#clone trooper starcatcher

[shagpaboloutpost]

Some First Meetings

Widow and Wraith

"And this is Widow," Quaver said. "Everything I know about the base, they have opinions on."

Wraith looked at Widow. Widow raised an eyebrow as they looked him up and down. Wraith pretended not to see the way Quaver's lips were twitching.

"Wanna know what I think of you?" Widow asked finally.

"I'll wait until we know each other better," Wraith said. "I think right now I can guess pretty easily."

Quaver laughed and clapped Wraith on the back.

"They'll like you eventually," he said. "Probably after you've gone back to Coruscant, but it'll happen."

"Don't put words in my mouth, sir," Widow said with a smug smile.

Ty and Starcatcher

Ty hated personnel changes. It was hard enough getting everyone to get along when they'd known each other for months. Having to help a shiny adapt to Shag Pabol's eccentricities was never fun.

She'd wanted to reach out to one of her brothers in the 212th, see if they'd ever met the kid who'd been assigned to her, but neither one answered. So she knew only what the file could tell her about this new trooper: their number (5/358), how long they'd been deployed (just over two months), and any notable actions on the battlefield (none). It couldn't even tell her why this particular shiny was being reassigned so soon after deployment. She just hoped it wasn't anything too serious.

(Who was she kidding? She only got the problem troopers.)

But to her surprise, the kid that stepped off the transport seemed like a typical wide-eyed shiny. With a mullet they'd dyed dark blue and a friendly expression, they perked up at the sight of Ty.

"Starcatcher, sir, reporting for duty," the kid said cheerfully.

Ty smiled in spite of herself.

"I don't do sirs, Starcatcher. Come on. I'll give you a tour."

Starcatcher lingered for a second, glancing back at the ship that had dropped them off.

"Problem?"

"Sorry, uh - sergeant. I just... Like ships," Starcatcher said awkwardly.

Ty pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. There was the quirk she'd been waiting for. Given what she had to deal with from her other troopers, a fascination with flight would be easy.

Tibanna and Festival

"You're the new ordnance trooper! Come with me."

Tibanna didn't have time to say anything before the clone with the rainbow hair was pulling him down the hall.

"What is going on?" he asked, trying to pull free of their grip.

"I have fireworks," they said. "I need your help."

"No! Absolutely not!" Tibanna finally twisted free and stopped moving, glaring at the other clone. "You're going to get yourself killed."

"Not if I have an expert to help me," the other clone said patiently. "You ever seen a firework?"

"I've seen bombs," Tibanna said wryly. "I think anybody who thinks making them look pretty justifies having them is an idiot."

"You are not like I expected," they said, frowning at Tibanna. "Fine. For now. But the next time there's a holiday I expect you to at least show me how to set them off."

That was never going to happen. Tibanna forced a feeble smile and said nothing.

"Anyway, I'm Festival," the other clone said suddenly, like they just realized they'd never introduced themselves. "Welcome to the Shag Pabol Outpost."

"Tibanna," he said warily. He'd have to keep a close eye on Festival.

[shagpaboloutpost]

Squad Meeting

"Any other orders of business?" Tyrant never asked the question because she wanted an answer. Somehow, they still managed to answer her every time, anyway.

"Is it true about Quaver? That clone from Intelligence replaced him?" Turquoise called.

Ty had known this was coming. She groaned internally anyway.

"Yes," she said. "Sergeant Wraith is leading the other squad now."

"I heard him call it the Todd Squad," Turquoise said. "Should we have a name?"

"We already -"

"Why would they name it that?" Teal asked.

"Todd's on the squad," Magenta muttered.

"Yeah, but Todd's the most boring man in the world. Last time I saw him, he wanted to talk about traffic!"

Turquoise cut back in loudly.

"I think if they get a squad name, we should get a squad name."

"You said that already," said Starcatcher.

"Well. I'm inviting a brainstorm!"

"I'm not," Tyrant said firmly. Even Turquoise went quiet.

[shagpaboloutpost]

Starcatcher and Cori kind of hate each other, though Starcatcher tries very hard not to. Starcatcher's questions upset Cori, who's intensely private and feels like his younger brother is prying into everything. Cori lashes out every time, meaning Starcatcher thinks Cori's a complete ass

(most of the others don't think Starcatcher is wrong)

Starcatcher also believes that Cori is nicer to everyone else than he is to Starcatcher, which is something most of the others would disagree with. It's not entirely incorrect - Starcatcher is more persistent about his questions which means Cori is more upset when he has to shut Starcatcher down. This dynamic hasn't stopped Starcatcher from prying, or even attempting friendship on some level. Each question is an increasingly frustrated overture, though as time wears on Starcatcher pries more and more at topics he knows Cori hates anyone talking about

[shagpaboloutpost]

"I'm going to kill her next time we swap," Squall announced solemnly when fae got off the call with Hardy and Inferno. Tyrant stared at her datapad, wondering if she needed to engage.

