Archive of Our Own ^beta

30 BBY - 8 years before the Clone Wars start

Fox marched behind his cadets, following as they headed for target practice at one of the many firing ranges in Saberjowl Dome. Each time they went out, he had another cadet squad lead. That way, they all got experience being in charge of a larger group.

Fox liked bringing up the rear this way. He could keep an eye on all his cadets, his keen gaze looking for any indications of injury, while also observing how the cadets were interacting with each other. And he could watch for troublemakers. Not that his boys caused much trouble for each other beyond the usual jostling for position. But sometimes he’d catch subtle threats to other training groups. Fox recalled his own rivalries with other command trainees when he was a cadet, which were usually settled by beating the other cadets’ eval scores. Not much happened in the hallways, where the kaminiise were watching.

As they came to an intersection, a Kaminoan leading a group of ten cadets entered the main hallway from a side passage. Fox almost let them pass, but then he met the eyes of one of the last cadets in line. A jolt went through him.

It was Cody’s vod’ika. The little blond cadet Cody had adopted during their fourth year.

Rex.

“Cadets, ke’mot!” Fox called to his boys.

He knew they’d pass the command up the line until all the cadets had received it. Fox strode toward the Kaminoan leading the CTs. He stepped in front of the long-neck, forcing him to stop.

“Where are you taking these cadets?” Fox asked.

“It doesn’t concern you, sergeant,” the kaminii said. “Return to your training.”

Something about the man’s tone made Fox’s gut clench. “It does concern me,” he said. “It concerns me very much that all of these boys have a mutation.”

The cadets looked up at Fox, some with blue or dual-colored eyes. A few of them had blonde or lighter-than-standard colored hair. One had patches of lighter skin on his face and arms.

“And how does that concern you?” the Kaminoan asked, clasping his hands behind his back.

Fox knew the hallway was jamming up. His cadets were edging closer, intrigued by what their sergeant was doing, and that made it nearly impossible for other cadet groups and those trying to use the hallway to get past.

“It concerns me,” Fox said, mirroring the Kaminoan’s posture, “because I know what you shabuire do with product you consider . . . defective.”

“What’er they gonna do with us?” Cody’s vod’ika asked.

“Be quiet, CT-7567,” the Kaminoan said. He fixed his silvery gaze on Fox. “You’re interfering with—”

“Yes, I am interfering,” Fox interrupted.

He grabbed Rex and one of the blue-eyed cadets and pushed them toward his own cadets. The older boys closed ranks, shuffling Rex and the other cadet amongst themselves so they weren’t readily spotted.

Fox had never been prouder of his boys.

He reached for another of the blond cadets and the boy darted forward, dragging the cadet with vitiligo along with him. The Kaminoan grabbed two more cadets before they could move away. The rest of the mutated boys rushed past the Kaminoan and Fox, disappearing into the ranks of Fox’s boys.

Murmurs broke out from the traffic around them, which had come to a complete halt.

“You’re meddling in things you shouldn’t,” the kaminii said, in as close to a snarl as Fox had ever heard from a long-neck.

Fox gave him a grin that was all teeth. “Good. Now give me those two.”

The kanimii stepped back, dragging the cadets with him.

Fox took his comlink off his belt and commed Jango.

“Fett,” came the reply.

“It’s Fox. I need you in Saberjowl Dome to settle a dispute.”

“You don’t have to involve the template,” the Kaminoan said.

Fox gave him another feral grin.

“Ka’ra, Naasade,” Jango growled. “Can’t you settle it on your own?”

“Of course,” Fox said. “Just thought you ought to know there’ll probably be a body on the floor at the end of it.”

Jango swore. “I’m on my way. Don’t kill anyone.”

“There’s no need for violence,” the Kaminoan said as Fox put his comlink away. “I’m only doing my job.”

“Give me the name of your supervisor, and leave the cadets with me,” Fox said. “Otherwise, you can tell Jango exactly where you were taking these boys.”

The Kaminoan’s eyes went half-lidded and his neck swayed sinuously. Fox wasn’t sure what the reaction was, but he thought it might be fear. The Kaminoan suddenly thrust the cadets he was holding at Fox and turned, shoving his way through the crowd. Fox let the demagolka go. He guided the cadets over to his boys.

“What are our orders, sarge?” RC-5576 asked, coming to Fox’s side. His cadet squad was leading to the day’s training.

Fox’s first instinct was to retreat to home ground, which would be the cadet barracks, since his private quarters wouldn’t hold them all. It had always been marginally safer to face angry senators in the Guard HQ, rather than in the Senate building. But he would be explaining himself to Jango, not some puffed up, holier-than-thou senator. It would still probably be better to face Jango in private, rather than a hallway full of inquisitive cadets and kaminiise.

“To the firing range, 5576,” Fox said. “Let’s teach these CTs how RCs shoot.”

