The Faces of People Going By

The colors of the rainbow so pretty in the sky
Are also on the faces of people going by
I see friends shaking hands saying how do you do
They're really saying I love you.

'What a Wonderful World' – Louis Armstrong

They were not going far from Kamino.

Hevy was annoyed. He wanted to blast droids.

Cutup was bored. He wanted to do something interesting.

Fives was resigned. It was a post, like any other, if quieter.

Echo was watchful of his brothers. They were sitting, strapped into their seats in the back of the shuttle. He'd met each of them before deployment, but this was the first time he'd spent more than a few minutes with any of them. It was a chance to observe, to get to know who he'd be spending so much time with, possibly even through the end of the war.

Hevy was stretched out as much as he could be, legs out in front of him, slouched in his seat, head tilted back just enough that his helmet was resting against the back of his headrest. An occasional snort of irritation came through his audio channel into Echo's helmet. Cutup was in a similar position, though seemed to find the ceiling interesting judging by the tilt of his helmet, and he would periodically roll his head and look at the others, as though to see if anything had changed. Then he'd go back to looking at the ceiling, half dozing. Fives sat up straight, officially at ease, though not really. As the others displayed by their relaxed postures, the relatively short trip to Kamino was a boring one. Fives not stretching out showed a somewhat less easy mindset than he would be hoping for others to believe.

Echo had pushed his feet out a bit, but was leaning forward and reading over the manual regarding regulations at Rishi Station. He had to admit, it was a quiet trip, and the manual gave him something to occupy himself with. If these guys were at all like his brothers – his close brothers, now scattering across the galaxy – they'd need someone with a solid understanding of procedure if anything unexpected ever came up. He wouldn't be the one to let them down.

This was their first trip through hyperspace, as none of them were pilots. Real hyperspace. He wished he could sit up in the bridge, look out one of the windows. Simulated hyperspace couldn't be as interesting as real hyperspace, he figured. Rainbow colors from across the spectrum, streaked with white stars, flying past as they shot through the sky. Instead there was only the dull grey of the walls, the nausea green of the seats, and the dirty yellow of the interior lighting system. He contented himself with the reg manual and listing to the sound of engines – real engines – humming throughout the ship.

"Do you think there's going to be anything to do at this post?" Hevy muttered, folding his arms. Echo's brow creased, worrying. It was going to be a long, hard haul if that was the attitude Hevy was taking.

Cutup answered him, tucking his arms behind his helmet and leaning back. "Oh yeah. Rishi's a resort. We can play boloball, watch holonet, go on hikes. It'll be great."

Echo frowned. "Hiking would be a bad idea. Rishi's got some large natural predators." The other three looked at him, their helmets cocked to the side and black visors masking their expressions. "What? Regs say there are these large–"

"That was a joke. Get your head out of the manual." Cutup shifted in his seat uncomfortably. "Is that why they call you Echo?"

Echo scowled, then hung his head, embarrassed. He glared down at the manual's screen, not answering. His brothers – his real brothers – hadn't made it sound like an insult, even in jest. He missed them. Binder, Watch, Trip, Spin, Tales. He wondered if they were alright. Watch was on the way to the front as a scout. Binder hadn't gotten his Commander rank, but he was starting out as a lieutenant, and was pretty happy. Trip, Spin, Tales and himself were all set into typical trooper grunt work.

He wondered if he'd ever feel as comfortable with this crew as with them. Cutup seemed to think he was funny. Hevy, so far, was snarky. Fives was quiet. It was different from the boys he'd grown up with. Too different, it felt. But they had to be a unit. These were his closest brothers now.

The shuttle shuddered, and a soft hissing whisper passed through the air, the sound of the ship hitting atmo. The turbulence continued for a few moments, and then evened out as the shuttle slowed. Cutup and Hevy rearranged themselves into more attentive positions, and Echo shut off his datapad as they descended.

A slight jarring sensation came as they touched down. Another hiss as the doors opened and the gangplank lowered.

Fresh air percolated inside, safety restraints eased upward, and the four clones stood, gathering their few things. The pilot stepped into the back, announcing, "We're here. Disembark and get ready to meet your new sergeant. Good luck."

One by one, they marched out, in perfect precision, onto the deck, out into the cool evening air. Stars glittered on the horizon to the east, and streams of blush colored light trailed outward in the west. The deck officer stood still, at attention, macrobinoculars raised, sitting on the top of his head, and another clone in armor was pacing towards them, strides purposeful. Their new sergeant.

They lined up in formation - Echo, Fives, Hevy, Cutup – and marched out, then formed up at attention in front of their shuttle.

The sergeant paused, hands tucked behind his back, the black slit of his visor catching red light from the sunset as he took a moment to size them up. Then he said, "At ease. Buckets off."

It was a little informal, Echo thought, but did as he was told. Each of the four of them stood, helmets tucked neatly under an arm, small duffels of gear strapped across their backs.

