My Vengeance, My Dream

CC-1010 is different from his brothers.

It should be paradoxical, they have the same face, the same body, they grew up in the same conditions, have known only the truths they’ve been told.

Any yet, he is different.

Though, he can’t help but wonder, maybe it’s not the fact that he is different that is paradoxical, after all no one needs to explain to him that each of his brothers are their own unique selves. Perhaps the paradoxical aspect is not that he thinks, but how he thinks.

Or rather, what he knows.

They have the same face, the same body, they grew up in the same conditions, but sometimes it seems like CC-1010 is the only one to see the lies in what they’ve been told.

After all, what good is a CC unit that knows?

It started small. One unlucky day. He’s only a five cycle cadet, hunched shoulders and beady eyes trying to interpret the text in front of him. His older brothers are sat around him, their brows furrowed in concentration as they reason through the text.

CC-1010 fought to keep his eyes open. The exhaustion from earlier training weighing heavily on his shoulders that should be too small to handle it.

The title of the text: ‘The Tactics of the Mandalorian Wars: A Complete Study of the Revanchist’s Revolutionary Strategies’ is burned into the back of his eyelids. He knows what he needs to understand: the countless tactics, the feints, the sacrifices, the pushes, the victories, the losses, and above all, the reasoning behind each.

Diagrams and arrows, annotations and drawings, he takes it all in with the vigor that is required of him. After all, what good is a CC unit that is unable to strategize?

CC-1010 tapped the top of the screen to open the table of contents. He searched for the page detailing the battles fought on Onderon and its moon Dxun, a perfect example of the determination needed to win a war. The lives lost in that fight were uncountable.

A strange feeling came over his small body as he read through the words on the page. There was no doubt in his mind that the Revanchist was a genius. But still…

It was odd reading about the victories in the holobook and especially, the sacrifices used to ensure them. He was struck by the image of the nameless soldiers that Revan sent to their deaths to win the day. The ‘necessary sacrifices’ needed to fight for a better galaxy at whole. His older brothers were enamored with the flawless tactics, the bravery of the soldiers, the tenacity of the Revanchist—the jetii Revan.

It was an unlucky day. A day in which CC-1010 couldn’t help but consider, in the war that they were to fight, it wouldn’t be some forgotten soldier from thousands of years ago charging to their death, but him and his brothers.

They weren’t the Revanchist in their war.

They were the millions of nameless soldiers that were deemed ‘necessary sacrifices.’

The revelation nearly left him breathless and he quickly glanced around to ensure no one had seen.

Maybe that was why, on that fateful, unlucky day, he didn’t immediately continue reading the chapter. His eyes caught on the first tab listed in the table of contents. The blocky letters stood out:

FOREWORD by Kana Gehera

This was dangerous, CC-1010 didn’t have to be a genius to know why. This could get him decommissioned. He was told to study the tactics. After all, what good was a CC unit that couldn’t do what he was told?

He would blame it on the unlucky day, on the trainers, on the kamiinise, on anything he could, but truth be told, he didn’t know why he opened the page and began reading.

I would be surprised if the events of the Mandalorian Wars had escaped the ears of any sentient in the galaxy. Despite occurring nearly 3000 years ago, the strategy and tactics developed by the Revanchist remain some of the most innovative and creative ever seen. I’ve had more than one colleague ask me in the development of this book: “What is the point of studying a war waged so long ago?”

To that, I can’t help but laugh amusedly to myself. For, it is amusing to hear how many believe time to decay greatness. In my experience, if the subject is truly great, time is only an exponential help in its importance.

It’s been said many times: Revan was a genius on the field, an artist of war, an unparalleled strategic mind. While these statements are clearly true, as the greatness of Revan’s mind has left its wake on the galaxy thousands of years later, something I am even more intrigued by is the character of the commander the Republic decided to throw its entire strength behind.

All of my musings aside, I am proud to present the fruits of my labor of many years, sleepless nights, and longer days. I hope that this text is able to help others understand the genius behind Revan’s movements, and the courage of them as well.

Finally, I have to thank my husband, who has been by my side through the entirety of this long journey, Ashana for the collection of data, Leia for the moral support, and, of course, Revan for having the strength to lead into the unsure for the good of the galaxy.

That was it? CC-1010 let out a strangled breath. There was no way he could be decommissioned for reading that, it hardly had any information at all. He tapped the top of the screen to move back to the Onderon chapter but something in his mind made him hesitate.

Let it go, he pleaded with his mind.

It was already racing.

Please, move on, he begged.

He was already thinking.

“You never know what’s best for you, do you vod’ika?” CC-2224 would always say.  

CC-1010’s eyes darted back to the page.

“… something I am even more intrigued by is the character of the commander the Republic decided to throw its entire strength behind.

 All of my musings aside…”

There was something missing between those two paragraphs. His intuition was screaming at him but the text was even more clear. “All of my musings aside” but the author hadn’t even presented a single thought…

It was that unlucky day that CC-1010 realized something else:

Sometimes, what wasn’t said held more information than what was.

The character of the Revanchist was of interest. She said, “the genius behind Revan’s movements, and the courage of them as well.”

The courage? On the base level, it was clear that the purpose of the sentence was highlighting Revan’s strength. He knew it worked, his older brothers practically worshipped the jetii. They dreamed of the Jedi that would eventually lead them with the strength and the tenacity and the genius of the Revanchist.

But the courage? Revan was a master tactician, an artist of war, what courage would be needed when everyone knew that fact? And the final line was more praise, “having the strength to lead into the unsure.”

What was unsure? Revan should have been very confident in war, CC-1010 was certain that Revan had to have some experience in battle strategy before joining the Mandalorian front. A strategic mind like Revan’s couldn’t have been something that was held to a degree of uncertainty? After all, why would the Jedi send Revan to the front if they weren’t sure?

But why did CC-1010 not hear more about other Jedi tacticians? Why was Revan the only one he learned about? Surely there had to be more, who had trained Revan’s mind for war? It must have been other jetii?

Unless it wasn’t…

Character, courage, unsure…

Unless Revan didn’t know about war, didn’t know about battle strategy, didn’t know how to be an al'verde.

Which would mean…the Revanchist’s skills didn’t come from the Jedi.

Which would mean… the Jedi weren’t soldiers…

…And if the Jedi weren’t soldiers, why were they being drawn into a war? Why were they to be the generals to the vode? They wouldn’t survive a war if they weren’t soldiers…

Then what if…they weren’t supposed to survive—

Something in CC-1010’s mind slammed down that thought before it could grow. He pushed it away, buried it under every battle strategy he had memorized, every type of punch and kick he had learned, every way to disassemble and reassemble a blaster and add the attachments to it. Every war, every battle, every fight, every duel. Somehow he knew, even as a cadet, that he couldn’t think that.

He couldn’t doubt the Jedi they would eventually serve. After all, what good was a CC unit that doubted its owner?

CC-1010 knows what he is. He’s one of the nameless soldiers in ‘The Tactics of the Mandalorian Wars: A Complete Study of the Revanchist’s Revolutionary Strategies.’ One of the ‘necessary sacrifices’ for the greater good of the galaxy. It’s not worth pretending anything else.

Then why does CC-1010 get his name when he is seven standard cycles old?

Despite the lack of trainers or kaminiise, the atmosphere was still tense. He circled around on the training mats, his older brother Kote opposite him.

CC-1010’s steps are quick, subtle and confident, despite the fact that he felt absolutely none of those things. What good is quickness or misplaced confidence when his ori’vod is carefully calculating, fully ready to teach him a lesson?

His heart pounded in his ears, sweat trickled down the back of his neck. His other older brothers stood on the sidelines, their own bodies tensed with anticipation.

He narrows his eyes, keeping them honed for the upcoming attack, because he knows it’s coming. Kote was strong, stronger than him but he had a preference for being by the books and following known procedures.

Not that CC-1010 would ever say that out loud, he still had a desire to live at this point.

It’s from his narrowed focus that he notices the exact moment Kote’s muscles tense in preparation to pounce. In a move that had flattened him on the mats a hundred times before, Kote reared forward, fists raised, only to drop and attempt to kick out his knee. A perfect execution of a devastating sparring maneuver they had been taught.

CC-1010 was ready this time though, he took a quick sidestep, then followed up with a jab to Kote’s sternum, winding his brother. Kote reached a hand up to grip the front of CC-1010’s blacks and pull him to the ground, but CC-1010 went with the motion. The lack of counterbalance that Kote had been expecting caused him to fall and in a swift movement, CC-1010 tackled him into a chokehold.

He hardly felt the hand that tapped his side after a moment of tightening the hold. A surreal feeling overcame him, he had beaten Kote, his ori’vod and he had never done it before.

His eyes must have become comically round with amazement because Wolffe and Bly began laughing. Ponds cheered and even Kote had a reluctant, proud smile on his face.

CC-1010 immediately let Kote up and he couldn’t help the bright grin that split across his face.

Kote scoffed and reached a hand up to ruffle his hair, “Guess it was time you finally got lucky.”

CC-1010 batted his hand away, “Lucky?” he repeated indignantly.

“Uh huh,” Wolffe parroted from the sidelines with a smirk, “though it’s a good thing, means we can finally stop going easy on you.”

CC-1010 scowled and the smirk his older brother was wearing grew into a grin.

“Don’t be so mean Wolffe!” Bly cried out and came to wrap his arms around CC-1010, “he’s just a baby.”

CC-1010 scowled even harder and fought against the arms wrapping around his torso. “No I’m not!” he complained. Bly’s arms just pulled tighter the more he struggled and he was forced to sit back against his brother’s chest with a pout.

“It’s okay, vod’ika,” Bly said brightly, “I think you were amazing.”

“It’s true,” Ponds interjected, “That’s the best I’ve seen you do before.”

CC-1010 fought down the urge to smile at their praise. He didn’t crave it, he didn’t. Ever so hesitantly, he turned to look at Kote.

Kote looked down at him sternly, “Better, but you need to be quicker when you dodge before following through. When you step to the side to avoid it you—”

“THAT’S IT!” Wolffe cried out, drawing the eyes of everyone in the room.

“What’s it?”

“Your name,” Wolffe continued and CC-1010 sighed.

 “Why are you bringing that up again?” he complained, the topic a well worn argument between him and his older brothers at this point.

“It’s perfect!” Wolffe explained, “You can be Sidestep.”

“What?”

 “You know, sidestep for that little move you do—”

"Sidestep?”

His brothers couldn’t keep their grins hidden and it made CC-1010 scowl more.

“See! I knew you’d like it,” Wolffe replied.

 “No! What’s wrong with my number?” he complained.

"Boring,” Ponds chirped.

“So boring,” Bly echoed.

“No it’s not—”

“Listen, Sidestep’ika—”

“Shut up!” He snarled at Wolffe who was clearly trying not to laugh. He turned to look up at Kote and saw that even he was trying and failing to stifle his amusement. What a traitor.

In one swift movement, he ripped himself from Bly’s arms and threw his body to tackle Kote to the ground. Of course, Kote was expecting it and began laughing outright as he forced CC-1010 down.

“Get off of me,”  he complained as Kote pinned him to the mat.

“Don’t worry, vod’ika,” said Bly, “I think Sidestep is fitting.”

He couldn’t even muster the energy to retort as all of it was going into fighting Kote. It was even more frustrating than the teasing as all of his attempts seemed to be battered away almost effortlessly.

“If you have a better name vod’ika,” Kote said, “we might consider it.”

CC-1010 stopped his struggles for a moment and silence permeated the room. Of course he’d thought about it. He’d thought about it ever since Kote was named by Prime. He’s ashamed to say that he was a little jealous in the moment. Kote had the gift of being bestowed a name, the rest of them had to find one that fit them. Try as he might, CC-1010 just didn’t want that responsibility, even if he craved a name, even if he had an idea for one…

There was also that other thought. That it would be easier to be one of the nameless soldiers in the book…

He quickly pushed that thought away but the silence seemed to make his brothers come to their own conclusions.

Bly gasped, “He does have an idea!”

“No I don’t!” he shouted.

“You know you can always tell us,” Kote said with a bit of softness in his tone. Ponds nodded.

“I really don’t! I—!”

His voice was cutoff by a sharp squeal as in an instant Kote began attacking his sides, exactly where his older brother knew he was most ticklish.

“Say it, Sidestep!” Wolffe demanded over his laughter.

“Fine!” CC-1010 gasped, “fine!

Kote let up and backed off, letting him catch his breath and sit up. The anticipatory silence didn’t make CC-1010 falter. In fact, it actually made his eyes darken with mischief.

In a second, he was on his feet and sprinting away from his brothers. There was a shout and he couldn’t help the thrill of adrenaline that rushed to his brain.

Of course, he didn’t last long with all four of his older brothers hunting him down, but he didn’t go down without a fight either. After being brutally thrown into the mat by Wolffe, and a lost wrestling match against Bly and Ponds (that he only lost because Kote started tickling him again) he lay back on the mat with his brothers sprawled over and around him, panting, exhausted and also…happy.

When was the last time he was happy for no particular reason? When had he ever been allowed to indulge in this child-like innocence and be happy simply for being alive? Is this how natborns felt all the time?

Maybe…maybe he didn’t want to be one of those nameless soldiers. Maybe he could be something more.

“Fox,” he whispered.

It felt right. He knew it was right. After all, what good was a CC unit without some sense of self?

Being the youngest of his batch, he realized fairly early on that if he widened his eyes and made his lips tremble slightly, he was more likely to get what he wanted.

Not many fell for it as he got older, but that was alright. Now, he had other tricks.

