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mamuzzy · 2 months

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Hey dear :D can you tell us about your headcanons on Jango training the Alphas ? :D

I finally got here to answer this ask. <3

And ooooh boy do I have??? Only angsty ones, love.

I use RepComm lore as a base of my headcanons, just to make clear in what continuity I'm creating in. And that means: NO INHIBITOR CHIPS.

The whole idea of the Clone Army revolves around one thing ultimately: to completely exterminate the jedi. To create an army that is ready for the decisive moment of taking down the enemies of the Sith without the jedi even noticing what is coming at them.

The trainers of course didn't know that this is the ultimate goal of the army, but they knew they had to train a whole army for a future war that who knows when will come. They had be loyal. And they had to be effective.

Every trainer had different approach:

Kal Skirata used love and insisted on the importance of comradeship which ultimately didn't necesserily made his commandos loyal to the Republic, but to each other.

Walon Vau used harsh discipline and insisted on the importance to make his commandos remember: they are superior than others and they have the most important mission in their life. Nothing awaits them outside because they have everything they need: their duty. Vau's trainees remained loyal even after the regime change.

And then we have the Alpha ARC Troopers trained by Jango Fett.

The Alpha ARCs in their mind are the unaltered version of Jango Fett. 100 copy of Jango Fett with their brain remained untouched (compared to the Nulls who's brain was tampered with). Meaning, the Alpha's undying loyalty to the Republic is not pre-programmed, it is not in their genes. It is conditioned with traditional methods: And that is FEAR.

More under the cut

Jango Fett didn't care about the clones and I will sparta-kick everyone from this hill who tries to fight me. I don't have a single worldbuilding where Jango was a "good daddy" for the Clones. He was a great, loving and caring father to Boba and Boba alone.

For him, the clones are products, but also they are part of his agenda: Even he dies, there will be millions of Jango Fetts who will fulfill his revenge of killing off all the Jedi.

The books often mention that Jango was a sociopath (meaning he is on the spectrum of ASPD), and this template was able to make the clones to be so effective. His brain is just built different and wasn't cluttered with moral based inhibitions. That's why I think that Jango wasn't actually a sadist who enjoyed tormenting his trainees - The Alphas - out of joy and personal amusement. It served the purpose, it was all pragmatic.

There wasn't any more description what was Alpha's training like on Kamino but these little snippets of lores made my brain go brrrrrrr about the theories. If the Alphas - THE ALPHAS!!!! - were scared of Jango it could mean that their training included something that gave a reason to fear him.

We know that he installed his own commands into the Alphas such us destroying the Clone Facility in case of Separatist attack on Kamino which Alpha-17 almost fulfilled. But also, being unquestionably loyal to the Jedi. For me, these commands weren't installed. I truly love the unaltered brain-Alphas.

-- Physical pain --

When you are in the military and under training, the line between educational violence and actual physical abuse is very thin. Insubordination had to be punished. Jango had to make sure that the Alphas remain loyal despite not having the same inhibitions like the rest of the clones, so there must have been exercises where he tested how far the Alphas would go to fullfill their duties, achieve victory, enforce an order, AT ALL COST.

They had to put through physical hell, pushed over their limits, pushed over their thresholds and beyond. If caught crying, if caught showing pain, if caught showing the single muscle of questioning Jango's orders, they had to be punished. They weren't made to compete with each other, but they also couldn't protect each other publicly when Jango punished the Alphas for insubordination. They had to watch. They had to learn from it.

The Alphas found secret ways to communicate with each other. To find comfort in each other in one way or another. Oh they knew the concept of love and caring. They watched Jango and Boba from the distance. The reassuring words. The caring touches of a father. They watched how the Nulls were running to their precious sergeant for comfort when hurt. They were very much aware that this is not something they would get.

-- RECONDITION: THE ULTIMATE DEATH --

The Alphas needed only one case of serious insubordination to learn their places and that was Alpha-Ø2. He was truly an independent mind and free-thinker, a true inspiration to thrive for individualism in the sea of Jango Fetts. Spar refused to comply and refused to sworn loyalty to "a republic" which he didn't knew.

And one day Alpha-Ø2 disappeared. Only to return without his memories. Returning without his fiery temper, without his free-spirit... and without any knowledge of how he used to love his Alpha-brothers dearly.

The brainwashing of the Alphas were so much successful later in time, when Alpha-Ø2 - called now Spar - actually deserted at age 8, two years before Geonosis, most of the Alphas felt disgust just by thinking about him - they had to.

Alphas had to believe that Spar was the utter disgrace to the Republic, otherwise it would mean, that they were actually treated wrong.

They had no idea that Spar's desertion was orchestrated by Mij Gilamar and Jango Fett himself after Spar regained his memories - probably the only mercy Jango showed for a clone.

-- Jango had to find the perfect balance --

The Kaminoans wanted soldiers who are independent thinkers but still loyal. Completely supressing their individualism wasn't an option, learned from Spar's case.

What the Alphas did in their non-existent freetime wasn't his business. But the Alphas had to drop everything that is them, when Jango ordered them to do so.

Jango hated every form of authority and realized that the Alphas inherited this trait for his disdain. So he used this train in them to be more effective as advisors for the Jedi. The Alphas had to make sure the Jedi survive until the critical point after all.

Alpha-17 is the smartest of them and the closest thing they had for Spar, which made him always walking on thin ice.

Tavo and Sull, lovebirds.

Maze had knowledge of wide variety of things due to reading forbidden literature that wasn't their in their curriculum.

Fordo communicated only through sign language due to trauma, and his closest friends learned too so they can speak to each other. He only spoke when Jango ordered him to do so.

They were smart enough to know what is was truly considered disobedience. And that was going against the Republic and Jango. If they comply to these rules, they will be safe.

-- ALPHA vs NULL conflict --

Jango always had to remind the Alphas that they were expected to be better than their precedessors, the Nulls. If they fail to meet with the standards, they won't have "a kal skirata" to save them from recondition.

Alpha-Ø2 sure didn't have.

The Alphas after a while didn't need outside motivation to be obedient and loyal. Because they were meant to be everything the Nulls couldn't be. Seeing the examples with their own eyes, how chaotic the Nulls were, how the Nulls as children were actually unruly and sadistic toward the kaminoan technicians, how they disobeyed everyone who was not Kal Skirata, they finally saw what is expected from them: BE BETTER THAN THEM.

