000: Just for Giggles

“Jatne!”
“Over here, Roxil!” There was chaos everywhere and Jatne changed instantly from his friendly casual demeanor to the Null ARC commander shouting orders. “Ma’am, I need you to clear the area. Take your son and move to the southern landing pad. Troopers, we have EOD? I need a sweep for more devices!”
“Sir, Mik was our EOD, he was in the blast. Eighteen casualties and six walking wounded, sir.” The trooper, Vosh, called back.
“Fierfek. Alright I’m on it. Anyone on their feet move the wounded to the larty, civilians first boys.” He wanted to tell them to make sure their brothers were sorted before anything else but that wasn’t how things were done. They would understand, they had to. His HUD flooded with telemetry, surface scans, ordinance detection, and comm chatter, he searched everything. “Local enforcement says Seps,”
“Why here?” Roxil asked. He knew the answer. The civil war here was started because half the population wanted to secede from the Republic with the CIS. Republic forces aiding in the relief effort would only strengthen the other half’s resolve to stay. More accurately it wasn’t Seps attacking them but Separatist sympathizers. There was another detonation and the familiar whine of enemy gunships, this was lot of firepower for a fighting force of thirty clones, and they had lost most of that in the first blast. This was supposed to be peaceful work, they weren’t equipped for a fight. “Everyone into cover!” Roxil shifted to his war form, armoring up. He ignored the Verpine shatter gun Jatne offered him, brandishing claws and wings instead. “I’m going to head off the fighters, take care of your men Jat’ika.”
Jatne tagged the locations of the deceased in the holochart before moving on. He’d come back later, Kal’buir would want their tallies. Roxil flipped down the razor thin visor that simulated a HUD, the only thing that would stay on when he shapeshifted, and flew into the air.  Pushing his speed to the limits he darted between the six fighters placing tracer markers on each to relay to the troopers. Then he spared some essence to increase his strength and dug his claws into the armored plating on one craft gripping its thin cannon in his jaws to yank it off its track. If the Separatist hut’uune weren’t getting nervous now they were fools. The instant he felt the vessels hatch start to give he let Luna’s fury wash over him, that familiar red mist filled his vision and he was ready to kill.

Time blurred, seconds may as well have been hours as Roxil’s rage flooded him with adrenaline. Today it easier than usual to give into the fury. Planting explosives at a charity event was cowardly and didn’t merit any mercy in his response. He would rip them apart and spare them no remorse. He gripped the rail with one hand as he wrenched the hatch free. The gunship shuddered and lost altitude, Roxil yanked the cannon from its mechanism swinging it like a cudgel as he entered the ship, the first man crumpled when the weapon slammed into the side of his head. Roxil abandoned it and lunged at the pilot’s throat with his teeth and pouncing immediately on the copilot. He kicked his way through the front viewscreen and fly toward the next marker as the ship crashed behind him.
”Kandosii!"
“That guys a beast! That a Clawdite? Didn’t think they were that strong!” One of the troopers said. Roxil was only vaguely aware of their voices, but they were definitely aware of his growls.
”Wayii!” Jatne shouted when a second gunship crashed a little too close to his position. ”Udesii, ner vod!”

"Jat'ika, don't be mad at me, I've got some news."
"Never, buir. I forgave you for shooting me didn't I?"
"This might be worse." Kal looked serious, it made Jatne nervous. "Ready to do a little PR, son? I love all you boys the same but you, Jaing, and Mereel are the most sociable. That can't be argued. Jaing is out on the rim with Kom'rk, and Mereel is off to Kamino, but you can't be properly deployed." The Jatne from this world had been reconditioned on Kamino, he was dead which meant this Jatne had to operate carefully. His existence could get Kal'buir and his brothers in a lot of trouble. "That Skyla Kix,"
"The reporter always down on clones?"
"That's the one. She'll be covering a charity homebuilding event on Ambria, I've managed authorization to get a couple troopers on the work crew. Reckon you can still fit in the armor?" Nulls were already of a slightly larger build than the other Jango clones, Skirata often wondered when seemingly recreational eating and a lack of regular deployment would show up on Jatne's waist lime but he looked as fit as ever. The clones were always hungry, side effect of the accelerated aging.
"I'm no more experienced at building than any trooper, just smarter." He wasn't being arrogant our insulting, just staying facts. "They don't need me,"
"But you're charming, and you're not intimidated by a pretty face. You're not there to build, you're there to make her like you." 
"Buir," Just rip off the bandage. Jatne ashtrays tried to avoid reminding Kal how abnormal he and his brothers really were, but sometimes it had to be done. "Mer'ika and I, Jaing too, we don't have any luck with women, buir. We're just perceptive, we can tell which ones don't know any better than to pity us poor clones. Find that girl and put on a nice smile, they fall apart over naive slave soldier that doesn't know how bad they've got it." Kal looked crushed, but he understood the point.
"You think Ordo has a better chance?" He meant it when he said he loved all his boys, but Ordo had no tact, and couldn't lighten up like his brothers could, he was always serious.
"Only if we were trying to scare her into liking us."