“Go to sleep, vod’ika,” Wolffe groaned.

Fox giggled lightly, “Make me.”

“Why can you never do what you’re told?”

“What, are you getting old?” Fox shot back.

Wolffe’s tired face transformed into a smirk as he jumped up from his bed, sped towards Fox faster than he could even see, and tossed him over his shoulder.

Fox forced himself to laugh and struggle as Wolffe carried him to the tube that had his bed and threw him into it. He tried to get back up but Wolffe held him down by his shoulders.

“Go. To. Sleep,” Wolffe said firmly, though there was a smile on his face.

Fox stuck out his tongue but he quickly dissolved into more laughter when Wolffe started tickling him, “Alright!” He managed to get out, “I will, I’m sorry!”

Wolffe looked at him fondly and messed up his hair, making Fox squeak indignantly. His older brother had a much less weary look on his face, Fox had done his job. It didn’t matter if he had also had a rough day, it didn’t matter if one of the trainers had hit him so hard his ribs were bruised. It didn’t matter that they ached horribly when Wolffe threw him into his bed.

Wolffe liked when he was argumentative. When he was sassy and annoying, just enough so that Wolffe could humble him, and Fox would do anything for his older brother.

…

“We’ll be in and out,” Bly said with a small smile.

“I know, let’s go, let’s go!” Fox replied happily.

Bly chuckled, grabbed his hand, and the two began to creep down the dark hallways of Kamino. If they were caught it would no doubt mean pain.

They had the route carefully planned out though, and didn’t run into a single trainer or kaminiise  as they navigated the corridors. Carefully, they slipped outside the doors and onto a landing pad.

For once, it wasn’t raining on Kamino and the night sky was clear. CC-1010 sat next to his brother with their feet dangling off the edge as he gazed up into the expanse of stars above them.

“We’ll be out there someday, Fox’ika,” Bly said with wonder in his voice.

“Together?” CC-1010 asked.

Bly grinned, “Of course, who else is going to come on adventures with me?”

Fox forced his mouth into a grin and he leaned against his brother’s shoulder. Bly liked when he was playful, when he was willing to go along with his older brother’s crazy plans and adventures. It was alright that last time they snuck out, it was Fox who had been caught and punished, he would do anything to keep Bly smiling.

…

They had been dismissed for the day, but CC-1010 stayed at the firing range. He had long since been able to hit a target perfectly even with his eyes half shut, but he needed to practice with his non dominant hand. He needed to practice against moving targets. He needed to practice when he himself was moving.

Ponds stood behind him, watching him fire rapidly at the target, nearly every shot hitting the same place except for one that was only a hair off.

CC-1010 sighed as he went to reload the DC-17 he was holding.

“That was better,” Ponds said.

“Better isn’t enough, I need to be perfect,” CC-1010 replied formally. Ponds nodded in approval. His older brother came to stand beside him and focused his blaster.

“I’m glad you’re taking this seriously,” Ponds began firing his own round.

“Discipline is more important than motivation,” CC-1010 said and Ponds nodded again. Ponds liked it when he was professional, when he was taking the training seriously and wasn’t messing around. He liked it when he was sometimes a little more philosophical, but not with his head in the clouds.

His eyes ached with the need to keep them focused and his body trembled with the need to keep still. CC-1010 was so tired, he wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep. The stress that Ponds carried on his shoulders seemed to loosen as he fired round after round and CC-1010 knew he had done the right thing. He would do anything to keep that stress away from Ponds.

…

“Higher,” Kote commanded.

CC-1010 spun on the mat and executed a round house kick to the bag he was training on. Sweat ran down his forehead and he breathed heavily.

“You need more power in it. Twist from your entire body, not just your legs,” Kote reprimanded.

CC-1010 gasped and tried again but it was considerably weaker this time. Kote grabbed his arm and pulled him over to a bench at the side of the room to sit down.

“Rest when you’re tired or you’ll only make more mistakes,” Kote said sternly. CC-1010 nodded and began to gulp down water from a bottle on the floor.

Kote grabbed it and stopped him, “Slowly or you’ll make yourself sick.”

CC-1010 obeyed, taking slow sips of water. After he had rested for another five minutes Kote was making him get up again.

“You’re overthinking it,” Kote said, “don’t be afraid to be less tense. Relax and it will come more naturally.”

CC-1010 let out a quiet sigh. He may have been able to help all of his other brothers, but Kote never seemed to be responsive to anything he tried. It didn’t matter if he was happy, adventurous, argumentative, professional, empathetic, angry, Kote never relaxed around him. For some reason, Fox just couldn’t figure out what his older brother wanted from him. He could swear that with the amount of nagging Kote did, sometimes he just didn’t want Fox around.

That was alright though. He just had to keep trying. He had figured out what the rest of his brothers wanted from him. It was only a matter of more observation, and he was good at that.

After all, what good was a CC unit that couldn’t protect its batchmates?

It’s not his job to think. Well, it is, but only in the way they want him to think.

They want his mind filled with battle strategies and tactics, constantly running through options and evaluating positions. And he does, he does what they tell him to do, learns what they tell him to learn.

But he just can’t quite shut off his mind enough.

When CC-1010, or Fox when it’s safe, is eight standard cycles old, the kaminiise tell him to be prepared. They tell him that his time is near, that he will be needed soon.

His older brothers are more tense these days, a weight on their shoulders that a short amount of teasing or wrestling couldn’t fix anymore. They don’t look at Fox like they used to, with hidden mischief and fondness in their eyes.

Also, because his brothers were incapable of letting it go, he’s not jealous of the CT that follows Kote around now. He’s not jealous of the way Kote easily praises and takes care of him. It doesn’t make him work harder, thank you Wolffe, it’s just that now he realizes how important it is to take the training seriously.

In any case, CC-1010 figured that everyone around him was too busy to notice what his mind was really up to. If he could get his brothers to smile again, then it would all be worth it.

They’ve had weeks upon weeks of tactics training. Weeks preparing for their evaluation. Weeks of sleepless nights and longer days. Weeks of his eyes rereading ‘The Tactics of the Mandalorian Wars: A Complete Study of the Revanchist’s Revolutionary Strategies’so much that he practically had the holobook memorized.

He was the first to take the evaluation in his batch. It was with one of the Mandalorian trainers. CC-1010 had never interacted with him before but already, he could tell what kind of man he was.

He had learned recently that natborns were one of two things when it came to the vode: hypocrites or hypocrites in denial. And yes, CC-1010’s knowledge of natborns was limited to the trainers but he was willing to bet he was right in his assumption. After all, it was the only way they had ever interacted with him.

The man in front of him was burly and muscled, a permanent scowl on his face. The no-nonsense type that didn’t bother masking his hypocrisy in fancy words or empty platitudes.

CC-1010 could be thankful for that at least, the plain-faced hypocrites were less aggravating to deal with than the ones in denial.

“CC-1010?” The trainer asked gruffly.

CC-1010 stood in the center of the room with his arms crossed behind his back and his chin up. He nodded and didn’t move as the trainer came forward and scanned the chip on his wrist that read his number. Maybe he was imagining it, but he could swear there was a little bit of approval in the man’s eyes.

The room darkened except for a projection on the wall detailing a battle. The trainer asked questions and moved the simulation along. CC-1010 answered in a calm tone. His heart was racing and his palms began to sweat but he refused to show his discomfort on his face. He could tell, if he showed any sign of weakness to the man in front of him he would immediately face consequences.

So he answered the questions calmly. When he was given two minutes to devise a strategy given the conditions, he sent the ‘nameless soldiers’ to their deaths to ensure the victory. He could see the trainer give an approving nod.

When creative thinking was required, he obliged. When quick thinking was needed, he performed.

When sacrifices were needed, he made them.

His mind for tactics and strategic thinking had become a well-oiled machine after the years of constant practice. Battles and the path forward to victory were etched into the projection in front of him as easy as if he were painting. Painting the paths to lead others to their deaths. After all, what good was a CC unit who wasn’t able to make difficult decisions?

After an hour, the simulation ended. The doors opened and one of the kaminiise  walked in. Their already too large eyes widened even more at the display.

“Well done cadet. You are a talented strategist, ” the trainer said.

CC-1010 nodded, “I am what I am required to be, sir. Permission to be dismissed?”

“Granted.”

Only once the doors shut behind him did CC-1010 let out a breath of relief. He relaxed his shoulders which were now sore from standing in standard attention for so long.

Well done, the trainer had said. He fought the urge to smile giddily. He fought it all the way back to his bunk and then he couldn’t hold it back anymore. A bright grin formed on his lips. He had done well.

Of course though, the minute he stepped into the space he was met with frustrated sighs and tense silence. His brothers were still preparing for the evaluation.

Fox sat down and tried to be silent, he really did, but his body was still thrumming with adrenaline.

“Fox, please be quiet we’re trying to work,” Kote’s voice was sharp.

Fox stilled but looked over at his older brother. Kote’s eyes passed over him briefly without acknowledgement before turning back to the datapad he was holding.

Fox’s heart didn’t sink a little. It didn’t.

“Oh, Fox!” Bly spoke up with a smile, “how did it go?”

“Really good,” Fox said with a shy smile. He glanced over at Kote quickly but his older brother had already moved on. Bly gave an approving nod and turned away.

Fox fought down his disappointment. Of course, it made sense that they were still stressed. They weren’t done with it like he was. It wasn’t anything personal.

But a traitorous part of Fox’s mind refused to let it go, like it always did. When was the last time they had praised him? When was the last time they had called him vod’ika? When was the last time Kote had spoken to him with fondness and not frustration?

He wasn’t a brat, he didn’t need their attention but some part of him missed it. He remembered that day almost a year ago when they were all he needed to be happy. Where had those brothers gone?

Well, he wasn’t going to sit around and complain. Already a plan was forming in his mind. If his older brothers were this distant and stressed, then the least he could do as the youngest would be to lighten the load.

CC-1010 slipped out of the quarters and hurried down the hall back to the evaluation rooms. He noticed CC-1004 stepping out of a room looking exhausted, but pleased. CC-1010 swept his hair up to the best of his ability and stepped softly into the evaluation room that 1004 had vacated.

A female trainer was sitting in the room, her hair tied up into a tight bun on the back of her head. One glance was all CC-1010 needed.

She was the hypocrite-in-denial type. The kind that wanted to believe she cared so much about his brothers, but wasn’t willing to actually fight for them. Her eyes were soft and her posture relaxed.

Immediately, CC-1010 hunched his shoulders in and widened his eyes. He squeezed his hands together and pursed his lips.

She looked up and almost instantly, she seemed to melt. Her posture relaxed further and she gave him a comforting smile.

“Hello little one,” she said softly, “I wasn’t expecting you so soon.”

“Sorry, ma’am,” he replied quietly.

“Please, it’s perfectly alright,” she said brightly. Kote once explained this to him, how apparently it was in Mandalorian’s blood to feel obligated to help any child they deemed lost. CC-1010 didn’t believe that to be true looking at Prime and some of the other trainers, but those words couldn’t describe this woman any better.

“Thank you, ma’am,” his mind was already racing.

She smiled again, “Don’t be nervous, I’m sure you’re more than ready.”

CC-1010 nodded shyly.

“What’s your designation number, little one?”

“…CC-2224 ma’am.”

She frowned as she keyed through her datapad, “Hm, you aren’t listed here…”

CC-1010 let out a shocked gasp and immediately his eyes widened in mortification and fear, “Oh no, I am so sorry ma’am, I must have messed up the room number. I-I apologize and I—” He reached to his belt as if to pull out his datapad and check his schedule.

“Shh it’s fine little one, there was likely a mix up in the designation numbers. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

CC-1010 watched as she manually typed in his older brother’s number. She glanced over and noticed his fidgeting and gave him another reassuring smile. He made sure she was too focused on his apparent distress to think about scanning the chip on his wrist.

“Whenever you’re ready young one,” she said softly and pulled up the projection. CC-1010 nodded slowly and took several deep breaths in a show of calming down. If he repeated the tactics he used for his own evaluation, it would no doubt be flagged.

Then, he was all professionalism. If one word could be used to describe Kote it would be ‘professional.’ His older brother was clear and calculated in his maneuvers.

Kote was a good strategist, one of the best actually. However, Kote’s and his own style of strategy differed slightly. To CC-1010, he was constantly calculating new approaches and innovations quick as a flash. Kote on the other hand, was more methodical and strict with his approach.

It made Kote slower than CC-1010, so he was sure to spend a few more seconds pretending to consider before giving his answer. The tactics and plans he created for the projection were by the book, tested and proved to have worked well. If one were to narrow their eyes, they might be able to tell how they were pulled directly from ‘The Tactics of the Mandalorian Wars: A Complete Study of the Revanchist’s Revolutionary Strategies’.

Despite the trainer’s kindness, she was still ruthless in the evaluation. She gave him complicated positions, confounding variables he suddenly had to consider, lives to weigh, and situations to suddenly appraise.

CC-1010 answered it all in the methodical and known tactics Kote liked so much. Afterwards, she gave him a pleased smile.

“Well done soldier,” she said gently.

CC-1010 forced his features into a returning smile. It seemed to please her. When the kaminii entered the room to check the evaluation he stood at attention, but subtly shifted his weight from foot to foot in a show of quiet anxiety.

CC-2224 was marked as passed with flying colors. CC-1010 shot the trainer another small smile which she returned with a nod. In quick movements, CC-1010 left the room.

Just as he stepped out, he noticed another CC unit he didn’t know leaving a different evaluation room. CC-1010 hurried forwards and slipped into the vacated room.

