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Chapter Text

Zatt's Quarters, the Negotiator
Dantooine
7960 CRC
17 BBY
2 years after the foundation of the Jedi Enclave on Dantooine

...

It all started when Alpha walked into Zatt’s quarters to find two entire squads of cadets sitting enraptured by the datapad in Zatt’s lap. The scramble to hide the pad was truly impressive, so Alpha naturally fished it out from under the pile of Cadets to see what it was. There were things little eyes shouldn’t see, after all.

It wasn’t that. It was worse.

“What the Kark?” Alpha muttered, watching the cheerfully singing and dancing animated tookas onscreen, “What is this?”

“It’s a cartoon, a kid’s show,” Zatt said meekly.

“Is it all singing and dancing?” Alpha asked, somewhat disgusted by the repetitive motions of the ‘cartoon.’

“No, there’s lessons too!” Ekko objected quietly, and eeped when Alpha turned his gaze on him.

“Speaking of lessons,” Alpha sighed, “You are late for yours. Go on, shoo.”

He jerked the pad out of Zatt’s reach when the boy tried to reach for it.

“Ah-ah!” He told the kid, “Confiscated until further notice. Watching unauthorized material is still against regs for Cadets.”

Zatt nodded glumly and rushed to follow his friends. Alpha sighed.

He’d better make sure that this ‘cartoon’ drivel was all that was on here. There were things on the holonet that little eyes definitely shouldn’t see.

An hour later, Alpha could confirm that the cartoons were definitely child-appropriate. Maybe too child-appropriate.

“Sharing? Caring? Where are the heavy weapons lessons, the squad maneuvers?” Alpha muttered to himself, “Friendship isn’t magic, grenades are magic!”

He set the pad down resolutely. Clearly, this was the reason natborns were so deficient in the military arts. Their education had been cruelly neglected since birth!

He pondered this misfortune as he directed training for the day, leading calisthenics and drills with the Cadets of various ages. He set the three-year-olds to hide and seek, and the four year olds to dodgeball. A question occurred to him as he was assigning the five year olds laps.

“Where did you get the... cartoons?” He asked Zatt and his friends as he was training with them.

Zatt looked shifty. Ah. They were illicit not because of their content but because of their origin. Alpha sighed again. This was one problem he had never encountered on Kamino.

After thorough quizzing, it was revealed that the cartoons were sourced from Kestis. Apparently him and his friends had set up one of the long-range comms antennas on the Albedo Brave to receive the latest holoshows from the Core. They were recording the shows and exchanging them for sweets from other Cadets and padawans.

Alpha mused a little on sentient nature as he stared at the Cadets. Apparently, black markets were not just a thing in the criminal underworld.

“Get out of here,” he sighed, finally, handing back the pad. Zatt and his friends were no fools; when told to get, they got. Alpha was left watching the little dust clouds their rapid exit made, and also trying to get the theme song for one of those stupid cartoons out of his head.

Believe in yourself. Ugh.

However, in the process of racking his brain to try and scrub out the annoying tune, he had an idea.

...

Mace Windu stared at Alpha-17.

“You want to create a children’s holoshow,” he said slowly.

Alpha nodded.

“Existing educational holoshows have severe educational deficits,” he explained, in a very reasonable tone, “Leading to huge gaps in kids’ knowledge.”

Mace nodded, slowly.

“Have you considered,” he was rather proud of himself for keeping his voice even, he desperately wanted to laugh, “That natborns are leaving those gaps in on purpose? Most of the Galaxy has an aversion to training their children for war.”

“Perfectly reasonable,” Alpha nodded, “But it’s unforgivable to leave so much out that’s sheer self-defense.”

“Ah,” Mace said, “I hadn’t thought of that.”

In fact, he was desperately trying to think of a decent counter argument for Alpha’s points. The other man truly believed that he was doing what was best for the children, and Mace didn’t have the heart to try to break it to him that most producers of childrens’ shows were afraid to scare their audience.

Or, you know, get on parents’ bad side. There had already been huge outbreaks of controversy over certain Republic and Separatist cartoons that were said to be propaganda.

“Me and some of the others put together a pilot episode,” Alpha said, handing Mace a holochip, “Think you can get is aired for the kids?”