And they finally found their positive reassurance on their own. How to take pride in being the true servants of the Republic. Only the Nulls didn't give a shit about this rivalry. They didn't care about Jango or the Alphas or being better than the Alphas.

Being obedient without question was totally against he Alphas nature but they tried. They tried fucking hard.

Alphas: We are the perfect soldiers of the Republic because we are obedient, well-behaved, and we don't cause trouble to our trainers unlike you.

Nulls: We are perfect soldiers because Kal'buir said so, nyenyenyeeeee!!!

Indeed. That Alpha's didn't have "a kal skirata" in their life to tell them they are enough. That they are perfect. That they do the best. Because their best was never enough.

And they weren't enough.

The Alpha ARCs deemed to be failure in the end and their template genes weren't put in to mass-production. When the deployment to Geonosis began, they realized that they weren't meant to be used in the battle and it almost broke them.

Despite their effort and hard work, the Alphas still deemed a failure. Unpredictable, unruly, and because they didn't have any inhibition in them, the Kaminoan didn't trust that they would fulfill their roles. Alphas had to watch the Nulls leave to Geonosis while they were put into stasis.

They didn't have "a kal skirata" to save them from this fate. They didn't have Jango Fett, he wasn't there at all.

They were all alone.

-- Did Jango's approach work? --

My answer is: no.

Despite the conditioning, the Alphas had wide-variety of reactions to the Republic, to the Jedi, and Order 66.

Some were able to shake down the effects of the conditioning, and realized that this dead man won't come after them from the grave to punish them for disobedience.

Some Alpha deserted and died by the hands of Clone Assassins sent after them during the Clone Wars.

Some Alpha remained loyal to Jango's orders, the Republic and then the Empire, training the new generation of soldiers.

Some Alpha went into hiding and became bounty hunters.

Ultimately, how they interacted with the world around them as individual and how the environment treated them decided their own fate.

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slotmachines-fearofgod · 8 months

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As per the poll results...

Alpha-17 hated taking care of the cadets.

They were loud, unruly, undisciplined, and cocky little sons of bitches. The Kaminiise that interrupted his and Fordo’s training session had said something about the CC batches needing mentors now that Fett was determined to get back to bounty hunting. Every Alpha ARC was to take on a batch as a trial run, regardless of the fact that Fett was never much of a mentor to them.

It didn’t matter. What mattered was that his batch was a fucking mess. Maze had even patted him sympathetically on the back when they were given their official assignments. In their first week, two of them, apparently the twins of the batch, had already managed to get themselves into three offices they weren’t supposed to be in, and snuck out of the barracks almost every night.

Alpha made them run suicides for hours for it.

He didn’t care for his batch the way some of his brothers did, with soft gestures and words like “ad’ika” or “vod’ika.” They were clones, and they wouldn’t find any sort of soft spot in the middle of a battlefield. He’d raise them the way he was raised, with sharp tongues and extra training, and they’d come out the other side better for it.

That doesn’t mean he didn’t care at all.

CC-2224 was standing guard outside their barracks, which was a bad sign, especially considering he’d been the first to learn that if they got in trouble, they got in trouble as a group. He was usually the most effective at dissuading the rest.

Not tonight.

“Cadet,” Seventeen greeted sharply, “sitrep.”

CC-2224 didn’t look him in the eyes, another bad sign. It had been one fucking month, and he was already having to put up with shit like this.

“B - CC-5052 is experiencing residual discomfort from the training exercise today, sir. My batchmates are helping him with recovery.” Only three years old, six standard, and CC-2224 was already the best soldier out of all of them. But he was shit at covering for the rest.

“Why are you guarding the door?” Seventeen crossed his arms over his chest, looming over the kid. If it was really what he said, he’d been in there helping with whatever cramp 5052 was feeling.

The day’s training hadn’t even really been that difficult from a physical standpoint. It was Seventeen’s least favorite type of resistance training: the mental kind. The Kaminiise had them start it early so their minds automatically built up resistances to-

Oh.

“CC-3636 asked that I remain outside so as not to crowd CC-5052 and explain to any who may be monitoring the barracks what is going on.” Seventeen knew enough to read between the lines of that statement. He was there to discourage any particularly nosy Kaminiise from looking too closely for flaws. They would be monitored closely for the next few days for any defects, a fact that had been made clear to them before the exercises had taken place.

CC-2224 still wasn’t meeting his eyes. He looked exhausted now that Seventeen was actually looking for it. He had a certain deadness to his face that Seventeen had seen many times both in the mirror and on others. If he remembered correctly, today had been the first day this specific crew had to undergo this type of training. CC-2224 was probably the best off if he was well enough to stand guard.

Seventeen breathed out slowly, for the first time unsure what to do with the cadets. Usually their problems were solved with laps in the rain around the compound, or latrine cleaning duty. Emotional issues were more Fordo’s thing. But Fordo had his own batch to tend to.

“Step out of the way cadet,” Seventeen ended up saying, trying not to make it too gruff. The quick, quiet knock against the door signaled that he didn’t quite manage that. Nonetheless, CC-2224 let him pass, albeit a bit slowly. Probably trying to buy his batchmates time.

It was apparently enough.

5052, 3636, 1010, and 411 were all in their bunks, with 1010 just barely managing to reach his as Seventeen opened the door. 5052 was turned away from him, taking the furthest bunk in the corner, while 411 and 3636 took the closest. 1010 and an empty bunk stood in the middle, with 5052’s pressed up against the wall. He assumed one of the two empty bunks, above 5052 or below 1010, was for 2224.

“5052,” his voice rang out across the eerily silent room. It felt heavy in their room tonight, not light or even charged with an air of mischief like he was accustomed to it being. 5052 raised his head blearily, and Seventeen ignored the fierce ache in his chest at the sight of his red, puffy eyes. “With me,” he ordered, ignoring the subtle sharp looks 1010 and 3636 were exchanging.

5052’s eyes watered briefly, before his face smoothed out. He was already learning the importance of a blank face, which was good. He shouldn’t be using it with Seventeen, though.

5052 climbed out of his bed, his posture rigid in a way Seventeen had never seen before. Were it not for the situation, he would’ve applauded this cadet for his professionalism, something they’d all been lacking ever since he met them.

“Sir,” 411 called, and Seventeen spared him a brief glance, “I was wondering if-”

“Later, 411,” Seventeen said sharply, training his gaze on the kid who was approaching him like he was a death sentence. “5052 and I need to take care of something.”