The trainer that sat in the room was a grizzled Mandalorian with enough scars on his face to make it impossible to tell what he looked like before. He had one foot kicked up onto the desk in front of him and was leaning back in the chair. He didn’t look up as CC-1010 entered.

One glance was all CC-1010 needed. He immediately slouched and narrowed his eyes in a show of boredom and annoyance.

“CC-3636, sir,” he said pointedly.

That got the man to look up and face him. Almost instantly, a smirk crossed his scarred face.

“Pretending to be a tough kid, huh?” He said with no small amount amusement.

“Not pretending, sir.” CC-1010 answered with no small amount of sass in his voice.

The Mandalorian let out a laugh at that, “Sure, that’s what they all say.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m the same.”

The trainer raised an eyebrow, “Why? What makes you think you’re different?”

“Why don’t you start the evaluation and find out?”

He laughed again and quickly obliged. CC-1010 answered the questions asked again but through the lens of Wolffe’s strategic mind. Wolffe preferred a more direct approach, but one that usually was disguised with various diversions and tricks. When the trainer asked a question, he answered with varying degrees of sarcasm. By the end, he could tell the trainer was throughly amused and also impressed. He was dismissed with a ‘well done’ and a ruffle of his hair.

So it was how CC-1010 spent his afternoon, completing the evaluation for each of his brothers. When he finally finished Bly’s he headed back to the quarters.

His brothers were in a state of loud confusion and panic when he entered. So different from the tense silence and clipped words from before. Fox ignored them and instead sat down on one of the benches in the corner of the room. He watched the chaos unfolding with a small smile.

“I know,” Wolf insisted, “but it says right here that we’ve completed them,” he pointed at his datapad.

“That makes no kriffing sense!” Kote shot back.

Fox had gotten Kote to swear? He couldn’t help but feel a little proud.

“Both of you shut up,” Bly tried to shout over them but his voice could barely be heard. Fox hid his smile behind his hand.

In the wake of the shouting, he didn’t notice Ponds hadn’t taken his eyes off him since he had entered.

“Fox,” Ponds spoke slowly, “do you know why it suddenly says that we’ve completed our tactics evaluation?”

The room suddenly became very quiet. All of his brothers slowly turned to face him. To an outsider, it would surely look intimidating.

Fox widened his eyes and moved his lips into a small pout, the picture of innocence.

Of course, that look had stopped working a long time ago.

Fox let out a short laugh as Bly flew at him and tackled him to the ground. His laugh turned into  giggles as he fought against his ori’vod.

 “What did you do, Fox?” Bly demanded as he pinned Fox’s arms to the ground.

Fox stopped struggling after a moment. He glanced up at his other brothers, who all had careful looks of suspicion on their faces.

He sighed, “I just… you all seemed so stressed. I wanted to help…” he trailed off when he saw how none of their expressions changed. A bit of doubt began to creep into his mind. Had he done the right thing? He was only trying to help them…

There was another moment of silence in which Fox averted his eyes so that he didn’t have to look at how disappointed they were. How disappointed Kote was.

Then, Bly let out a disbelieving laugh. Ponds and Wolffe looked at each other before both shaking their heads in exasperation.

Bly ruffled his hair and let him up, “You’re unbelievable Fox’ika.”

Fox tried not to let it show how his heart warmed at the nickname. When was the last time any of them had called him that? The doubt began to slowly ebb away.

“What did you even do?” Ponds demanded.

Fox shrugged, “I just kept going to different trainers and giving them your numbers and then doing the evaluation.”

Bly cackled, “And they didn’t question it?”

“It’s not like they can tell us apart,” Fox giggled but decided not to tell them how he had distracted the trainers so that they didn’t scan his number.

“But what if we mess up in the actual war now?” Ponds looked a little uneasy still.

“It wasn’t hard,” Fox replied, “you were all going to pass easily and besides, you already did all the studying for it.” He knew they were all going to pass because when he employed his brother’s differing tactics, he was met with a ‘well done’ each time.

Wolffe let out a low whistle, “Well, I guess we have the rest of today and tomorrow free…”

Fox fought back his smile.

“That’s what you were hoping for huh, vod’ika?” Wolffe teased him. Fox felt his face flush a little and scowled at the subsequent coo Wolffe let out.

Ponds ruffled his hair, “Come on, let’s go eat.”

Fox bounced to his feet and almost immediately stumbled as Wolffe threw an arm around his shoulders. He let the lighthearted sound of his brothers bickering and teasing wash over him. He felt more relaxed than he had in months.

In a quick motion, he looked over his shoulder to meet eyes with Kote. Kote stared back without the weight lifted off his shoulders like his other brothers. His eyes were evaluating, calculating, and seemed to stare right through Fox. As if he could tell that there was something Fox wasn’t saying.

Fox felt the hope and happiness he was feeling falter and the doubt which had been receding grew once more.

After a moment though, Kote shook his head and walked up to Fox. He ruffled his hair lightly and Fox couldn’t help but lean into the touch.

Everything was fine, he had done the right thing. His brothers were happy and Kote was proud of him. The trainers said he had done well and he had passed the evaluation. He had gotten what he wanted. After all, what good was a CC unit that couldn’t help others?

Of course, one day of respite wasn’t enough to revert his brothers to what they once were.

The stress and uncertainty continued to grow. Interactions were tense and more often than not, clipped. Fox wasn’t upset by it, he understood.

Still, why couldn’t Kote show him even a fraction of the attention he gave to the blonde CT unit?

Fox sat on his bed tube, pretending to read notes on his datapad. Truthfully, he was watching the interaction beneath him.

Kote was sitting with the CT, who had apparently been deemed ‘Rex.’ Fox wasn’t sure when that name had been implemented.

Rex muttered something that made Kote laugh and Fox felt his eyes narrow.

It wasn’t that he hated Rex, really he didn’t and he always tried to be cordial when Kote made them talk. It was just that Fox couldn’t remember the last time Kote had laughed at his own antics or pulled him close to rest, or just spoke to him that wasn’t nagging or in annoyance.

Kote wrapped an arm around Rex and let out a fond chuckle as he leaned against him.

It took actual effort for Fox to keep the scowl off his face. He chucked his datapad into his bed and slid down the ladder. He didn’t have to put up with this.

As he turned to leave the quarters Rex spoke up.

“Fox! Where are you going?” he called out.

Fox gave himself one second to relax the way his face tensed before turning, “Just going to do some hand to hand training.”

“Oh, we can join you,” Rex said enthusiastically.

Fox swallowed, “I’d rather go alone right now, sorry.” He needed to get some frustration out.

Fox almost looked away when he saw how Kote’s eyes narrowed. What was wrong with what he said? It was nice but firm and clearly stated what he wanted. He had even tried more things: being nice, bratty, annoying, sweet, everything, and nothing had changed how Kote had been treating him.

“Practice your left jab Fox,” Kote said sternly.

Fox nodded before quickly turning and walking out of the room. The door let out a hiss as it closed behind him and he finally let out the sigh he had been holding in.

As he walked down the white, sterile walls of the Kaminoan facility, his mind was racing. He understood the stress his brothers were experiencing, especially when the kaminiise were constantly telling them how their time was coming.

But why did that mean they had to change? Why couldn’t he do anything about it? How could he fix this?

CC-1010 was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t notice who was walking towards him.

A hand shot and gripped his bicep, hard. He jerked back as a reflex but let out a gasp as he was pulled forwards. His eyes shot up and locked straight into the same ones of Prime.

His breath caught and immediately his struggles stopped. He had never been this close to Prime ever, he was certain.

“S-sorry sir,” he managed to stutter out but Prime didn’t seem to hear him.

“CC-1010?” he asked coldly.

CC-1010 could only nod weakly.

Without another word, Prime yanked him down a corridor he had never been down before. The grip on his bicep tightened to bruising. CC-1010 didn’t dare make a sound or show his discomfort.

His mind was racing. What did Prime want with someone like him? He was just another CC unit and while his scores were impressive he was certain Prime didn’t care about such things. Prime would care about someone like Kote, someone he had named and someone who all things came easy to.

Maybe Prime wanted to teach him a lesson? That seemed most likely, this was absolutely not a chat for fun. Why would he want to teach him a lesson then?

His blood ran cold as he remembered how he had tricked the trainers into thinking all of his brothers had taken the tactics evaluation. Did Prime know? Was he going to be decommissioned? He hadn’t gotten to even say goodbye…

Get a hold over yourself.

He was a soldier, he wouldn’t panic like this. If he was to be decommissioned the kaminiise  would do it themselves, they wouldn’t send Prime to get him.

So why was he being dragged away?

With stuttered breaths he remembered the thought he had those years ago…That the Jedi weren’t what they were told him they were…

But how could Prime prove that he had had that thought? There was no way he could as long as CC-1010 stayed calm. He couldn’t reveal a thing.

He didn’t get to think more as Prime shoved him into a room and the door shut behind him with another hiss. CC-1010 looked up and saw that he was in what looked like a sparring room. The floor was padded with mats and various training weapons hung on the wall.

CC-1010 straightened up as Prime finally let go of his bicep. He took one step away to create some space and looked up at the man who he was created in the image of. Immediately, he hunched his shoulders and widened his eyes.

“Sir?” CC-1010 asked softly, going for the innocent angle, “have I done something wrong?”

Prime’s lips curled into a smirk, “Damn, you are good kid,” he muttered.

“What—”

“You have a name?” Prime interrupted.

“CC-1010 sir,” he replied. His name was for his quarters, where it was safe. Anything the kaminiise could potentially identify him with could put him in danger.

“Your name kid,” Prime insisted coldly.

He swallowed, his instincts began to warn him of danger. His hands felt hot and sweat began to bead on the back of his neck.

“I use CC-1010 sir,” he said softly.

Prime grabbed his chin and forced him to meet his eyes, “I asked for your name. Be careful what you say next.”

CC-1010’s hands trembled slightly but still, he did not yield. “CC-1010, sir.”

He didn’t even notice the fist that swung towards his face until it cracked across his cheek bone.

CC-1010 staggered back with a cough and gasp of pain. His hand reached up to cup the side of his face. It came away warm and sticky.

“Your name?” Prime insisted.

“CC-1010 sir.”

A fist flew out again and snapped his head to the side. Prime then grabbed him by the shoulders and slammed his knee into CC-1010’s stomach.

The breath was knocked from his lungs and he fell onto all fours on the mat. Blood dripped from his cheek and stained the white mat with little drips.

“Name!” Prime yelled.

“CC-10—”

Prime kicked him across the face and he felt his nose break. Pain exploded across his face and he fell backwards onto the mat. Prime stood over him, but there wan’t fury in his posture.

No, through the haze of blood and pain, CC-1010 recognized the look of calculating consideration in the eyes of Prime. It wasn’t a look he missed easily, CC-1010 himself wore it all too often.

This was a test, and CC-1010 was good at passing tests.

Another kick struck across his ribs and he choked with pain and curled into a fetal position. Prime grabbed him by his curls and forced him up.

“Last chance,” his voice was low, “What. Is. Your. Name. Soldier?”

Blood dribbled down his chin and his ribs screamed with every heavy breath he took. His eyes were hazy and his head was ringing.

Fox met Prime’s eyes head on. Without breaking eye contact, he reached one his hands up and wiped the blood from his mouth.

“CC-1010 sir,” he said coldly.

Prime’s lips curled up into a genuine smirk. He released his hair and stood up. CC-1010 scrambled to rise to his feet but his head spun.

“Easy kid,” Prime said and reached out hands to steady him, “sit down.”

CC-1010 sank to his knees with Prime in front of him. Out of nowhere, Prime produced a cloth and began cleaning the blood from his face.

The touch was in stark juxtaposition to how he had just been treated. It was gentle and almost caring? CC-1010 couldn’t help but lean into the touch a little. It had been so long…

Prime chuckled, “You’re a tough kid, Fox.”

Fox’s eyes widened and Prime outright laughed, “Yes, I know your name. That was a test, but you knew that already, didn’t you?”

Fox narrowed his eyes in suspicion, silently judging and evaluating, “I did.”

Prime smirked again and sat back as he seemed to deem Fox clean enough. His nose continued to bleed though and every few seconds Fox reached up to wipe it away.

Prime huffed, “I saw your little stunt with the evaluations.”

Fox wasn’t surprised, clearly there was more going on here than he knew, “My brothers would have passed—”

“I know.”

“Then why—”

“I’m not interested in talking about your brothers, Fox. I want to talk about you, who you are.”

“I am what I am required to be, sir,” Fox replied, his face was really beginning to hurt.

Another chuckle, “Yes, you’re a little too good at being what others need you to be, aren’t you?”

“Sir?”

“It’s actually fascinating to watch, how you spin everyone around your finger,” Prime mused, “I didn’t even notice it for a while, that’s how good you are at it.”

Fox had no response. What could he possibly say that wouldn’t now be taken as manipulation?

Prime smiled dangerously, “You’re clever, kid. Makes me proud.”

Fox’s heart just about stopped. The pain of his face and body immediately faded to background noise. Prime was…proud? No one had ever said that to him… and for it to come from Prime, who Fox was certain didn’t even know he existed.

He felt his face heating up and he ducked to look away. Prime chuckled fondly and the sound made that feeling in Fox’s chest rise again.

“Since we’ve established that, no more tests Fox. Why don’t you tell me just what you know?”

Fox’s head snapped up, “I’m not sure what you mean sir—”

“Don’t insult my intelligence or your own Fox,” Prime spoke firmly, “A clever kid like you has thought more about this.”