Mace looked at the chip like it was a live grenade, but nodded to Alpha.

“I’ll see what the Council says,” he told Alpha, “We meet next on Benduday.”

“Well, it’s not too urgent,” Alpha said, “Though I could use tips on acting. I don’t think I’m made for it.”

“We are more than our origins,” Mace intoned automatically, and then thought for a moment, “You think Pond’s Alpha taught him how to act? It’s a skill like any other, which can be picked up at any age.”

Alpha looked thoughtful.

“Hm. I might have to kidnap Ponds for a while then,” he muttered. Mace decided to stay out of that discussion.

“I will bring this before the Council,” he reassured Alpha, “And we will discuss the appropriate procedure for children’s holoshows. I’m afraid this is something we’ve never had the opportunity to debate before.”

Alpha nodded companionably, gave his farewell, and sauntered off to the training grounds again. Mace contemplated the holochip in his hands.

On the one hand, he desperately wanted to encourage all forms of self-expression in the Alphas. On the other, were the Alphas really the best judges of what is child-appropriate?

Benduday would be interesting.

...

Obi-wan Kenobi settled into his Council chair at the end of the meeting. It had been one of the lest interesting ones, focusing more on logistics of the colony than a more interesting subject, like which Jedi to send on missions.

There is only so much you can debate about the merits of individual cereal grains before it becomes a tad repetitive.

The meeting was winding to a close, so individual Council members were invited to bring up points of order. Cody talked about better child proofing for vents and pipes. Master Yoda talked about formation of training groups for both children and adults. Commander Gree talked about xenorelations with non-Republic worlds.

Mace Windu stood up with an amused by resigned smile on his face.

“Recently, I was approached by Alpha-17 with the intent of creating an educational children’s holoshow,” he said, somewhat ruefully, “I have been given the pilot of this show to inspect and create a protocol for.”

Obi-wan blinked. Next to him Cody was suppressing a surprised grin. Various other members of the Council froze in shock and amusement.

Mace simply put the holochip into the central projector and sat back to watch the show.

The title screen looked like it had been created in a word processor on a datapad. It was neatly centered, in the same font as most military reports. Obi-wan hid his grin in his hand.

“EDUCATIONAL CHILDREN’S HOLOSHOW,” it read, “Pilot Episode.”

The screen then transitioned to fairly normal series of scenes for a children’s show. Alpha-52 led a class of Cadets in learning their Aurabesh. Then, a squad of cadets fought onscreen, but then Alpha-78 talked about sharing with your squad mates to calm them down.

Then the screen shifted to the middle of one of the fields outside the Enclave. Alpha-34, Alpha-67, Alpha-90, and a small group of cadets were standing in the center of it, in front of a bush and a crate.

“Today,” Alpha-90 lectured, “We will be discussing the difference between cover and concealment.”

The cadets followed his motion when he gestured to the bush and the crate. Alpha-34 sighed and went to crawl behind the bush.

“Now, Cadets,” Alpha-90 still had a businesslike tone, but a smile was beginning to creep up on his face, “34 is currently under concealment. Can you see him?”

The cadets obviously had an inkling of what was going to happen, and giggled out a negative. Alpha-67 made his way to hide behind the crate.

“67,” Alpha-90 continued, “Is under cover. Can you see him?”

The cadets giggled a no again.

“Now,” Alpha-90 said seriously, “We demonstrate the difference between cover and concealment. Weapons!”

The cadets produced various paint-blasters, and stood at attention.

“Fire!” Ordered Alpha-90. Both the crate and the bush abruptly turned neon yellow.

“Cease fire!” Ordered Alpha-90. The cadets duly ceased firing. Alpha-34 and Alpha-67 both stood up. Poor Alpha-34’s original reddish-purple armor markings were near-totally obscured by bright yellow paint.

“Now, observe, while both 34 and 67 were hidden from sight, only 67 is free of paint,” Alpha-90 told the cadets, “34 only had concealment, you couldn’t see him but you could still shoot him. 67 had cover, so you couldn’t see him or shoot him.”

The cadets nodded thoughtfully. Somehow, they had managed to smear themselves with paint as well.

Alpha-90 smiled as he continued, “Now, what mistake have 34 and 67 both made?”