The sergeant removed his helmet as well, revealing slightly graying hair around his temples, and a few more lines around his eyes than any of them had. He took a step forward, facing Cutup. "Name?"

"Trooper CT-26-"

"Name?" Their sergeant repeated.

Cutup shifted a little. "Cutup, sir."

The sergeant turned, made his way down the row. "Name?"

"Hevy, sir."

"Fives, sir."

"Echo, sir."

He stopped, turned, looked at the four of them again. "I'm O'Niner, but you'll call me Sergeant, or Sarge." He stepped back a bit. "I realize we may not be the most exciting post in the galaxy here," his gaze swept across them, and there were tiny fidgets from both Cutup and Hevy, "but our work is vital to the continuation of the war effort. I expect the four of you to continue the good work the men here have already done." He straightened.

"Welcome to Rishi Station, boys."

(I hear babies crying, I watch them grow
They'll learn much more than I'll never know
And I think to myself what a wonderful world
Yes I think to myself what a wonderful world.)

Echo stood on the verandah, arms folded, smiling.

There was a slight breeze; it was scented with rain, and if he looked to the distance, a dark gray smudge was smeared across the horizon. Now though, white clouds rolled overhead, sliding swiftly across the blue sky as the wind rustled green trees in anticipation of the oncoming storm.

Most of the younglings were playing nearby, and he was keeping an idle watch on them. The youngest, too small to join in the game out of fear of being trampled, was sitting next to Waxer on the grass, watching, her skinny arms wrapped around equally skinny legs. The game seemed to involve a lot of running around in a lot of circles, tossing a ball and screaming. Echo couldn't tell if it was a real game, or if they were just goofing around. The smile on his face broadened. Kids, playing. They did it all the time. It was fascinating.

It still felt strange. People were people, it seemed, but brothers all felt connected by their shared faces, shared genes, shared lives. Here too were connections. A variety of people, not just brothers, but bound together nonetheless. They had a dozen children now, most very young. Here, he'd go outside to watch younglings and not for Sep ships the way he would on Rishi. He spent time reading holozines, journals, novels for fun. He'd listen to Roo try to get her mother to give her extra helpings at dinner, or Thoosa and Temese begging him to read them one more story before bedtime, because stories are just so interesting and bed is just so boring.

This is what it's like not to be at war. This is what it's like to be a civilian. This is what peace feels like.

He felt lazy, at times. Like he wasn't doing enough. Sitting at a terminal and crunching numbers and teasing out the trails of ghosts didn't have the same, vibrantly active feel as being out in space with the 501st, or being with Rex, Ahsoka and Fives. It unsettled him at times, the feeling of not enough.

He would go back, someday. Go wandering, like Fives, maybe. Or when one or two of the kids got older, he'd take them out for training, real world training. He put his hands on the rail enclosing the portico, leaned on it. Someday. Right now, though, Rex and Ahsoka needed some time without him and Fives around. They also needed a break of their own. A real one, not what the four of them usually did on a rare day off, stuffing themselves full of interesting local foods on different planets, or sleeping late on deserted white beaches. They'd all worked hard, for years.

He'd earned a little leave. So had they all. This place was an orphanage, by official accounts, supported by state funding and non-profit organizations. A modest, out of the way house not far from mountains, near to a town, but far enough out that they would know if anyone was on their way up the trail to their front door. It would be unwise for even sympathetic Alderaanian locals to see children levitating rocks, leaping far higher than any normal person should, and training with half sized wooden practice swords.

Rithron let out a whoop and went charging through the melee, ball under one arm, others trying to tackle him down. The ball flew through the air, and Maera intercepted it, running around with it over her head, using her height to keep it away from the other team.

They didn't have much beside each other anymore. He was a big brother now, trying to make up for some of the family losses the children had all experienced. He was a teacher now, trying to explain how and why to children not having their brains packed full of information through artificial, flash training.

It was worthwhile, and unlike any other experience he'd ever had.

The shout of, "No nap! No nap!" punctuated the air. It was midday, and Waxer was marching Neaera, the youngest of their group, up the steps to where Echo stood. She sat on his hip, tiny fists punching the air repeatedly as she chanted, "No nap! No nap!" She was giggling, but insistent, occasionally smacking Waxer on the top of the head with a flat palm.

Waxer was rolling his eyes and saying with repeated patience, "Yes, nap. Yes, nap."

"No nap!" Then she squealed as Waxer shifted her, flipping her upside down so that the tips of her pair of cream colored lekku brushed the floor. A fresh peal of laughter rang out. "No nap!" she gasped, wriggling.

Waxer shot a wry smile over at Echo. "She's going to be knackered by dinnertime if she doesn't sleep."

Echo chortled as Waxer flipped Neaera back upright, and she shrieked laughter, finally noticing him. "Echo-nerra, help! Don't let him take me!"

"Go get some sleep," he responded. She pouted, then turned back to Waxer and started in again.

"No nap! No nap!"

