Author's Note: Despite what it says, I'm not the author of this week's chapter. Kase and Kellan are brought to you, courtesy of the wonderful laloga. All credit goes to her.

Determination

Captain Kase studied the manifest with his customary intensity.

Kellan studied him.

By definition, he looked the same as all the clones. But during the year or so Kel had worked for Rendia Freight, she'd met her share of the soldiers; Kase was most decidedly unique.

And she resolved to figure out what made his engines hum.

"Everything alright?" she asked, if only to draw his attention. It was one of her newer habits. She really couldn't help engaging Kase any more than she could stop listening to music as much as possible. She'd even gone so far as to set up a player at the top of her ship's loading ramp, and blast her favored tunes of the week as the guys offloaded their supplies.

But Kase didn't react, either to the slamming glimmik music or her not-so-idle question. At first, she thought he was ignoring her until he gave a single nod.

"This week's shipment appears to be satisfactory. Though..." His brow furrowed slightly before he tapped his index finger against the datapad's screen. "Quartermaster Braxx requested additional units of sparkstone and fire paste, but they are not listed."

"Hmm. I thought I saw them." Kel peered over Kase's arm at the list, then glanced at Ziv and Neely, who were offloading Rendia's gravsled onto the Stalwart's – and bobbing to the glimmik's beat. "Hey, guys, did you see a box marked 'Combustion Materials?'"

Ziv continued his half-dancing as he examined the crates before him. "I don't think so..."

"Here it is." Neely nudged one of the smaller crates with the toe of his boots.

"Hey, Kel," Ziv called. "I like this music! What kind is it?"

"Glimmik." Out of the corner of her eye, she watched for a reaction from Kase, but his face remained a stoic mask.

"It's not bad," Neely said. "A little loud."

"Makes me want to dance," Ziv added.

Neely chuckled. "You mean learn how to dance, right?"

"You're one to talk!" Ziv made an exaggerated gyrating motion with his torso. "This is how you dance. I've got real moves."

"You've got something, alright," Neely replied, rolling his eyes.

Most of the clones Kel had encountered were like Ziv and Neely; content to chatter away, full of easy, eager smiles. Each was nearly two meters of pure, muscular soldier, but there were times when they seemed almost...childlike. Kind of a strange thing to think about guys who handled mass-quantities of weapons and ammo each day, but then, the clones were full of contradictions.

Beyond him, in another section of the hangar, a group of unfamiliar clones marched by in perfect unison, armor gleaming in the light. They were the very example of "military," but even so, Kel did not miss how a few of them glanced her way, nor how a few more straightened already-straight spines and made their steps a bit more forceful. It happened on every ship she delivered to. As a female, Kel stood out, and there were many clones who were eager to prove their prowess and present themselves to her as masculine as possible.

But appearances did not always reveal what lay inside.

Out of all the clones Kel had come across, there was only one who presented himself - so she thought - exactly as he was.

Chuckling at Ziv and Neely's banter, Kel turned back to Kase, but he was – predictably – frowning at the manifest.

"Those items are not on the list," he said again.

In response, Kel gently pried the datapad from his gloved hands, entered her access code and made a quick edit before handing it back. "They are, now."

His lips drew together, briefly, in what she'd come to think of as his "disapproval" expression before he entered his trooper number on the bottom of the 'pad. CC-9770. Never "Kase," or even "Captain Kase." Just the number. By contrast, Kellan's own signature was scrawling and messy. Did he disapprove of that, too? Probably.

When he looked at her again, she smiled. "You don't like it, do you?" He tilted his head in inquiry and she nodded to the music player. "Glimmik."

"We have already discussed this."

Kel shook her head. "You never said what you think of it. Just that it was too loud."

His gaze shifted to some point behind her shoulder; she couldn't see them, but presumably Ziv and Neely were still boogying down. At least some people had good taste in music.

Kase glanced back at her. "My previous observation stands."

Nothing about him invited further questions, but these days, there was only one thing that would stop Kellan L'loga. And it was not this stolid trooper. "So...what kind of music do you like?"

He seemed to take a great deal of care considering his reply. At last he shook his head once. "I can't answer that question."

Okaaaay. Kel frowned. "Why not?"

If Kase had been any other man, he probably would have shrugged, maybe given her a resigned smile. But only the barest furrow of his brow indicated he was at a loss. "My exposure to various musical genres is minimal," he said at last.

Suddenly, her mission was clear. "That's a shame," she said with a heavy sigh. "Well, looks like we're all done here. See you next week?"