The cadets shook their heads no again, curious.

“They have left cover and concealment!” Alpha-90 proclaimed, and produced a paint blaster of his own, “Fire!”

The segment ended with both unfortunate Alphas turning bright yellow, and the laughter of children.

Obi-wan mused that there were worse children’s shows.

...

Cody could no longer suppress his smile as he watched the holoshow pilot. It had clearly been given a lot of thought by everyone involved, and the Cadets that had been conscripted for filming had obviously had a blast. The Alphas taking part, it looked to be at least a quarter of them, were also obviously having a good time.

Another couple of segments went by, on proper armor maintenance, galactic geography, and the importance of creating strong interpersonal bonds within your squad, and Alpha-17 finally showed up.

Cody perked up. He’d already been fairly invested in the show- Alpha was right, it did teach a lot of good lessons- but this was the first time Alpha-17 had actually been in it (though Cody suspected he’d been cameraman for a couple of the previous segments).

“Basic marksmanship is important,” Alpha-17 began, looking placidly at the camera, “But if you don’t know how to handle your firearm properly, hitting the target will be the least of your worries.”

He picked up a modified DC-17 from the table in front of him, and carefully pointed it downrange.

“The first and most important rule is that the shooty end goes toward the other guy,” Alpha said, indicating how he kept the blaster pointed at the target, “Never point a blaster at anything you don’t want to shoot.”

Cody couldn’t help but beam at the mention of their long-running joke. Obi-wan smiled next to him as they watched Alpha walk his audience through the basics of weapon safety. At the end of the segment, he led a squad of cadets in firing at a group of targets. The show closed with that segment, airing a short credit sequence (also likely typed out on a word processor) listing the Alphas and Cadet squads who had participated in filming.

Obi-wan broke the somewhat stunned silence with a smile in his voice.

“Well, I can’t see any reason not to post it on the Enclave Intranet,” He said amusedly. Cody nodded.

“I could give them Archivist Intuna’s contact information,” Mace murmured thoughtfully, “She always made titlecards for the plays we recorded.”

“I don’t know, I think the existing ones have a certain charm,” Fisto smiled.

“They’re practical,” Neyo nodded approvingly.

“Straightforward,” Eeth Koth lauded. Cody thought that Koth was a bit of a hypocrite in this, remembering his long winded speeches about every little thing.

“Alright, all in favor,” Windu called, and almost everyone raised their hands.

“Well, tomorrow is Centaxday, which is the day we’d normally give the kids off,” Colt consulted his notes, “I suppose we could show them the show after breakfast.”

“Do we have enough pop-kernels?” Thire asked absently.

“Do you want to clean up after the inevitable pop-kernel fight?” Colt returned archly.

“Good point,” Thire nodded.

Their attention was drawn the holo- the credits had ended. An obviously hand-drawn representation of Dantooine covered the screen, with ‘Enclave Broadcasting Network’ superimposed over them.

“This program is brought to you through the support of viewers like you,” a gruff voice admitted. Then the holo blinked out.

Cody leaned on his hand, still grinning. He wondered if there ever would be a second episode.

Maybe he could suggest some topics to cover?

Chapter Text

The Senate Building
Coruscant
7972 CRC
5 BBY
14 years after the foundation of the Jedi Enclave on Dantooine

...
Leia Skywalker absolutely did not fidget as she waited for Master Fox to finish meeting with Senator Organa and Senator Jatem. Jasper was probably napping next to her, but his helmet prevented her from checking.

Winter Organa, across from her, kicked her legs a little petulantly as she glared at the holoscreen in disgust. Leia, much as she tried to comport herself with Senatorial Dignity, also had to admit the disgust she felt.

Senator Jatem was the Senator from the Roche system, and wanted to talk with Fox about possible ship-building contracts from the Jedi Order. Bail had been called to mediate.

The difficulty lay in interspecies differences. Senator Jatem was a member of the Verpine species, a humanoid race of insects that inhabited the asteroid fields of their home system. Though a hermaphrodite, the Senator preferred to use feminine pronouns in Basic, as she had lain several clutches of eggs for her hive. She had pictures of her grown offspring adorning her walls and eagerly talked of them given the opportunity.