He wasn’t an idiot. He knew what effect his words were having on the cadets, especially 2224 who stood guiltily in the doorway. It was fine. Maybe they’d finally understand he was in charge, or learn they weren’t as invincible as they believed themselves to be.

As 5052 reached him, Seventeen held out a hand. The cadet looked up at him, then back at his hand, almost confused. Seventeen sighed, grabbing 5052’s hand with his, practically dwarfing the kid. He tried to keep his posture open and non-threatening, but he got the feeling the look 5052 cast at his brothers was him saying goodbye. As he tugged the cadet out the door, he noticed 2224 make a move to grab his brother, before 5052 shook his head.

2224 watched them go with tears in his eyes.

Fucking aiwha-bait Kaminiise demogolka.

He could hear the soft crying before 5052 and he had turned the corner down the hall. To his credit, the cadet didn’t shed a tear. He may have cried it all out earlier, but one look at the kid proved otherwise. He put on a brave face, but it was just a face. Any clone trooper would be able to see right through it.

He pulled 5052 along in silence until they reached his office. Seventeen punched in his keycode with his free hand, keeping a tight grip on the kid so he didn’t try to bolt. It was only once they were inside that Seventeen dropped the hand and sat in his chair. 5052 stood at attention directly in front of him, just how they were taught.

“What happened?” It was less of a request, and more of a demand.

5052’s voice barely shook as he spoke, “I suffered the after effects of today’s training, sir.”

Seventeen leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his desk, “Symptoms.”

5052 pressed his lips together, tears shining in his eyes once again, before answering, “I-I felt a shortness of breath, tightness in my chest, numbness of limbs, hand tremors, and tunnel vision.”

“You had a panic attack,” Seventeen summarized for him, nodding along with the conclusion. 5052 gave one sharp nod, like it took all his courage just to admit it. Hell, it probably did. If any of the longnecks found out, he’d be decommissioned. Just like with the Alphas, they wanted this first batch of CCs to be perfect.

“Yessir,” he whispered, his lower lip wobbling slightly.

Seventeen sighed, “At ease, 5052. C’mere.”

5052 fell back into parade rest, but didn’t move, eyes darting between the wall and Seventeen’s face. Seventeen raised his eyebrow, and sat back in his chair. He could play the waiting game.

Eventually, the cadet caved and rounded the desk before he stood at Seventeen’s side, still looking past him instead of at him.

“I know 2224’s been going around giving out names, so what’s yours?” Seventeen asked gently. 2224 was practically asking for a decom with that little scheme, but he couldn’t help but admire the sheer bravery, or maybe stupidity, the cadet showed.

5052 shook his head just slightly, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir.”

“Drop the sir, it’s just Seventeen for right now.” It would be easier if he put them on even footing.

That got 5052 to look at him.

There was a long pause where his mind was putting the pieces together, the fact that Seventeen took him to his office and not a long-neck, the gentle tone, the hand holding, the dropping of rank all beginning to click in his head.

“I’m not - am I in trouble?”

Seventeen shook his head and 5052 sagged in relief almost immediately. This time, the tears did start, wracking his little body as his head dropped to his chest. Seventeen did the only thing he could and yanked the kid into his chest, calmly running a hand through his short curls and breathing in and out, getting him to match the pattern.

It took a while, but 5052 began to calm down.

“It’s alright, kid,” Seventeen said lowly, “You’re not the first vod to lose it after one of those training sessions and you won’t be the last.”

“Vod?”

“It means brother,” Seventeen said. He’d forgotten that less exposure to Fett meant the new generations wouldn’t likely have the chance to learn Mando’a. He’d have to talk to the other Alphas about fixing that.

5052 nodded, before taking a moment to collect his thoughts. Seventeen allowed him that, just offering physical comfort like his batch was probably doing before he intruded. As much as they got on his nerves, they needed to know they were his vode, and he wouldn’t turn them in for something so little as a panic attack. He didn’t have to like them to treat them with some base decency.

“My name is Bly,” he answered eventually, “Please don’t tell anyone.”

Seventeen chuckled, “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He gently disentangled them, before bringing him into a keldabe. “Do you know what this is?”

He shook his head no.

“This is a keldabe. In a fight, a keldabe can be a useful tool in getting your opponents disoriented and putting some distance between you and them. It’d be a bit rougher than this, and probably leave you with a bruise if I really put some effort into it.” He held eye contact with 5052, even as the slightly caged look came back into the cadet’s eyes, “But between family, friends, or partners, it’s a sign of affection. A sign that we’re here for each other, through all this blood and fear. Something so brutal, so painful, turned soft and loving in the presence of those you trust.”

“Oh,” the kid breathed out, and Seventeen could tell the exact moment that he understood what he was telling him.

“I’m not letting those demogolka get their hands on you, even if your brothers are assholes,” the small laugh was almost happy, “I can’t go easy on you, vod. If I do, we’ll both be slated for decomm. Do you understand?”

The kid - Bly nodded, a very small smile beginning to form, “Thanks, Seventeen.”

Seventeen pulled back and nodded, hiding his laugh at Bly’s sudden yawn. It was getting late, and these kids hadn’t gone through sleep deprivation training yet. It would be best to let them rest while they could.

—

“Again,” Seventeen called, grinning smugly as Fox snarled at him. A year into their training with him and this batch had quickly shot to the top, with the exception of the clone in front of him. Fox’s scores had been dropping lately, though the little dickhead refused to tell him what had been going on, so they were doing this.

Sparring until Fox either dropped or spilled.

It was looking more and more like Fox preferred the first option.

Usually, when one of them was being difficult, he had them train until their legs gave out on them and they could do nothing but talk. Sometimes it took a little more or less work, especially when it came to Fox. Bly was happy to talk to him since that first night he’d shown he was safe, though he’d caught comments from Wolffe or Fox about the baby of the batch getting special treatment. Kote and Ponds generally folded as soon as they were physically exhausted, and Wolffe just had to get angry enough to spit it all out in quick succession.

Fox was different. He was smarter.

He didn’t take training laying down, and was clever enough to keep his cool even when Seventeen could tell he wanted to do nothing more than scream. He’d never dream of talking about his issues to anyone outside his batch, and even then Seventeen was pretty sure he’d only talk to Ponds or Wolffe. He hadn’t even wanted to tell Seventeen his name until Wolffe nagged him enough to make him stand, red-faced, in front of the older clone and spit it out. Seventeen pulled him into a quick keldabe, before repeating the name and telling him it suited him.