"Clone!" The woman shouted impatiently, Jatne swallowed the several less than flattering observations he could make about her.
"How can I help you ma'am?" He smiled brilliantly despite his annoyance.
"My boss wants me to interview troops as long as you're here. Take a minute."
"Happy for a rest ma'am." He took off his gloves and wiped sweat from his forehead. "Mind if I grab some water?"
"You can't wait?" You've been sitting on your shebs in the shade all day but sure, what's a little dehydration? "Of course ma'am, not a problem. Interview away."
"Clone,"
"Pardon, ma'am, not to interrupt but we have names."
"Excuse me?" She looked to one of the troopers he pointed out.
"That's Fi, Rin, Vosh, I'm Jatne." It didn't really matter who saw the interview, most republic officials wouldn't know any of their names anyway. Anyone that might, wouldn't know his name. "You can also call me Captain, or Oh-Two."
"Oh-Two then," She seemed to want to think of him more like a droid. That got to him in a way he hadn't expected. Jatne was as prone to snapping as his brothers. He only just barely controlled his response into something less violent. He grabbed hold of her hand without warning and placed the palm flat against his chest.
"Feel that heartbeat? We may be clones, wet nay have been given numbers rather than names, but we're men ma'am. We're real, human, flesh-and-blood, men."
"And you're dangerous." She jerked her hand back as though he would crush it, gesturing to cut the camera.
"That is absolutely true. We are exactly what we were made to be, ma'am, the soldiers the Republic needs."
"You're only trained for war, not life, you can't tell me you can shut that off."
"Thirty of us here, ma'am. I don't hear any bombs out blasters." He looked at the troopers helping to build the frame of a house. "You know, not of us have ever done this before,"
"What's you're point?"
"We learn everything. We were trained to fight and kill, to follow orders without question. Since we arrived I've heard numerous civilian volunteers complain about the heat, or how hard the work is, or any number of things. My boys have been excited for this. For us, it's an opportunity to learn something new, to do something we never thought we would. We may have grown up with rifles in our hands but we can be more than that."
She gave him a puzzled look. "Grown up?"
"You think we just magically appeared? We were born in vats rather than mothers but we were born just the same."
"How old are you then?" He almost thought he had the upper hand, that he was getting through to her. That question could ruin it.
"Technically, ma'am, roughly twenty two."
"What do you man technically."
"Twenty years is a long time to wait for a clone army to come fight your war. Our genes were modified so we would develop at twice the normal rate. Those men are eleven years old, ma'am." He cursed internally, she was perceptive, he hoped she wouldn't notice he chose to say those men. A trooper showed up with a glass of water.
"Thirsty work, sir, watch your fluid loss." None of the troopers had questioned him even though they didn't recognize him as one of their own. He was borrowing a clone commander's armor. They had removed all the plates to work, but the helmet with a commander's livery was clipped to his belt still.
"Thanks, ner vod,"
"You speak Mandalorian?" The reporter asked, that caught him off guard. Very few civilians recognized the language.
"Mando'a, yes. It filtered through the ranks from the ARCs and Commandos trained by Mandalorians."
"Trained by... You're more dangerous than I thought." Smart woman. 
"Ma'am, you know who we're cloned from right? Most of the ARCs were trained by the man himself. He handpicked the people that trained the commandos."
"What's an ARC?"
"Advanced Reconnaissance Commando, single unit special forces."
"So they were trained differently from you?"
"Correct," But not how you think. The Alpha planks are no fun at all. "Troopers are infantry and gunship pilots. Commandos operate as four man social forces squads with more specialized training, and ARCs are trained to do special forces work solo." He was letting the questions get away from him again, distracted. He was looking for Roxil, Kal had practically begged him to take the cat along. He was still building of course, with the exception of unfamiliar tools he seemed already comfortable with the construction process. The commlink in his helmet chirped. "That's break ma'am, my boys have to eat. When we're done I'd be happy to get to that interview if you'd like."