However, despite the the Senator’s love for children, she could not allow Leia, Jasper, or Winter to attend the negotiation. She had been very apologetic, but had been tasked with sharing proprietary information to Senator Organa and Commander Fox only. There were no exceptions, even for children.

The Senator had attempted to create a comfortable waiting atmosphere for them, putting out human-compatible snacks and soft throws for their chairs. She’d even been so kind as to turn on her office holovision. Therein lay the problem.

Senator Jatem was evidently bad at estimating human ages, and must have believed that Leia, Jasper, And Winter were in fact much younger than they actually were. The good Senator had set their holoscreen to the younglings’ channel and had helpfully left the child lock on.

Winter continued to glare at the dancing purple dinosaurid on the screen. At least they had managed to mute his cutesy singing, but something about Birney the Dinosaurid was captivating to small children but absolutely abhorrent to kids who were even a little bit too old for it. Leia and the other two children were definitely too old for it.

She noticed a flicker next to her. Jasper wasn’t sleeping after all, he was using his helmet to watch a holoshow of his own. Lucky kark. Leia had left her helmet at the apartment; it messed with her hairstyle.

“Care to share with the class?” She asked archly. Jasper froze, and then guiltily projected the show on his external wrist comm.

One of the Alphas (the tiny screen of the wrist comm made it more difficult to tell which) stood in the projection field, clinging to the grab bar above the open side door.

“Now, kids,” he bellowed, “Sometimes you need to ride in a transport that doesn’t have seats. It’s important that you only exit the aircraft if and when you mean to!”

“Educational Childrens’ Holoshow?” Leia asked, wrinkling her nose. It was better than the dinosaurid, but it was still baby stuff.

On the screen, the Alpha- she made out his forest green armor markings, it was Alpha-49, who had chosen the name Skyhook- rattled through the safety procedures for a dropship, while demonstrating how to strap yourself in on a squad of giggly cadets.

“Now, the final thing to remember,” Skyhook said, “Is to always brace yourself before sudden deceleration. Happy landings!”

“What is that?” Winter spoke up suddenly. Leia and Jasper both jumped.

“It’s, uh, Educational Childrens’ Holoshow?” Leia said meekly, “It’s a local children’s program on Dantooine.”

“Do you have more?” Winter said, fascinated. Leia and Jasper looked at each other and shrugged, before Jasper pulled up the next segment from that episode on his gauntlet.

...

Fox stepped out of the meeting with Organa and Senator Jatem only to see his apprentice, his apprentice’s tagalong, and Bail Organa’s towheaded limpet look up from where they were huddled.

“Okay,” He said immediately, “Fess up and no one will end up cleaning every elevator in the Senate Building.”

Cadets huddled together like that always brought no end of trouble, he’d learned. He was suddenly grateful that the Senator had stayed in her office to organize some paperwork.

Leia and Jasper looked at him in horror before they started speaking on top of each other. At least they were willing to talk. He put his hand up, pausing their frantic speech, and pointed to Leia to start talking first.

“We were watching Educational Childrens’ Holoshow?” She said meekly.

Fox nodded. That was on the list of approved holoprogramming he’d received from Skywalker and Amidala, so he grew a little less suspicious. Then he caught on to how the Organa sprout was staring rapturously at the paused holo recording of Corsac, Fox’s buir.

“All three of you?” He asked resignedly. The kids nodded a little uncertainly.

“Babies watch this stuff,” Leia said, “I thought it would be okay.”

Leia had not yet learned that appropriate for all ages in the Enclave was not the same as appropriate for all ages for the galaxy at large.

“What, precisely, is it?” Asked Senator Organa, with an exaggeratedly patient tone of voice.

“It’s the local educational program,” Fox said, “My father and his brothers put it together.”

Jasper clicked play on the hologram again, and the figure of Corsac resumed talking.

“Now, the thing about pemmican is no one likes eating pemmican. It’s not a particularly tasty food. Better than rations,” he started, and then gestured to his group of cadets, who grinned and completed the chorus.

“But everything’s better than rations!” They all shouted.

“You start out with meat, and then dry it however you can; over a fire is best,” Corsac continued to detail the steps for making the survival food, pounding the dry jerky into a powder and mixing it with fat.