It didn't matter. Starcatcher was there, so of course he asked.

"What happened?" He leaned over Squall's shoulder. Squall shoved him back with more force than was necessary, and Ty jerked her head up to glare at faer. Fae saw her move and slowly pulled faer hands back, watching Ty like a wary animal. She raised an eyebrow and made a show of looking back down.

"Hardy's just complaining again," Squall muttered. "They always talk like this assignment is the worst thing anyone could do to us. She's just so - so -"

"Ungrateful? Negative? Bitter?" Starcatcher suggested. Squall glared at him.

"Annoying," fae said. "But at least they don't put words in my mouth."

Ty coughed just loud enough to remind them both that she was there. Starcatcher looked abashed.

"Sorry," he said. "You seemed like you were having trouble."

"Oh, I'll never have trouble coming up with words for Hardy," Squall said. "And fucking Rattler never lets a call go by without her being on it."

Ty stared at her datapad, not really reading the report on it. Squall complained about faer batch frequently. Plenty of her troopers had fraught relationships with the vode they grew up with. From what Quaver had said, the same was true on his end of things.

But for those of them who had batchmates in easy reach, in the same squad or just on the other half of the outpost, it should be better. Ty hated sitting here listening to her troopers talk about having to talk to their siblings like it was a bad thing.

Not that it mattered. Her still-living brothers were busy. The 212th was the kind of battalion that never really rested, and Ty couldn't begrudge them leaving her behind.

She just wished one of them would pick up the call once in a while.

"Let somebody else have a turn talking, Squall," Tyrant said as she turned her datapad off and stood up. "And Starcatcher, maybe let people keep their business to themselves?"

"Yes, ma'am," they both mumbled. Ty strode out with her chin up so they wouldn't catch on to the little whirling feeling in her gut.

It didn't matter if her brothers didn't like her anymore. She had her squad to take care of, and her duty, and Wraith to talk to. Ty was busy, too.

[shagpaboloutpost]

Starcatcher, CT-5/358

Every squad needs a baby of the family. This squad hasn't realised that Starcatcher has seen more of the Horrors than they have

Starcatcher was previously assigned to a unit that took a far more active role in the war, seeing several campaigns before his reassignment to the Shag Pabol Outpost. His friendly demeanour and desire to talk about "after the war" mean that even Ty forgets this sometimes. He wants to be a pilot, but wasn't chosen for the program on Kamino; Ty's got a soft spot for him and lets him be the one to fly the squads back and forth when they swap shifts.

Identifying features: wears his hair in a mullet that he keeps dyed a deep blue. Can usually be found smiling. Has stars painted all over his armour

[shagpaboloutpost]

Set in my Dead Brothers Rescue Coalition au, because my brain won’t let it go: in the simplest of terms, this is a Domino Squad lives au and the war is over now; Hevy spent some time in the Coruscant Guard befriending my oc Nel who helped him and the rest of Domino stop Palpatine and reveal the truth about the chips. There’s a lot more context but it doesn’t play into this snippet too much, since it is very oc-centric

(Part Two; Part Three is coming soon)

It was the first time Tibanna had been to Coruscant since… he didn’t remember. He’d been once. He’d hidden in the barracks the whole time, sure that if he set foot on the streets every red-clad clone on the planet would know and treat him accordingly.

Not a terribly rational fear, but his more rational brain agreed with the outcome anyway if not the logic.

Assignment to Shag Pabol had been a gift. He’d never have to go to Coruscant again, and never risk running into a Guard who knew about him.

Now the war was over, and clones were being recalled to the Core in batches of a hundred, so they could be questioned at length about what they wanted out of life. The Jedi did it compassionately, at least; the Senate was clearly doing it because they were worried about money. For Tibanna, who’d had to spend the entire flight here listening to Starcatcher ask the same questions, it was all torture.

And what the hell was he meant to answer, anyway? His life was Shag Pabol. It was always supposed to be Shag Pabol. Who wanted a bomb defused by someone who couldn’t stand the sight of explosives? Who wanted demolitions done by a man who’d try anything but demolition? Even Wraith hadn’t wanted him, until he saw that Tibanna wasn’t about to let anyone get hurt for his shortcomings.