Fox pursed his lips and his heart began to pound. He was cornered with nowhere to go, he couldn’t hope to overpower Prime and all of his tricks seemed to be out of reach as well.

“If I wanted you decommissioned,” Prime said, a little softer, “I would have reported you already. Nothing you say will reach the long neck bastards.”

Fox’s eyes widened at the rude word to describe the kaminiise. It wasn’t that he thought Prime was friendly with them, but he appeared to be at least on good terms. Still he hesitated until Prime spoke once more.

“Come on kid, make me understand just how proud I should be.”

Fox couldn’t help but preen a little from the words. Proud, he wanted someone to be proud of him.

He wiped away a little more blood from his face and spoke quietly, “You don’t want us to know…but the Jedi aren’t soldiers…”

Prime threw back his head and outright cackled. “After we went through so much trouble to hide it, you still found out,” he said through laughter.

Fox sat back feeling awkward but continued speaking when Prime prompted him with one hand, “You say the Jedi will be our generals, but any discussion of their beliefs, ideals, or personalities has been limited to the Jedi Revan, and even that only discusses the strategies and leadership, not what it means to be a Jedi.”

Prime’s eyes gleamed, “You’ve truly read that holobook, haven’t you?”

Fox nodded.

“Go on.”

Fox swallowed, “You are Mandalorian.”

“I am.”

“And Mandalorians do not like Jedi.”

“Typically no.”

“But you were willing to give your DNA to create an army for the Jedi.”

“I was.”

“And the Jedi are not soldiers.”

“They are not.”

“But you are giving them an army.”

“We are.”

“So the Jedi are going to fight in a war even though they are not soldiers.”

“Yes.”

It took every part of Fox’s training to not look away from Prime’s eyes, “You want them to die.”

The pleased expression on Prime’s face turned into something malicious. He stared down Fox, “Nergra'tua.”

“Why-why are you telling me this?” Fox asked, his voice quieted to a whisper.

Prime’s eyes narrowed, “Why haven’t you told anyone else about what you’ve discovered?”

Fox didn’t have an answer to that. Why hadn’t he? He was afraid that he would be decommissioned…

But maybe, some small part of him, didn’t want to mess with his brother’s beliefs about the Jedi. They truly believed the Jedi were going to be leaders like Revan, all of them. They were fascinated and excited by the prospect of the Jedi. Fox didn’t want to take that away from them. They already had so little…

“You will see Fox, when you reach the battlefield with the jetiise that they are not generals. They will not know how to command and yet you will be forced to follow. You will see their incompetence and be forced to comply with it. They will not know how to survive a war…

But you will.”

Prime continued speaking as Fox’s eyes widened, “Your training, every moment you’ve spent learning how to fight, to plan, to calculate, it will keep you alive. The vode have learned how to survive a war. And when my vengeance has been completed, you will no longer be bound by them. You and your brothers will be able to go wherever you wish, live however you want, and never again be tied down by servitude.

“So you see, it’s not just nergra’tua, but nervercopa for you as well.”

Fox truly didn’t know what to do with the information suddenly given to him. Knowing something like this was clear grounds for decommissioning or reconditioning at the least. What he had thought when he was only five cycles old… it was all true.

The Jedi were to die. But why? Did they truly deserve that? The Foreword said Revan fought for the ‘good of the galaxy…’

“Are the Jedi…evil?” Fox asked ever so quietly.

Prime softened, “Look at me Fox’ika,” Fox slowly met his eyes and ignored how his heart warmed at the nickname, “Anyone, and I mean anyone, in this galaxy who owns people, is not a good individual.”

Fox swallowed and nodded sadly. “All natborns are one of two things when it comes to us,” he recited his own mantra quietly.

Prime lifted an eyebrow, “And what are those two things?”

He huffed, “Hypocrites or hypocrites in denial.”

Prime howled with laughter again, “You understand it better than I could ever explain.”

Fox tried to smile to hide his emotions. He couldn’t help but feel a little sad. Maybe some part of him hope that the Jedi would be different…

Prime lifted a hand to card through his curls and after a moment, pulled Fox against his chest. Fox gasped as one hand cradled the back of his head and the other around his back.

Unwillingly, Fox felt all the tension in his body seem to drift away. He nestled deeper into Prime’s arms and his heart felt lighter than it had in weeks. When was the last time one of his brothers had held him like this?

Prime stroked a hand through his hair in soothing motions. “You will be at the heart of it Fox, I see it now.”

Fox let out a small noise of questioning.

“When you reach your posting, you’ll meet them. You’ll be able to tell who I mean, and from there it will be your job, your purpose to make my vercopa come to fruition. I trust you with this.” Prime pulled back so that he could make eye contact with Fox again.

Prime smiled, “You are truly in my likeness, Fox.”

Fox couldn’t help the smile that stretched across his lips. He wasn’t going to be one of the ‘nameless soldiers.’ He had a purpose. He would make sure his brothers were able to see Prime’s dream.

“I’m going to teach you something in the coming days,” Prime said softly, “it’s a Mandalorian technique to shield your mind from those Jedi who will demand more than they’re given.”

Fox’s mouth dropped in wonder. Prime was going to teach him something? Personally?

Prime chuckled fondly and then without warning, tackled Fox backwards onto the mat. Fox let out a squeak of indignation as one of Prime’s hands came to mess up his hair. He tried to fight back, but his arms were quickly pinned down.

(Also his bruised ribs and bloodied face had screamed in pain, but he ignored that.)

With one more fond laugh, Prime let him up. “Go clean up, kid.”

Fox stood, gave a small salute and a smile and then quickly headed out of the room and to the fresher. He couldn’t quite keep the bounce out of his step. He and his brothers would be free after the war. Free to do whatever they wished. The stress and tension that sat so heavily on his older brothers would fade. Maybe even Kote would look at him like he used to.

His nose was clearly broken as he examined it in the mirror. With one motion, he quickly set it back into place, biting down on his fist to stifle the noise he let out at the pain. He washed the blood off his face. There wasn’t much he could do for the bruises right now, but they were so common that their presence usually went unquestioned.

However, as he headed back to his quarters, the bounce in his step faded as reality sunk in. Prime wanted the Jedi dead. It went against everything they had been told. They were told to revere the Jedi, to worship them…

But Prime was right, if the Jedi were truly good, then they would never own the clones as property. If the Jedi were smart, they would realize that they weren’t soldiers and never be drawn into a war to begin with. If they were clever like Fox was, they would realize that this was a trap, the same way he did when he was only five cycles old.

CC-1010 was a strategist. He had given the entirety of his short life so far to studying tactics and battle strategy. It would be uncharacteristic of him to rush into such firm conclusions.

He would wait, he decided. They hadn’t even met the Jedi yet, maybe they were different from the ones Prime knew and hated. Maybe they had changed. Maybe they wouldn’t accept the war and help the vode instead of sending them to the battlefield. Maybe…they really were like the stories of Revan.

He was beginning to sound like Kote with this kind of thinking.

But still, he decided to withhold judgement on the Jedi and what he had learned until he could either confirm or deny Prime’s claims. That would tell him how to move forwards.

Then there was still the question of his brothers… should he tell them what he had learned? They admired the Jedi so fiercely, but they needed to be prepared too…

CC-1010 would tell them, he decided as he walked the long corridors back to his quarters. It was always good to get a second opinion when it came to strategy.

Fox hurried into the quarters as soon as the door opened with the familiar hiss. He waved his hand to close it immediately. 

Kote was finally alone, he noticed happily. He moved quickly over to his ori’vod.

“Kote,” he said a little breathlessly, “I—”

Kote raised a hand to stop him. He reached forward and turned Fox’s head to the side to get a clearer look at the bruise on his cheek.

“You need to work on your guard,” Kote said with a note of tension, “especially after you go for a hook or jab. You let it down too easily.”

“I know,” Fox brushed him off, “I’m working on it. But Kote, I need to tell you something—”

He was cut off by the sound of Kote letting out a long suffering sigh.

Fox stiffened and when he spoke, his voice was small, “Am I…bothering you Kote?”

Kote ran a hand through his hair, “Look, I’m sorry Fox. I’ve just been really busy.”

“But—”

“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to show you the same attention I did when we were younger. I don’t have the time anymore. But you’re older now, we both are. I’m trusting that you can take care of yourself now,” he continued.

“Ori’vod—”

The door opened with a hiss. Fox turned to see Rex saunter inside.

“There you are, what took you so long, Rex’ika?” Kote said teasingly.

Rex wrinkled his nose, “Monnk said I wasn’t allowed to leave until I gave him a hug, because he was just ‘so cold and wet’ and could only be warmed up by the ‘love of a vod’ika’.”

Kote raised an eyebrow, “You’re not wet.”

Rex grinned cheekily, “Well he can’t run that fast in all that underwater gear.”

Kote chuckled fondly, “Good thinking,” and walked over to him. Fox was practically stunned at how quickly this conversation had turned. Why wasn’t Kote listening?

Fox felt the bitter tang of jealousy turn to outright resentment. Of course, Rex was enough for Kote to pay attention to. Of course, Rex was enough for Kote to praise and enough for Kote to have the time for.

The resentment quickly faded to sadness. What had happened to them? They used to be so close, or at least he thought they were. Maybe it was just his mind being unable to stop thinking and analyzing again. Maybe the relationship they had was just something he had made up.

His brothers had too many other focuses. That must have been why Prime had only told him. This was why he was different. No, he couldn’t tell his brothers what he had learned. If too many of them knew, the Jedi would be suspicious. He would wait, and he would be ready, and he would protect his brothers. Then, Kote would be proud of him. Then, Kote would have time for him again. He could shoulder this burden alone, it was the least he could do for his brothers.

Kote looked back at him and how Fox was feeling must have been very apparent on his face. His older brother actually stopped following Rex out of the door and his eyes widened.

“Fox,” he said softly, “what’s wrong?”

Fox turned away, “Nothing, never mind.”

After all, what good was a CC unit that couldn’t take a little extra weight?

CC-1010 gasped for air.

The cold seawater of Kamino burned his eyes and mouth. The iciness sunk into the cracks between his armor and weighed his body down.

He twisted to kick one leg over Kote’s body and forced him away with all of his strength. The grip around his neck was removed.

Immediately, CC-1010 was up on his knees, the shallow water coming up to his mid thighs. It was on one of the few areas of the Kaminoan oceans marked for how shallow it was.

Perfect for grappling training.

Kote barely gave him a second to catch his breath before he was lunging for CC-1010 again. He dodged under his older brother’s fist and shoved him backwards. In an instant, Kote charged forward again, his shoulder hit CC-1010 on the chest and his arms wrapped around his back in a grip so tight he struggled to breathe.

Kote dug his feet into the sand, and in one movement, lifted and threw CC-1010 onto his back. CC-1010 kicked up and heard more than saw how his brother’s knee cap twisted. Kote didn’t seem to notice.

The cold water entered his mouth making him choke and he reared up in a desperate gasp. He held his breath as Kote shoved him down again. Underwater, senses freezing and disoriented, he reached out on instinct and wrapped his arms around Kote’s head in a bruising grip.

The cold was like needles pricking his skin and the water was like poison as his lungs begged for air. Acting on nothing but the instinct to survive, he shifted his weight under Kote enough to force himself off the ground a little, creating just enough leverage to force Kote off of him and flip their positions.

CC-1010 shoved Kote’s head underwater with a primal viciousness. He growled as his ori’vod thrashed and kicked against his grip with a primal instinct to survive. To breathe.

CC-1010 didn’t give in though and after a moment, there was a light tap against one of his arms. He rolled off of Kote and lay, half submerged in the water, gasping and choking and shivering. He desperately looked up at the trainers, he couldn’t go again. This had been the tenth time and his body was screaming at him for a break.

The trainer didn’t make them go again. CC-1010 looked over at Kote to realize why. His older brother’s face was screwed up in pain and he noticed how awkwardly his knee cap was positioned.

CC-1010 didn’t feel bad. He didn’t, after all, what good was a CC unit who felt bad for the enemy?

CC-1010 is nine cycles old.

And a jetii is here.

A Jedi is here. On Kamino.

His brothers were whispering incessantly amongst themselves. The warnings of the kaminiise  finally being realized. There was a tension in the air laced with anticipation and also, curiosity.

Rumors were flying around the vode without a care to their truth or not. A few clones had said they had seen the Jedi strike down Lama Su, some said he was so tall even the kaminiise had to look up to speak to him, some said he had red hair, others said he was an alien and that ranged anywhere from zabrak to geonosian.

CC-1010 didn’t pay attention to the rumors though. He stalked through the long, sterile hallways as fast as he could without outright running.

A Jedi was here, which could only mean one thing.

CC-1010 skidded to a stop in front of the door. He hardly hesitated for a a second before waving his hand over the sensor. It recognized him and swung open.

He wasn’t surprised to see how the apartment had been packed up. Boxes and backpacks lay on the ground. Boba looked up in surprise as he entered.

“The jetii has already been here, hasn’t he?” CC-1010 spoke softly.

Boba nodded and the two of them exchanged a look that said more than any words ever could. After a moment, Boba spoke.

“He’s out on the landing pad. We’re leaving.”

CC-1010 wasn’t surprised. He nodded and then before he could lose his nerve knelt down and pulled Boba into a quick keldabe. He could tell in that moment that Boba was putting on a brave face as the moment their foreheads touched, all the tension seemed to fade and Boba’s shoulders shook.

“Be safe ori’vod,” Fox whispered quietly.

Boba sniffed quietly before throwing his arms around Fox’s shoulders, “Please stay alive,” he whispered.