Right now wouldn’t be solved with nagging or a keldabe. At least, not the gentle kind. Fox needed blood, he needed to gnash his teeth and give and receive a little pain. Seventeen understood that just fine.

“Fuck you,” Fox spat, before lunging again. He was getting sloppier, more tired, and Seventeen was able to pin him in under a minute. He held the struggling kid there for a few seconds until Fox realized he wasn’t escaping and went limp, tapping out once again.

“Again,” Seventeen repeated once Fox had caught his breath. This time, it was less than thirty seconds before Fox quit fighting, just lying quietly on the mat.

“You know,” Seventeen huffed after a few moments of stillness, “You’re supposed to tap out.”

Fox tapped lightly, and Seventeen let him up. He grabbed his shoulder before Fox could get too far back into position to go again.

“Your flight time went up again.”

“I know.”

“You gonna do anything about it?”

Fox’s glare was enough to make almost anyone else back down. But not him.

“The fuck do you care?”

Seventeen stepped back, getting into a fighting position, “Again.”

Fox didn’t have buttons to push like Wolffe, nor did he give up when he should like Ponds or Kote. He needed a little of both, a little more push than most would have advocated for a kid, to get him to crack how he needed to.

They danced the familiar dance a few more times before, maybe the fourth or fifth time Seventeen pinned him, Fox let out a frustrated yell. That was close to what he was looking for.

“Kote took top spot for blaster modules this week.”

“I fucking know, okay?”

That was what he was looking for.

“I know Kote took top spot and I know Wolffe beat my fly time and I know Gree and his batch are taking over strategy mods! I fucking get it, so fuck off with whatever the hell this is!” Fox wriggled out from under him, and Seventeen let him go without a fight. He stayed facing away from Seventeen, but that was okay for now.

“I just…I hate this stuff! I hate being trapped in those rooms with those demogolka and fucking Fett watching over our shoulders like he ever did anything except leave and you acting like you give a shit when we both know you’re only here because we’re another assignment for you. I hate you pretending like we’re brothers or everything’s gonna be fine and we aren’t all gonna die soon or-or like any of us matter in the long run,” his rant was beginning to slow, and Seventeen approached slowly. The small break in his voice told him all he needed to know.

“I don’t get the point when it doesn’t fucking matter if I die here or on a battlefield because death is death, and either way no one’s gonna care,” if he had to guess, the tears started about thirty seconds ago.

The worst part is that Seventeen gets it. He’d lost one of his batch to the same thoughts. In the end, it hadn’t been the long-necks or a fight that did him in. Just a missing blaster and too much time alone outside. They all understood why, even if they never forgave him for it.

It was because he understood that he placed one hand on Fox’s shoulder, forcing his vod to face him.

“You’re right,” Seventeen rumbled, not leaning over and making himself small like he would for the others. Fox had always appreciated the truth above all else.

“What?” He was right, tear tracks were carved down his vod’s face, and the small breathy disbelief looked like it might break the younger clone.

“Fett’s a fucking asshole, don’t know why Kote likes him so much. The Kaminiise are indescribable in their cruelty, and I’m a dick. Doesn’t mean nothing you do matters, though.”

Fox scoffed and pulled away, trying to twist his face into that familiar hard sneer, “And what would you know about that?”

Seventeen shrugged, “Not sure. You don’t want me to know you. But I see the way Kote and Bly light up when their ori’vod is around. And I know Wolffe would never survive without you, and that Ponds would kill himself if you did what you’re talking about doing.” He looked this kid - his kid in the eyes. He needed him to know he understood. “You’re trying to get the Kaminiise to do it for you, so you don’t have to take the coward’s way out. I get it, vod’ika. But you know every single one of those little assholes in your barracks would hurtle themselves off the edge just the same if you died, by your own hand or not.”

“Wha-”

“Don’t do it for me,” Seventeen added, gentling his tone a bit as fresh tears sprang to his vod’ika’s eyes, “Don’t do it for Fett, and don’t you fucking dare do it for the long-necks. Do it for the brothers waiting for you back in the bunks. The brothers that would beat themselves up if they knew that you were even thinking about this. The brothers that are going to force you to cuddle with them even if they have to drag you kicking and screaming.”

Yeah, okay, maybe Seventeen liked to linger outside their door when he was done with his duties that didn’t involve five nightmares running around and making his life hell. Maybe he wanted to soak in his brothers’ laughter once in a while. So what.

Fox looked at the floor, desperately trying to hold back tears.

Seventeen sighed and knelt in front of him, opening his arms up and waiting.

It took Fox less than thirty seconds to decide that yes, he did want the offered hug. Seventeen kept his laugh to a low rumble, a little closer to soothing than teasing. Fox squeezed him like he’d never been hugged before, even though Seventeen knew damn well that was a lie. It didn’t matter.

“We don’t do it for ourselves,” Seventeen said lowly, “We’d never make it if we did. We do it for each other, or we don’t do it at all.”

Fox sniffed, and Seventeen didn’t even care that he was probably getting snot and tears all over his blacks. His little brother was going to be okay, and that’s what mattered.

—

It took the Kaminiise two years to figure out who had started naming clones. Who started giving them just a little agency and independence. And when they found out, they made sure to make an example out of him.

They came during the sleep cycles, when Seventeen wouldn’t be around to stop them, and took Kote from his bunk without a word.

Two years in, one year after Seventeen had begun to call the littles his vod’ike, he found himself kneeling at the feet of the man he hated most in this place, begging for mercy for his charge. Fett was cold, he knew, but not so cold that his second favorite cadet would be left to rot.

Kote had been in isolation for almost a week, and nearly every night Seventeen had a visitor from the batch crawl into his bunk with shaky hands and red eyes. A decomm would’ve been easier on them, but knowing their second-youngest was alive and alone, trapped and left at the hands of the Kaminiise, was breaking them.

Ponds and Kote had always been the anchors of the group. Ponds was the oldest, and the automatic go-to for most things. But Kote named them all, and every single one of them adored him for it.

Fett was unyielding when Seventeen entered with accusations on the tip of his tongue. He was prepared to yell, to scream at the man who started this, who refused to leave them alone even after everything he’d already done to hurt them. But one look at the man had him falling to his knees, a single tear escaping his eyes as he pleaded with his head bowed.

Fett said nothing, and Seventeen left feeling humiliated and angry.

Which was why, when Seventeen heard Kote had been let out and was currently in the care of Fett, he’d sprinted across the compound to collect his vod.

