#clone trooper detail

[kheimerios]

downtime

[misstoodles-doodles]

Safe & Sound 💙

I just really wanted someone to give Echo a blanket so why not let it be Rex

Closeups T-T:

Bonus Doodle:

[monkeyart]

Happy Star Wars Day ✨

Fox and Temple Guard/Sith apprentice Feemor and the others for @blackkatmagic 's fic I have lived with shades so long.

[lzlilo]

Few things are more comforting than a brother's hug.

[ghostymarni]

I have unfinished business with you-

[nereiix]

A space dad and his favorite son.

I took some liberties with their armors. I made a mix of the canon ARC armor and the official representations I could find for Ordo. And I did whatever I wanted with Kal, because I can't imagine he wears the exact same armor as Jango but in gold. Added his Bantha jacket too, because it's implied he wears it on his armor (in this scene in Triple Zero where Darman is on fire).

Rough sketch under the cut.

[mwolf0epsilon]

[Dual of the Fates, Bagpipes Edition, begins to play aggressively in the background]

Between wanting to teach his brothers that he is not just a stick in the mud that drains the fun out of everything, and also wanting to do things well within the standards of GAR regulations because he's not an idiot, Dogma did some research.

As it turns out, the bagpipes were actually instruments used during wartime as an incentive to battle, motivation for the troops, and intimidation of the enemy. It's also the perfect instrument to annoy the ever loving crap out of a very specific group of brothers who keep talking behind your back and teasing you.

As it stands, neither the Clone Army nor the Droid Army was prepared for Dogma's level of commitment to being (rightfully) petty.

— ☕️ Ko-fi | 🧡Commissions

[mylastmoleculeofserotonin]

Wait! How did I not realize this earlier: the first and last thing that Omega does in the show with the Batch is escape a prison using maintenance crawlspaces. Both prison breaks started with Omega using a crawlspace to get everyone out of the cell, ended with a stand-off/shoot-out featuring Omega and Crosshair and getting help from one of the facility’s top scientists. Also, I cannot believe that it was a coincidence that there was a storm on Wayland for their escape and that it wasn’t a deliberate callback to Kamino.

[somestorythoughts]

Protective Rage Obi-Wan Fic

So. @fanfic-obsessed has this cool Protective Rage Obi-Wan story idea that yall should check out because it's really good and they've got a ton of cool AU ideas. And I had an idea about an apology scene for it and then the plot bunny that makes you do things like overcomplicate worldbuilding said "you know you could do a whole fic" and now I have 4000 words. I was thinking of splitting it up into parts cause that's a long post but frankly I'm tired and should've been in bed like 90min ago cause I have work tomorrow and mornings suck so it's staying a one shot with the paragraphs spaces cause I am NOT reformatting that now. Enjoy.

            Usually, when Quinlan’s pushing himself to finish a mission through this much pain, he’s running on determination, maybe some spite. This time it’s desperation.

            He’s not sure if the shouting starts before or after he hits the door panel – or maybe it’s been going on the whole time – but he can see Obi-Wan through the spots in his eyes and that’s good, that’s good, he can’t finish this and maybe his friend can –

            “Quin!”

            It’s like leaning on stone, Obi-Wan’s mind wonderfully shielded under the worry in his voice and Quinlan holds up a datachip for the hands around his arms. “Coded. Please.”

            “I’ll take care of it. I promise.”

            He’s staring up at the ceiling now but that’s alright. Obi-Wan has the data. Quinlan can break now.*

Ahsoka isn’t panicking, but only because she’s had a lot of practice keeping her head and she’s not friends with Master Vos. She’s met him though, and knows Obi-Wan and he are close, and she’s scared for him.

            “That’s an order Marrow!” Obi-Wan snaps and the medic someone called hisses in frustration from where Ahsoka’s holding him back. She isn’t sure why Obi-Wan’s so adamant that no one get closer to them, but she knows it’s serious. For all Obi-Wan hates the medbay he’ll work with the medics, let them see him elsewhere, and he knows better than to keep serious injuries from them.

            “General his leg is gangrenous if he doesn’t get immediate treatment he could lose it! As the head medic-”

            “Quin has to be seen by a Temple healer anyone else will make it worse. I don’t like it anymore than you do Marrow.” He’s resting a hand on Master Vos’ head and is holding his hand with the other, trying to sooth his mumbling friend.

            “Can you explain why while we wait for Healer Eerin?” She asked.

            Obi-Wan frowns, the look he gets when he’s trying to figure out how to explain something Force-related in English. “Marrow. The troopers who have trouble with excessive sound. If they were injured would you treat them in a noisy medbay?”

            Marrow scowls, but he stops splitting his attention between Master Vos’ leg and how best to get around Ahsoka and says, “Of course not. Not if there was any way to avoid it.”

            “Quin’s psychometric. It’s a useful skill, but sometimes it’s like Force hypersensitivity.”

            Cody interrupts as Anakin enters. “Healer Eerin just arrived. She’s being escorted here.”

            “Any idea what happened?” Anakin says. He’s waiting by Ahsoka, whether because he already knows approaching is a bad idea or because he got the gist from the way the medics haven’t gotten closer is anyone’s guess.

            “Have to keep them safe.” Master Vos mutters and Obi-Wan’s face tightens, though his shields are still rock-solid.

            “Who Quin? Who do you need to keep safe?”

            But Master Vos never stopped talking, only just loud enough to be heard. He’s shivering too, voice breaking with groans. Whatever he was doing to walk on that leg – Ahsoka is very determinedly not looking at the swelling or the white that might be bone – he clearly can’t keep it up anymore. “Gotta keep them safe from the people and the senators and the Chancellor gotta do something useful with my unnatural powers what good are we if we can’t keep them safe apparently nothing I hoped I hoped I wasn’t gonna get my heart broken again I Obi they deserve better than this-”

            His words are cut off by the sound of the door opening as Healer Eerin and a Padawan healer sweep into the room in unfamiliar robes and go instantly to the downed Jedi. Marrow scowls heavy as thunder at not being able to treat a patient on his ship as they do, Healer Eerin passing something to Obi-Wan as she takes his place by Master Vos’ head. Obi-Wan squeezes his hand and stands, moving in line with the troopers around them so that he can slide the chip into the device and examine whatever Master Vos was so desperate to bring him.

            “Pop quiz Padawan Lele. Why do we use special gear for Master Vos?”

            Padawan Lele didn’t stop what they were doing as they replied: “Because his psychometry is super strong and the pain has seriously damaged his shields. Without the robes or equally strong shields he’ll feel too much of our minds and memories as well. This could delay his healing or damage his mind.”

            Marrow goes stiff and Ahsoka thinks that’s the first time she’s seen him look sheepish.

            For a few minutes, the room is a quiet tension, little sound aside from the Healers working or Master Vos’ delirious mumbling, fading in and out of hearing. Cody’s giving him the same worried look Ahsoka is, Master Vos sounds like his heart is as broken as his leg and she knows enough about how people work to think that the amount of self-deprecation she can hear isn’t a new thing.