Waxer headed inside, chanting, "Yes, nap," back at her, until he was too far into the house for Echo to hear anymore.

Echo chuckled, then turned back to the louder shouting of the kids playing. Waxer had settled in well. They'd been able to channel a few brothers away from the Empire. Some were found stranded; wandering deserters like Waxer. Others were identified and recommended to them through heavily encrypted channels by Cody. It was only a tiny network, but the handful of brothers they'd helped scatter through the galaxy knew they were not alone. The orphanage was home.

The screaming grew louder, and he snapped back to attention, watching the kids. He frowned. They were milling around Rithron, who had the ball again. Maera was shouting something about no cheating using the Force, fists on her hips, and he was shouting back at her. The smaller ones began jostling each other, and one of them began to cry.

Echo straightened, but before he could move, Roo's mother Nura stomped out through the back door, looking annoyed, her earflaps tied up high behind her head and twitching agitatedly. Her apron was covered in flour. She shot him an annoyed look. "What, yousa can't be tellin' theysa fightin? Meesa could hear them all da way inside!" She made a disgusted sound, and loped quickly towards the group, Echo attempting to keep up.

When Rithron saw the angry lady Gungan bearing down on them, he blanched, began to stammer, and quickly gave the ball to Maera. Echo paused and let Nura hash it out. In the years since the establishment of the orphanage, Nura had taken charge, and become a kind of surrogate mother and general boss of the place. The group was broken up with a sharp, "Yousa can't play nice, yousa not play. Rithron, yousa gettin' yousa self into da kitchen and doin' dishes!" Her voice softened. "Ctesius, yousa not be needin' to be cryin'." She picked him up and he wrapped his arms around her neck as she bounced him lightly, patting him on the back. Rithron glumly headed back inside. Doing dishes for fifteen people, by hand, no Force powers or cleaning droid, was considered one of the more miserable punishments.

"Mama, can the rest of us keep playing?" Roo asked, taking a staunch position next to the older Maera.

Nura nodded, and the rest melted their way, slowly, back onto the grass. The new game was subdued, and Echo expected they wouldn't last much longer, even without the swelling rainclouds, gradually approaching. Nura approached him, Ctesius still clinging on, face buried into her shoulder. "Yousa need to be payin' more attention to how they be behavin'. Itsa not all fun and games," she chided, more gently.

"Sorry," Echo apologized, and Nura's face softened further.

"Yousa gonna watch them more careful, now?"

He grinned. "Yes, ma'am." Her eyestalks moved in what would approximate a look of amusement on a more humanoid face, the long bill of her mouth curving up into a smile.

She nodded, then turned to the boy in her arms. "Maybe yousa should be takin a nap with Neaera for a little longer."

Ctesius curled up smaller and rubbed at his eyes. Only Neaera was younger, and not by much. She carried him back into the house, and Echo turned around to watch the kids again.

Ctesius' absence didn't change things, but with Rithron out of the game, it was easy for Maera to dominate, even if she was apparently playing by whatever rules they'd established. Roo wasn't much smaller, and they were both on the same team. The two girls were easily keeping the ball away from the others. Echo resisted the urge to run out and join in. He was much bigger than any of them. It would be silly for an adult to play.

A couple heads turned his way. He was embarrassed. These were Force-sensitive younglings, and though Ahsoka wasn't around to train them regularly, they still picked up far more than he speculated ordinary children would. Thoosa and Temese had their heads together again, and then Temese began leaping up and down and waving. "Come play! You can make up for Rithron and Ctesius! Come on! Help us!"

Half the kids immediately began shouting eagerly; the other half looked disappointed for a moment at the potential of losing the game, but none objected. Then Roo began to wave him over too.

He'd never played a ball game before. Not really.

Thoosa latched onto his arm, and began dragging him forward. "Come on, come on! You're being slow!"

Then the ball was in the air, and everyone was running, and Echo realized he didn't feel so silly.

He was happy.

The ball sailed towards him, and he caught it.

Oh wow, notes for this chapter. Okay. Roo-Roo's name is canon, and I got it out of the Wookiepedia. Her mother's name is not given, so I just made one up. The names of the other children are all pulled from Greek mythology, mostly either place names or minor gods. Not all the kids there are named in the chapter, as I didn't want it to become dominated by a jumble of OC names any more than necessary. I'm pegging Roo at about seven at this point. The 'older' kids mentioned are about nine. Neaera I'm putting at about four. I'm also assuming the gang has rescued more than just this group – these are just the orphans.

Waxer's interaction with the Twi'lek girl Numa was adorable beyond words, and though Numa herself wouldn't make sense being included, I couldn't help but want to echo the first season Ryloth episode a little. 'Nerra', as referenced in the episode, means 'brother', and Numa kept calling Waxer and Boil that.

So many chapters in this story are dark, and it was kind of nice to switch to a much more positive song like What a Wonderful World. So, just a little lighthearted stuff before the fic begins to wind down.

As always,

~Queen