Fox allowed himself a few seconds more of comfort before pulling away. He turned and walked out of the apartment without looking back.

It was pouring outside on the landing pad. That was nothing new but still, something about it made CC-1010 uneasy. The dark clouds seemed foreboding as if the universe was sending him a warning.

Prime was in his armor and quickly loading boxes into his ship. CC-1010 stood on the walkway to the landing pad, watching silently. The heavy rain soaked into his curls and dripped down the sides of this face as if they were small, directionless tears.

Prime turned as if he could sense CC-1010’s presence. In quick steps he hurried over, nearly slipping on the slick walkway.

“Fox,” he said sharply, “what are you doing?”

The sound of the rain bouncing off the glass panes and the roar of the ocean waves hitting the structural supports seemed to echo around him.

“You weren’t going to tell me you were leaving,” Fox spoke each word clearly.

Prime sighed, his voice distorted by the helmet, “I was planning to—”

Fox stopped him with a raised hand, “Please, I was the last thing on your mind.”

Prime’s eyes flickered to the facility, “Not the last.”

A strange feeling rose up in the back of his throat. He wasn’t sure why, but he was extremely thankful for the rain at that moment.

“Why hasn’t the jetii come for you yet?” he decided to ask. There wasn’t a tremor in his voice. There wasn’t.

He could tell Prime was smirking underneath the helmet, “Shabuir needs permission to know what to do next.”

Fox’s lips curled a little, he couldn’t help it. “You don’t seem concerned.”

“I’m not.”

“Guess that means he’s not really a three meter tall geonosian then,” Fox said with a faux disappointed sigh.

Prime shook his head but Fox could tell he was amused, “If he was I might have more respect.”

The humor of the moment faded quickly. Fox could tell that time was running out.

“You know the Jedi won’t stop until they have answers from you,” he spoke quickly.

Prime was smirking again, “Then I suppose it’s a good thing those answers will never come from my lips.”

Fox studied him for a minute, trying to decipher all the meanings behind those words.

And for a brief moment, Fox was ashamed to admit that he faltered. The Jedi was coming here,  likely looking for Prime. Fox had the perfect opportunity to tell him what was really going on. He had the perfect opportunity to warn him that the Jedi were walking into a war they couldn’t win. Would it save his brothers? Would it—

Prime huffed before reaching forwards and pulling Fox to him. Their foreheads rested together in a keldabe. Fox shut his eyes.

“You’re going to be brilliant, adi’ka,” Prime said firmly. Fox felt his breath hitch at the word and his eyes flew open, but he didn’t pull away. A warm feeling rose in his chest that wasn’t offset by the rain at all.

“Remember what I have taught you.”

The shielding of his mind, how to assess a battle from multiple perspectives, how to kill a jetii

“Take care of your brothers.”

Kote, Wolffe, Ponds, Bly, Rex, all those that he would command and even those that he wouldn’t. He would keep them alive. Keep them safe from the jetiise. Keep them breathing in order to one day see—

“Ner gra’tua, ner vercopa.”

Fox didn’t let the feeling in the back of his throat rise anymore. He didn’t let the raindrops dripping down his face become precursors to something else.

After all, what good was a CC unit that couldn’t say goodbye sometimes?

The time had finally come.

Fox was being shipped off to war.

Kote wasn’t coming.

Fox had received the orders not long after he had said goodbye to Prime. He had returned to his quarters, his face a careful mask of neutrality as to not betray what he was feeling. There was a tension in the room. It made Fox’s stomach twist uncomfortably. He had long since grown out of such things, but he couldn’t help but lean against the shoulder of Ponds, who thankfully didn’t shove him off. At least, not until his datapad lit up.

“CC-1010 report to landing pad A-5, effective immediately.”

Fox looked up to see his older brothers each with shocked looks on their faces. They had no doubt received their own orders. The tension in the room snapped.

It was finally time.

Fox rose and put on his armor in silence, not daring to voice any of his thoughts. He was sure his brothers had enough to think about right now. He told himself that the tremble in his hands wasn’t anything important.

Fox glanced up just before he put on his helmet and that was when he noticed. Kote hadn’t risen like the rest of them. He had remained sitting on the bench in the corner of the room with a frown on his face.

“Kote,” Fox said softly, “we need to hurry.”

Kote looked up at him with a strange, lost look in his eyes that Fox hadn’t seen before. It unnerved him.

“You’re not coming, are you?” Ponds asked, not unkindly.

“What?” Fox’s head whipped round to face Ponds and then back to Kote, “what do you mean?”

Kote didn’t look at him. He appeared almost vulnerable in his posture with hunched shoulders and his head down. Fox didn’t like it, it wasn’t how Kote should look.

“His knee,” Wolffe put the pieces together and answered with a sharp tone.

Fox flinched as he remembered the grappling the previous week. Where he had kicked out Kote’s knee, and now…

A guilt settled on his shoulders and immediately he hurried over to his older brother and sat down beside him.

His voice was pathetic, “Kote, I’m so—”

Kote held up a hand to stop him and Fox fell silent almost immediately.

“Enough,” he said firmly, “I don’t want to hear it. Don’t worry about me, you can’t afford the distraction.”

Fox’s body shook slightly. The wedge that had been growing between them only seemed to widen. He opened his mouth to speak again but Ponds interrupted.

“He’s right Fox, there’s nothing that can be done now and you need to focus.” The words weren’t unkind but the guilt still sat on his shoulders.

Bly suddenly moved from where he had been staring out the window into the pouring rain. He held out his arms and slowly pulled Fox to his feet. After a moment, Kote stood unsteadily as well and Ponds and Wolffe joined them.

Without any words needed, they formed into a small huddle. Fox shut his eyes and tried to keep his body from trembling. He hadn’t felt so anxious in a long time. Bly’s arm around him tightened but Kote’s did not.

“Jorso'ran kando a tome,” Ponds whispered.

Fox’s breaths stuttered for second. He didn’t have the words to describe how he felt. There was a sadness, a fear, and yet an acceptance as well.

For a brief moment, he felt overwhelmed with the shear size of everything. He was just one clone, the youngest of his batch, had never been off Kamino, and he was going to war. His brothers would be out of reach for this first time in his short life. He would have to command, he may have to send those ‘nameless soldiers’ to their deaths.

“Stay alive, all of you,” Wolffe’s voice was fierce and it snapped Fox out of his thoughts.

No, this was what he was created to do. His DNA was designed to do this, it was in this blood, in his genetic sequencing, in his mind before he even had the words to fully describe it.

Wolffe looked around, meeting eyes with every member of Fox’s batch. When his eyes reached Fox he could swear they were even more fierce.

Fox held his gaze, and nodded.

Wolffe nodded back and without words they all pulled forward together, their foreheads touching. It was an intimacy that Fox had desperately missed the past few months as it had been ages since they had shown this kind of affection. He allowed himself a second to bask in it before pulling away.

As he did and the rest of his brothers reluctantly pulled back as well. One by one, they left the room until it was just Fox and Kote left.

“Kote—” Fox started but he was cut off again.

“Don’t Fox, it’s fine,” Kote said curtly.

It didn’t sound like it was fine but there wasn’t anything Fox could do now. He still felt awful though.

Kote placed his hands on Fox’s shoulders and spoke with a low voice, “Don’t you dare get distracted out there.”

Fox nodded.

Kote sighed softly, he opened his mouth to say something more but Fox’s datapad buzzed again. He reluctantly pulled himself away from his older brother, and met his eyes.

Fox couldn’t quite make out the look in Kote’s eyes, but he also couldn’t afford distractions now. He gave Kote one more nod of acknowledgement.

Kote returned it and Fox spun on his heel and marched out of the quarters he had known his entire life. Somehow he knew, he was never going to return. He didn’t let his hands tremble and he didn’t let his heart race.

After all, what good was a CC unit that didn’t want to be a part of a war?

Geonosis was the target. The venator flew through hyperspace, casting bright lights around the command deck. It was mesmerizing, CC-1010 had never seen anything like it.

But he didn’t let himself appreciate or focus on it.

Geonosis was the target.

And Geonosis curiously didn’t have much in the way of naval protection. CC-1010 stared down  at the terrain map on the holo desk with his arms crossed. Another CC unit stood on his left and hologram projections of Wolffe, Bly, Ponds, and a few other CC units surrounded the rest of the space. CC-1010 recognized Neyo, Bacara, and Gree but the others were unknown to him.

Also, he was pointedly not looking at the hologram of the small, green, rodent-like creature across the table.

General Yoda was his name apparently and he was the head of the Jedi order.

CC-1010 wasn’t impressed but he kept a tight lock on his shields just like how Prime had taught him. Could Jedi sense emotions from several ships away? He wasn’t sure but he also wasn’t taking any chances.

 Don’t judge, he told himself. He hadn’t seen the Jedi in action. There was still the chance that they were different than what Prime said they were. Don’t judge the apparently wise and strong green swamp rat.

He had a job to do. Already, strategies and tactics were revealing themselves to him, as easy as breathing.

The main focus was the droid factories. If they were able to take those out, the production of the droids would be severely diminished.

Orbital bombardment would truly be the best option. But there was also the matter of the geonosian leader, Sun Fac. He needed to be confirmed dead for any actual blow to impact the geonosians.

Orbital bombardment to destroy the droid factories… even if the geonosians went underground (as they apparently could) the loss of the factories would cripple them for a long time. Additionally, it would be extremely difficult for the Separatist leaders to escape an orbital bombardment and a blockade of venators guarding the entrance to the hyperspace lane.

However, there was also the matter of the hundred trapped jetiise… who, according to General Yoda, had all marched into the Arena of Petranaki and expected to fight and win against endless swarms of battle droids… where there was no cover…all to save two Jedi and a senator…

And their plan was to try and shut down the central operating system for the droids…even though the droids all operated on their own individual systems now…

Don’t judge.

After all, they had only learned now that the droids had individual computing systems due to intelligence from the ARF troopers that were sent ahead. And the Jedi had no way of knowing how many droids were actually there… even though the factory was right next to the arena…And maybe the Jedi fought best with no cover so that nothing got in the way of…the… Force?

It was probably something like that.

CC-1010 pushed the thought from his mind and focused on the map again. A squadron of LAAT gunships could be used to save the Jedi from the arena and get them away. The droids would no doubt mark the gunships with Jedi in them and target them. If they could trust the pilots, they could direct the gunships to bait the ground cannons and support to focus on them, leading to a series of bombers that could make quick but effective runs over the droid army and its many types of ground support.

Before that happened though, they could discreetly deploy the commando units to go after the Separatist leaders. The ground support from the clones could be stationed at ridges in front and to the west of the factory. The sandy terrain did not leave much to cover the ground soldiers so CC-1010 wanted to keep the clones off the ground as much as possible. The commando units had enough experience to slip in and out safely.

It was air support that was going to win them this battle. The lack of cover didn’t allow for the use of infantry without heavy casualties, but it also meant that the droids had no cover either for heavy bombing and missile runs.

The noted federation starships could be allowed to enter space as the geonosians didn’t have enough air support to truly protect them against the venator fleet. Squadrons of quick fighters would be enough to distract them in time for the fleet to assemble the blockade and stop and ships attempting to escape from the surface.

Most of all, the geonosians didn’t know they were coming. Surprise was on their side which was arguably the best advantage they had. Those quick moments when they first attacked would be crucial. If they could get the enemy on the back-foot immediately, they stood higher chances. And, if the commando units were able to slip in before the Separatist leaders were aware of the situation and started fleeing, they had a chance of stopping this war right where it started. Then, he could return to Kote and maybe he would be proud and…

CC-1010 stood at attention and began to speak, breaking the awkward silence, “Sirs, our best chance of winning this battle is to rely on our air support. The terrain doesn’t give much room for cover so the use of ground soldiers would be unadvisable. We can deploy the commando units to move in and assassinate the Separatist leaders before they truly know we are there. Then, a series of LAAT gunships can rescue the Generals from the arena and use their departure as a cover for a bombing run over the geonosian ground support and artillery. Also, small battalions can force the army to be trapped against the arena structure and the soldiers. From there, we can commence the targeted bombing. Any starships that make it from the surface will be cut off by a venator blockade and heavy air support.”

As CC-1010 spoke, he felt his comfort grow. This was where he was most at home and what the kaminiise had specifically created him to do.

“The infantry won’t have much cover out there,” Gree spoke up.

CC-1010 nodded and then flexed his hand to zoom the map in, “We can station them here and here along the ridges for cover. The sunken nature of the terrain here can push the droids into lower ground. Then, an airstrike can commence.”

The CC unit next to him began nodding. Judging by how the other commanders were acting, they agreed with his ideas. There were a few more questions about logistics and fine tuning some of the looser ideas, but the general plan appeared to be agreed on. He was glad that his brothers agreed that the use of foot soldiers wouldn’t be especially beneficial here, even Bacara and Neyo approved. It wasn’t his best work, but given that they were forming the strategy for an entire planetary campaign on the way to said planet, he thought it was decent.

They were in the middle of selecting commando units and assigning them Separatists to assassinate when General Yoda spoke up.

“Rescuing the Jedi, the most urgent task is.”

Don’t judge, Fox.

“Of course, General,” Bly spoke up.

“Hm? General I am not, master I am,” the general spoke with a smile.

CC-1010 glanced at his brothers and was glad to see that they appeared to be just as confused.

“Master Yoda,” Ponds spoke up and he inwardly profusely thanked Ponds for being able to translate that nonsense, “do you have any concerns with the strategy?”