The news crew had brought cakes and caf for the civilian volunteers, but the clones were supposed to fend for themselves. Jatne sat in the grass and pulled a ration cube from his belt. Before he could start eating something ran hard into his back.
"I'm sorry mister," A small boy no more than six or seven years old said. Jatne picked up a ball that had rolled past him and handed it the kid with a smile.
"No harm done. You'd have to try harder than that to hurt me." He teased. The boy looked at his helmet. "You want to look? It's pretty cool, all bright lights and information. Don't try to walk though, it's harder than we make it look." He pulled the commlink and datachip out before offering the piece of armor. The kid took it enthusiastically and put it on his had.
"Whoa, how do you look at all this?" He was muffled, the speakers were disabled.
"Talan! I told you to wait for me. I'm so sorry, sir." The young woman looked frightened.
"He's been no trouble at all, ma'am, perfectly polite." The kid troubled him for some reason he couldn't identify. Talan took the helmet off and looked sheepishly at his mother.
"It's heavier than it looks, mister."
"Jatne," He said holding out his hand to shake. Most civilians looked terrified like they expected a bone crushing grip, or to find solid metal under the gloves rather than flesh, but this kid accepted it happily.
"You're a clone... Jatne?"
"What gave it away?" The kid looked toward a group of troopers eating ration cubes closer to the build site and grinned. "What's that?"
"Rations, perfectly balanced nutrient cubes."
"What's it taste like?" Jatne broke off a piece of cube and laughed unashamedly at the kids face. "Gross."
"Yeah, it's not much for taste but it keeps us strong when we're in the field, low on fiber so we don't get caught with our kute at our knees. And has no scent to attract predators or enemies."
"Talan please don't bother the soldier anymore. You've been very kind, sir, thank you."
"I really don't mind at all. I've never been so close to a kid that wasn't just like me. It's been quite enjoyable, I should thank you. If only I could have one some day," 
"A kid? You can't?" Most civilians couldn't grasp a clone's life, fair trade, he didn't understand theirs.
"I theoretically could, question is if I should. If I don't die in the war, I'm still aging twice as fast as anyone else. I'm not a citizen either, no rights and paycheck to support a family." The poor woman looked devastated, he really shouldn't have told her, but in a way he wanted people to know. She gave him her plate of cakes with a sad smile.
"Are you allowed to eat sweets?"
"Oh yes ma'am. They don't give us any at the barracks but buir likes to give us treats. Sorry, my sergeant."
"What's that you called him?"
"Buir, father. They tell us when a normal person enlists the sergeant will says he's their mother and their father. Well, for us..." He was amazed when she managed to look even more sad. "Don't worry ma'am, he's a good man and took his role seriously. He took good care of us, even saved our lives more than once. I wouldn't trade him for anyone else in the world." Jatne watched the kid playing with his armor plates with a faint smile.
"Shame," She said suddenly. "I think you'd be a natural."
"Pardon?"
"A father, you were good with Talan. I admit I was nervous, but you've been very kind."
"Not the ruthless killer you expected?" He was, but this wasn't a battlefield, she didn't need to know that. A couple of the troopers looked warily at the scene. It must have been quite a sight, a clone commander appearing for all the world to casually share cakes with a woman, her child playing with his kit. He knew he would never forget this even if he could forget. The moment felt so close to normal, so close to a life he could see but couldn't grab. Everything was as close to pleasant as he could imagine, until the explosion.

"So Jatne," Ordo said the name suspiciously, he looked convinced but didn't sound like it. "First you come back from the dead, now you're from the future?"
"I don't understand,"
"Did you see a bright light and end up somewhere you hadn't been before?" Roxil asked.
"Yes, I was on Mandalore. How did I not notice..." Realization clicked in. "Exhaustion, dehydration, too many stims, no sleep for fifty two hours. My heads a mess. I should have seen it sooner, suddenly back on triple zero and there's no Empire, of course. Stranger, were you actually ready to take a blaster for me?"
"I only assumed it was a weapon, and I have every confidence it wouldn't hurt me. I'm resilient that way, so it wasn't entirely selfless. If it was a weapon it came down to me or you and I haven't seen any reason why you should die yet so I chose me."
"Thank you, vod. With my bucket off my head makes a nice wet target and my brothers don't miss,"
"Vowd..." Roxil repeated the word to herself as though that would reveal its meaning. "Anyway I'm a long way from home myself, all I've seen is city and flying creatures I probably can't eat." She patted her stomach and grinned. "Cities aren't good for hunting or sleeping."

