Vode An arc

Painting Armor

Echo sat cross-legged on his bunk, his armor neatly spread around him. There was an open bottle of solvent on the bed shelf as well as a capped bottle of the 501st blue and some brushes on his locker case.

Chopper pulled a cloth from the rag box as the door shut behind him. He pulled off his helmet and sat on his locker case keeping the scarred side of his face toward his bunk, then pulled the cartridges from his deece and placed them both on his locker case next to his bucket.

He faced his bunk as he pulled off his armor; lames, vambraces, couters and rerebraces, then reached up with both hands to undo the clips on his fore and aft. He caught the chest plate with his arm but the back plate slipped from his gloved fingers and over the belt. When he'd been alone in the barracks he would sit on the bed removing the fore and aft, the aft sliding to the blanket. Now there were others sharing the room and, even though both troopers had seen them, he hated showing his scars more than necessary. Especially on bad days like today had been. He'd heard Luck and Twelf had wagered Conjure as to how fast Fives and Echo would find another barracks. That was merely annoying; what had made it a bad day was finding out that Jester had departed Naboo before he had. Fek, but that meant that Jester probably had no better idea than him about Knaps.

There was no clatter of the plastoid-alloy hitting the metal deck. He stood, not moving for an instant then dropped the chest plate onto his bunk with sigh.

"Thanks Echo." He turned slightly, the unmarred side of his face to the other trooper, and reached out to take the back plate in Echo's hand.

"You're welcome, Chopper." Echo released the plate into his hand and looked up into Chopper's face, giving him a smile. "Anytime you need an assist with the armor, I'll be happy to help."

Chopper nodded. "I'll think about it." The back plate went on the bed with the remainder of his armor and he continued removing the remaining protective plates. The belt went onto his locker case along with the helmet, deece and cartridges for the same kind of maintenance. The remaining armor went onto his bed for cleaning.

Chopper sat on his bunk, one bent leg against the wall, the other foot on the floor, the scarred side of his face to the inner wall, and carefully cleaned his armor with the rag. Echo stood and stretched, his armor lying on the bunk, coated with the solvent.

"I'm going for a cup of tea, Chopper, while the solvent works its magic. Would you like me to bring you some caf from the mess?" Echo waited for a few moments, watching Chopper wipe down his armor with slow, smooth strokes. There was a frown on his face. Ordinarily Echo would have assumed that was a negative answer but Fives had told him that a frown only meant Chopper was making a decision.

"Tea actually sounds good, Echo." Chopper nodded slightly then he hesitated. "I had a dream of tea the other night."

"Things in dreams always taste better," chuckled Echo. "Just remember this tea will be from the mess."

Chopper's lips curled in the beginning of a smile as he stared down at the shoulder bell in his hand. "I'll remember, but something tasting of …" Chopper paused again and his voice was lower, almost a whisper, when he continued. "flowers would be good, remind me."

Echo was back with a steaming cup in each hand and set Chopper's on the case locker. "Fierfek." he muttered as he handed a cup to Chopper who paused in rubbing a back plate. "Caber had some questions about regs governing behavior to civilians and then Luck was asking when…" He noticed, suddenly, that Chopper's armor was in its lock. He glanced at his own armor, most of the pieces on his bunk, cleaned of the solvent and buffed to a soft sheen. Then he glanced at Chopper who looked down into the cup of tea, rubbing the back plate of Echo's armor.

"You were gone a while and I knew something was keeping you. Didn't want the solvent…" his voice softened into nothing. Technically, he shouldn't have touched Echo's armor.

"Thanks, Chopper." Echo sat on his bunk and looked over his armor, burnished a cream white luminescence rather than a shine. "Looks like you've done them all except the chest plate."

"That was the last piece you did and I didn't know what you planned, didn't want to mess up the work you've already done on it." He gestured to the ragged handprint.

Echo sipped his tea. "The captain did that. On Rishi one of the eels seethed out of its cavern and he took it in a single shot to the eye; put his hand to it and marked me. It seemed," Echo twisted his lips. "Pivotal? Important?" He reached his fingers and spread them over the mark then laughed and picked up a rag and the chest plate to remove the solvent and buff the plastoid-alloy to a smooth surface ready for paint. "Superstitious, I guess. I'll keep it on my armor always."