“You can add dry powdered berries if you have safe varieties near you,” he added helpfully as he worked some into the admittedly unappetizing mixture, “But the most important part is that everything is dry. If it’s not, the pemmican will spoil. Not that it’ll taste much different.”

The cadet troupe that had helped Corsac with the recipe tried the pemmican with various expressions of amazement and disgust on their faces.

“Pemmican is good for a survival situation on a planet where you can keep it out of the moisture. So long as it’s dry, it will keep for decades. The flavor won’t even change too much.”

The cadets in the background made even more disgusted faces.

“If you have them, you can also add ground nuts or spices to the pemmican in a doomed attempt to make it taste better,” Corsac continued. The cadets giggled again as they dared each other to try the bricks of pemmican in the background. Corsac shook his head, smiling.

“That’s it for today’s ‘It’s Better than Rations,’ kids, next week we’ll use the last of the hardtack we made three years ago to make haran-fire stew (1)!”

The cadets behind Corsac shuddered in exaggerated terror. Corsac reached behind himself and ruffled the closest one’s hair fondly.

“And you show this to your children?” Senator Organa said with brow arched. Fox shrugged.

“They need to know it eventually,” Fox shrugged, as Alpha-78, who went by Shock, popped up on screen and cheerfully announced that today the cadets would learn proper ambush strategy.

“Please can I watch it dad?” Winter begged.

Senator Organa watched the cadets arming themselves with paint blasters on-projection and sighed.

“Alright,” He said, “But only if you do all your homework first.”

...

It was, once again, Alpha Sabaac night. Alistar was chatting quietly with Ninety-Nine (who had never gotten around to choosing a name) over a fun but slower paced game when Tate took the stage and got everyone’s attention with a firecracker.

Most Alphas were still jumpy, so Tate was subjected to a great many poisonous glares for that. He seemed unperturbed.

“Grumps... and... Grouches! Not you, Ninety-Nine, we’re so happy you’re here,” He projected gleefully, “We have a very special guest this evening! Let’s give a rousing hand in welcome to the one, the only, the incomparable, the drama queen, Mace Windu!”

Windu, who was standing right next to him, looked unimpressed. Several other Alphas booed. One even threw an empty tankard at Tate, but he dodged unrepentantly and ambled off the stage. Windu stayed where he was and waited for the commotion to die before speaking.

“The Council is aware that all of you have been involved in the production of the educational program Educational Children’s Holoshow. Recently, we have received monetary offers from an Alderaanian holovision network that offer us a substantial sum of money in exchange for rights to air the Holoshow on their network. I wanted to bring this proposal before you, as you are the creators and as such own the intellectual rights to the work.”

“They want to show ECH to natborns?” Alpha-37, now known as Scout, shouted, “How do they even know it exists?”

A general chorus of agreement rose from the rest of the Alphas. Alistar had a suspicion.

“As you know, Leia and Jasper Skywalker are serving as Senatorial Aides and apprentices to Senator Fox Ehneta-Cuir,” Mace began, “And Jasper still occasionally enjoys watching ECH when he’s bored or homesick.”

Alistar nodded. He knew this already, and resolutely ignored the warm and fuzzies it gave him to know that his nephew took comfort in something Alistar had helped make.

“Princess Winter Organa of Alderaan apparently caught a glimpse of the show during some negotiations with Alderaan,” Windu continued, “And requested some episodes to take back home with her.

“She in turn watched the show with several of her friends, two of which happen to be the children of a prominent Alderaanian media magnate. Their father happened to see it as well and became interested, leading us here.”

Windu procured a datapad from his belt. Ponds had finally gotten to him; he wore armor around his robes in a style that was becoming signature for both Force-Sensitive and non-Force-Sensitive Jedi.

“Here is the contract- I leave it for your deliberation. The gist of the document is that Blue Mountain Media Company will be able to air ECH as much as they want for the next two years in exchange for the sum of one million credits.”

Alistar’s eyes widened as Ninety-Nine gasped. That was more than the operational fund of the entire Enclave at the moment. They could buy enough hydroponics and farming equipment to feed the entire Enclave with that money, two years earlier than they expected to.