            The rage, when it comes, is sudden as a lightning bolt and just as sharp. It’s gone just as quickly too – almost before Ahsoka and the other Padawan finish whipping around to stare at Obi-Wan who looks perfectly calm. Cody’s looking at him too, narrow-eyed in suspicion.

“Excuse me.” He says, still perfectly calm, and Ahsoka thinks of the weight of a sky prepared to burst and wonders if she should follow him, but the door is closed before she can decide.

“Been a while since I saw Obi-Wan get that angry.” Healer Eerin remarks.

“Huh?” Several of the troopers say. Anakin does too and the day has not been nearly overwhelming enough for Ahsoka not to role her eyes at how her oblivious master can lift a tank but not read anger when it’s shoved in his face.

“A little after Anakin first came to the Temple one of the teachers decided he was a poor fit for the Order and was trying to sabotage his work along with bullying him in class. Obi-Wan found out, asked Quin to watch Anakin for an evening, and went after the teacher. The man landed in the Halls of Healing with several broken bones and left as soon as he was cleared to move left for the furthest jedi outpost he could find. If he ever taught again I will be very surprised. Commander he’s safe to move but it would help if we had a clear path to the door.”

“You’re gonna catch flies Skyguy.” Ahsoka says faintly as Cody taps his comm to pass on the message. When he’s finished they all hear the trooper on the other end say, “By the way sir General Kenobi just left for Coruscant’s surface, said he had some business to attend to at the Senate.”

Cody nods, wearing the expression of concern and exasperation he gets whenever anyone he feels remotely responsible for does something dangerous without explaining why. “Check and see if there’s a way to find out what they’re doing.” He orders Crys as the Healers begin to maneuver Master Vos through the door.

“It’s one of the sessions journalists are reporting live sir.” Crys answers, pulling up the feed without needing to be asked, and they all group together to watch it.

*

Obi-Wan is, to put it bluntly, really fucking pissed. The anger in him pools like water, building and building, and he wills himself to keep calm control as he strides through the Senate building. If he gets too angry to think, things will go wrong.

Quinlan came to him because the things that had already gone wrong were even worse than any of them had been allowed to see, and he couldn’t fix it himself. He came to Obi-Wan for help putting things right.

Obi-Wan will be damned thrice over if he fails that mission.

He’s already sent the information on the datachip to the Council (though he doesn’t know when they’ll be able to see it), to all of the Commanders he has the contact information for (he’s not sure which of them made those particular lines of contact so secure but he trusts Cody’s view of them), and Madame Nu. They can’t afford to let this stay between the two of them, they need the backup. He knows the Council cares, is struggling as much as he is under the weight of the war, and the Commanders deserve to know and can keep their secrets. He includes Madame Nu because he doubts anyone would expect it, and the few interactions he’d seen between her and her single squad of troopers made him certain she adores them.

Plus, she studies Sith Temples. She’s gotta be more dangerous than she looks.

He walks into the rotunda where the Senate are debating the (very reasonable he’s read this one) Clone Rights bill, sees Palpatine, and allows his rage to fuel his leap for the podium.

“Tell me,” He says, cool as can be, as he smashes Palpatine’s face into the stand and kicks Amedda away when the asshole tries to interfere, “what the fuck the jedi did to you that you want our children murdered in their cribs?”

Order 66. Kill all the jedi. All of them.

“Who the fuck gave you the right to have an army bred and implant them all with control chips so that they couldn’t disobey, couldn’t be allowed to even think?”

Control chips that would wipe out the troopers’ minds, take away every thought and feeling and every piece of self that they’d fought to keep, chips that would turn the troopers his friends into the flesh droids senators liked to claim they were.

Palpatine snarled and shot off lightning. Obi-Wan deflected it and continued to ignore the screaming as he mused that perhaps Palpatine had decided there was no point in hiding when Obi-Wan was broadcasting these secrets to the Senate. Then he punched Palpatine below his sternum and then his ribs.

Ah, red lightsaber. There it is. He ducked and broke Palpatine’s arm.

“And while we’re at it, who the fuck allowed you to use those chips to control the Coruscant Guard and make them do your dirty work? Or withhold rations and bacta?”

It’s entirely possible he shouldn’t have included the information about the blackout missions and the extent of Palpatine’s control over the clones. That might have been the kind of thing they’d want to share themselves. Unless they couldn’t say anything?

“Even for the Sith you’re an exceptionally twisted shitstain.” He ducks the other lightsaber and wonders why this asshole had to learn to fight with two.

“You forced my family at blaster point to lead a war you orchestrate from both sides, forced our friends into slavery and now you want to take away everything our friends are when you use them to kill us and frankly Palpatine, I think the fuck not!”

The red lightsaber screams in his hand as he slices Palpatine’s head clean off.

*

Obi-Wan frowns as he takes in the scene. Huh, Amedda’s still here and oh that’s Master Windu and Master Yoda in the audience. He supposes some Jedi witnesses are a good idea. He grabs Amedda by the front of his robes and uses the Force to help him hold the heavy asshole over the edge of the podium with one hand, just to make sure he gets the point.

“Now you may have gathered that I’m very concerned about the clone troopers’ lack of rights. What about you?”

It turns out that Amedda is also very concerned about the clone troopers’ lack of rights. Good. “Full Republic citizenship and Senate representation that they elect instead of someone who make money off their bodies would be good too.” Obi-Wan adds, looking the Senator from Kamino dead in the eye. He’s pretty sure she’s calculating the distance between him and her pod when she nods.

If Obi-Wan had known all it would take to get his friends their rights was the public murder of one of his least favorite people, he’d have done that at the beginning of this thrice-damned war. The bill is passed very quickly and unanimously, and a couple Senators add a bit about backpay they’d had in the works as well and make some noise about allowing the clones to settle a moon or planet once they have the time to look the uninhabited ones over. That gets less enthusiasm but it’s not being shouted down and they can work with that, so Obi-Wan grins with all his teeth on display and says “I’m glad I only had to kill one politician today.”

The fear that ripples through the Force is unmistakable.

He puts Amedda down and heads to the Senate floor where the Coruscant Guard are waiting. Their shields aren’t bad but there’s awe shinning through them like sunshine in the dessert, bright and warm and painful with the twisting of old griefs and pains and shocked relief, and Obi-Wan says “I assume I’m going to be arrested?”

One of the men, who wears the rank of a Commander, takes of his helmet and asks, “Permission to speak freely sir?”

“Granted, forever and always.”

The man beams, and answers; “Then with all due respect sir, there is no way we’re going to arrest you.”

“Are you sure? I did just beat the Chancellor of the Republic to death.”

“Abso-fucking-lutely. Everyone on the Guard wants him dead within their first week here.”

“Thorn put your helmet back on, we’re not safe unless that law’s enforced.” Someone snaps and a different Commander approaches, leading Master Windu and Master Yoda. His shields are beskar-strong, but judging by his voice Obi-Wan would bet he’s glaring at Thorn.

“I’m feeling a bit spiteful.” Thorn grins and Fox gives that familiar huff that usually means the trooper in question is rolling their eyes underneath their helmet.