Chopper offered him the back plate of his armor, his fingers not touching the newly cleaned surface. Echo took it the same way and Chopper leaned back in his bunk his hands curled around the cup absorbing the warmth. He seemed entranced; staring into the liquid with an almost-smile on his face, his eyes mostly closed.

Echo finished removing the solvent and polishing the chest plate while Chopper finished his tea and pulled out his data pad. Echo shook the small jar of blue paint and opened it, filling an air brush. He laid a piece of flimsi over his armor for a straight line.

"Hold on," said Chopper as he set his data pad aside. "If you don't want to re-do the solvent and buffing; you'll want to make sure you do it right the first time."

"What do you mean, Chopper?" Echo's brows were drawn in confusion and Chopper scratched the back of his head.

"I knew a guy once who did really excellent armor marking. Freehand, even. He said that you needed to put on your armor and mark centers because everyone wears it differently; armor sets differently; even on us clones." Chopper gave a tight grimace. "He explained why once, but I wasn't listening." Chopper pushed that memory back into the Before.

Sketch had been talking to Punch in the late-night dimness, planning out a pattern for Punch's armor. Chopper had quietly listened; it sounded like a beautiful pattern - swirls of gold and dark green - and he knew Sketch had the artistic talent to follow-through on the description. Not that the pattern had ever been made. Slick liked his squad in plain white and grey. You'll get armor marks when I say; when you're good enough to be individual. He had turned to Chopper. I doubt you'll ever get painted armor, Chopper. You're just not a good trooper.

Chopper gritted his teeth at the memory. Shut up, Slick. You don't know good troopers; you had five of the best and ruined them. Chopper sighed to himself as he wondered how long before Echo and Fives asked for transfer to another squad; probably by the fifth nightmare.

Echo nodded. "That makes sense." He turned to Chopper, interrupting his reverie. "Will you help me?"

Chopper blinked in surprise then blinked again. "Sure."

Echo barely heard his voice, but Chopper was pulling off his gloves and reaching to help Echo re-armor without getting smudges on the surface; a slightly trickier proposition than simply armoring up. Only once did Chopper pause; when he was buckling Echo's chest plate to the back plate and Echo saw the scars and rough, red skin on Chopper's hands at his shoulders. Chopper's face turned to stone as he quickly finished buckling Echo then pulled his hands down out of view.

"Burn?" asked Echo hesitantly as he saw Chopper's hard face. Chopper gave a tight, terse nod as he picked his gloves up from his bunk and pulled them on.

Echo looked at the deck. At least he didn't stare. Chopper took the decision out of his hands.

"Walk a bit, jump, move. Let your armor settle on you. What's your pattern going to be?"

"Hand-wide blue strips down the arms, same with the legs. Cheeks and crest on the helmet as well as double-finger horn strips over the eyes; over-painting the hand and then crevicing all the seams." Echo moved around the barracks; walking, moving into a salute, parade rest, jumping, shaking, letting his armor settle into its accustom comfort.

"Sounds like a good pattern," nodded Chopper. "Someday, maybe I'll do a pattern."

Slick laughed.

Chopper shook his head. "Not for a while, though. Stand still and I'll mark the midpoints where each plates meet."

They spent the next several hours in quiet comfort; Chopper going over droids on the data pad and Echo painting his armor. You didn't offer to help a trooper paint his armor, but Chopper wished he could.

Several ship's days later, Chopper thought he'd run into a time jump; he came into the barracks to see his barracks- mate stripping the finish on his armor in preparation to painting it. This time Chopper was in from the shower, a clean body glove covering him from neck to foot.

"Hey, Chopper." Fives gave him a small wave as he buffed his chest plate. "May I ask a favor?"

"You can ask," allowed Chopper cautiously and if Fives heard the hesitation, heard the unspoken 'but I'll probably refuse', he ignored it.

