#she was able to alter her voice to sound like a child of ryloth
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anoray · 7 months ago
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Random thought for the day...
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Unlike Anakin, Caleb Dume was raised in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, so wouldn't he speak with that type of accent in the Bad Batch episode instead of like a grown up Kanan Jarrus?
Little Hera spoke with her original Ryloth accent in the TBB episodes...so it would have been interesting to hear what Caleb sounded like as a padawan (perhaps like a mini Obi-wan?) before he developed his Kanan persona to blend in with the riff raff.
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retvenkos · 4 years ago
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created // nyx squadron
Star Wars: The Clone Wars - A Nyx Squadron Story
teaser for a long fic, feedback is appreciated! author note at end.
“He who faces himself, finds himself.”
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The day was hot enough to roast the tips of your fingers if they were exposed for longer than ten minutes, but under the weight of his armor and bucket, Styx thought it might just be the lesser evil. Master Kanai wanted to get to the bottom of the craggy mesa before resting for the day, and some of the troopers - Tye most especially - thought they all might die of heatstroke before they got there (“Can’t put bacta on that, eh, Styx?”). The only thing that kept the squadron going was the stern eye of Captain Vic and the Jedi’s promise of sleeping until nightfall, seeing as there didn’t seem to be any droids on the outskirts of the planet. The only thing here was the sweltering heat, their footprints in the earth, and heat mirages towards midday.
Desert planets. Every clone in the GAR hated them.
“With all due respect, General, where are we going?” Vic’s tone was polite and delivered lightly, but there was gravity in his words. Styx had seen the Captain’s gaze on every trooper in his squadron since the sun had first shown it’s flaming crown on the horizon, nearly three hours ago. Vic’s worry for his troopers is what Master Kanai said she liked about him. But if Styx knew Jedi, obedience to the Order and greater cause came first, and Vic’s loyal charm would soon wear off.
“You mean other than the mesa?” The Jedi’s eyes were bright and her lekku twitched playfully. The Twi’lek hailed from the Jixuan desert on Ryloth and had no qualms with the overbearing heat. Even though she hadn’t lived there long enough to find beauty in the desert heat, she was made from it. Her body knew it, even if her mind didn’t.
What did the clones’ bodies know? Kamino? Mandalore? From where did they hail? What life did Styx’s bones (that no longer felt like his) know from a lifetime ago, when he was not many, but one?
“I know you boys aren’t used to this kind of sun, but we’re headed to a village not far from here to meet with an informant of Master Kenobi’s.”
Tye, who had never taken well to formalities, scoffed. ��A friend of General Kenobi and they sent us?” Styx could imagine his brother’s eyes rolling behind his helmet, his mouth hanging open as though waiting for a punchline.
The Jedi just laughed. Styx heard an echo in it, like a distant scream. Everyone had it, anymore. It was the sound of fallen soldiers and broken Jedis; the echo of ghosts.
“They sent General Kanai. You’re just a glorified luggage carrier.” Clik slammed his elbow into Tye’s arm, his gruff voice more laboured than usual. The two troopers continued to push each other playfully, forgetting the instigating question entirely.
It wasn’t of real importance why they were on this maker forsaken planet, meeting up with an informant who wasn’t their own. At the end of the day, they’re actions could be chalked up to ending the war. It’s what they were bred to do.
Besides, if Master Kanai wanted to keep secrets, no amount of prodding would win her over. Clones weren’t made to keep the secrets of the war. They were made to end it.
By the time they made it to the sparse shade they would sleep under, even Kanai was losing steam. The sun was almost at its highest, now, and it beat down on them without mercy. The group laid down (Clik taking the first watch) and fell into an uneasy sleep, plagued with unwelcome memories.
--
It was chilling to see the body of what he had once been; a child, seemingly drowning.
The bluish light above was meant to be calming, but it put his nerves on edge and gave him the overwhelming urge to shiver. He was paralyzed, only able to move his eyes from cloning chamber to cloning chamber, hundreds of bodies floating in thick liquid behind impenetrable transparisteel.
They called his number but he didn’t have the strength to turn away.
It had only been three years since he had left his own tank. Perhaps his body knew that and had an inexplicable desire to return while his mind looked at the eerie room and wanted to run from it, explaining his inability to move.
His body knew this place. His mind wanted to be separated from it forever.
Suddenly, as though hit by a wave, anger flooded his body. Why bring him here? Why show him this? What kind of cruel punishment was this?
A clone would spend his whole life trying to become more than the chamber he was created in. The visions of this place would never leave him. No matter what he did for the Republic, he would always be a body locked in a nutrient bath, drowning.
Clones were bred for war, death, and pain.
Was this his first test of will; his first reminder of what he was created to be?
They called his number again. He pulled his eyes away.
“There’s a village about 15 klicks to the east.” Clik looked out onto the horizon, his visor set to night vision. The sun had gone down a while ago, when Styx had been unceremoniously woken by the older clone. Even with the light gone, the heat lingered - the dry, dusty earth still hot to the touch. “17, exactly,” Clik finally determined, his eyes the sharpest in the squadron.
“Is that the one we’re looking for?” Vic turned to Master Kanai, exhaustion clipping his tone.