He got there just in time to see Kote leave, tears dripping down his little face, crumpling against the wall outside of the dar’manda’s room.

Seventeen said nothing, but knelt in front of his vod’ika and scooped him up, carrying him away from that place.

As they walked, Kote’s hands fisted in Seventeen’s blacks as he tried to muffle his sobs into the older man’s chest. He clung to Seventeen like they were the last people alive on this planet, and Seventeen made sure to hold him just as tight. They made it to the Alpha barracks, which were thankfully empty, and laid down together on Seventeen’s bunk.

Kote wailed for hours once he realized they were somewhere safe, away from long-necks and cold-hearted bounty hunters. Seventeen just held on, running a hand up and down his vod’ika’s back to comfort him, and whispered apologies into Kote’s hair.

“Why didn’t they just decommission me?” Kote kept asking through tears, sometimes screaming and sometimes whimpering.

“Why did Prime have to name me?”

“Why didn’t I listen to him?”

“Why didn’t he find me sooner?”

So many questions that Seventeen had no answer to.

When the tears finally slowed, Seventeen spoke.

“He tricked you, vod’ika. He’s a cruel and callous man and he tricked you.”

Seventeen had always hated how Fett dug his claws into this kid. He didn’t care how it would hurt Kote, he didn’t care what would have happened to him. Seventeen was a violent man but even he didn’t understand why Fett would do this.

“They couldn’t even say my name right,” Kote whimpered, “They kept saying ‘Cody’ and when I tried to correct them they - they just -” he broke off, burying his head into Seventeen’s chest and letting out another sob.

“They will always hate you for the freedom you’ve given your brothers,” Seventeen rumbled, “And I will make sure they cannot deny your strength.”

A plan was already forming in his head. He’d put Kote through extra training, make him into the best of the best. He’d make him good enough to rival an ARC. The Kaminiise couldn’t throw him out if he was useful enough, sharp enough, strong enough.

“He named me Glory, Seventeen,” Kote cried, “Why? I don’t understand!”

Seventeen didn’t have an answer for that question either.

“You have to stay away from him, Kote,” Seventeen said. He said it firmly, like it was an order, and not a plea, though they both knew better. Fett could easily take Kote away from Seventeen, away from his batch, and none of them except the kid crying into him could make it stop.

“He - he loves me,” Kote wailed, “I’m his ad, he loves me! I can’t just-”

Seventeen cut him off harshly, “Kot’ika, if he loved you, I wouldn’t have had to beg him to interfere.” It was harsh, but his vod’ika needed to know. “He didn’t come looking for you. We did.”

Kote cried for a long time after that. He kept trying to make excuses, telling Seventeen about all the times Fett had supposedly cared.

It just made Seventeen angrier. Fett had manipulated his kid into thinking he was more than a paycheck, more than food for a war that hadn’t even begun yet. Seventeen briefly entertained the possibility of killing him for it.

Out of all the tools they’d been given, hope was never one of them. The kid screaming into the pillow was proof as to why.

Kote eventually tired himself out enough to pass out on the bunk, and Seventeen sighed in relief as his breathing finally evened out.

Both Maze and Fordo poked their heads in, for once not laughing at the sight of Seventeen curled around one of the kids he’d once told them he’d never call his own. They told him Kote’s batch had been alerted to his release, and they’d immediately demanded answers from the older ARCs, meaning Seventeen would probably need to make an appearance soon to ease their fears.

Seventeen just nodded along to the debrief, a wave of exhaustion hitting him as well. He eventually gathered himself enough to sit up, taking Kote with him. The kid just shifted sleepily, his face scrunching up in dismay even though he didn’t wake.

“They’re going to be looking for an excuse,” Fordo said quietly after a moment, “He needs to keep his head down.”

“I know,” Seventeen murmured.

“Seventeen,” Maze said, “He’s terrified. Whatever you’re planning, leave him out of it.”

Seventeen just sighed, closing his eyes and leaning back against the wall.

“I’m serious. He needs to stop making ripples, good or bad. He’s already too individualistic for their tastes.”

Maze was right. Kote had always been headstrong and stubborn, just like the rest of his batch. They all relied on each other too much and not only had it taken Kote down, but the rest of them either refused to or simply couldn’t pull themselves together in his absence.

“You boys remember our training on Rishi?” Seventeen asked after a moment.

It was a stupid question, of course they did. They’d been dropped off on that moon, all in separate locations, with no comms or supplies to help them except what was expected in emergencies. They had to survive like that for a month before they were picked up again. It was the worst experience of any of their lives.

“We need a program like that for them,” he said after a moment, ignoring the twin glares sent his way. Every single Alpha had become incredibly protective over their batchers in the two years the program had been going on.

“Not exactly like that,” Seventeen assured them, “But their training is a lot more strategy and team focused. They need something closer to the way the ARCs were trained.”

Fordo snorted, “ARC training is a hell of a lot more brutal than what they’ve had to do so far. And it started a lot earlier.”

“It would make them indispensable,” Seventeen said after a moment, and he knew the silence following that statement meant he’d won.

Still, he sighed and stood, clutching Kote against his chest, “I’m gonna get him back to his batch. I have a feeling they’re about to come looking.”

—

Wolffe was smiling, which immediately put Seventeen on edge. Wolffe had a few kinds of ‘smile’. There was the genuine one, which was rare but always rewarding, the smirk, which was the most common and meant he’d just kicked someone’s ass in hand to hand training and was about to get far too cocky about it, and then his grin, which meant he was doing something he wasn’t supposed to.

Like now.

Seventeen folded his arms across his chest, giving his best glare at the cadet. They were six months into ARC training, a year out from the event that kick started the idea, and all it had done was make his batch harder to handle.

Not only were they trouble-makers, they were now troublemakers with all the strategy and training of their older counterparts.

“It wasn’t me this time,” they’d finally hit that funny age where their voices no longer matched their faces, and all of them grew at different rates. It was maybe the one time in their lives they would look genuinely different from each other.

Seventeen added an eyebrow raise to his glare.

“Kote found him first.”

Him?

“It was his idea,” Wolffe was beginning to shrink back just a little under the glare, “But he’s not making any trouble.”

Seventeen snorted, “The day you di’kuts don’t make trouble for me is the day you’re all dead and buried.”

Wolffe flipped him off.

“That’s ten extra suicides, cadet.” Seventeen smiled as Wolffe’s face immediately dropped and he started whining.