“Most important life is, not death. The Jedi, in danger they are,” General Yoda spoke slowly and the humor in his voice was gone, “Rescue them first, we must.”

CC-1010 bit the inside of his cheek. He didn’t doubt that the rescue of the Generals was important, but if they went straight to the arena they would give themselves away immediately and lose those crucial first moments. If they could drop the commando units in before the Separatists knew they were there, they had a chance to take out all the leaders in one single stroke.

But he was only a CC unit and General Yoda was well, a general. It wasn’t his place to defend his strategy, but rather, to follow orders. He tried to hush the voice in the back of his mind that sounded suspiciously like Prime.

You will see, Fox, when you reach the battlefield with the Jetiise that they are not generals. They will not know how to command and yet you will be forced to follow…

He ignored the memory of Prime’s words that echoed in the back of his head. They weren’t soldiers… It made sense that General Yoda was most concerned with the other generals in the arena. It made sense to prioritize them.

You know that’s a lie.

“Very well, Master Yoda,” Ponds spoke, “how would you like the troops to be positioned? I recommend CC-1010’s use of air support.”

“Bait, the Jedi will not be,” General Yoda said firmly, “help they can be in the battle. Close to the droids, they will need to be to help.”

The Jedi didn’t truly have any weapons that were good in ranged combat. Their lightsabers were their most dangerous weapon and unfortunately, they needed to be close to the enemy to use them.

A strange feeling rose up in CC-1010’s gut. He wasn’t sure how to describe it, but he suddenly had a very bad feeling about this. It was odd to watch something evolve in front of his eyes that he knew was not going to go well, and yet have no power to speak up.

The strategy was reworked with the input of General Yoda. Except… it wasn’t truly a strategy. The idea was to essentially charge the droids in a full frontal assault with the Jedi leading them into the fray.

“And air support sir?” Neyo spoke up.

“Mmm,” the creature stoked his chin, “airstrikes and bombing, cruel it is. Avoid it, we must, if possible.”

CC-1010 just knew that Neyo was in disbelief. Actually, he knew that all his brothers were in disbelief. This was war, there was no place for mercy.

But it wasn’t his place. His place was to follow orders.

“Very well sir,” Ponds spoke slowly.

CC-1010 was to be assigned to the west command center…because they were setting up command centers now. Even though it would use valuable time to set them up, the general deemed it necessary in case any of the Jedi required immediate medical care.

In any case, he would be directing the Western front of the battle…because there was a Western front now… because they were charging in, relying on infantry and not air support.

The bad feeling grew, but CC-1010 said nothing. After all, what good was a CC unit that couldn’t follow orders?

Geonosis was so hot, CC-1010 had never felt anything like it. He didn’t let himself feel any surprise or astonishment though. The second the LAAT was on the ground he was directing soldiers. The command center needed to be set up and they needed to reinforce their front. He spoke in shouts, but made sure to make his orders clear and concise.

CC-1010 had one commando squad under his command. Most were pushed to the forward assembly area. He wasted no time in contacting the advisor for Delta squad.

“Your orders sir?” The advisor asked.

CC-1010 had to shout in order to be heard over the engines of the LAAT gunships. “Delta squad’s primary objective is to eliminate the geonosian leader, Sun Fac. Inform them that it is of the utmost importance. I leave the details to you, advisor.”

“Yes sir!”

CC-1010 shut off the one way comm and opened the general channel, “Be aware, Delta Squad incoming to the arena, roger.”

There was a repeat of his words on the other side so CC-1010 set the comm away for the time being. He turned back to where the troopers were setting up.

“ARF troopers behind the command center,” he yelled out, “ARCs to the western edge to prepare for a flanking maneuver, infantry to the front and find cover!”

General Yoda had decided on a full frontal assault, but CC-1010 would be damned if he didn’t even try to protect the ground troopers as well as he could. As it was, he was prepping the Western front to be able to eventually converge to forward position in order to box the droids in. It was a bastardization of his original strategy but it was the best he could work with right now.

The CC unit who had been standing next to him on the flight over had also been deployed to the Western front. CC-1010 had assigned him to overseeing the assembly of the command center.

“Sir,” the unit said, “the troopers are nearly in position.”

“And the command center?”

“Ready, sir.”

CC-1010 nodded his thanks but didn’t move. He pulled his scopes up to his eyes to scan the horizon for droids. For now there was nothing and he couldn’t help but think of how they were wasting these moments of surprise.

No, he couldn’t think like that. Like Kote said, he couldn’t afford distractions. This was the situation he was in, so he had to adapt.

“Are you not going to the center sir?” the CC unit asked.

CC-1010 shook his head, “I will eventually, to see how we should proceed, but right now I think it would be best for me to see what we’re dealing with.”

“We’re dealing with meeting a droid army on a desert planet in full frontal assault,” the unit huffed, “if my trainer could see me now she would have sent me to decommissioning without a second to think about it.”

CC-1010 couldn’t help the way his lips turned up, “Prime would have seen to the decommissioning personally.”

The unit actually laughed at that, “Imagine his face.”

“That’s not hard to do.”

The unit laughed again. This clone was very free with his amusement. The humor faded quickly though as a strange stillness settled on the future battlefield. The silence was only interrupted by the sounds of thousands of clones breathing, ready to do what they were created to do.

To die by incompetent command

“I’m Thorn, by the way,” the unit said.

“CC-1010,” he responded. He was surprised when Thorn just nodded, completely fine with him  not offering up his name. There was a part of him that deeply appreciated that Thorn didn’t push. Maybe if they survived this, he could eventually feel comfortable offering up his real name.

…

Surviving, as it turned out, was not easy.

Even with his helmet, the sand burned his throat and made him choke. The heat seemed to weigh down his arms. And the sound—

The sounds of blaster fire permeated the area like a thick cloud. It rang in his ears and made his head spin. And then there were the screams.

It felt surreal to hear his own voice crying out in pain, in anger, in desperate screams from all around him. It felt surreal to have the knowledge that each scream meant one of his brothers had fallen.

CC-1010 still hadn’t taken cover in the command center. He tuned out the noise and yelled into the comms with a brutal efficiency. This was no place for distractions.

The frontal assault was not working. At this rate, the Republic would lose the first battle it had ever taken part in.

CC-1010—no—Fox was not going to let that happen. The simplest thing would be to call in an airstrike but he wasn’t allowed to do that. A part of him was certain that the Jedi had forgotten about that the second the battle had actually started as he had seen several bombers pass over already.

Hypocrites or hypocrites in denial, his mind taunted.

Focus, said a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Kote.

If he couldn’t call in an airstrike, then he would have to do something else. Desperation bred creativity after all.

“Thorn!” He shouted and the clone hurried over to him, “Tell the troopers to pull back, we’re going to cut the droid forces!”

Thorn yelled back his understanding and quickly hurried off to relay the message. Fox hurried back to the command center and stepped in for the first time.

“Your orders, sir?” One of the troopers cried out. Fox could tell how panicked he was.

“Any demolitionists in the immediate area?” he asked the trooper.

The clone scanned a datapad he was holding before speaking up, “T-Two sir, and I have some experience as well.”

“Call them here, now.”

“Yes sir.”

“What’s your name soldier?” Fox allowed his voice to soften.

“I’m called Lucky, sir,” he responded.

Fox smiled under his helmet, “Well, we will definitely be needing you today then.”

Lucky giggled a little hysterically. Two troopers ran into the center and immediately stood at attention.

“You both are demolitionists?” Fox spoke quickly. They both managed a tense nod. “Your names?” he continued.

“I’m Inferno sir, and this is Cloud,” the trooper on the left said.

“Fitting,” Fox said with another smile, “here’s the plan: I want you both to rig this center with as many explosives as you can find. We’re going to lure the droids here and then detonate it with an AT-TE blast. We’ll head East to flank the droid forces and help out forward command. Is that understood?”

“Yes sir!” they both said in unison.

“Good. Lucky tell the officers to move out then come find me,” he pressed down on his comm, “Thorn tell the men to move east we’re going to box the droids at forward command in.”

At the responding shouts of affirmation Fox gripped the blaster in his hands and hurried back out into the storm outside. It only seemed to have become worse. Dust and sand blurred his HUD vision, but one thing caught his eye and he stopped.

About ten meters away lay the body of one of his brothers. They were lying face up, their legs twisted unnaturally. One was bent and flopped over at the shin and the other was dislocated at the hip. Their white armor was painted with dust, which only was there in the first place because of the wet blood that spanned the top of his chest plate.

Fox felt his hands shake and a nauseous feeling began to rise up in the back of his throat. He didn’t think he could hate himself more as he turned away from the body of his brother.

Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of an LAAT landing. Fox spun around and through the dust managed to make out several figures exit the ship. He sprinted over, ready to warn the troopers to move east but stopped when he could make out the figures.

Jetiise. Their lack of armor and the cylindrical hilts at their waists gave them away. He slowed his steps.

“Generals!” He called out sharply and they turned. He quickly snapped into a salute, “I’m Commander CC-1010, what are your orders?” Fox recited the words perfectly, just like he was trained to do.

The Jedi looked at him rather helplessly. He tried not to stare but he hadn’t seen species like them before. Two had yellowish skin with tattoos on their faces and head coverings, though one looked significantly younger than the other. One had horns on the side of his head that draped over his shoulders. The other was tall, with red skin, and blue and white head tails that hung low across her shoulders and back. He recognized them from his reading though, two mirialans, an iktotchi, and a togruta.

The togruta appeared to be injured as she was leaning heavily against the side of the iktotchi. It was her, though, that managed to speak up.

“Commander, what’s the situation?” she tried to speak clearly but he could tell that she was in pain.

“The western front is holding, but we are taking heavy casualties and are unable to move forward. I’ve given an order to lure the droids back to the command center so that we can lead them into a trap and blow the center. From there, we will move east to reinforce forward command and to perform a flanking maneuver to pivot to cut off the droid forces,” he relayed.

The Jedi continued to stare. Fox kept his body at standard attention and his shields locked down as tight as he possibly could.

“Sir!” came a shout and he turned to see Thorn and Lucky hurrying over. They both saluted the Jedi before Thorn spoke up, “The infantry is ready to move at your command.”

Fox nodded and then turned to Lucky, “The center is nearly outfitted with the explosives sir, all the officers are ready to evacuate.”

“Good,” he turned back to the Jedi, “we are ready to move out generals, awaiting your command.”

The Jedi still looked confused and Fox felt a little bit of anxiety creep down his spine. He wasn’t allowed to act until they gave the orders and the longer his soldiers stayed here, the more casualties would rack up.

Finally, the iktotchi spoke up, “She needs medical attention, now,” he gestured to the togruta.

Fox nodded, “I understand sir, I recommend we move to forward command for a bacta station. I am hesitant to administer treatment while we are still under pressure right now.”

The little mirialan was clutching the older’s robes and appeared to be shaking. Her head snapped back and forth amid the screams of the battlefield.

“She needs help now, that’s why we were dropped off here,” the iktotchi insisted, “Is it possible to delay the move?”

Fox fought to keep his posture steady, “We can delay moving at your orders sir. However, I am not certain how much time the infantry can hold back the droids. If we are in a more vulnerable position, we risk the General’s health even more.” There was also the fact that delaying the move would cause more of his brothers to die. He understood that the General took priority, but helping her now would come at the cost of many of his brother’s lives. It wasn’t fair…

Still, he was a good soldier. He waited for the General to give the command to stay, even though he dreaded it.

Before the orders could be given though, the little mirialan dropped to her knees. She slammed her hands over the sides of her head and began sobbing in earnest. Immediately, the older one was at her side, whispering words in her ear and rubbing her hands up and down her shoulders.

Fox couldn’t help but glance over at Thorn and Lucky. Even with their helmets on, he knew they were mirroring his incredulous expression. These were the Jedi who were supposed to lead them into war. These were the generals whose orders they were supposed to follow without question.

They aren’t soldiers…

“Sirs,” he knew that he sounded a little desperate, “your orders?”

“Saesee,” said the togruta, “I’ll be alright, we need to move now.” The iktotchi looked conflicted but after a moment his shoulders slumped and he nodded.

The older mirialan looked up and spoke in the softest voice Fox had ever heard, “Winning this conflict is only one part, but it is imperative that we do not give up our values in the process.”

The other Jedi nodded in agreement and Fox swore his mind was about to explode. Winning was only one part? Their values came first? What about his brothers that were laying their lives down for the Jedi at this very moment?

Thorn tensed beside him and Fox knew he was thinking the same thing. However, he wasn’t as good at hiding it as Fox was, and Thorn had no mental shields either. If the Jedi got clue what he was thinking, he would no doubt be decommissioned immediately.

“Your orders, Generals?” Fox repeated.

The togruta looked him up and down with a curious expression, “We will follow your plan Commander. Prepare to move out.”

Fox nodded and finally allowed his posture to relax a little he turned to Thorn, “Round up the infantry and officers, tell them to move east.” He needed to get Thorn out of the reach of the Jedi.

He also took care to not refer to Thorn by his name in front of the Jedi. If they couldn’t recognize him, they couldn’t order him for decommissioning. Thorn nodded and sprinted away.

“Padawan, you must let go. Release your emotions to the Force, they cannot serve you right now,” the older mirialan spoke gently to the crying one.

“Is this the will of the Force?” the iktotchi looked out to the battlefield as if in soliloquy, “so much pain…”

“We would not be here if it was not,” the togruta spoke up, “perhaps we must learn from this.”

There was a buzz on the inside of his helmet and Lucky’s voice sounded over the private comm. “Is this normal, sir?”

