Chapter Text
“Cody, are you sure that you can do this?” General Kenobi stroked his beard, a nervous habit Cody had picked up on within ten minutes of meeting the Jedi.
“Of course, sir. If there’s something wrong with the Guard, then I need to find out what it is.” Cody shuffled onto the medical cot, laying down and wondering if all of the Jedi’s beds were this comfortable. It was like he was floating on a cloud.
General Vos crossed his arms, scowling from his place in the corner of the room. “There’s definitely something going on. I wouldn’t have called you in, Commander, but they won’t let me within ten feet of the barracks. Let alone the offices.”
He involuntarily shuddered as he thought about the last time he had tried to sneak into Fox’s office. Turns out, transparisteel windows can be electrified, even if science says it’s impossible. Vos would be impressed with the Guard’s ingenuity if he wasn’t still nursing several electrical burns.
Cody hummed. “I’ll find out, sir.” With a wry grin, he added, “I just hope that the 212th will survive without me.”
“We’ll find some way to manage, Commander.” Obi-wan grinned. “Just don’t take too long, who knows what creatures Waxer will try to smuggle on board the Negotiator in your absence.”
Now it was Cody’s turn to shiver. The last time Waxer had adopted an animal it had been a nexu kit. Nexu weren’t even supposed to be on that planet. It had taken weeks to convince him to let the Jedi put the thing on a sanctuary planet. Force only knows what he’ll find this time.
“Are you ready, Commander?” Master Che’s lilting tones broke him out of his thoughts.
He readjusted himself, trying to get as comfortable as possible. The general had said that this wasn’t going to be pleasant, but Cody would do anything for his brothers. “Ready as I’ll ever be, General.”
“Alright, then.” Without warning, she jabbed a hypo into his neck. Immediately, his arms and legs began to feel heavy, his head stuffed with cotton. “My apologies, Commander, but it’s best if you’re unconscious for the next part.”
Cody’s last thought was that General Che should never meet Coric.
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Fox held back a sigh as he watched his new vod’ikas file out of the lartie. “How many in this group?”
Not even looking up from his datapad, Thorn replied, “Twelve.” Then with a wince, he added, “One of the kids is eight.”
“Kark.” He began to examine them, mentally sorting them into senate patrols, prison details, and ARF postings.
That was when a trooper on the end caught his eye. There was nothing wrong with him, per se, but the way he was standing. It was almost too perfect. Fox nudged his second. “What do we know about that one?”
Thorn glanced at the trooper and quickly pulled up his file. “CT-4222. No name, and no other data.”
“Recon, then.” The commander frowned under his bucket. Somehow sensing this, the trooper somehow straightened even more.
It was a sad truth that if a GAR trooper was reconned, they were be sent right to the Guard. Why? No one really knew. The number of former GAR troopers coming in had decreased since the Jedi stepped in, but every now and then they’d get one. Sometimes they adjusted well. Other times…not so much.
“Probably,” Thorn shook his head. “Where do you want him?”
Tearing his gaze away, Fox pulled his shoulders back. “Put him with Hound until Stitches can take a look.”
“Understood.”
When he stepped towards the shinies, they all moved to attention. “My name is Marshall Commander Fox. Follow my rules, and you may get out of this alive.” He ignored the scoff he heard from the vod in the second row. He’d learn soon enough.
“Rule one, keep your buckets on at all times. No exceptions. Rule two, if a natborn asks you to do something, do it. Don’t ask questions and do not fight back. Rule three, we work long hours in the Guard. Get used to it and get sleep when you can. If you need help, contact your CO. Assignments should be in your inboxes.” There was a ding as the messages were received. “Dismissed.”
The shinies began to leave the room, the reconned vod’ika looking around. It made something in the back of Fox’s mind itch. Before he could figure it out, though, his comm pinged. Thorn nudged his pauldron. “Chancellor again?”
“Who else?” He stared at the shiny until he disappeared into the labyrinth that was Guard headquarters. “Do me a favor. Tell Hound to keep a close eye on that one.”
“Already done.” Thorn brought their heads together in a keldabe. “Don’t worry, ori’vod, we’ll take care of our shinies.”
Fox closed his eyes, trying to keep himself from thinking through worst-case scenarios for one second. “I know.” Pulling away, he readjusted his kama. “I had better get going. Can’t keep the chancellor waiting.”
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Less than a week later, Hound barged into his office. “Something’s wrong with the shiny you gave me.”
Fox, who was buried in datapads and hadn’t slept two consecutive hours in three days, raised his eyebrow. “What’s he done?”
His sergeant, seemingly immune to the effects of his disappointed stare, collapsed on the commander’s ratty couch. It creaked under his weight but held. “He just keeps…staring at me. Like I’m some kind of puzzle he’s trying to figure out. Even the massifs are spooked.”
“Really?” Thire asked, perking up from his spot in the corner. “I thought the massifs loved every vod.”
“Except for this guy, apparently. He still refuses to give us his name, but I’m pretty sure he has one.”
“What makes you say that?” Fox put the pad down. Hound saying something weird was going on? Normal. The massifs? Not so much.
The sergeant rubbed his forehead. “Every time we say his number, there’s a split second where he doesn’t respond. And before you ask, he doesn’t have hearing problems. I checked.”
Ignoring that Hound’s version of checking was probably whispering some innuendo within six feet of the kid, Fox focused on the bigger problem. “Stitches look at him yet?”
Thire hummed. “Yup. Says he’s in perfect health.”
“What do our personal records say?” The Guard kept two databanks, one for the Kaminoans and one for them. And only one of them had everything. His vod’ika was quiet. “Thire?”
“Stitches says he shows signs of battle trauma, on level with you. No visible scars, but it looks like wherever this kid came from, it wasn’t good.”
“Kark.” Fox leaned back in his chair. This was going to be a problem. Standing out was a one-way ticket to Kamino, and Fox wasn’t going to let any of his shinies march on without a fight. “We’ll reassign him to me.”
“You?” Thire asked, nearly falling out of his chair.
The commander merely raised an eyebrow as his vod’ika scrambled back into a somewhat upright position. “You guys have been bugging me to get an assistant. The kid’ll be safe and you mother nunas will be happy.”
“I’ll send out the transfer order right now.”
“He can’t be that bad,” Fox said, wishing that he had enough energy to get another cup of sludge from the caff machine. Oh well, a stim shot would have to do. Then caff. He ignored the winces of his brothers as he injected the liquid energy into his bloodstream.
Hound shook his head before making a hasty retreat to the hall. “You’ll see.”