“Think bigger!” Starcatcher had urged him. “It’s not about doing what you’ve been doing. If you could do anything in the galaxy, what would you do?”

“I’d shove you out an airlock,” Widow had said from two seats down. A couple clones – mostly Tibanna’s squad – had snickered. Tyrant had drawn herself upright, eyes blazing.

“Widow,” she said coldly. Widow’s mouth had closed with a click. Tyrant had looked over at Starcatcher.

“Give Tibanna time to think it over,” she’d advised, flicking a sympathetic glance his way. “What are your plans?”

Starcatcher had a million of them, which if you asked Tibanna meant he wasn’t any more decisive about it than those of them who had no answer at all. But he had a feeling if he pushed his luck Tyrant would come down hard on all of them, and Wraith would be glad to watch. It was always dangerous when those two were together.

The peace only lasted so long. Not being separated by squad meant time to form new alliances, and potentially dangerous ones at that. Tibanna knew the night would go wrong when Festival called his name with Teal, Turquoise, Magenta, and Starcatcher at his back.

“You’re coming out with us, right?”

“Festival…” Tibanna searched for an excuse that wouldn’t give away how much he didn’t want to be here.

“Come on! No fireworks in bars, after all. Every clone in the army’s been to 79’s but us.”

“I’ve been,” Starcatcher offered.

“Everyone including Starcatcher but not us,” Festival said. “Tibanna. What’s the issue this time? I know you’re not actually allergic to fun.”

He sighed.

“Fine,” he said. “Fine, but only so I can keep you idiots from crashing a speeder into a wall once you’re drunk.”

“Oh, thank the Force,” Magenta said. “I didn’t want to go. You can deal with them.”

“Wait –“ Tibanna said, alarmed, but Magenta was already gone. He looked at the assembled clones with a sinking feeling: Festival, Starcatcher, Teal, and Turquoise.

“Please tell me Wraith or Ty will be there,” he said faintly.

“Not sure,” Festival said. “Only one way to find out!”

Wraith was there, and Festival whooped with delight as soon as they saw him. Teal leaned over to Turquoise, muttering something in his ear with a dirty look at Wraith. Tibanna may not be Magenta, but he knew their plotting faces when he saw them. He put an arm around each of them and hauled them after Festival to the booth where Wraith sat.

“Sergeant! Hi!” Starcatcher said delightedly. Wraith turned, and Tibanna froze. He barely noticed when Teal and Turquoise wriggled out of his grip. There were two clones sitting opposite Wraith. One wore civilian clothing. The other was fully kitted out in Coruscant Guard red, their helmet sitting on the table beside them.

“I don’t think this is the party you’re looking for,” Wraith said, but he scooted over to let Festival sit anyway. Tibanna knew he was standing there like an idiot, but he didn’t know what to do.

“What are you up to, sir? Catching up with old friends from your Intelligence days?” Starcatcher asked.

“Classified,” Wraith said.

“Banthashit, the army’s disbanded!” Turquoise blurted, apparently more eager to push his luck than he was to escape Wraith’s watchful eye altogether. “Nothing’s classified anymore.”

The clone without armour laughed.

“You’d be surprised,” they said. Teal perked up; Tibanna couldn’t blame her. This vod had a unique accent.

“Sergeant!” Teal whispered. “Sergeant, that’s the one from the recording!”

“Told you I’d be famous, Hevy,” they said. The Coruscant Guard groaned and shoved their friend.

“Ignore him,” Hevy said. “They’re the only people we know actually saw the thing, anyway.”

“That we know of,” he replied. “Hey, Hevy, scoot over, they’re still stuck standing there.”

“There’s plenty of space!” Hevy protested.

“I’m fine,” Tibanna said. “I was just – uh –“

Wraith was watching him now. Of course Wraith would notice something was wrong.

“What’s this about a recording?” Starcatcher asked.

“I found this recording in our systems,” Teal said eagerly. “After a security breach a couple months back? The one where nothing happened? And Ty and Sergeant Wraith said to keep it quiet – oh. Sorry, sir.”

“It’s not sensitive anymore,” Wraith said. “Right?”

“We just don’t want to advertise it, in case somebody doesn’t like how much time we spent breaking and entering,” said the clone with the accent. Wraith nodded. He looked up at Tibanna again, but looked away without saying anything.

“Right,” Teal said. “That’s… Was it true, then? All the things the recording said?”

Wraith pursed his lips.