He nodded. Again, just one, as if he kept a certain number allotted for daily use. "Until next week."

A few weeks later...

Ziv was actually starting to look forward to Kel's deliveries. The civvie pilot had a kriff-ton of music, and was, apparently, hell-bent on sharing her entire collection with the clones. No telling just why, but Ziv didn't really care.

He just wanted to dance.

He was the only one.

"Cool your thrusters," Neely hissed as he passed by Ziv on his way back to Rendia's gravsled. "You're going to get us both in trouble."

But he may as well have told Ziv to stop breathing, because it was fekking impossible to just work sedately while the bass-heavy melody drifted through the Stalwart's hangar. Ziv ignored his fellow clone and approached Kel, who stood with the captain as Kase studied the manifest.

"I like this," Ziv told her, indicating the music player that sat at the base of her ship's loading ramp. "What's it called?"

"Calypso."

"It's great," Ziv said. "Better than that jatz stuff you played last time. I didn't know what the kriff was going on, there."

Kel chuckled, then glanced at Kase. "Yes, this is pretty catchy. Isn't it, Captain?"

The captain's brows drew together, though his eyes did not leave the datapad in his grip. "The melody and rhythm are arranged in such a way as to compliment each other."

Kel nodded slowly. "So...you like it."

Rather than answer, Kase glanced up at Ziv. "Do you have another question, Private?"

Ziv sighed. "No, sir."

"Then return to your duties."

As Ziv turned back for the sled, he swore he saw Kel frown. But it was a brief look, replaced with one of determination.

Later, still...

Shab, this tune was fun. The music that echoed across the Stalwart's hangar was light and frothy; it reminded Ziv of a photon fizzle drink he'd been lucky enough to try on Blazer's last foray into the Core. It also made him want to shake his exhaust port.

Ziv was getting pretty good at dancing while he worked, though the occasional stern glance from Captain Stick-Up-His-Shebs wasn't much encouragement to his developing skills. But there was nothing explicitly in the regs against simultaneously dancing and offloading supplies, so Kase could suck it.

Ziv lifted the last crate and glanced at Kel, who stood at the controls to Rendia's gravsled. "What'd you call this music, again?"

"Sparkle-bop." She smiled at him. "You like it, don't you?"

"It's stellar." Ziv plunked the crate with the others, adding a little flourish as he did so. "Easy to dance to."

Neely chuckled. "Oh, is that what you were doing? I thought you were having a seizure."

Something in Kel's face shifted, almost like she was upset, but it faded as quickly as it'd come. She glanced at Captain Kase, who, of-kriffing-course, was totally riveted on the all-important manifest. "What do you think?" she asked him.

The officer did not look up. "Private Ziv, per regulation seven point three of the Manual of Operations and Procedures, any activity that hinders normal productivity is cause for a warning."

Ziv flushed, but stood his ground. "But we always get the stuff offloaded in time." Neely cleared his throat and Ziv winced. "Sir," he added quickly.

Now, of course, Kase tore his eyes away from the precious manifest to give Ziv one of his stern "you-don't-want-to-mess-with-me" looks. "Hence the warning, and not a full-fledged reprimand. Is that understood?"

Ziv exhaled loudly, but saluted. "Yes, sir."

As he turned to the gravsled, he caught Kel's disappointed expression, which, oddly, heartened him. "Everyone's a critic, huh?" he muttered to her as he and Neely began to move the sled to the hangar's exit.

"Maybe," she said, eyes still on the captain. "Maybe not."

The following week...

Naturally, Kase was the first to arrive at the Stalwart's supplies hangar. Pilot L'loga's ship rested before him, though Rendia's gravsled was not visible; only when he drew closer did he see that she was still in the cargo bay of her vessel, loading the sled. As was her custom, the civvy pilot had set up a music player so that a faint melody trickled from the ship's interior.

There was no one around, so Kase exhaled softly before clipping his helmet to his belt. She was not late – yet. There were only a few minutes to spare, and Blazer Corps stood at the outset of what promised to be a grueling campaign. As such, he had a great deal of preparations to make during this duty-rotation. He could not afford a single wasted moment.

Ziv and Neely had not yet made an appearance, so Kase proceeded up the loading-ramp. "Pilot, do you require..."

He trailed off as the music became clear. Kase had never heard anything like this, and so had no way to quantify the sound that reached him. It was one instrument, yet somehow, multiple currents of melody wove through one another, creating a song that seemed both light and dark, high and low, merging together in perfect harmony.

