That… hadn't been what FN-2187 had wanted to see, but…
In front of him, Fox is breathing hard. He covers his face with one hand. FN-2187 clenches his jaw.
"He manipulated you," he says. Fox hunches in on himself. He doesn't answer, but his silence is all the affirmation that FN-2187 needs. If the Chancellor had manipulated Fox on one occasion, it's likely that it had happened afterwards as well. Fox could have been manipulated into doing anything—even killing Fives. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"I couldn't even remember half of my meetings with him until I died," Fox hisses shamefully, so quiet that FN-2187 almost doesn't hear him. FN-2187 feels an ache in his chest. There's nothing he can do to fix this. He wishes that he could put a hand on Fox's shoulder to show him support, but it wouldn't do any good.
In an instant, Fox disappears. FN-2187 gasps in dismay, reaching a futile hand after him. It's too late. The Guard Commander is already gone. A large portion of the surrounding Guards fade away as well, though a few of them do stay. Through the now empty space where Guards had once been, FN-2187 can finally see Fives, who has been released by his brothers. The ARC scowls.
"Finally. That sleemo piece of—"
"Don't," FN-2187 growls. Fives snaps his mouth shut, glancing at FN-2187 in surprise.
"Vod—"
"There's too much that you don't know," FN-2187 bites out, angry on Fox's behalf. "You need to talk to him."
Fives scoffs. "Talk to him? He's—"
"Ne'johaa," FN-2187 barks. Fives goes quiet, shocked into silence by FN-2187's frustration. Domino squad is there to tug him back into the crowd, and for once, he obeys them without a fight. The hundreds of clones around them finally settle.
"Kotep kih'vod. First Slick, now Fox. At this rate he'll bring every wayward brother home," Wolffe mutters. FN-2187 takes a deep breath. There's nothing more he can do to help Fox or Fives. It'll have to wait. He turns back to the commanders.
"Tell me what you were talking about earlier."
Rex is the one to step forwards again, expression grim.
"Hevy did mention it, some time ago. We were discussing whether or not to bring it up to you again. Surely you've realized it by now—the First Order is everything we fought against, at one point in our lives. We can't do anything to fight it anymore, not by ourselves, but now we have a way to take action..."
"Through me," FN-2187 realizes out loud. Rex nods.
"Now that you're here, are you ready to help us destroy this scum-hole of a First Order?" Hevy had asked him. FN-2187 had only barely accepted the fact that he could see ghosts at that time, and the thought of betraying the First Order had nearly given him a stroke. Now… now he understands much more. He's heard the true history from the clones, he's listened to what the original Republic had stood for before its corruption. The First Order is warped and twisted and evil. It had just taken supernatural interference for FN-2187 to realize that.
"What do you want me to do?" he asks. Rex sighs.
"Fox was right. This is dangerous. We won't demand anything from you. You should think about it carefully before you make a decision. If you get caught…"
That thought does still send a thrill of fear through FN-2187's body. Getting caught would mean a very painful death at the hands of the executioner troopers, or complete reconditioning. On the other hand… he'd rather help his newfound brothers fight just a little longer than continue life as a slave.
"I want to help. Please, ori'vod," he says honestly. The corner of Rex's lips quirk upwards at that.
"Will you help us destroy the First Order, vod'ika?"
The question is direct and to the point. FN-2187 doesn't even need any more time to think about it.
"Yes. I will."
And just like that, the room erupts into cheers.
A/N: Mando'a:
Jate, vod- good, brother
Kih'vod- little brother
Parer, me'ven?- wait, what?
nayc serimir- that's not right
Ne'johaa- shut up
Aru'e- hostile
Udesii- calm down
Sur'ar- focus."
Viinir- run
Kandosii sa ka'rota, vode an. Coruscanta a'den mhi, vode an…- One indomitable heart, Brothers all. We, the wrath of Coruscant, Brothers all.
Gev- stop
Elek- yes
Vode an- brothers all
Verd'ika- little warrior
Ori'vode- big brother
Su cuy'gar- hello (lit. you're still alive)
Aruetii- traitor
Vor entye- thank you (lit. I accept the debt)
Ke'mot- stop/halt
Hutuun- coward
Ba'slanar- leave
Kotep- brave
*cries in 'it's been ages since i've updated this and please forgive me'*
Just a quick note: Originally, I had intended for these beginning chapters of this fic to occur in the stormtrooper training facility on the planet Carida. After some consideration I've decided to adjust that-it flows better into the canon timeline if this phase of training happens on Starkiller base, so I've adjusted those details accordingly. So, Finn's on Starkiller base right now. Sorry for the confusion! I don't plan ahead as I write, if you couldn't tell, I make things up as I go ha! Sometimes it backfires lol!
*nervous laughing* the chapters are getting longer... I have no restraint oh gosh what am I doing with my life
For anyone who may be unaware, Delta squad are characters from the video game "Republic Commando". They do have a cannon appearance in the clone wars tv show in the episode "Witches of the Mist", but the don't have very much screentime. Regardless, Republic Commando is an amazing game and the playthrough is very worth watching if you've never gotten the chance to experience the game before, ha! It's great! Sev and scorch kill me oh my gosh. I get killed while I play because I'm too busy listening to their hilarious banter and then the stupid SBDs get me, whoops.
Remember when I said we'll get to the Force Awakens soon? Hm... it'll probably be like, two more chapters before that happens. Again, I have no self restraint oh gosh someone stop me.
Regardless, hope you enjoyed. As usual, meridiansdominoes for more. Thank you thank you thank you for your patience. I know I've been slow at updating recently, and I really appreciate your support while I figure out my life, ugh. Until the next update! Stay safe, love y'all! oh, rip wait I nearly forgot the mando'a, lemme put that in up above. Oh gosh that would have been bad.