“Don’t look at us like that we’re not locking you up either.” Mace says dryly when Obi-Wan looks at him. “I will however, make sure your Padawan gets mindhealing sessions if I have to drag him there kicking and screaming myself. He’s overdue anyway.”

Obi-Wan winces but agrees. Quin hadn’t found solid proof of Palpatine grooming Anakin to be his Sith apprentice, but the information he had found made him suspicious. And once he read that, Obi-Wan can see a lot of things that support it.

Windu pulls him into a hug, startling Obi-Wan. The other Master doesn’t often want a lot of physical contact, and for him to initiate hugs is unusual. He sinks into it.

“Do you know how Quinlan is? Bant had to take him to the Halls.”

Windu shook his head. “I’ll ask.”

“To the Temple we will go after, inform everyone, and let you see your friend.” Yoda adds.

“Vos?”

Obi-Wan blinks at the stern commander. His shields are still thick but every single one of the other Guards are radiating concern and Obi-Wan wonders if Quinlan started this investigation because it was the Guard he wanted to protect.

“He found the information on Palpatine and brought it to me. He was seriously injured and delirious when I left him with the Healers.” The Commander twitches, just barely visible, and Obi-Wan asks, “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name?”

“Commander Fox.”

“Vos looked out for us.” Commander Thorn adds when it’s clear Fox isn’t going to continue. “He did his best to keep civilians off our backs, brought us bacta, snacks, and sweets when he could, tried to make us laugh. He’s our jedi even if it wasn’t official. But we haven’t seen him in weeks.”

Obi-Wan nods in understanding, then turns as Mace looks up.

“He’s in a coma. I can tell you more on the way, I trust the Guard but I don’t want to say this in the open.”

“I’m coming.” Commander Fox states and Commander Thorn nods.

“And perhaps a couple of the men. So we know how he’s doing?”

“I was going to ask one of you if you wanted to come. One would probably be best for now, I don’t know if the Healers are allowing visitors.”

“Just Fox then. I’ll watch out for our vode.” Thorn knocks his forehead gently against Fox’s, murmurs something none of them can hear, and leads the rest of the Guards away. The Jedi and single Commander push through the crowds and pile into a transport.

“Details Mace.”

It’s a sign of how serious it is that Mace doesn’t respond to the tone with a raised brow or eyeroll. “The gangrene is too serious; they have to amputate his leg at the knee. They aren’t sure how far he fell to break it that badly, but they know it’s been untreated for days. Best guess is he was running from someone and couldn’t find a place or the time to take care of it. He’s got some bruising and infected cuts on top of that which makes things worse, but they’re pretty sure they can deal with those. However. He’s not responding well to the healing. It’s not physical, it’s something mental. They aren’t sure what happened.”

Obi-Wan takes a deep breath and exhales shakily. Mace grips his shoulder till he stops quivering and asks slowly, “Do you have any idea what exactly happened the past few days?”

“He was almost completely out of it when he got to me.” Obi-Wan murmurs. “He, he said a lot of bad things about himself and a few things that reminded me about how some people talk about the Force. You know, when people call us or our skills unnatural. He wanted to protect someone, I’m not sure if it was the Jedi or the Coruscant Guard or someone else.”

The rest of the ride is quiet and tense.

*

Cody meets his general and general Windu at the hanger and finds himself, once again, relieved he’s wearing his armor. He’s not sure he’d survive his general finding out about the highly inappropriate reaction he had to the sight of his General beating up the Chancellor of the Republic on behalf of the troopers. His only consolation is the fact that he’s absolutely sure all the vode that aren’t asexual had the same reaction.

He is surprised to see Fox there, he hasn’t spoken to him in too long, and when he had Fox had been exhausted and tense. He’s been getting worried. He falls into step beside Fox as Obi-Wan updates him on the situation and waits till there’s no one near their group and murmurs, “You can take off the helmet if you want Fox. I promise they’re safe.”

Fox pauses, then yanks off his helmet almost violently. There’s more grey in his hair than there was last time, and a pair of scabbed-over cuts on his cheekbone. He looks like he was tired to the bone last week and hadn’t gotten any sleep this week.

“Fox-”

“Shut up.” Fox snaps, almost quiet enough to be missed by the generals, and Cody hesitates but thinks of Fox coming here to check on a severely injured jedi and decides to wait.

The Healer tells them that they can see Vos, but that they must be quiet and keep calm. The handful of Cody’s men that followed him wait so it’s Cody, Fox, Obi-Wan, and Windu that follow the healer into the room, Cody to offer moral support to his general as needed.

“Commander!” The healer yelps in alarm as Fox pushes past her, stripping off his glove and reach for the General’s limp hand, and Cody thinks of Obi-Wan using a rare order to keep Marrow at a distance and wonders what the hell Fox is thinking before Vos twitches, bare fingers curving towards where Fox has his fingers laid gently on his palm.

The healer scowled and examined the machines Vos was hooked up to. “The rest of you, no touching. Keep calm. You,” she pointed at Fox, who ignores her, heartbreak plain as day on his face “don’t move.”

Cody stays near the door, watching. Obi-Wan’s eyes have flicked towards Fox a couple times, but mostly he’s focused on General Vos. Windu is the opposite. The healer finishes examining the machines and holds her hand above Vos’ forehead, before making quiet excuses and leaving.

She comes back with Healer Eerin who preforms the same examination. “Anything wrong?” Obi-Wan asks.

“I don’t think so but I’m staying for the next 20 minutes to watch.”

It’s twenty minutes later that Healer Eerin kicks all of them out to eat except for Fox, who she brings a chair for. “I don’t know why, but your presence if helping him heal. I’m sure you have things to do but if it’s possible for you to stay a little-”

“I’m not leaving him.” Fow states, and Cody thinks of General Vos’s words on the bridge and heartbreak that hasn’t left his face and thinks oh.

They leave the door open when they go just for a bit, and Cody can tell Obi-Wan had the same idea as him because there’s concern and something that could become anger on his face. General Windu’s as inscrutable as always but Cody’s heard enough from Ponds to know the man takes threats to the jedi seriously. He shushes his troopers outside and waits.

“I’m sorry.”

It’s enough time that Cody had wondered if Fox was gonna stay silent and the shaking in his voice alarms him almost as much as the words. “I didn’t mean it I promise Quinlan. It was just a bad day and I snapped I’m sorry. You force-damned idiot it must have been days to find that and get so injured you know the Guard would’ve done anything they could for you even if I was being an asshole, you think Thorn didn’t smack me around the head when I told him? You’re our jedi Quinlan and we need you to wake up, I need you to wake up I can’t apologize properly if you’re sleeping, please, the Guard’s lost too many people please don’t let us loose our crazy jedi too.”

Fox is crying by the end of that, shaky sobs that scratch his throat, and Cody hits the panel to shut the door and turns to the two jedi.

“Well that answers that question.” Windo states. “I think the Commander will be there a while.”

“If it helps Quinlan heal I can’t speak against it.” Obi-Wan muttered. He slumps into a chair, exhausted. “It’s been a day. Who wants to eat?”

“I do.” Cody says. “And then I want to head to the barracks and make Thorn tell me what’s been going on with Fox, because I feel like I’m missing something important.”