“I have no idea, Lucky,” Fox responded. A small part in his mind protested that. He did know, he just…was hoping that he was wrong.

“Maybe I should try writing philosophy on the battlefield. Do you think that would sell sir?”

Fox’s lips twitched, “There’s probably a market for anything.”

Lucky giggled, “I think I will. When we get out of here, I’ll write a book about this.”

“Don’t forget to mention my heroics,” Fox replied dryly.

“Ooh, yes, ‘In the face of the crying, philosophizing Generals, my brave, stunning, and devastatingly handsome commander seized the moment.  His silhouette illuminated from the back by the scorching sun and pulses of light from blaster fire streaked across his helmet’—”

Fox actually laughed at that and after a moment Lucky joined in as well. It didn’t last long though.

“…This isn’t really what I thought it would be,” Lucky said softly.

Fox didn’t answer for a moment. He didn’t imagine how it would feel, to see the shattered skulls and twisted limbs of his brothers around him. He didn’t imagine how it would feel to hear his own voice crying out in agony all around him.

But the jetiise, he knew. He knew they weren’t soldiers. He knew that they wouldn’t have the skills to be battle strategists.

But he didn’t know how it would actually feel, to know that his brothers were dying at their command.

“Me neither,” he lied, just like he had done for years.

“Well,” Lucky’s voice brightened, “at least we’re fighting for the right cause.”

Fox nodded, “The vercopa,” he muttered.

“What are you going to do when we get out of here, sir?”

“Fox.”

“What?”

He had never spoken his name out loud when he was away from his quarters. But, he was also never going back there. “My name is Fox.”

He could tell Lucky was smiling, “Fox…well it’s good to meet you Fox! I’m glad you’re my commander.”

A warm feeling rose up in his chest. He couldn’t stop his own lips from smiling softly. Another message came over comms from Thorn, telling him everyone was on their way.

“Let’s go, Lucky,” he ordered.

“Yes sir—!”

Fox’s instincts suddenly screamed at him. He wasted no time in shaking himself out of the trance he was in, and throwing himself over the still philosophizing togruta, “GENERAL GET DOWN!” he screamed.

The ear-splitting sound of a rocket hitting the ground just next to them erupted. Fox curled his body around the General as shrapnel exploded in every direction. He needed a moment for the ringing in his ears to stop and to gather his senses.

The generals were on the ground. The mirialans appeared to be alright, but the younger was crying even harder. He glanced down at the togruta, her eyes were screwed up in pain but luckily, his armor had taken the majority of the blow.

Fox cast his eyes over the rest of the scene and they settled on the iktotchi. The iktotchi, who was currently being covered by another body. The body of a clone. Lucky.

He stood and hurried over, dropping to his knees beside his brother. Lucky’s left arm was completely blown off his body. Strings of burnt flesh and pulses of blood leaked out of the stump. Gently, he turned his brother over and off the general.

Lucky’s visor was cracked and shards of white plastoid were embedded in his eye. His eye, that was the same as Fox’s own was collapsed inwards and leaking a white liquid. Burns littered down the side of his armor. Melted plastoid sizzled into his skin.

“Sir! Are you alright?” Thorn had made it back and came to a stop beside him. His voice fell quiet as the sight of Lucky set in.

Was he alright? Fox didn’t know. He didn’t know anything.

The iktotchi general tried to rise, but had been hit with some of the shrapnel.

Right, he was on Geonosis. He was fighting in a war. He was fighting for a dream. Prime’s dream.

He was to follow orders. He was to protect the generals.

“Help the general,” he said to Thorn. Thorn nodded and began to help the iktotchi to his feet.

Fox glanced back at the togruta. She was going to need help moving, but Lucky…

“Fox…” came a weak voice.

Fox immediately turned to face Lucky, “It’s okay Lucky, you’re going to be fine.” He glanced over at the burns that littered his brother’s body. At the plastoid that was melted into his skin, “It’s not even that bad.”

“Fox…” Lucky reached up with the arm he had left and gripped Fox’s hand, “Did I do good? Was I a g-good soldier?”

Fox swallowed, “Yes, you’ve done your duty Lucky.”

Lucky’s head fell back and he stared up at the sky, “I’ve never seen so many colors before,” he whispered.

Fox blinked rapidly, “You’re going to see so many more,” he whispered back.

“Will you write my book?”

He had to take several breaths, “Of course, it’ll have all your heroics too.”

Lucky smiled, “Thank you vod.”

Fox began to try and pull Lucky into his arms but stopped when his vod cried out in pain, “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Fox glanced back at the togruta. She was still lying where he had left her. Thorn was busy with the iktotchi, the mirialans busy with each other.

“Help me please Fox,” Lucky cried, “It hurts…”

“I know,” he hushed but his eyes went back to the togruta. The primary objective was to save the Jedi. Those were his orders but…

Tears began to fall down the cheeks of Lucky. That wasn’t right, Fox thought idly. They weren’t supposed to do that…

His eyes darted to the togruta.

And back to Lucky.

And back to the togruta.

They weren’t soldiers.

He had orders.

‘They will not know how to command and yet you will be forced to follow. You will see their incompetence and be forced to comply with it. They will not know how to survive a war…’

Lucky let out small whimpers of pain. Fox could tell he was biting his lips to try and keep his screams from escaping. His hands shook. He could see that the infantry had almost made it to them.

“You’ve done so well, Lucky,” he whispered as he carefully unholstered the DC-17 at his hip. Lucky began to choke and sputter and Fox could tell his resolve to not scream was fading.  

“Y-you w-won’t forget m-me?” Lucky spoke through his lips that were beginning to bleed from biting down so hard.

“Never, vod,” Fox replied quietly.

“I-I’m glad you’re my commander F-fox,” Lucky gasped and his lips pulled into a grimace, “Y-your name suits y-you.”

Fox’s hands trembled slightly, “What colors can you see Lucky?”

“B-blue, and brown, and w-white, and a pretty o-orange—”

Lucky’s voice cut off at the same time Fox pulled the trigger of his DC-17. He had angled it to the side of Lucky’s helmet while he was speaking.

Lucky’s body slumped in his arms, finally free from the agony that had held it. Fox pulled his head up and pushed the foreheads together in a keldabe.

Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la

Fox stood and holstered the DC-17. He turned back to the togruta that he had only left at most a minute ago. How could it have only been a minute? He had lived a lifetime in those seconds alone.

In swift movements, he wrapped the togruta in his arms and hoisted her off the ground. Her head rested against his shoulder as one of his arms supported her back while the other curled around her legs.

Fox turned to see Thorn supporting the iktotchi general. He gave him a nod that Thorn returned. The infantry had finally caught up.

The mirialan Jedi was still crying. Fox ground down his frustration, they didn’t have time for this.

“Generals!” he barked at them, “We need to move, now!”

“Bariss,” the older mirialan said, “It is time for us to go, padawan.”

‘Bariss’ just shook her head and continued to cry. Fox felt as his frustration bled into anger. He had just lost a brother and was able to pull himself together in seconds while this jetii had had minutes to do it, and she still couldn’t. Fox didn’t care that she was young. He was young. His brothers were young. And they were running out of time.

Ever so slowly, the older mirialan convinced her to rise. The droids were getting closer, Fox could tell. His instincts were screaming at him.

In quick motions, he brought his comm up to his mouth, “Group B, return to the command center and engage the droids. Head to the west slowly once they notice you.”

There was a noise of confirmation on the other side of the comm. Fox couldn’t keep back the stab of resentment in his shields at the young Jedi.

Is this how Revan felt when he had to send the ‘nameless soldiers’ to their deaths? It was necessary, they needed a distraction to keep the droids near the command center and they had waited too long, because of the Jedi.

It didn’t feel good. In fact, it made Fox feel sick.

Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la

At once, the young Jedi straightened up and stared at him in shock. At least she could put it together that those soldiers were going to die because of her. Fox stared back at her, not backing down for a second.

“If you are ready generals, I would advise we head out before it’s too late,” Fox’s voice was cold and calculating.

The Jedi nodded, still in shock.

“Everyone,” Fox called out over the comm, “We’re moving out.”

Fox marched forwards with the togruta jetii in his arms. He led the march to the east, careful to keep behind cover when he could. He watched as LAAT gunships flew across the battlefield to launch missiles on the droids, just like General Yoda had first told them not to do.

It was difficult to keep the resentment back.

As they quickly marched, the body of a clone trooper was half buried in the dirt.

Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la

A trail of clone bodies lined a ridge along the southwestern side of the battlefield.

Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la

They were almost at the forward command center when Fox pulled his men behind one of the towering geonosian spires.

The broken bodies of two clones were hunched behind the spire.

Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab’echaaj'la

Fox brought his comm up to his mouth again, “This is western front to forward command, I need an AT-TE strike at sector 5.7, effective immediately.”

“Roger Commander CC-1010,” came the quick response. Fox held his breath for a moment before the familiar shriek of an AT-TE missile streaked over the sky. The resulting explosion as the old command center flew into a million pieces was massive. He wondered what Inferno and Cloud had rigged it with. An enormous cloud of smoke and fire was lifted over the western front. At least those two lived up to their names, Fox thought ridiculously.

His HUD scanner indicated that the droids on the western front were destroyed…along with Group B. The soldiers he had sent to their deaths.

Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la

 Fox must have thought the words a million times at this point.

"Western front, report!” he nearly smiled at the sound of Wolffe’s voice.

“Easy, ori’vod,” he replied, “Droids on the western front have been exterminated. I have a battalion here on sector 4.3, ready to deploy and flank forward command.”

“Well,” there was Ponds’ voice, “nice of you to show up finally, vod.”

“You know, I haven’t saved you yet,” Fox shot back but his heart wasn’t truly in the banter. His voice didn’t shake. It didn’t.

“Keep this comm clear, all of you,” Neyo’s voice snapped, “CC-1010, status report?”

“Troopers are in decent condition,” he responded, “I have four injured generals with me, though, that require immediate medical attention.”

Not all of them were injured. The mirialans appeared to be fine. Was it wrong of him to want them out of the way though?

“We can send a squad out to you to retrieve them,” Gree’s voice spoke up.

“Good,” Bacara responded, “CC-1010 prepare your troops to move in for the flank.”

“Yes sir,” Fox responded.

He turned to look at Thorn who gave him a nod to convey his understanding. He began directing the troopers into formation. The togruta Jedi was in his arms the entire time. He probably looked ridiculous, but some part of him didn’t want to place her on the ground. She…didn’t deserve that?

Fox didn’t bother thinking about it deeper. He had a job to do. Once the troopers were in position, they waited for the squad to come and bring the Jedi to medical care.

The general in his arms spoke up suddenly, “I thank you commander, for your diligence.”

Fox wasn’t sure how to feel. A jetii was actually speaking to him. Kote would probably be out of his mind, but for Fox, the novelty had worn off a long time ago.

“I am what I am required to be sir,” he responded warily.

She didn’t seem to like that answer as her lips pulled into a frown. “You are as you are commander, no external force should you allow to change you.”

Philosophizing on the battlefield again? His heart clenched at the reminder.

“I am Shaak Ti, what is your name commander?”

Fox felt himself tense up. He didn’t want to share his name again. No one but his brothers deserved it. Not after…

“CC-1010, general,” he replied.

General Ti frowned at that again. She lifted one of her hands and pressed it against where his cheek would be on his helmet. “You have suffered much, haven’t you young one?”

Suffered much? Had she seen the body of Luc—

He forced his shields down tighter. This was one of the tricks Prime had told him about. Besides it was as he said, ‘anyone, in this galaxy who owned people, was not a good individual.’

The Jedi were not smart enough to stay out of this battle. They were not soldiers. They did not know how to survive a war. And it was his brothers, their property, who would pay the price. In the back his mind, he cursed the Jedi and their incompetence.

“This is what I was created to do, sir,” he said shortly.

Her eyes seemed to soften, “Not for forever, CC-1010.”

Her voice was soft, and almost comforting. Fox found himself wanting to lean his head into her hand. He wanted her to keep speaking like that, as if she could pull the hurt from everything he had seen today away.

No.

Natborns were one of two things when it came to the vode: hypocrites or hypocrites in denial.  He saw right through her and her attempt at manipulation. No good person owned someone else as property. She was incompetent and stood in the way of Prime’s vercopa.

“But for now, sir,” he replied.

She opened her mouth to say something else but the squad finally showed up. Fox passed General Ti over to one of the medics. Before he could step away though, she reached out and grabbed his wrist.

“Commander,” she said softly, “this moment may be harrowing, it is true. But that does not mean every moment after shall be the same. There will always be chances for the situation to change.”

Fox stared down at her. Her eyes held a wisdom that he could never begin to comprehend in his nine cycles of life. But they also held the knowledge that life was something that came to her, it wasn’t given to her like it was for him. And the thing about something given was that it could be taken away just as easily.

“You were born to live sir,” he said quietly, “I was created to serve a purpose.”

With that he turned back to the troopers and away from the jetiise. He stood at the front of his soldiers and with his scopes surveyed the battle below.

The bodies of clones stood out starkly in their white armor on the brown sand and dirt. His general comm buzzed to life with an urgent message:

“Med Triage Teams estimate serious injuries, twelve thousand, repeat twelve thousand!”

The white stood out and reflected the orange light of the setting sun. The brown sand swirled around the bodies of his brothers. The pale blue sky smiled down at them without comfort.

“Western front in position,” he relayed emotionlessly to forward command.

“Whenever you’re ready, vod’ika.”