“Your unit is scheduled to have your chips removed tomorrow morning,” said Hevy quietly. “We didn’t make an army-wide announcement, because the Senate is being awful as it is.”

That we was strange to hear. Hevy wasn’t a high-ranking clone, going off the armour. But they talked like these decisions had been theirs to make. Tibanna wondered again about the details of the war’s sudden end.

“Sir, if you knew about this how come we didn’t?” Starcatcher asked, sounding hurt. He was the only one. Tibanna and Festival were both used to the way Wraith operated, and Teal had obviously told Turquoise right away.

“Op sec,” Wraith said, ignoring Festival as she mouthed it with him. “Need to know only.”

“Do we get the story now?” Starcatcher asked plaintively. Everyone very visibly leaned in. Hevy nudged their vod. The other clone nudged back. Wraith groaned.

“It’s classified –“

“I’m not getting their drinks.”

Another Coruscant Guard nudged Tibanna gently out of the way with an elbow, setting down drinks for Hevy, Wraith, and the other clone. They sat next to Hevy with a wince and a sigh. As the light hit their cheek, Tibanna knew why. They’d grown their hair out, keeping it tied in a loose braid, and an intricate-looking tattoo peeked out from their sleeve, curling a little tail across the back of their ungloved hand. Those things didn’t matter. Tibanna knew the shape of the scars he’d given them.

“Shrapnel,” he blurted.

Everyone stared but Shrapnel, who curled their hand around their glass and didn’t look up.

“I was hoping that wasn’t you,” they said quietly.

“Nel?” Hevy asked.

“How deep does this dark secret thing go?” Starcatcher complained.

“Go order your drinks,” Wraith commanded the others, picking up on the implications in an instant just like always. Tibanna liked his sergeant most days, but he’d never been quite so grateful for him before. Teal and Festival took their cues, pushing Starcatcher and Turquoise with them. Wraith stood, setting a hand on Tibanna’s arm.

“Do you two need a minute?”

“It won’t take a minute,” Shrapnel said. “There’s nothing to say.”

Wraith looked from one vod to the other, obviously calculating something.

“We may not be friends, Nel,” he said. “But I think mutual informants owe each other something, and I ought to tell you that Tibanna’s one of the best I’ve ever worked with. More careful and considerate than most of my squad, and thinks everything through. It means he’s not half bad at talking those things through, either, if you let him.”

“This has nothing to do with you, sergeant,” Shrapnel said. “I’m sure you’re proud to stand up for your troops.”

“Nel, what the –“ Hevy hissed.

“I’m leaving, actually,” Shrapnel announced, visibly struggling to their feet. Tibanna’s guilt twisted over and around itself in his stomach. “Don’t want to bring your party down.”

“Shrapnel, wait,” Tibanna said, finally finding his voice as he grabbed for their wrist frantically. “Please, I – how have you been?”

“In pain,” they said shortly. “And that’s not my name.” They shook him off and walked away.

“You’re Nel’s batchmate,” Hevy said.

“Is this supposed to mean something to the rest of us?” their brother whispered. Hevy swatted him.

“I’ll tell you later, Cutup,” they said. “You are, aren’t you?”

Tibanna managed to nod.

“Shrapnel is a pretty cruel joke of a name,” Hevy said coldly.

“This coming from the man who named Droidbait?” Cutup muttered into his drink. Judging by his wince a second later, Hevy had kicked him.

“I didn’t – They were Shrapnel before it happened,” Tibanna protested weakly. He sank into a seat at last, more because he didn’t trust his legs to hold him than because he wanted to be here.

“Tibanna,” Wraith said. “What’s going on?”

Tibanna got the feeling Wraith already knew; he knew what Tibanna had done, just not who he’d done it to. The fact that Shrapnel – Nel and Wraith had known each other from Coruscant was a surprise. He was glad he’d never dropped Nel’s old name. Wraith was clever enough to put the pieces together.

“You know,” Tibanna said. Hevy was watching him like a judge. Cutup looked worried. He wished Festival would come back. He could use a squadmate. “I wasn’t careful, and I wanted to show off. Nel had an idea, some theory they wanted to test, and I loved going along with that kind of thing. I walked away to get something, leaving unstable compounds behind, and…”

He tried to say it all with the cadence of a briefing, something he’d learned a long time ago from Wraith to keep the feelings out of it. He almost made it through.