*

Things get better after that, some slowly, some quickly. The Separatists decide it’s in their best interests to surrender to General Kenobi, and the war wraps up quickly with some planets staying separate and many arrests in the leadership (interestingly, a lot of crime groups that deal with jedi more than they would like to also decide to go clean after that footage. Who’d’ve thought?). The troopers learn about their new home with glee and throw themselves into learning how to be things other than soldiers with a mix of joy and apprehension. It takes time for the Coruscant Guard to be fully comfortable with their other brothers, but it’s something that the rest of the troopers work on furiously when they learn how hellish Coruscant had been for them. Anakin gets so much therapy (as do many other people) and the Jedi use time they have now that the war’s over to start distancing themselves a bit from the Senate, trying to ensure that they can’t be forced to lead an army again.

Fox is there when Quinlan wakes up, asleep and holding Quinlan’s hand and there are tears and apologies and promises. The Guard cheers when they get their general back because they love their crazy jedi as much as the other battalions. And the clones and jedi start to heal together.

[madds990]

Theres a phase one clone trooper helmet in the bar on Lothal !!

(Season 1, episode 8)

[cacodaemonia]

1st of all big fan, devoured RC!AU. It's fantastic

2nd of all, I could get lost in your sw resources tag that thing is awesome

3rd Do you have any references for Waxer and Boil's buckets? (Sorry in advance if you've already posted them, and thank u again for all the boxer content 💖)

Aw thanks! <3 I haven't written in the main RCAU for ages, but I'm still plugging away at the Open Skies sub-AU haha 😂

Ah I'm glad that's been helpful! I mostly tag for my own organizational purposes and I know there are some gems in there—especially from @gffa and @fox-trot! My 'sw refs' tag has a lot of overlap, but also includes a lot of image references for fanart or describing things in fics, so that one might be useful, too?

And yeah! I'm not sure if you want Phase I, Phase II, or their ARF helmets, haha, but I know I've got plenty of refs for all of those, so I'll toss them in here...

Boil:

Waxer (The second image shows the back of his Phase I helmet, which is hard to find shots of, in the background behind Boil being awkward 😂 So he had the little droid silhouette on his helmet back then, too):

And some shots of both of their helmets (Waxer is on the far right in the last image—you can see his tally marks):

Their ARF helmets seem to cause a lot of confusion, as I've even seen merch that doesn't show the little Numa painting on Waxer's helmet, and most people seem to mix up who is who in that Landing at Point Rain episode (probably because the writers seem to have done so, as well, since they gave Boil the more cheerful dialogue while having Waxer complain—but maybe he was just having a bad day! 🥺).

There's also the horizontal band of gold paint Boil has under his visor attachment to match the paint on his regular helmets, as well as a grey stripe along the top of the helmet that's lined up with the red triangle on his visor attachment. Waxer has his 'crest' stripe of gold paint, of course, and it continues under his visor attachment a little bit, too. Then he's got his tally marks and snoot triangle. :D

One thing that I only noticed recently is the very faded ship silhouette (or however you interpret the black design on his other helmets) on the left side of his ARF one. In the second-to-last image above, you can just barely see something on his left side, but the only way I knew it was more than just dirt was because I have a little figure with the shape painted on it. Which is also not very visible:

(Thankfully, I don't think I've actually done any images where you can see the left side of Boil's ARF helmet, so I shouldn't have to add that to any of them, haha. Hopefully I haven't mentioned anything about the lack of symbol in any of my fics, though... XD)

I'm still unclear what is going on with the paint on his and Waxer's spaulders in the ARF episode, because it's obviously faded/been scuffed in places, but sometimes, Waxer seems to have an unpainted right spaulder, and sometimes there's a stripe??? His little figurine is the opposite, though, with a striped right spaulder and an unpainted left one. Meanwhile, Boil's left spaulder looks like it could be all painted gold, like in the figure above, but other times, it seems to be a normal stripe??? Who even knows—I'm guessing that the texture for their models got messed up during the production of the episode, so they're inconsistent. Personally, I'm just sticking with 'matching stripes on both sides,' like the rest of their armor. 😂

Anyway, I hope that helps!

[lunarninja613]

Wait a minute! Does anyone remember how Crosshair’s hands were unsteady when he was temporarily escaping to warn his family in season two? I didn't see a lot of people talking about it, and I personally just chalked it up to him suffering from the affects of his torture and not being in good condition like Emerie said before she got stunned.

But what if, and stay with me here, that was actually foreshadowing his hand tremors in season three?!

[lzlilo]

There is no obstacle that cannot be overcome. And if you must jump, you must jump with style 🧡

[corellianhounds]

Aay’han

Chapter 1 - Remains to Be Seen

Media: Star Wars, set during in the era of the Clone Wars

Word Count: 4.6k

Rating: Gen.

Warnings: Topics include canon-typical violence/combat, death, blood and injury, organ transplants and similar medical topics, PTSD, survivor’s guilt, dehumanization of the clones and disrespect for the dead, very brief suicidal ideation.

Dividers: @/saradika-graphics

Summary: There are any number of reasons a man might change his name.

Inspiration came from these posts from @/fox-trot: Here, here, here, and here

There are any number of reasons a man might change his name.

During the war, those with the same face and the same armor who fought on the front lines often chose their own names, adopting different identifying markers for some measure of individuality in a sea of soldiers all crafted from the same man.

Captain Manukura was an adept pilot and commanding officer of 144 men, a man with dry humor and a quick turn of phrase who was consistently levelheaded and in control. His was a steady and reassuring presence in the face of calamity, even those not under his command instinctively looking to him for guidance in the most dire situations. He was a fine man, a natural leader, and the men in his company trusted and respected him, even when the calls he made were the difficult ones to accept. Though he did everything within his power to ensure as many of them made it back as possible, he also understood that he could not risk the lives of many for the lives of the few. That didn’t keep him from being the last one off the field, carrying or supporting whoever he could, and he held a somber reverence and respect for the dead, committing their names to memory and carrying their legacy through stories told of their lives.

There was a familiar parting farewell among many of the clones. The practice had traveled between battalions, a sort of hope for life after the war, but also a sense of honor, camaraderie, and acknowledgment towards their eventual deaths: Clasping one another’s forearms in farewell, one would say “Live free,” to which his brother would respond, “Die well.”

On the day of the incursion, Captain Manukura was at the front of the line when the Separatist ambush attacked. The skirmish lasted far longer than anybody anticipated, and it was only because of their proximity to medical personnel that they were able to save the ones they did.

Captain Manukura sustained heavy injuries in the field. The trooper who found him was fresh from the shuttles of Kamino and nearly vomited behind his mask at the sight of the captain, bloody and incapacitated. He would later recall that the captain had to have been in shock when he found him; Manu was somehow awake and lucid enough to tell the trooper he’d rather be killed with mercy by a fellow clone than by a Separatist, but the trooper refused to comply. There was a brief scrabble where Manu put up a surprising amount of resistance against CT-8956 as the young trooper tried to administer what analgesics the captain’s armor could still provide, and the trooper had to wrestle both blaster and (to his astute alarm) an invis market latheniol injector out of the captain’s remaining hand in quick succession to prevent him from greeting the void himself.