“It was just a joke, you’re mean to us all the time,” Wolffe argued, not helping his case in the slightest.

“I’m keeping you assholes alive,” Seventeen shot back, “Now what did you do?”

Wolffe scowled, replying, “Come on, old man,” before turning and marching down the hall.

“And that’s twenty,” Seventeen called after him.

Wolffe kept complaining the whole way there, even when Seventeen cuffed him on the back of the head for it. He led them to the CT barracks, which was new. To his knowledge, his batch never really came down here. There was no need to.

The experimental ARC babysitting program had gone well enough that when the CT clones were produced and of age, several Alphas had been relegated to managing these cadets, whom he’d been assured were either much less or much more rowdy than the CCs, depending on the batch.

Alpha had just been assigned his first case, though it was a curious one. Two of the batch had been decommed almost as soon as they came out of their tubes, and the other three didn’t get along the way most batches tended to. They were first generation CTs, so some defects were expected, but the vitriol with which they treated each other certainly was not.

It had been a jarring change from the crew he’d been taking care of for almost four years now.

Wolffe led him to a supply closet off to the side in the barracks, chattering all the way about how this was Kote’s fault. Seventeen ignored him in favor of looking around at the empty bunks, internally sighing about whatever scheme his vode had cooked up this time.

When Wolffe opened the door, however, the cadet inside of the closet threw Seventeen for a loop.

“7567?” He asked, surprised. He was one of the batchers Seventeen had been assigned to take care of, the one that got picked on the most, actually. What really surprised him, however, was the state he was in.

His usual obvious blonde head of hair had been shaved carelessly almost completely off. He could see a few cuts dotted across the kid’s head, and the kid himself looked like he’d lost a pound or two since the last time Seventeen had seen him nearly a week ago.

He’d thought the kid was avoiding him, but there was obviously something more going on.

“You know him?” Wolffe asked, sounding surprised and completely ignoring the sharp glare being thrown his way from the kid hiding in the closet.

“He’s one of mine,” Seventeen responded, still searching for any more visible wounds or changes to his newest charge, “Haven’t been able to find him for a week.”

“Oh, uh, that may have been our fault,” Wolffe said, looking back at 7567, “What? Why are you glaring at me?”

“I told you not to tell anyone,” 7567 bit out, the harsh tone being somewhat off put by the higher pitch of his voice. He was just a bit younger than the CCs, and wouldn’t hit the growth spurt that truly mattered for another year or two.

“Yeah, well, suck it up. Kote’s been going crazy trying to hide you from your batch and the Alphas,” came the nonchalant reply, and Seventeen furrowed his brow. Why would Kote be trying to hide 7567 from his own brothers?

“I figured he could help,” Wolffe continued, and Seventeen ignored the brief flash of warmth at the statement of trust.

Now it was his turn to be glared at, and Seventeen took a second to admire the size of 7567’s balls before matching it with his own sneer.

“You’ve been skipping training, cadet.”

“I didn’t want to,” he replied sulkily, “Kote said it wasn’t safe.”

Seventeen hummed, “And why would he say that?”

7567 hesitated for a moment, before quietly admitting, “He caught them doing…this,” he gestured to his head, and a sick moment of realization came over Seventeen, “He scared them off, but he didn’t want me to go back with them.”

Batchmates teasing each other was one thing, but hurting one another?

That would have to be dealt with.

Seventeen sighed as he moved in front of Wolffe and crouched in the doorway of the closet, “So Kote, being the di’kut he is, hid you in here.”

7567 shrugged, “‘S not terrible.”

“You eaten recently?”

The cadet shook his head no after a moment, and Seventeen turned back to look at Wolffe, “Why exactly did you boys think this was a good idea?”

Wolffe crossed his arms, “I didn’t know until yesterday, ask Kote.”

“Not helpful,” Seventeen grunted, before turning back to 7567, “Since you and Kote are so tight, I assume you’ve got a name.”

7567’s eyes widened comically at him, giving him away in an instant. Of course Kote did, he’d always had a soft spot for the littles. 7567 still looked at Wolffe first, who must have given an affirmative.

“Rex,” he said quietly.

Seventeen nodded, “Alright Rex, with me. Wolffe, you too.”

Rex looked at him with slight suspicion in his eyes, and Wolffe let out a small noise of complaint.

“Come on boys,” he tried again, adding a little bark to his voice that had them both scrambling to follow him out the door, “Medics first, then food.”

Once they reached a medical droid, Seventeen sent Rex off behind a curtain with it, and sat down next to Wolffe, giving him the ‘you’d better start talking’ look.

Wolffe grumbled for a bit before admitting, “His batch are assholes. Too aggressive with him. He learned how to bite back, but Kote said it was pretty bad when he found them. Kid was bleeding like crazy and scared the shit out of Kote, who tried to take him here. He didn’t let him, on the grounds of his mutation, and wouldn’t budge.” Wolffe ran a hand through his hair, a tick they’d all begun to pick up from Seventeen, “He’s with us until further notice.”

Seventeen sat back in his chair, absorbing the information for a moment.

“Good,” he said simply, ignoring the look of confusion and surprise Wolffe sent his way.

“Sir?” Wolffe asked, and Seventeen shifted in his chair, keeping an ear out for Rex.

“He needs a batch,” Seventeen responded, “He’s too skinny and too short, probably from lack of nutrition, and his hair is going to make him stand out. He keeps going the way he’s going, his batch will kill him before the Kaminiise get the chance.”

“Oh,” Wolffe said, a little quieter this time.

“You boys got lucky,” Seventeen continued, still keeping an eye on the curtain, “You got each other. He doesn’t have that.”

“He’s stubborn,” Wolffe said after a moment, “He’s apparently been fighting Kote every step of the way. Doesn’t want anyone to think they have to take care of him.”

That was good. That showed spirit. If Rex had allowed himself to be cowed, to back away without a fight and shrink into the shadows, Seventeen would have had a lot more work to do. As it was…

“He won’t be around his batch if I recommend him for ARC training,” Seventeen suggested quietly, “Of course, he’d need some older vode helping him out, the way I did with you.”

Wolffe snorted, “Not sure you helped us out so much as put the fear of the Manda into us.”

Seventeen grinned down at him, “Got you moving, didn’t it?”

Wolffe rolled his eyes and settled back into his chair, now eyeing the curtain in an equally curious and concerned way, “Think he’ll make it? He’s a CT.”

Seventeen shrugged, “Don’t know. Didn’t know if you boys were going to make it either.”