“I’m going after her,” Hevy announced, standing up. He looked Tibanna over with a neutral expression. Tibanna had assumed that was an Intelligence thing, when Wraith did it, but maybe it was just a Coruscant thing. The music and lights in the bar shifted, and for a moment Hevy looked like Nel had on that awful day. Tibanna dropped his head into his hands. The last thing he needed was to hallucinate from guilt.

“Hevy,” Cutup hissed.

“I know,” he hissed back. “Just – you can just drink your drink, all right?”

“Like hell,” Cutup said. Tibanna dug his fingers into his scalp, refusing to look up at whatever display of brotherly devotion was in front of him. He didn’t deserve it.

“Nel won’t talk to you, anyway,” Hevy said. “I’ll be back.”

Wraith sat gingerly beside Tibanna, who refused to look up.

“If I’d known I knew your batchmate…” he began awkwardly.

Now Tibanna did look up, the better to fix his sergeant with a doleful glare.

“What would you have said, sir? What could you say?”

Wraith’s moustache twitched unhappily. With a look of extreme discomfort, he gingerly wrapped an arm around Tibanna’s shoulders.

“You’re still a terrible hugger, sir,” Tibanna informed him, but he appreciated the gesture. From the look Wraith gave him, equal parts tired and amused and fond, he knew.

“Uh,” Cutup said. “Do you want to hear about the crazy Force parts of ending the war, or should I not try to distract you?”

“Please tell me about anything that doesn’t involve Nel,” Tibanna said. Cutup made a face.

“Crazy Force shit it is.”

[shagpaboloutpost]

The fic this goes to may be a long time coming, but here is the first meeting of my ocs Wraith and Ty! Please keep all comments about the weirdness of this base setup to yourself, unless they're funny, because I know nothing about war and I do what I want, which is the true spirit of fanfic anyway

Wraith adjusted his uniform. He had no way of knowing if a neat appearance would make the clones out here more or less likely to trust his authority. Even on Coruscant, clones who never wore armour weren't exactly popular.

And as one of his brothers had said while drunk off his ass, "Everyone knows Intelligence are a bunch of liars."

Wraith still wasn't sure if the guard had meant it as an insult or not.

"We're here," said the pilot. Wraith sighed and pushed his worries out of mind. Just another assignment. It may be the middle of nowhere, but the duty was the same.

He'd been shipped in with supplies for the base, so as he stepped off the ship's pilot and a handful of clones from the base converged on the cargo hold to retrieve the goods. Wraith tried not to feel annoyed at the sight of one vod in scarlet lipstick. Out here, they didn't exactly need to put on a show of strength. Anyway, it wasn't his base.

"Sergeant Wraith?"

Wraith nodded at the clone waiting for him. They were fully armoured, in a bucket that only looked pure white; as Wraith got closer, he realised they'd painted on a wave-like pattern in a faint sea-green.

"I'm Ty," they said. "Welcome to the Shag Pabol Outpost."

"I was told this base was on an asteroid."

"It is," Ty said. "Two squads staff the outpost, cycling through this base and SP32 on the asteroid, closer to where Shag Pabol actually lets out." They tilted their helmet playfully. "One for the ships, one for the people."

"I see," Wraith said. His commanding officer hadn't given him all the details, then. It wasn't unusual for Captain Marus, being a natborn, to overestimate what clones could do with limited information. They were susceptible to the Kaminoans' advertising, after all. He'd have to reach out to one of his siblings for the full file.

"When the supplies for SP32 are loaded on our shuttle, Starcatcher will take you up," Ty said as they led him inside. "Is there anything you need from us here?"

"A sense of your security. How often do you get outsiders?"

"It's a thriving smuggler's port out there," Ty said wryly. "Hutt Space and all. But nobody gets past our walls, and only GAR ships dock in our yard."

"And is that fact or policy?"

Ty took their helmet off, revealing a head of fluffy curls and a shrewd expression.

"Are you asking to see for yourself, or is it important that I tell you all this secondhand?"

Ty wanted to know if they were under investigation. Wraith knew the wariness well.

"I like to see things for myself," Wraith said. "But a man does have to ask the hard questions when his job needs it."

"Sure," Ty said. "If he's Intelligence. And to do her job, this sergeant can't be caught up in lengthy conversations when there's supplies to be processed."

Wraith could take a hint.

"Let me get a look at your systems, and I'll stay out of your hair until Starcatcher is ready for me."

He could tell by the twitch of her eyebrows that she hadn't expected him to remember her trooper's name. That rankled. Wraith was a clone like any of them. He knew.

But it certainly wasn't worth bringing up. He let Ty leave him in the security control room and got to work on his inspection.