Thoughts of his duties momentarily fell to one side as Kase was struck with an incongruous memory of lapping ocean waves, of salt-spray and the smooth, serene vista of Kamino's oceans, stretching on all sides.

"Kase?"

He blinked; it was almost...strange to realize he still stood in Pilot L'loga's cargo bay, but he shook off the feeling at once. "Do you require assistance?"

She'd come to stand before him. Rather than answer, she glanced between him and the source of the music: her little player, resting on a nearby crate. A slow smile curved her lips. "No, I'm all done. Are Ziv and Neely on the way?"

"They should be here momentarily."

He waited for her to ask the inevitable question – as she'd done in weeks prior – but she only nodded, then reached for the player. The song, which had ended, began to play once more.

Later, after the supplies were offloaded and the manifest verified, she handed him a datastick. "Here. I made this while you guys were loading up your stuff."

Kase studied the small device before looking back at the civvy pilot. "What does this contain?"

"That song you heard earlier." She gave him another, softer smile. "You liked it."

"It was..." Kase hesitated, searching for the most accurate description of his experience upon entering her cargo bay. But nothing adequate came to mind. "It was pleasant," he managed. "But I cannot accept such a gift from you."

Her face fell. "It's against the rules, isn't it?"

"I cannot accept gifts from civilians."

"But..." She tugged at her coveralls in thought, then her eyes lit up and she beamed at him. "I'm not exactly a civilian. Remember the 'fresher incident?"

All-too-well. And she was technically correct regarding her status. There were no regs governing gifts from a contractor in her position.

"Consider it a 'thank you,' for letting me use your 'fresher," she added. "And for all the other ways you've been...awesome."

Kase studied the datastick again; something about the situation still did not sit well upon him. "You do not need to thank me for doing my duty."

"Maybe not, but I think you'll enjoy the music. I loaded that thing with a ton of stuff like that other song." She seemed to consider something, then met his eyes. "If you get a chance, have a listen. I'd like to know what you think."

Kase shook his head and tried to hand the datastick back. "Thank you, but I have my duties–"

"Of course," she broke in. "But assuming there's ever a moment when you have nothing else to do," she closed her hand over his, and pushed it and the datastick back to him, "just listen, Kase. Will you do that for me? Please?"

Her hand lifted, but her eyes never left his. Ziv and Neely were long gone; it was just himself and Pilot L'loga, standing at the base of her ship's loading ramp. The memory of music curled in the back of his mind, strangely insistent.

At last he nodded once, and slipped the datastick in a pouch on his belt. "Very well."

She grinned, then gave a rather sloppy salute. "Great. I want a full report next week, Captain."

Of course, he was not under any obligation to report to her. But he recognized when she was teasing him. She did it often. "I will do my best."

"I know." She turned to reenter her ship, then paused. "One more thing..."

"Yes?"

"Play that as loud as you can stand it."

He shook his head. "There is no reason to damage my eardrums for entertainment value."

Somehow, Pilot L'loga managed to look exasperated, even though she was the one spouting nonsense. "Don't make yourself deaf, but play it nice and loud. Drown out everything else." She lifted a brow. "It's worth it. I promise."

After his duty-rotation had ended, after he'd completed his daily exercise regimen, after he'd eaten, showered and changed into his off-duty fatigues, Kase entered his office.

Officers of a captain's rank and above were allotted small, semi-personal quarters in which to conduct the administrative functions of their roles. Technically, Kase shared this office with two other captains, but given today's schedule, he was the only one to make use of the space this evening. Often, when the office was free and he had a few spare minutes, he'd catch up on reg manuals here. The quiet – the privacy – was a welcome change.

Among the office's amenities was a small computer console. The datastick was inserted and, after a moment's searching, Kase located the music files that Pilot L'loga had collected. There were hundreds upon hundreds, more than he could possibly listen to in a month, even if he neglected all other duties. He had not asked for any identifying information about the song from earlier, so he supposed there was only one way to locate it. Kase selected the first track.

Though faint at the outset, the melody soon swelled like an ocean wave, and Kase, recalling her directions, amplified the volume until the song overtook his senses. Yes, this was the one. He amplified it further until music filled the sparse office. When the song ended, he started it again, though this time he leaned back into the chair and closed his eyes to better absorb the sound that brought the rippling ocean to mind.

Kellan was right and Kase was content to listen.

Note from laloga: As always, many thanks to impoeia for letting me play with Kase, and for finding the perfect, inspirational song for this piece! If you're curious, it is Chopin's Etude Op. 25, No. 12 in C Minor, also known, appropriately, as the "Ocean" Etude. :)

Thanks for reading!