5576 grinned and nodded. “Oya, Sarge.” He turned to the other cadets, and at an impressive volume for a third-cycle cadet, hollered,  “Form up!”

Fox’s cadets lined up in two neat rows.

“CT to the back,” 5576 ordered.

The younger cadets lined up behind their older counterparts, and Fox placed himself behind them.

5576 and his three squadmates jogged up the line of cadets.

“On to the firing range,” 5576 barked. “Double time! Sergeant Naasade’s unit arrives on time!”

The cadets took off at a run as 5576 and his squad took the lead.

“Think you boys can keep up?” Fox asked the younger cadets as they followed along.

“Sir, yes sir,” cadet CT-7567 said, flashing Fox a heart wrenchingly familiar cheeky grin.

Fox nodded back. “That’s what I like to hear.”

*   *   *

The firing range was set up with ten alleys. Each shooter took his place in a ring which activated a preset number of hovering target droids, which would ascend from a storage facility beneath the floor at the far end of the room. As the droids approached the shooter’s circle, they would fire mild electrical charges until they were hit be a bolt from the shooter’s training blaster.

Once Fox got the cadets settled into target practice, he sent Jango a comm, letting the other man know where he was.

Jango arrived, rightfully irritated, and ready to give Fox a dressing down.

Fox didn’t give him the chance.

“The kaminiise are still decommissioning defective product.” He practically spat the last words.

Jango frowned at him. “If the cadets don’t meet the qualifying evals . . .”

Fox clenched his jaw. Just because a cadet didn’t meet evals, didn’t mean he should be terminated.

“Watch,” Fox interrupted.

He directed Jango to where cadet 7567 was stepping into the shooter’s circle. Once the cadet was in position, five target droids floated up from an opening in the floor. Fox could alter the parameters of each shooting alley’s preset settings from the datapad in his hand. 7567 sighted and squeezed the trigger. Five droids went down with five shots.

“That proves nothing,” Jango started. “Any cadet past his first year—"

“CT-7567, again!” Fox called.

Cadet Rex nodded. Five more droids rose, only to be shot down with precision.

“Again!” Fox said before Jango could say anything. He typed a command into the datapad, and this time eight target droids rose.

7567 shot three down as they cleared the hole in the floor which jammed up the exit. The other five rose from two different holes, and 7567 took them out without missing one.

“Again!”

Twelve droids rose this time at Fox’s typed command.

Cadet 7567 hit six of the droids in rapid succession. Leapt out of the way of an electrical charge and took out three more droids. Hit the deck to avoid several more electrical charges and came up shooting, taking out the remaining droids.

“Fox, enough,” Jango said, grabbing the ‘pad. “I get your point.”

“The cadets aren’t being decommissioned because of their evals.” Fox yanked the ‘pad away from Prime. “Look at them, Jango. They don’t meet the ‘template standard’.”

Fox looked at Rex, who was breathing hard but smiling proudly.

Fox said, “CTs, front and center.”

The ten younger cadets came toward Jango, stopping a few feet away at attention.

Jango’s jaw clenched as he studied the boys.

“You don’t know that they’re being terminated,” Jango said quietly to Fox.

“They’re sure as haran not going to maintenance,” Fox snarled back.

He took a breath and tried to get ahold of himself. But the through of losing any of his little brothers, especially for Kaminoan ‘product standards’, made him viciously furious.

“I’ll talk to Lama Su,” Jango said.

“Didn’t you and Kal already talk to Lama Su when someone tried to decommission the Nulls? Weren’t the decommissionings supposed to stop then?”

“I’ll handle it,” Jango said.

“Good,” Fox replied. “Because if I ever see a Kaminoan leading around a group of defective cadets again, I won’t be as restrained as I was today.”

*   *   *

When CT-7567 and CT-7560—who had recently chosen the name Keeli—returned to their barracks, their three batchmates greeted them with worried looks and fierce hugs.

“What happened?” 7570, Ricochet, asked. He’d had his name the longest, choosing it shortly after some of the RCs and CCs had talked about choosing their own names.

“We didn’t think you were coming back,” 7568 said.

“We got to meet Sergeant Naasade!” 7567 said, bright-eyed.

“No way,” 7562, who was trying on the name Wilco, said.

Keeli nudged 7567. “You make it sound like we weren’t almost decommissioned for being defective.” Keeli turned to his batchmates. “Sergeant Naasade saved us.”

“And we got to train with his commandos!” 7567 beamed.

“Why did the Kaminoans think you two were defective?” 7568 asked.

Keeli ran a hand over his light brown hair and looked pointedly at 7567’s blond buzz cut.

“We need to make sure your evals are impeccable from now on,” Ricochet said.

7568 nodded. “The trainers can’t have any excuse to decommission you.”

Keeli nodded solemnly.

“Sergeant Naasade wouldn’t let that happen,” 7567 said.

“Sergeant Naasade isn’t our trainer,” Ricochet pointed out. “And we already know there aren’t many trainers like him.”