Wolffe eyed him critically, “What do you mean you didn’t know?”

Seventeen chuckled, “You’re smart and strong, but it takes more than that to complete what you’re being put through. It’s only been six months, and you’ve yet to hit the worst of it.”

Wolffe groaned, “Why are you so cryptic?”

Seventeen looked back at him, a gleam in his eye, “Because it pisses you off.”

Wolffe opened his mouth to say something that probably would’ve earned him another hour in the gym, when the curtain swung back, revealing Rex looking even grumpier than earlier. His head had a few small bacta patches on it, and he promptly ignored the droid in favor of marching over to where Seventeen and Wolffe were sitting.

The droid ignored Rex’s obvious unhappiness and followed him over, this time addressing Seventeen.

“A-17,” it began, “I believe this CT-7567 has a serious defect that must be looked at. Chromosome number-”

“I’m aware,” Seventeen growled at the droid, “We’re all aware. Now fuck off.”

The droid paused for a moment, unsure what to do with itself.

“I must report this to Nala Se,” it finally concluded, and Seventeen just huffed in response.

After a beat of silence in which the droid scurried away, a small voice behind Seventeen spoke, “Is she going to decommission me?”

Seventeen almost laughed. Almost.

Instead he said, “Kid, she knew about your hair the second you left your tube. If you aren’t slated for it yet, you won’t be any time soon.” He turned to face his cadets, hiding his smile at the way Wolffe acted like he wasn’t just wrapping Rex up in a hug.

“C’mon,” he said, “let’s go get you boys some food.”

—

Today was the day.

His batch was going to take and pass the final test, and become honorary ARC troopers. Two years after they started on the shortened ARC modules, and they’d all become so much more than the Kaminiise ever believed they could be. He’d stood in front of all of them before they marched off for their tests and told them he was proud of every single one, no matter the outcome.

Rex sat with him, both quietly pretending they weren’t shitting their brains out with anxiety, and they waited.

Fox and Wolffe came out together, wearing twin grins, and Seventeen knew without asking. He wrapped them up, squeezing the life out of them and ignoring the groans of embarrassment. Kote came out thirty minutes later, having completed and passed his own exams and combat trials, followed by Bly soon after.

They all sat and waited for Ponds.

There was an air of anxiety coming from his cadets, and he knew why.

They were supposed to graduate together, to be the first full batch to make it across the finish line. They’d worked hard for this, studied and trained together for years. They knew the manuals inside and out and had personally tested themselves against every single ARC and trainer they could coax onto the sparring mats.

Ponds’ absence sent a shockwave through that steady confidence.

An hour later and they were still sat there, all uneasy, all rhythmically bouncing their knees in near unison.

An hour and a half later, the doors opened, and they all tensed, prepared for bad news.

What they were unprepared for, however, was a bloody, limping Ponds to walk through with the biggest grin any of them had seen on his face.

“What the fuck,” Wolffe was, of course, the first to speak. “What the fuck!” He repeated, louder and more worried.

This sent all of them into a frenzy, rushing toward their injured vod and checking him over, all shouting over one another and demanding to know what happened. Ponds just laughed at their concern, though Seventeen caught the slight wince at the movement.

After a few moments, he convinced them to quiet, and breathed deep, still grinning like a maniac.

“We passed,” he said after a slight pause, and the whole bunch erupted in cheers. They pulled themselves into a circle, Rex and Seventeen watching fondly from the outside, and congratulated each other, giving out hugs and keldabes left and right. Seventeen was fairly sure Wolffe and Fox hit each other a little too hard, and he smiled at the resulting stumble from the boys.

They were nearly seventeen standard years, which meant as soon as the war they were being bred for started, they’d all be shipped out without a moment’s hesitation. It was that thought that made Seventeen allow them to celebrate loudly, noisily, and unashamedly despite the attention it might have drawn.

Eventually, they calmed down, and Seventeen muscled his way to the center, planting himself in front of Ponds. They were too tall now for him to need to kneel and get on their level, but still short enough that he could loom adequately.

“Vod’ika,” he began lightly, settling a comforting hand on Ponds’ shoulder, “What happened?”

Ponds’ grin shrank slightly, but his answer was steady, “What do you mean? I passed!”

Seventeen allowed himself to smile at the no-longer-cadet’s enthusiasm, “I know, and I’m proud, but why are you hurt?”

“It was part of the test,” Ponds furrowed his brow in confusion, looking around at the others, “Didn’t all of you…” he trailed off, for the first time taking in the lack of injuries around him. Seventeen could see the moment realization dawned on his face, as well as feel the rising fury coming from the brothers behind him.

“No,” Seventeen said gently, shaking his head, “That wasn’t part of the test.”

“Oh.”

“Ori’vod-”

Seventeen cut whoever it was off with a short look behind him. They all looked equally scolded.

He hated this was happening during their moment of triumph, but he knew if he didn’t address it, no one would.

“Pond’ika,” Seventeen tried again, “What happened?”

Ponds stilled, his face becoming blank as he processed what was going on. Seventeen squeezed his shoulder a little tighter, becoming a grounding point until his vod’ika was ready.

“I was going into my counter-insurgency exam and Ward was in the ring. He said he and I would spar and that I had to be prepared for anything,” his voice and expression remained steady, even as Seventeen’s grew concerned, “He flipped out a knife at one point and…” Ponds looked down and gestured to his leg and torso.

“Why weren’t you wearing armor?” Kote asked from behind Seventeen.

“He told me to take it off,” Ponds replied simply.

Seventeen sucked in a breath. Ward was a grade A asshole, every ARC knew this. His ‘counter-insurgency’ fighting was just an excuse to fight dirty, to scar up troopers and taunt them for their lack of skill.

Skirata should have been in charge of this exam, not Ward. Skirata had always been the kindest of the Cuy’val Dar, and by the looks on the rest of the batcher’s faces, they were thinking the same thing.

��Okay,” Seventeen said simply, “Take off the armor and let’s take a look.”

Ponds shook his head, “Can we do this in the barracks?”

Seventeen nodded, and immediately Wolffe and Fox were at Ponds’ side, helping him take the weight off his injured leg. Rex gave a quieter congratulations to Kote, his obvious favoritism not quite overshadowing his worry as he constantly looked back to check up on Ponds. Bly fell into lockstep with Seventeen, and their little crew easily made their way to the barracks.