“Master Nu looked over it and said that the terms were favorable- the only restriction stipulated is that you are unable to license with another network to air on Alderaan for the two years the network has licensed. There is also a clause for renewal of the contract if desired by both parties. I leave this to your deliberation, gentlemen.”

Window stepped off the stage and was immediately swallowed by the hubbub of the discussion. Alpha lost track of him, and tuned into the rest of the discussion about the contract.

The general response was favorable if a little ‘weirded out,’ as Hajir would probably say. It looked like the children of Alderaan would actually get an education on the arts of war and survival.

Good!

...

Cara Dune was pretty bored. She was watching the neighbor kid, Zekel, for a little bit of extra spending money, and Zekel was too little to watch any of the good Holoshows. So she was stuck watching the kiddie channel with him.

She kind of zoned out for a while before she noticed the typical clatter and clamor of children’s shows stopped. She looked up to see a very basic title screen- it looked almost like the papers she needed to do for school.

‘Educational Children’s Holoshow: The Parent’s Search,’ it read. She raised her eyebrow; must be a low budget program, there wasn’t any music.

She raised her eyebrow further when a man built like a large brick wall appeared on screen, clad in vaguely familiar armor. She wasn’t old enough to remember the Clone Wars, really, but she’d seen old propaganda holofilms in her history class. This man was dressed somewhat like that.

“Hello, children,” he said evenly, “I am Alpha-42, but you can call me Jackal. I’m a Jedi; I’m also a clone. My brothers and I made this program to teach our cadets; today, you’ll be our cadets too. I like to tell stories- would you like to hear one?”

Cara looked over at Zekel, who was entranced. Something about the cadence of Jackal’s voice was soothing, she supposed, so she returned her attention to the screen.

“A long, long time ago it was,” Jackal started, “And there was a king in Keldabe... (2)”

Jackal was a good storyteller; he told the story of a Mandalorian who searched across the entire land and sea to find their child. He climbed seven mountains, and crossed seven rivers, and even battled the mighty mythosaur to save his foundling. At the end of the story, the two were happily reunited.

“And if they have not yet marched ahead, they live happily to this day (3),” Jackal finished. Cara cocked her head. Interesting way to tell the story.

“That was a traditional Mandalorian tale,” Jackal said, “But there’s a lot of good things to be learned from it.”

“Like tracking!” Another armored man strode on projection, armored marked in dappled greens and browns, “I’m Traps, and today we’re going to learn how to track a humanoid target in a grassland environment. Guess who’s going to be our target?”

Cara blinked. This certainly wasn’t what she was expecting.

The cadets on screen cheered as Jackal hoisted himself up from his sitting position and started ambling off into the distance.

“Faster, Jackal, are you an Alpha ARC or not?” Traps called after him. Jackal gave him a dirty look but began to jog, and then lope, until he seemed to disappear into the waving stalks.

“Now, the most important thing to remember while tracking is to pay attention to your surroundings as well as the trail you are following,” Traps told the cadets, “We, in particular, have to watch out for my other brothers, isn’t that right?”

Behind Traps, two forms rustled up out of the grass. They were human-shaped, and moved like humans, but otherwise looked a lot like haystacks. One raised his arm in a wave, and the cadets giggled. Traps looked suspicious suddenly, and spun around, but the human haystacks were too quick for him and dropped back out of sight. The cadets giggled again, and Cara felt herself giggling too as Traps gave the cadets and the camera a suspicious look.

Maybe the jokes were for babies, but they really were funny. Zekel seemed to think so, certainly, as he was cackling next to her.

The rest of the episode continued; another man popped up to teach the cadets how to cross a decent-sized river, while yet another taught them the correct knots for mountain climbing (with some truly terrible puns attached).

“Remember, kids,” the knot tying man, also known as Tate, exclaimed, “It’s Knot Hard!”

Even Zekel groaned at that one.

The gaggle of cadets stopped one more time for a light snack of jerky with a man who knew more about pre-industrial survival food than was probably healthy for himself or anyone he was trying to feed. Apparently his name was Corsac.

“It’s better than rations!” Corsac said. Cara, who had tasted standard rations on a class field trip to a defunct Clone Wars base, knew that was probably the case. She also knew that it was far from a ringing endorsement.