“So I’ve been told.” Master Kanai looked at the troopers determinedly, rolling her wrists nervously. “This planet is neutral, but the Separatists have been encroaching on the land, so we may run into trouble. Keep your eyes open, boys. We might have to make a run for it.”
The troopers nodded and started their trek across the rocks. Clik (true to his namesake) counted the klicks as they went, his gruff voice alerting them of when they made progress. It was a habit of his, one that Vic allowed because it did them good to keep in mind just how far they had to go before they reached their goal.
Styx followed silently, considering his older brother. Clik was the best with numbers, in their small squadron. Even though every clone was good with numbers, Clik understood them better than anyone else.
There was no explanation as to why he understood them the way he did. Vic said it has something in their shared DNA, a predisposition of facts and figures that hit Clik like a truck. Styx thought it was a byproduct of being known as a number - it was only natural to understand what you were.
Numbers were forged into their skin, on the inside of their wrists. Clik was older than Styx and Tye; maybe those numbers had migrated, trapped on the inside of his mind.
A trooper’s life was distinguished by the number of clankers he could shoot down. His skills lie in counting the number of klicks between one target and the next. His legacy was written in how many days he would achieve, how many battles he would be devastated in.
How many klicks had Clik counted? How many more would he count before he was felled?
He counted another, the village closer than before. Styx shook his head. There was no use in focusing on the inevitable, Clik had told him so on multiple occasions. You had to focus on what was in front of you, otherwise you would be paralyzed to the spot.
Styx could feel Master Kanai’s eyes on him, the Jedi not bothering to probe his mind, but keeping tabs on him nonetheless. There was always an uneasy tension between the two of them, not quite suspicion, but far from trust. Both soldiers had seen too much of the war to believe in anyone for long. Perhaps the Jedi could sense those nightmares that plagued every clone from the moment they were created, those realistic images that filled him with such visceral feelings it seemed real; it was real, in some regard.
Perhaps he knew that when it came down to it, his Jedi General would desert him. If he were to be compromised, he would be replaced. Would Kanai mourn for him the way he mourned the loss of his brothers?
The village was upon them; each hut identical, a thatched roof covered with dust, a small fire within. Styx watched as Vic scanned the area, looking in every corner for a droid or sign of life. All was quiet, as though the village had been abandoned.
Tye, the youngest and shiniest of them all, scoffed. “I think you’ve been lied to, General.” Captain Vic turned his head, shooting him a glance, and the trooper quieted.
“You weren’t misled.” A voice called out from a nearby home, feminine and accented with something otherworldly. As though their vocal chords were made for something foreign - different than anything else in the universe. “My name is Xavina.”
A short woman, eyes averted, stepped out from the shadows. In the dark, little could be distinguished, but as they entered the candle-lit hut and took off their helmets, more of her features came into focus. Her skin was a warm brown, and when she moved her head, her cheekbones and temples glinted, metal laced into her skin.
Styx stared at the cyborg,  his interest in the informant palpable in the dim room. It wasn’t everyday the troopers interacted with a cyborg. He had seen a lot in the GAR - in the galaxy entirely. He knew of cyborgs - had fought against them, sometimes - but being close to one was something else entirely. By the placement of the metal, she was an Inteli-Unit, her brain altered to function properly - chips and wires added to her biological makeup. What secrets did Xavina have hidden in her mind?
“Xavina, this is Nyx Squadron - Captain Vic, Tye, Clik, and our medic, Styx.” Master Kanai interrupted the silence, her voice as professional as always; efficient.
The informant nodded at them all in turn, and the troopers watched her, their eyes catching onto the way her cheeks glinted in the firelight.
What was she created for? The war? Something else?
“How do you know General Kenobi?” Tye, forever the inquisitive, leaned in to get a better look at her.
Xavina smiled complacently, used to the questioning. “I’m a Xenolingust and Translator. I’ve worked with the Senate on multiple occasions.” Her voice dipped in volume, then, her Basic taking on a formality; something that made Styx feel like a soldier, something that brought him back to those cloning chambers. Something that made him feel different. “I’m not simply on this planet to study unknown languages. The Separatist movements here are also of great interest.”
Master Kanai nodded in understanding, “So you have something for us?”
The cyborg nodded.
--
A/N: so i finally caved and started to write that clone fic that i asked about a while ago. this is the most cohesive part of what i have (written and planned) so far, and i just wanted to post a part of it to gauge reactions to it.
it’s not going to be an x reader, just an oc story with mentions of canon characters.
also,,, i wanted to add a cyborg character to the mix because i have some angsty ideas coming! i scoured the wiki pages to find some info on cyborgs in star wars,,, but it was largely uneventful. i figured it was fine to bend canon, though, because isn’t that what fanfic is for? to explore new avenues in an already established world? anyway,,, let me know if you have any actual knowledge of star wars cyborgs,,,, i’m at a loss, lol.
also, i think i’m just going to write one long fic for my squadron, i’m not exactly sure how everything works in the star wars universe, and i feel like just getting it all out will be easier than trying to make it a multi-chapter thing (plus, we all know my track record with multi-chapter fics is sketchy at best).
umm,,, if you ever want to ask me questions about nyx squadron or any oc characters involved, message me! they’re my first oc’s that i’ve shared with people, and i would love to flesh them out more.
i hope you liked it.
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