"Echo said you helped him get everything straight on his armor and I have to admit, his strips look really good. Can you help me with that?"

"Certainly." Chopper nodded. It was an easy favor, a small gift and Chopper wondered if it was for him or from him.

Chopper pulled off his gloves, certain that Echo had told Fives about the scars, but Fives was looking down, reaching for the leg plates. Chopper had Fives in his armor quickly. Fives may have, probably did, noticed his scarred hands, but made no mention or gesture. He didn't stare any more than Echo had.

"I think I'll go get us some caf." Fives moved for the barracks door. "The walk to the mess should settle my armor."

Chopper shook his head. "You'll find troopers coming out of nowhere simply to touch your armor to make you have to rebuff it. I'll get caf for both of us. You stay here and move around."

Fives noticed that Chopper had brought himself tea. Chopper set both cups on a locker case and then marked Fives armor midpoint where they seemed to connect. By the time Fives' armor was on his bunk, the caf and tea had cool significantly.

"I didn't know you drank tea, Chopper. You always seemed to prefer caf." Fives took a drink of his caf and grinned. "Like you should."

"Not often," admitted Chopper, the aroma of the tea a prize in itself, as he seemed to be drawn back to his dream of Naboo, the three-sided tent, the rug on which he slept, dreaming nothing. He wished he knew what had happened to Knaps then he turned the conversation away from himself. "Echo's good. I think he'll make sergeant with a bit more experience."

Fives shrugged as he finished his caf and shook the bottle of blue paint. "Probably. He'll be one of the best."

"You would too."

"Not if Echo becomes one." Fives gave a shake of his head. "More important than being sergeant is being with Echo. If he becomes sergeant, he'll need me as his second."

"Brothers by choice, then." murmured Chopper as he frowned and looked down at his hands. They were red-scarred, particularly on the backs and knuckles, and rough-skinned though the medical cream Coric had given him kept the skin smoother and more flexible than previously; a semi-circular line ran from the base of one thumb to his middle finger.

"Did you have a brother by choice, Chopper? Is he dead?" Fives had lain down the first touches of blue on his helmet; the cheek pieces were the easiest to paint and Chopper had told him it would give him an idea of the characteristics of the paint; how it felt, how it reacted to being put on the smooth surface of the buffed armor.

"No, I never had a brother by choice." Chopper stared into the nearly empty cup of tea. "My first squad died before we set foot on Geonosis. They died without firing a single shot in battle."

Fives was quiet, mourning unknown brothers. After a moment, he spoke again in gentle tones. "But you want one, don't you, Chopper?"

Chopper was quiet. It seemed a weakness to admit to needing a brother; to wanting a partner so close he knew how you were going to act, almost knew what you were thinking, could back you up in any way… Chopper remembered Punch and Sketch in battle, remembered how Rex and Cody had acted during the interview back on Christophsis, Fives and Echo's easy camaraderie in spite of being so different. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Yes," he admitted.

In his mind, Slick shouted in triumph. You are weak, Chopper. You'll never have a brother, Chopper, you can't be trusted. You're slow.

Shut. Up. Slick. Chopper said under his breath as he stared at the surface of his locker, his fingers clenched tight around the cup. He felt fingers touching his scarred hands and he gasped in shock as he looked up at Fives.

"Don't break it, Chopper." Fives' fingers slipped the cup from Chopper and set it down. "You'd make a good brother, Chopper. Don't let anyone ever tell you any different." He tilted his head and looked at Chopper's face, his eyes moving over the scars no more or less than the rest of Chopper's face. "You can ignore the wager, Chopper. Echo and I aren't going to ask for a transfer." Then he sat back with the brushes and paint armor.

Chopper didn't speak as he moved and lay back in his bunk with his data pad though he didn't see the vids.

It was late, the room dark, lit only by the red light above the door and the buttons on the computer console.

"Fives?" Chopper asked softly, in case the other trooper was already asleep.

"Mmm, Chopper?" Fives voice was drowsy.

"Thanks."

As always, read and enjoy, review and comment...

Next installment in just a few days - maybe by Tuesday.