A medical droid had been dispatched as soon as the trooper pinged their location, and CT-8956 provided cover fire, seeing the captain’s transport back across the battlegrounds himself. The RMSU technicians set to work immediately, assessing the nerve and tissue damage to both the captain’s torso and what remained of his arm before determining that he was still fit and worth the trouble of surgery to receive transplants, and Captain Manukura was quickly stabilized and processed through the field’s operating tent, then medevac’d back towards the GAR’s planetary home base.

Manukura remembers floating somewhere in the indigo, star-filled space between life and death, surrounded by the lights of those who’d marched on before him. Two other troopers were there with him, though he didn’t recognize them. One it appeared had been part of the second battalion stationed on Engatuu, his armor demarcating him as a medic. The other was a gunner for one of the light utility speeders in the third company of Manu’s own regiment. Both of them had sad smiles, but they were warm in their regard of him, the gunner resting a hand on his shoulder.

“You’ve still got some fight left in you,” the gunner said. “I’m afraid you can’t follow us yet, little brother.”

“Take care of the rest of us out there,” the medic bid him solemnly, and Manu nodded. Of course he would.

“Until we meet again,” the gunner said. Manu desperately wanted to ask their names but couldn’t find his voice. “Remember us. We’ll have your back.”

As the ink-filled void bled away into black, the lights winking out around him, the two men he hadn’t known in life faced him in a bid goodbye.

“Live free,” the gunner told him, pulling Manu in to press his forehead to his own.

But when Manu turned to the medic, the medic took hold of his right forearm and instead followed the farewell with a modification to the customary parting line.

“Live well.”

When Manukura awoke it was to dim lights and Kamino-white walls. The stark smell of antiseptic told him he was in the infirmary before the hum and beep of machinery did, and he flexed the pins and needles from his toes. One of the longnecks appeared above him, greeting him in that infuriatingly impassive voice, asking him standard questions regarding his vitals. His right arm was leaden and it felt like there was a weight on his stomach; he answered mechanically, wondering back at what had happened.

In the two weeks that followed Manu recovered remarkably well. He was visited by a few others in his company who had also been medevac’d, expressing their relief and well-wishes, and as his progress with the brief amount of physical therapy he was given improved, he was met by one of the Kaminoan mentops and one of the very few clone medics cleared in psychiatry who asked after his mental faculties, assessing his capability upon returning to the field.

“Any dietary, mood, or sleep cycle changes?”

“None I’ve noticed.”

“How’s the nerve damage? Do you feel any disconnect between the integrated pieces?”

Manu fought back a grimace at the word ‘pieces,’ shaking his head. “Everything seems normal.”

“And the arm?”

The captain rolled his shoulder experimentally, unimpeded. “Right as rain.”

The engagements on Engatuu proved to be a series of bitter, gruelling victories over the Separatists in the following months. Nearly a third of the original clone force stationed on the planet had been decimated, and Manu’s insistence on powering through his recovery would have been met with pushback if it weren’t for the fact he’d physically improved more rapidly than anticipated and his skills on the ground were in high demand. The captain appeared as alert and capable as ever and was cleared for active duty once the medical leave came to an end; the organs that had been replaced either in part or in full showed no signs of rejection or taxation under stress, and his right arm proved to be a seamless incorporation with very little cybernetic involvement.

Captain Manukura of his own volition made extensive and excruciatingly delicate inquiries tracking down the identities of the two men he now carried as part of himself. The topic of “recycled” clone bodies was a sensitive one and wasn’t openly discussed between the clones— It was at best considered to be in extremely poor taste to go digging into the medical practices used to sustain the GAR. Manu had always been as tactful as he was sharp though, and his rank and file afforded him the chance to call in a few favors, get behind some closed doors, and ask the right people the right questions. Through some carefully cross-referenced medical data, some off-the-books access to chief medical officers’ logs, and more than a few “acquisitions and losses” reports, he was able to narrow down the platoons of the two donor clones and made covert plans to meet with those close to them.

Warren was in his fourth tour and was incredibly well-liked by those in his company; his lieutenant said there had only ever been positive words spoken of him in his time on and off the field. His skill manning the artillery for the light utility ground speeders was notable even among the rest of the gunners, and while on leave it wasn’t uncommon to find him tinkering with equipment and vehicles. When asked why he put so much effort into fixing things that could easily be taken care of by droids, he’d jokingly respond with “If they don’t find you handsome, they should at least find you handy!”

At the end of the day Warren was frequently the one center stage mixing drinks and singing raucous songs that had the room laughing until last call. Utility and entertainment, it seemed, were as woven into his bones as fighting was.

Talus, the medic, had been in the GAR nearly as long as Manu had. He was described as having a commanding authority and no-nonsense personality, but he also had the most steadying presence and calming bedside manner his patients had ever seen. When his unit lost half their men his first mission off Kamino, Talus had taken charge as interim commanding officer, keeping the remaining men’s heads on straight, and was after that cross-trained as a ranger, gaining valuable skills in tracking and recovery. More than one of his fellow soldiers and superiors noted that they would have liked to see him as a commissioned officer, but Talus declined the promotions and negotiated against reassignments the entire time he’d served as a soldier, insisting that he was best suited for battlefield triage and casualty care.

Manu took in everything and thanked the soldiers for their time and willingness to indulge his questions.

Captain Manukura continued to serve active duty. He wasn’t one to remain idle and the men of his cadre needed him. He slotted back in place among them, spearheading ground operations for the most dangerous missions, fighting more fiercely than before with a vicious precision aimed at every Separatist battle droid and encampment. It became steadily apparent that Captain Manu’s strategy, perseverance, and fighting style was geared towards hitting first and hitting fast in an effort to see as many of his soldiers returned to him alive, and his dedication yielded visible results: more of Manu’s company survived to fight another day than any of the other captains’, and his men’s already-steadfast loyalty to him was stoked into aggressive hope and determination. Seasoned men and new additions alike grew tight-knit, working together as one unit, and their collective vigor and solidarity carried them, alive, through the battles that followed. Engatuu’s eventual surrender was a pyrrhic victory for the GAR, but it was a victory.

And the war carried on.

The captain didn’t speak much about his near-death experience. He had no arrogant sense of prideful heroism, flaunting his scars as a badge of honor, and it was only in glimpses that other soldiers saw the grafts covering a significant portion of his torso— They weren’t inclined to speculate as they normally did about fellow soldiers’ battle scars, rightly assuming that if Manu hadn’t addressed them in boast, he didn’t want them addressed in rumor. He was neither a self-conscious or vain man and he didn’t shy away from genuine questions they might have had regarding his injuries— they knew there was always the possibility something similar could happen to them and Manu had never believed that ignorance was bliss— but he rarely volunteered the information, unless to make the occasional macabre joke at his own expense. In addition to his blunt, clinical honesty was the subsequent gratitude he showed for all the brothers who had gone on before them. Talus and Warren were spoken highly of, their names gaining their own respect and mythos in stories passed between the ranks.