As soon as they got inside, Kote grabbed the medical kit and presented it to Seventeen, who began to set things out on the floor. He knelt in front of where Wolffe and Fox had sat Ponds on Wolffe’s bunk, but gave them enough space to help Ponds remove his armor.

Bly settled in next to Ponds when Fox vacated the spot to go lock the door, and sucked in a breath as Ponds unbuckled his thigh gauntlet. Blood rushed from the wound, which had previously been pressured by Ponds tightening the straps to keep the wound secure, but it wasn’t deep enough to hit bone, for which Seventeen was glad.

His torso was a little more complicated, the unnatural shift of skin telling Seventeen that one of his ribs was likely broken. If it had punctured a lung, they would’ve known by now, and he breathed a little easier with the knowledge.

“Kote,” he called quietly but firmly, “Comm Aven, tell him we’re gonna need some help.”

Ponds opened his mouth to protest, but snapped it shut when he received several glares from around the room.

“Can’t believe you passed with this,” Seventeen mumbled, “You should’ve tapped out when he flipped out the knife.”

“We were all supposed to pass,” came the answer Seventeen had already guessed.

“I know,” he sighed, “And this just proves how much you deserve it, but next time, you tap out, got it?”

There was no nod or sign that he agreed, which Seventeen had also expected. Ponds was just as stubborn as the rest of them, no matter how much he hated to admit it.

He heard Kote talking quietly in the background and got to work, Rex occasionally pushing certain supplies his way and Wolffe and Bly talking calmly to Ponds as Seventeen went about patching him up.

They didn’t want full batches to graduate ARC training, because then they could prove it was a waste of time and money. He’d known that the second he and a few others proposed the idea to Fett, the Kaminiise, and the Cuy’val Dar and nearly every single one of them had soured.

Well they could take their elitist dar’manda bullshit and shove it up their asses. His batch had passed, regardless of Ward’s best efforts, and shoved it in every single one of their ugly faces.

Ponds’ injuries had luckily not impacted the general mood after the initial shock, and soon they were all sharing details and comparing experiences in their different tests. They all laughed at Bly for forgetting to fill out the last digit of his number during one of the written tests, and Fox followed it up with how Wolffe was so nervous he forgot to load his blaster during the firing range exams. That was followed by a smack, which was followed with an insult, which was followed with Seventeen having to reach out and grab Wolffe before he made a move to tackle his brother.

Nearly nine years old and they still acted four.

Aven came in a few moments later, taking over the medical side of things for Seventeen, who took the opportunity to give the eldest a keldabe. Ponds smiled into the hold and relaxed a little further.

They were no longer cadets, not as of that afternoon, and Seventeen knew he would have to let them go soon.

Still, he sighed as Rex ganged up with Wolffe against Fox in their bickering, and turned around to scold his vod’ika.

—

In the years the war dragged on, Seventeen saw very little of his batchers. Rex and Kote, who was going by Cody in front of the natborns, visited when the war came to Kamino, and introduced him to vod’ika of their own. Wolffe called after what happened with Ventress, showing off his own scar from his encounter with the Sith acolyte. Bly commed often, asking mostly about business, but he’d once let slip something about him and his general. And Fox…Fox he never really saw.

But they’d all gathered, either on a call or in person, to say goodbye to Ponds.

Rex had sent him a message saying the batch had already had their night of grief, wallowing in each other’s arms. He was glad they’d taken the time for themselves, but even happier they still trusted him with this.

They’d all formed little batches within their battalions, as they should, but he’d never really been able to take care of another batch like he did with them. There were too many cadets on Kamino now to focus on them one group at a time.

So even if it was over a call, he was relieved to see their faces, and ached when they all looked to where Ponds usually stood during these video conferences.

It was quiet at first, and Seventeen took the opportunity to drink each of them in. They were all so much older, so much more exhausted, then he remembered them being. Fox and Wolffe in particular looked like hell, and though he knew it was a combination of grief and whatever osik they’d been handling recently, it didn’t look right on them.

Kote spoke first, telling Seventeen what happened and declaring Boba dar’manda with vitriol hidden behind his teeth. He and Rex were in person together, as were Bly and Wolffe, and Seventeen appreciated Rex putting a hand on his shoulder to ground his ori’vod. Bly went next, starting to tell a story about Ponds during a fairly recent fight that brought small grins to his brothers’ faces. Wolffe joined in, as did Rex, and soon they were all at least smiling.

The one vod that never spoke was Fox.

It puzzled Seventeen how quiet he was. Fox had always been the first to speak up, the first to step in, the first to very loudly give his opinion. But now he was silent. He looked almost like he was disassociating.

“Fox’ika?” Seventeen called, “You alright?”

Fox looked up once he noticed all the attention was on him and nodded quickly, “‘Course,” he assured them, his tone still sounding off, “Just…reminiscing I guess.”

There were a few murmured agreements from around the table, before the conversation turned back to Ponds. Seventeen caught Wolffe looking over worriedly a few times. He idly wondered how many of them made the effort to keep up with each other. He hoped all of them, but knew better than to assure himself of it.

The call went on for a long time, most everyone having a good cry at some point. Seventeen was the only one that left with dry eyes when it was said and done.

He sighed as their blue forms flickered out of existence, and looked across his desk. It was scattered with paperwork, test results, security reports, all the paperwork he’d been relegated to once his leg made it so he could never fight again.

He unlocked the lowest drawer in his desk and pulled out a bottle of moonshine Spur had snuck to him once Ponds’ death had been officially reported back to Kamino. He poured himself a drink and sat back in his chair, scrolling through old comms. There weren’t many with Ponds, just little questions his vod’ika had here and there, and a few scattered conversations about life in the thick of things.

They were clone troopers, which meant they didn’t get holos or recordings of kids running around just being kids. They didn’t get keepsakes or days that could be spent talking and catching up. He’d known he would have to let them go eventually, and that when he did, there would be nothing to tether them to him.

It still hurt.

Three glasses in, he picked up his comm again, and pulled up his conversations with Fox.

It had been nearly six months since they last talked.

A-17: I’m being sent to Coruscant soon for an escort

A-17: We should catch up

He waited a few minutes, then put his comm down. Fox was a Marshal Commander now, he’d respond when he could.

Until then, Seventeen was content to drink to the memory of both Ponds, and the boys his batchers used to be.

#commander cody #commander fox #commander wolffe #commander ponds #commander bly #alpha 17 #kamino #fanfic #my writing #ok so it's no specifically cody #but i figured it would fit for the occasion

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