The episode ended with the kids finally tracking down Jackal again, dodging the human haystacks, and getting some cookies as a reward. It was sweet. The scene faded to a short page of names and numbers, which cut out a little abruptly.

Cara blinked as the next show came on; something about banding together for the good of the galaxy, or so the obnoxiously upbeat theme song proclaimed. Zekel started squirming next to her.

“I want to practice tracking,” he muttered. Cara turned a speculative eye on the backyard.

...

Corsac blinked as Fox staggered out of the shuttle. He’d been looking forward to seeing his ad (4) during Senate recess, Fox was on Dantooine too little these days.

He had not expected Fox to step out of the shuttled lugging two huge sacks of unidentified substance over his shoulder. Leia and Jasper Skywalker, each struggling under the weight of a sack apiece, followed him down the ramp.

“I’m not getting the rest,” Fox announced, dropping the bags in front of him. Leia put her bag down as well with a gasp, but Jasper just fell to the ground and let his burden crush him with a dramatic groan.

“Good afternoon, my child, it’s lovely to see you too,” Corsac replied. Fox, to his credit, looked a little ashamed.

“Hello, buir,” he muttered.

“Rudeness is a bad look for our Representative!” Corsac teased him, and then decided to let him off the hook.

“What are these?” He asked, turning to the sacks laying lumpily on the ground. Fox’s mood suddenly shifted, and he grinned widely: he looked more like a shark than his namesake.

“These,” He said gleefully, “Are your fanmail, fresh from Alderaan.”

Corsac blinked. He couldn’t have heard that right. He... just couldn’t have.

“Fan.. Mail...?” He said faintly.

Impossibly, Fox grinned wider.

“By all accounts, buir, you’ve manage to capture the hearts of an entire generation of formerly peaceful Alderaanian children,” he said with too much enjoyment.

“Formerly peaceful?” Corsac repeated.

“Well, they now want to be Clone cadets, so not exactly peaceful anymore,” Fox explained, grin somehow getting even wider. He was spending too much time around Vos, probably, Corsac dimly reflected.

Corsac was still a little dazed.

“How?” He asked again.

“Well, your itty bitty fan club wanted to send you letters, so they pestered their mommies and daddies to put the letters in the mail,” Fox said, very reasonably, “Mommies and daddies decided to address it to the studio, and the studio started running out of space, so they sent the letters to Bail Organa to pass onto me. And here I am! Next time you pick me up from Coruscant, bring a ship with better tonnage ratings.”

Corsac blinked one more time, still feeling like he was missing something important.

“What are you waiting for? Read one!” Fox poked him.

Corsac bent to open the sack- it was full of actual, honest to goodness flimsi envelopes. Corsac had never gotten a flimsi letter in his life; the only solid document he owned was his proof of citizenship and the adoption papers for Fox and his squad, which he kept in the safe under his bed.

He picked one somewhat at random- it was bright red, and glittery, so it caught his eye. He opened it carefully, Fox barely restraining himself from bouncing in the corner of his eye.

He hadn’t seen Fox this excited since he signed those adoption papers.

Inside was, improbably, even more glitter and a handwritten note. The aurabesh was crooked, and some letters were swapped, but it was mostly legible.

‘Dear Mr. Corsac,’ it read, ‘I really really like your recipes. I made hardtack with my mom today and it tasted horrible just like you said. Love, Tygeeta.’

Corsac didn’t notice the moisture in his eyes until Fox looked at him, concerned.

“They like it?” He said quietly.

“They love it,” Fox replied, “And millions of frazzled parents across Alderaan are now asking for advice keeping them out of trouble.”

“That’s not going to be possible,” Corsac replied with a smile, “Let me bring this to my brothers, they won’t know how to deal with this.”

“Oh, no, that’s only yours,” Fox said with that same shark grin, pointing at the bulging sack.

Corsac blinked again.

“That’s Alistar’s,” Fox pointed at Jasper’s bag, “That’s Jackal’s,” he pointed at Leia’s.

“And the rest,” Fox said with some satisfaction, “Is still in the shuttle.”

Corsac just gave up trying to comprehend this and simply stared as his son, who beamed back.

“You’re leaving quite the legacy, buir,” Fox said, “I eagerly await the long term effects of this.”

Corsac blinked again, but started to smile back.