There were nights around the fire, though, when the stories the captain told of ghosts walking between them felt more like they came from first-hand experience than imagination.

Though it’s not often, Manu can just barely sense them sitting beside the fire or resting a hand on the shoulder of another weary soldier, or standing behind him and bolstering his resolve while running point. He feels a pull at his arm or jolt in his stomach when recklessness starts to run roughshod over his decisions, and as it brings him back to center he’s able to broaden his scope beyond impulsively jumping headlong into the fray. More than once he’s moved out of harm’s way without will or reason why, and sometimes he’ll stop in the middle of marching, sensing something none of the other men can feel before giving new orders that prove to be of vital benefit when all is said and done.

The only time Manu ever beat somebody within an inch of their life was on leave: someone overheard part of his story and had spat derisively, calling him minced meat.

The fight had to be recounted to him by others in the aftermath. In the moment, he’d felt nothing; the fugue state that took over blocked out his memory and emotions until he came to, streaked with blood and aching from adrenaline and exertion as his brothers finally wrested him off the bloodied civilian. The men hastily worked to minimize collateral damage as the Coruscant Guard was called in, but a crowd of bystanders had already gathered as they held the dazed captain back. They quickly crafted a scenario they hoped was believable enough to convince those present in the aftermath that it was a needlessly provoked fight both men were active participants in; it was the first time Manu realized his men were not only willing to follow his orders, but that they were prepared to go far beyond that just to protect him.

The trooper who’d done most of the talking hadn’t actually been there for the initial attack— He’d been drawn by the sound of shouting down one of the alleyways and came running when he recognized the voices. CT-8956’s assessment and informed mediation was the only thing to break Captain Manukura from his single-minded focus, and his remarkably quick thinking gave those present enough of a story to somehow convince the Guard the issue was not as severe as it appeared to be, in the hopes that Manukura would be granted leniency.

Standard disciplinary action would follow Manu’s evaluation, regardless: he was set to be shipped off to Kamino shortly after his detainment. Before he left, however, he managed to find the trooper who’d covered for him in the wake of the fight.

“Hey, shiny.”

The young trooper turned, glancing away from his datapad and around the hangar. A clone captain in white and maroon armor approached from the bay doors, escorted by two shocktroopers not far behind.

“Sir?”

“Are you the one responsible for intervening in the altercation caused by a clone officer against a Coruscanti civilian?”

The trooper went very still, his complexion paling even as his expression fought to remain neutral. “There was no clear instigator in the fight between the captain and the civilian,” he said diplomatically. “I believe the captain involved is facing a court-martial following his evaluation—”

“That’s not what I asked. I asked if you were the one who put a stop to the fight.”

“… Aye, sir. That was me.”

Manukura removed his helmet and tucked it under his left arm, extending his right to the trooper. The trooper gaped, recognizing Manu despite the recent haircut and shave returning him to regulation standard.

“What’s your name?”

“CT-8956, sir,” the trooper said, much more confused as he shook the captain’s hand.

“No, kid,” Manukura said. “What’s your name?”

“… It’s Benni, sir.”

“Thank you, Benni,” the captain said. “I’m… sorry that all your efforts have to show for their involvement is this.”

The assessment to determine whether or not Captain Manukura’s actions would be a one-time offense was conducted by the same Kaminoan and clone mentop duo who had assessed him post-op. It was only because of Manu’s recent military accomplishments and the clone medic’s initiative that Manukura hadn’t been subject to the involuntary reset immediately: the medic cited an interest in analyzing the captain’s behavior, wanting to see if it could be corrected less invasively first, if only because every reset came at a loss of a trooper’s experience tied to his memories, and Manukura had been a valuable asset prior to this one, outlying infraction on his record.

That’s what the medic told the Kaminoans, anyway.

They sat across from one another, silent in the observation room. Captain Manukura felt nothing and had refused to speak.

The clone, a man by the name of Caius, suggested that the captain might be more cooperative if it were just the two of them for a time. The Kaminoan was clearly opposed to the idea, but notated the request in the medical file before adjourning to the adjacent room. Manu wasn’t under the impression the mirror making up the entirety of the left wall was there for decorative purposes.

Manu watched Caius impassively, apparently unbothered by the tenuous position he was in. Caius wasn’t as out of touch with the soldiers serving on the ground as one might’ve thought, though— He was familiar with the resistance many of the older ones had towards being evaluated like the lab rats they were. He had a vested interest in seeing his brothers genuinely cared for, and he’d spent long enough navigating the Kaminoans’ regard of them to know what to say to keep the longnecks from picking up on what went unspoken between himself and his patients.

Caius sighed, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees as he spoke. “Manu— If they suspect you don’t have control over your emotional responses, we both know how it’ll end.”

“I have nothing to report,” Manu said quietly. “Recon me or don’t. Seems a shame to waste that much investment though.”

The medic resisted the urge to snort. He knew what the captain was doing.

“There are worse ends,” Caius said.

He lowered his voice. “If you’re only here out of obligation despite your recklessness or a lack of will to live, that’s your prerogative.”

“Thank you.”

“However,” Caius said. “Before you leave, I’d like to know what you think your brothers would say.”

Talus’s words echoed at the back of Manu’s mind, and his jaw worked in agitation.

The observation room was quiet for a long moment. Manukura remained rigid in his chair, otherwise unwavering.

“… I reacted poorly to the Republic civilian insulting the sacrifice so many of our soldiers have made, including the sacrifices they have no choice in making after their deaths,” he said finally, clinical despite the accusations in his words. “I apologize for my actions and accept whatever the consequences may be.”

Caius wasn’t happy with the deflection. He was doing everything he could to balance the tightrope walk between the Kaminoans’ assessment and Manu facing a mind-wipe or termination, but if Manu was capable of diplomacy and Caius could convince him to put in the work, he’d do everything in his power and then some to get the captain truly back on his feet.

“Play opossum for a bit,” Caius said quietly, switching to Mando’a. Manu’s eyes narrowed in suspicion; Caius estimated they had about twenty seconds before one of the Kaminoans interfered. He continued, keeping his tone light and inquisitive despite the fervent message he hoped would come across. “Convince them that you’re not a threat to others. Follow their instructions exactly as they’re given and don’t deviate from your duties. Keep your head down—” (and here Manu’s lip curled in disgust before he heard Caius power through) “— and you’ll be able to protect more of our men once they’re satisfied they can put you back in the field and trust you around civilians. Stop risking the life returned to you and find another way to honor the men who are gone, at least until they’ve cleared you again.”

“I know how to run the maze.”

“Good. Prove it.”

The Kaminoan mentop reappeared with obvious disapproval, but Caius switched back to his regular clinician’s persona before they could affirmatively detect that anything was amiss.

“You’ll have to go through the post-op program again,” he warned.

“Affirmative.”

“I might have some folks who can help, though.”

The group is much smaller than anticipated, and the infrequent meetings and occasional change of location help keep it from feeling obligatory. There’s about seven of them, give or take, depending on the day. Manukura does his best not to take his frustrations out on them. He’s candid about his emotional state in a detached sort of way, and it’s here he reveals that he actually had been experiencing some changes due to the transplants, despite what he’d told the Kaminoans. He now preferred black caf, and he was still working on evening out the callouses on the right palm. The medic’s hand seemed kinder than his own.