The tan of the battle droids reflected the red bolts that were fired from their blasters. The blue from his brothers’ lit up their own armor and the armor on the countless soldiers that lay unmoving beneath them.

Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la

Commander Fox stood and rested his hands at his sides. He wondered if Lucky would have liked these colors.

He pushed the thought out of his mind, and gave the order for his forces to move in. It was time to win this battle for the Republic, to win this battle for the Jedi just like he was supposed to do.

After all, what good was a CC unit that couldn’t win?

There wasn’t much in the way of fanfare after his battalion managed to end the battle and cut off the droids. He worked with his brothers to take out the remaining stragglers and coordinate airstrikes to ruin the droid factories.

It felt hollow. He felt hollow even as a cheer went up around the remaining vode. It felt hollow as they broke out into song that spoke of their glory.

He felt hollow when he was back on board the venator, and Wolffe ran straight to him. He felt empty when his older brother wrapped him up in his arms and cradled the back of his head. He didn’t feel anything as Wolffe and eventually Ponds and Bly joined them and rested their foreheads against his.

“You did so well, Fox,” Ponds had whispered to him. He didn’t feel anything.

They got the reports back. Over 200 Jedi died at the battle. Over 12,000 clones were wounded and more than 25,000 were dead. 5,000 clone commandos had died as well.

All to save two Jedi and a senator.

And, to make matters worse, every single Separatist leader had escaped. The commando units had been sent directly into the frontal assault. He had been a little glad to hear that Delta Squad had accomplished the mission he had assigned to them though. Sun Fac was dead which would likely keep the geonosians contained for the time being.

CC-1010 sat against one of the hangar walls with his brothers at his sides. He leaned his head on Bly’s shoulder and had shut his eyes.

Resentment, burning resentment festered in his heart. If General Yoda had accepted his strategy, they wouldn’t have been dealing with this. The Separatist leaders would likely be dead, or at least, more dead than they were right now. More of the droid factories could have been destroyed. And most importantly: twenty-five—kriffing-thousand of his brothers would likely be alive.

But they weren’t, they were all dead. All marching on. Group B was gone, by his orders. Lucky was dead, he had shot him to put him out of his misery. All because General Yoda had said airstrikes were unethical, and then proceeded to use them anyway.

So he had kept his face buried in Bly’s shoulder and his shields locked down tight. With the amount of Jedi that were on the ship, it was likely that only one glance would be needed for them to see the hate burning in his heart.

That was why CC-1010 still felt nothing when he and his brothers were called to the bridge. It was why he said nothing when he came face to face with the people who had sent his brothers to their deaths. Generals Windu, Yoda, Koon, Fisto, Tiin, and Mundi had been waiting for them.

One glance was all he would have needed, but he could already knew they were the hypocrite in denial type. He swallowed back the urge to scream at them.

“Commanders,” General Windu had spoken up, “thank you for meeting with us.”

CC-1010 and his brothers snapped to attention. The slightly exasperated look that appeared on General Windu’s face made him grit his teeth. They had just saved all of these generals’ lives. They would have been shot to death brutally in the arena of Petranaki if his brothers hadn’t gone to rescue them. The least General Windu could do was show some appreciation for their training.

“Your actions have saved all of our lives today, we are in your debt,” said General Windu and then he bowed. CC-1010 had to blink several times to understand what he was seeing. A general, a jetii was bowing to them? He didn’t know what to do and it appeared his brothers didn’t either, even as the rest of the jetiise followed suit in the bow.

What a strange people the Jedi were. Didn’t they understand that he was their property?

“CC-1010,” said General Mundi.

He felt his heart stop. All light bemusement over the situation faded from his mind instantly. He felt his brothers tense next to him but of course, there was nothing they could do. Did the jetiise know about the resentment that was bubbling in his chest? Did they know that he had taken time to say goodbye to Lucky before helping General Ti?

Did they know what he knew?

CC-1010 was powerless beneath them though and so, he stepped forwards. He raised one hand in a salute and the other clenched tightly behind his back. He forced his body to not tremble and tried to take deep breaths.

“Valiant, your actions were today,” said General Yoda, though there was a hint of sadness in his voice. “Won the battle, you did.”

“I do what is required of me, sir,” CC-1010 kept his salute up and allowed himself one glance at the green swamp rat. The Jedi looked at each other a little helplessly.

“You may be at ease Commander,” General Koon, the Kel Dor finally spoke up. His voice was a gentle, sweeping tone that reminded CC-1010 of the oceans of Kamino on a pleasant day. He relaxed the salute but still stood at parade rest.

CC-1010 stared down the Jedi generals. The generals who had just bowed to him, a clone, someone endlessly beneath them. That feeling he felt on Kamino rose up in him again. The Jedi had walked straight into a trap. They weren’t soldiers and they weren’t generals. This war would destroy them. They had to see that, they had to understand that they needed to shut it down, that they couldn’t fight like this, they had to let his brothers go—

“News of your heroics has reached the senate,” General Koon continued, “they have seen fit to give you a promotion to Marshal Commander.”

A…promotion? He wasn’t sure what to think about that. His actions had led group B to their deaths. His actions had killed Lucky…

A promotion meant that the Jedi were not stopping this war. They were going to continue. They were going to get more of his brothers killed. How could they not see how unprepared they were for this? Did they need him to nudge them in the right direction? Should he share Prime’s gra’tua and vercopa—

 He was taking too long to answer. “Thank you sirs, I will continue to fight for the Republic.” He noticed how General Yoda’s long ears seemed to droop a little. The other generals had stoic expressions, especially Generals Windu and Mundi.

“You have our most utmost appreciation,” General Koon spoke up again.

CC-1010 nodded and stepped back between his brothers. Some of the tension Wolffe had in his body seemed to dissipate. He struggled to keep his frustration behind his shields. If they were truly thankful they should have apologized for not listening to him to begin with.

“Before you leave,” General Windu spoke again, “we have some questions about this army. With the death of the bounty hunter Jango Fett, there are some concerns we were wondering if you could answer.”

CC-1010 suddenly couldn’t breathe. Prime’s…death? But Prime was always there, he was always a constant. He couldn’t lose him now, not when Prime had finally called him ad’ika—

He narrowed his eyes beneath his helmet and studied the generals. None of them seemed extremely reactive to the news of Prime’s death. They knew then, this wasn’t something new to them. They had likely probably seen it happen—

CC-1010 eyes picked up on a subtle movement and he studied General Windu. Studied the way his hand clutched the datapad he was holding. Studied the way his shoulders tensed ever so slightly and then relaxed, as if he was releasing some burden, and CC-1010 knew.

General Windu had killed Prime.

Fox wasn’t prepared for the screaming, burning, and boiling hatred that suddenly rose up in his mind. His body no longer trembled in fear, but in anger. He wanted nothing more than to launch himself across the command table and deck that bald, two-faced shabuir—

Boba…what had happened to Boba?

He had to force himself to take several breaths to calm down. Vaguely, he realized Ponds was answering the question, detailing how little they themselves knew.

But CC-1010 knew more and the thought to share suddenly seemed unappealing. The Jedi should be wise enough to know that they couldn’t win this. They should have realized this was a trap for them the same way CC-1010 did when he was only five cycles old.

CC-1010 stared down the Jedi generals. The incompetent Jedi generals, who refused to listen to him and sent so many of his brothers to their deaths. Prime was right, they didn’t know what they were doing and judging by the question General Windu just asked, he was willing to bet the Jedi didn’t even know of their existence before now.

Prime wanted the Jedi to die…his thoughts drifted to General Ti. He didn’t want her to die, or at least he was fairly sure he didn’t. But why did they let themselves get caught up in this conflict to begin with? Perhaps they should have just let the two Jedi and the senator die, after all, the Jedi seemed very knowledgable in ‘necessary sacrifices’ after they sent 25,000 of his brothers to death.

These Jedi weren’t Revan. They weren’t the military strategists and leaders that the kamiinise told them they were.

But CC-1010 already knew that. Now, he only had confirmation.

So, he kept his lips sealed. He just needed to keep fighting. If he kept fighting, Prime’s vercopa would eventually be fulfilled. Prime may have been marching away, but Fox was ready to pick up where he started and fight for a better life for his brothers.

After all, what good was a CC unit that couldn’t keep fighting?

Coruscant was so loud.

And there were so many people. CC-1010 didn’t know so many species even existed. It felt new and it made him scared, but also there was curiosity in him that he couldn’t contain. He wanted to explore every nook and cranny, every establishment, every alleyway.

The Grand Army of the Republic (as the vode were now being referred to as) had been transferred to Coruscant after the battle of Geonosis. Coruscant would serve as the base of all future military operations and supplies shipments.

Kote had traveled to Coruscant not long after CC-1010 had arrived. He had caught sight of his older brother from across a hangar and was a little ashamed to admit he had run straight to him.

There was something so strange in the relief Fox felt in that moment. He couldn’t contain it if he tried and suddenly all the walls he had put up between them, all the overthinking and overanalyzing their relationship over the years melted away. He threw himself into his older brother’s arms without a care.

Kote stumbled back slightly as he was suddenly assaulted with the full weight of a nine cycle little brother. Fox could hear Kote let out a small noise between amusement and shock. Almost immediately, he felt his ori’vod wrap arms around him and Fox buried his face in the shoulder of the person he had known his whole life.

Kote chuckled, “I’m happy to see you too Fox’ika.”

Fox’s heart warmed at the nickname. It had been so long since Kote had called him that. He had been so afraid back on Kamino that he had ruined their relationship forever. Now, after experiencing the full terror of the battlefield, such things seemed trivial.

“I’m sorry about your knee,” Fox whispered.

“Sh, it’s alright,” Kote soothed, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you.”

Fox nuzzled his face into Kote’s shoulder before slowly pulling away. His smile slowly faded as Kote took his chin in his hand and turned his head back and forth, checking for injuries.

He let out a small whine of protest and batted at his older brother’s hand. Kote just gripped tighter. When he was finally satisfied, he let go and the rest of his brothers caught up.

“Just couldn’t wait, huh Fox?” Wolffe teased before pulling Kote in for a hug of his own.

“I thought I was your favorite, vod’ika,” Bly said to him with a pout.

“How long have you been living in that delusion?” Fox shot back and Bly grabbed his chest dramatically.

A sharp voice suddenly snapped before Bly could respond, “If you five have nothing better to do than act like idiots, I suggest you do it elsewhere” Bacara spat as he walked by the reunion.

Fox felt a flare of irritation at his brother’s words. Just because he was an unfeeling bastard didn't mean they all had to be. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Ponds stepping up to answer.

Fox didn’t let him, “Actually, we’re supposed to be here.”

Bacara raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, “Really? On whose orders?”

Fox felt his lips curl into a smirk, “Mine. And if you’re going to be so strict on protocol, I recommend referring to a Marshal Commander as sir.”

There was a moment of silence that was laced with surprise before Wolffe let out a loud snort of laughter. The rest of his brothers joined in, though they at least made an attempt to hide their amusement.

Bacara’s eyes actually widened fractionally and Fox felt an absurd amount of victory. He had never seen Bacara smile, let alone let himself get caught off guard.

Bacara shook his head, “You’re such a little brat.”

“You’re such a little brat, sir,” Fox corrected with a smirk and no small amount of sass in his voice.

He could swear Bacara’s lips twitched up for a second, “You should bring those words to the sparring mat and see how well they can hold up.”

“You’d strike a superior officer?” Fox gasped with an affronted tone.

“Get out of here, you brat,” Bacara huffed and reached up to smack Fox on the back of the head.

Fox stepped out of the way, “You walked up to us. As Marshal Commander, I order you to keep your comments to yourself and go away.”

Bacara rolled his eyes, but seemed to realize he wasn’t going to win this fight. “Keep that energy next time we shallow water grapple Marshal Commander.” He walked off.

“Sorry,” Fox called back, “I don’t engage with underlings I don’t deem worth my time.”

Bacara turned to yell something back but Fox brought his hands up to his ears so he didn’t hear it. He swore Bacara’s eyes disappeared into his skull with how hard he rolled his eyes. Fox didn’t care, he had gotten the last word. He turned back to his batchmates.

They all were in varying states of disbelief, but Kote looked so proud Fox preened under his gaze. He was willing to bet Rex couldn’t do that.

“Can’t believe the ik’aad got the promotion first,” Wolffe grumbled.

“You should have been more heroic,” Fox shot back but the second the words left his lips all his amusement and happiness seemed to fade.

Heroic…

Was he heroic, Lucky? Was it heroic when he sent Group B to their deaths? Was it heroic when he put Lucky out of his misery? When he didn’t fight General Yoda for his strategy?

His smile faded and his brothers’ eyes all gained a sad, understanding look.

Kote was called to Coruscant, so that he could head out with General Kenobi. The idiotic general who had come to Kamino and was then captured on Geonosis. The one who had started this.

Ponds would leave with General Windu. The jetii who had killed Prime…

Bly with General Secura, Wolffe with General Koon.

And CC-1010 was to stay on Coruscant, with no jetii leading him.

The Jedi were not stopping the war. They were instead going full steam ahead and leading his older brothers to places where he could no longer follow.

Kote pulled him close again and he buried his face in the crook of his older brother’s neck. Fox felt Ponds, Wolffe, and Bly join the embrace. Kote pulled back and pushed their foreheads together. It was a goodbye, a promise, a wish, and a dream all in one.

Small, wet tears dripped down the faces of his brothers. They didn’t fall down CC-1010’s cheeks though. They didn’t even brim in his eyes.

After all, what good was a CC unit that let emotion cloud its judgement?