Despite the camaraderie he finds with the other clones, he keeps the near-death vision and the echoes of the fallen to himself.

As the days and meetings pass Manukura is evaluated up close and from afar by the Kaminoans. He knows they think they’re being subtle, but his insight and acuity on the battlefield has extended to a vigilance at camp, on base, and on leave. His awareness of his surroundings is constant— being able to tell when he was being watched was almost child’s play at this point.

Though his bonds with those in his company have grown stronger, the general barracks are a nightmare to navigate when he finds himself responding to every sound or disturbance. The battlefield was almost preferable because at least there he was assured that his paranoia was warranted. Sleeping in the outer rooms of the facilities on Kamino with the unending white noise of rain was worse than the barracks because then he couldn’t hear anything that might cause alarm, and that concerned him more.

Battlegrounds where he’s provided constant work give him focus. Though he’s been able to return to his leadership position with aplomb, he almost feels itchy and restless, wanting to do more— Piloting either on the ground or in the air feels too far removed from his men, and at the next meeting he’s able to make with the other transplant recipients, they’re the ones to suggest he put in for a transfer to search and rescue or battlefield triage. Manu mulls the idea over, thoughtful.

During a few of his stints on leave, he follows up with Caius’s instructions and schedules several meetings with one of his lieutenants; Markem was a strict and somewhat severe officer who often had to be reminded that field operations required flexibility as circumstances changed around them, but his fastidious nature made him a punctual man with a good work ethic and steady hand; there was a reason the men tolerated him with minimal grumbling and why Manukura didn’t overly criticize his fussiness. His precision in everything made him the ideal choice for Manu’s request.

“Are you hydrated? Did you bring something to keep you occupied?”

“Yes.”

“The front will take four sessions,” Markem said, outlining his sketches. “It’s best not to do all of it at once because it’s going to hurt to carry your full kit regardless of how long you have to recover. If you do the whole back you won’t be able to carry anything without—”

“I was blown to pieces, Markem. This will be fine.”

The lieutenant coughed, awkwardly clearing his throat. “Right. Okay. Uh, of the three, which do you want to start with?”

“The arm.”

“And you’re sure of the placement?”

“Positive.”

At his final evaluation with Caius, the captain answers the assessment questions succinctly and completely. Caius has his suspicions that Manukura hasn’t told him everything, but he doubts he could force anything more out of the captain without resorting to use of a Mairan bor, and he wouldn’t want the information under those circumstances anyway. What was most important was that Manu appeared to be more even-keeled and adjusted, and Caius made it clear to the captain that if he needed anything at all in the future, he need only ask.

The captain nods, thanking him, and Caius shows him to the door, where the captain casually mentions, “I’ve also decided to change my name.”

“Oh?” Caius asked. “What did you have in mind?”

“Stitches.”

From the Files of Nala Se, Chief Medical Scientist

> Altered Behavioral Patterns Post-Operation and Recovery Re: CT-5947

— Upon initial recovery, CT-5947 refused further treatment of field-surgery skin grafts which has resulted in cosmetic defections. This appears to minimally impede movement but does not appear to affect overall functionality: when asked to demonstrate various exercises the subject is capable of completing them without issue or complaint.

— CT-5947 has exhibited what we are told is called “gallows humor” among the regiments. Though concerning, his behavior has not been reported to especially discomfit the rest of the units, civilians, or people of authority he has come in contact with. If and when it occurs, it is usually within groups he is familiar with and is done with a controlled turn of phrase, suggesting he means for the joke to come at his own expense with the objective of humoring others. Reports from those who knew CT-5947 prior to his injuries indicate that his behavior is not so far off from his prior personality as to cause concern. Observation recommended, low priority.

— CT-5947 appears to favor his left hand in both active battles and simulations. He has not reported diminished faculty in what was formerly his dominant hand, prior to the Battle of Engatuu, nor have his reflexes or abilities diminished in performance or functionality. When asked to perform various tasks in a controlled environment CT-5947 is perfectly capable of executing the tasks with both his left and right hands. His commanding officers have not reported a deficit in performance. The favoring of his non-dominant hand opposed to the donor limb has been deemed a non-issue.

— It has been well-documented that clone units will sometimes express mild individuality in the form of surface-level changes to their appearance or adornment of their armor. CT-5947 has since acquired tattoos at the surgical sites of his transplants: the image of antiquated stitching appears in a band surrounding his upper right bicep as well as on sections of his torso and abdomen where the grafts have been integrated. It is unclear how he was able to determine the seam of integration on his right arm, as the attachment of the donor limb was done in a more controlled environment than that of his organ transplants, and both the subcutaneous and surface level nano-mesh allowed for complete and perfect transfer and integration of tissue. The donor units were both clones of exact likeness and construction, and there is nothing to indicate a distinguishing separation of anatomy.

Aforementioned embellishments have not resulted in negatively altered behavior and have been deemed a non-issue.

— It has been reported that CT-5947 has immersed himself in the study of various medical topics while on leave, off-duty, and during transportation. He has also assumed the duties of search and rescue personnel after individual battles. Behavior does not supersede designation or duties. Unit does not appear to be operating under diminished quality of performance. Maintained observation recommended; if the clone’s performance can be sustained without impediment, no further actions are required.

— Commanding officers report that CT-5947 has filed for an MOS transition to service in the medical division.

— Request was denied.

A/N

Aay’han: Mando’a. Meaning: Bittersweet remembrance and celebration, the mourning and joy after the death of a family member

All original characters. Engatuu is an original planet.

The cross-posted version of this story has links to some of the inspiration behind it.

“Live free,” // “Die well.” comes from The Scorpion King

There are a lot of themes I ended up identifying/wanting to incorporate as I was writing and it was difficult to edit this down to a one-shot, so it’s likely I’ll write more with these characters in the future. Lots to dig into here.

Next chapter >

[nereiix]

Spar, from chapter 30 of Restless. In this scene, he is what I'd call “un gros lourd” in French, but I've read someone who gave an English equivalent as “an annoying pest”, and I think it fits ah ah. I love this chapter.

I know it will sound like a poor excuse, but I bought myself a very good book on anatomy a few months ago, and I though this scene in the fic would be perfect to practice. I was a little worried about the angle at which I could draw this without giving the impression that it's meant to be explicit. Eventually I found a reference photo which I think looked good and started from here.

I probably made several anatomical mistakes, but I did my best. 🥲

[mwolf0epsilon]

Umbara Arc - Some thoughts on what happens after the friendly fire accident

There's a lot that can be said about the actual battle between the 501st and 212th. The sheer brutality of the fight, the amount of casualties and injuries, Rex's absolute panic but also quick thinking once he realized what was happening, and then everyone stopping to process what the entire attack actually was: A trap.

But I'd like to mostly focus on the affects the post-battle and Waxer's death have on Dogma, as well as some other interesting details I noticed while looking through some clips.

I'll keep this under a read more because it's definitely gonna be long and I DO have quite a few screenshots to go through.

---

Right after the battle we get a brief glimpse of a group of clones from both battalions that are trying to help the injured, as well as a close up of Tup's reaction to this whole ordeal. He's shocked and clearly upset by how things turned out (this is after all his first campaign and he very likely never imagined this sort of thing might happen out in the field, and I even doubt they even trained troopers for a potential friendly fire incident back on Kamino), but what I find interesting is that he turns to look towards Dogma of all people when speaking up (and I think it's Dogma he's looking at rather than Rex, because when he turns to talk Rex is crouched down looking over something or perhaps someone), as if maybe looking for an answer that his fellow rookie definitely doesn't have.

Dogma in turn seems completely unsure of what's going on and turns to Rex who is now paying attention to him, asking why a group of clones would attack them while clearly having trouble processing what exactly transpired. I have no idea how long Dogma's been a sergeant for, but this event rattles him to his core so I don't think he's actually been in all that many grueling fights (granted that every single battle on Umbara has been arduous but not to this extent).

Before Rex can answer however, Kix approaches and informs him that Waxer was found and that he's not only in charge of the platoon they encountered but also that he's still alive.

Hoping maybe he has the answers as to why the 212th attacked the 501st, Rex opts to seek him out rather than answer Dogma's question (either because he doesn't know what to say to him, or because he'd rather not throw speculation at Dogma that might not be well received). Maybe hoping to get answers of his own, Dogma follows Rex and Kix to see Waxer rather than stay behind with Tup to further process things.

When Waxer explains that Krell gave the order to attack its obvious that Rex doesn't need much convincing, due to all the prior negative experiences under Krell's very brief command. Dogma and Kix don't contest this either and exchange silent looks, which is actually pretty interesting if you think about it...

See, Dogma has been following Krell's orders without argument and was even in charge of Fives and Jesse's failed execution (which is odd considering Dogma is a sergeant and so it should have fallen on his CO to man the execution instead). But when confronted with this situation and then being told his general is responsible, he doesn't actually argue that this might have been a misunderstanding. In fact, if you look back on the botched firing squad, Dogma has complied with Krell's demands but never fought the others too much whenever they went against orders.

He could have easily just drawn his own blaster and taken care of the executions himself, or even denied Waxer's words because obviously a Jedi would NOT do this and maybe the battle was an honest mistake on their part. But Dogma doesn't do either of those things. What he does do is close his eyes once Waxer passes away.

I double checked when I was watching this scene, and it's not just him blinking for a brief moment. Dogma watches Waxer's form slump and proceeds to close his eyes and shake his head for a moment, before opening them again with a neutral expression.

The more I think about it, the more I think that there's two things going on with this scene in particular that strike me as important to Dogma's character development:

Dogma is being confronted with the reality that a Jedi has done something to actively sabotage two battalions, and that said Jedi's disruption ended with disastrous consequences (and not just the amount of injured and dead clones resulting from the ordeal, but also the death of one of the 212th's best troopers).

In seeing this take place he doesn't argue that this is genuinely Krell's fault, and even mourns Waxer because this was very much a death that should have never happened. That said he is still bound by honor and duty.

Which brings us to the next couple of scenes...

There's a lot to be said about Dogma's clear hesitation here.

Rex explains to both the 501st and 212th that going after Krell is definitely a treasonous act (even if Krell's own actions are also indication that he's committing treason against the Republic) and that he understands perfectly if some of them would rather opt out than follow along with the rest of them. He's giving both his and Cody's men an out in case this ends poorly for them (because that is a possibility that every single one of them is more than aware of).

At first Dogma is willing to follow Rex and the rest of his brothers, only to falter on their way to confronting Krell. Where once he'd likely be at the front of the line, ready for the next battle, he instead lags behind noticeable. And he also removes his helmet, which sets him apart from the others who are kitted up and unwilling to back down from this.

The thing is, when Dogma removes his helmet he looks like he's not quite decided what he should do. He's standing there watching the others march on, mulling over whether or not he should continue to follow or if he should remain strong in his convictions and fall back on his training. And then that brief flicker of uncertainty falls away as he quickly makes up his mind and sets his jaw. Deciding to continue to do his duty rather than following along with a plan that he knows will very likely backfire and end with mass court-martials or worse (Dogma clearly trusts his training more than he trusts sudden unpredictable situations, and I can't fault him for being uncomfortable and conflicted on where to stand in this clash).

I've already done a post on Dogma being apprehended so I won't go into that again. But I still find it pretty curious that this entire campaign is set up as a moral dilemma for Rex, where two troopers stand as his proverbial shoulder angel and devil (with Dogma initially representing the angel and Fives the devil, only for those roles to then be reversed when it becomes clear that Krell is the villain of this story), only for Rex to initially take on a more passive role.

The true stars of the majority of the Umbara arc are Fives (who more than proves his worth as a free-thinking man who is loyal to his brothers rather than a blind follower to authority figures) and Dogma (who was meant to represent everything a clone trooper is expected to be, and who is forced to come to terms with the fact that things are not as black and white as he was taught to believe).

But more on Dogma later.

Can we all just agree that Tup is the absolute MVP of this story arc just from how quickly he goes from being an impressionable newbie, to actively using things he learned on his own throughout the campaign to his advantage when it came time to hunt down and apprehend Krell?

Tup learned very quickly about how much the Vixus were a threat, and kept his eyes on the ground whenever they were out in the field because he discovered just a slight brush against one of their tendrils could lead to sudden death. Something that he even showed to Dogma who was oblivious to this particular danger.

While chasing Krell, Tup notices a Vixus's tendril and hatches a quick little plan. Knowing Krell will not hesitate to attack a vulnerable clone, he tip toes his way over the tendrils and then calls attention to himself. And Krell easily takes the bait because he's paying more attention to "putting the clones in their place" than the environment around him.

It's through Tup's quick learning and ingenuity that Krell is caught at all, and I honestly think his mini character development arc is also pretty neat, even if it's not really focused on for the majority of the story (Tup's story arc is much more subtle than Fives's, Dogma's and Rex's, but it should honestly be just as praised!).

Tup also comes to the fast conclusion that Krell cannot remain alive if they hope to take Umbara. A sentiment that Rex agrees with, even if it's against everything he believes in.

For Dogma this is not as easy a conclusion to get to, but it's one he reaches anyway at a great personal cost.

Krell laughs in Dogma's face, mocking him for being loyal to the point of willingly blinding himself to the harsh reality of living and dying for a system that simply couldn't care less about clones (no matter how good a soldier they are), and Krell even relishes in the fact he's shattered this clone's trust as if it were nothing more than a game for him. As if Dogma was just a silly little toy to be played with and then tossed when broken.

It's the straw that breaks the spamel's back.

The rest is history. Dogma proceeds to look back on all his mistakes while Krell taunts Rex, notices Rex's internal conflict and hesitation, and then decides to spare the captain the trouble of facing punishment (mostly likely execution) for trying to be a good person rather than just a good soldier. He also finesses a blaster out of an ARC trooper's holster while handcuffed, which is honestly impressive.

Dogma takes the fall and takes Krell with him. And I think that's both tragic and kind of poetic in a way...