It appeared Roxil had made a new friend in Jatne. The friendship of a Null ARC also awarded the friendship of their trainer and adoptive father Kal Skirata. The old man with a pronounced limp offered her a night in a vacant apartment above the Kragget, his favorite haunt. Roxil was also allowed to share a meal with the Nulls, like Roxil they had never eaten in a place like this. Though the group of men watched her warily, she had always been exceedingly attractive - male or female - but she had no idea how distressing that was to these soldiers.

The brilliantly red waitress brought out a massive platter of some meat strips, Kal called it Nerf, as well as a huge plate of eggs and a basket of bread. To the CSF onlookers it probably looked like enough food for twice as many people, but the seven soldiers and Roxil managed to clear every scrap with a quickness. Though the meal was filled with conversation, Roxil could nearly feel the discomfort radiating from the seven Nulls and Skirata. They had so many questions and Jatne didn't seem to know how to answer them, or like he was afraid to try. The questions asked about what Jatne had been doing on Mandalore and about the Empire he had mentioned seemed to make him the most uncomfortable and he wasn't very subtle about dodging them. 

They questioned Roxil about her history briefly, but many of her answers ended with them calling her a di'kut or or'dinii. One of them used a phase - kaysh mirsh solus - but Roxil didn't know what any of these words meant and they laughed whenever she asked. The only clue she got was a sympathetic look from Jatne each time they teased her. Jatne had also taken to calling her di'kut, but the way he said it sounded friendlier somehow. It wasn't until several hours later that Skirata would tell her the word meant idiot, or more literally someone that forgets to put pants on. Well, they didn't know how true the literal translation was, but Roxil didn't think she was an idiot.

Many of the Nulls had work to do, apparently they were meant to be in a state called cryostasis but they violently refused. As long as they weren't frozen command had decided to put them to use. Jatne was supposed to be dead, so he couldn't help them. Instead he stayed with his brothers Jaing and Kom'rk to listen to more of Roxil's stories. If nothing else they seemed to find the things she said splendidly amusing.

Kom'rk loved her stories of battles she fought in. Jatne was intrigued by what Roxil could recount of her world's history, culture, and geography. Jaing on the other hand marveled at, and continuously asked more about, her stories of a significantly more personal nature. He stared in disbelief when Roxil claimed to have seventy six wives, fifty two husbands, and dozens of children. She received even more scrutiny when she claimed to have lost count of his grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and great-great-grandchildren. Their skepticism didn't get any lighter when she tried to explain that she was over four hundred years old - and usually a man - her children had more than enough time to have children of their own.

Regardless of their disbelief it seemed the thought of having lived centuries awed them. She was filled with sadness when she learned that they expected to live only half as long as a normal human, and that was if it was old age that got them in the end. Realistically they didn't seem to see a future beyond another decade at most. They looked like grown men to her, maybe in their late twenties. Roxil nearly cried when soldiers, trained since they could walk, were actually only eleven with the exception of the fourteen year old Jatne. 

It seemed cruel to her, millions of men factory grown just to fight and die in someone else's war. It reminded her in a way of the Dragon Blooded armies in Creation. Unlike the celestials, Dragon Blooded exaltations passed to offspring. They bred hundreds of thousands of soldiers to send to their deaths against the celestials. They just kept breeding until they could overwhelm the Solars and Lunars with sheer numbers. To Roxil, this was actually worse, at least Dragon Blooded soldiers were allowed to experience childhood, and they could choose not to be soldiers. This was an army of manufactured, flesh-and-blood human slaves. Roxil suppressed an urge to declare intentions to destroy this Republic. Her heart told her to crush, maim, and eviscerate; but she knew even she couldn't do that alone.

"That isn't funny, Jatne was reconditioned. I was there."
"Buir, Nulls don't get reconditioned, not really. You know that."
"I saw them put his body in the incinerator. I know it was him, I remembered every damn scar he had, son." Skirata was definitely crying. "I don't know who you think you are impersonating one of my boys, or how you even knew him well enough-"
"Kal'buir, it's me. Look at my face, you knew my scars right? This one on my face, I got it in our first urban ops exercise." He pulled off his exposed shoulder plate and pulled back the body suit. "This one, remember when you clipped me with the Verp? You were apologizing for years."
"The one on your arm? Let me guess you got that one too? You've done a real nice job turning into him, but Jatne is dead."

Jatne chose not to mention just yet that he had lost the arm with the worst of his scars. He couldn't comprehend the only family he had thinking he was dead. His own brothers were threatening him now. Ordo had his blaster out, it made sense if they really believed he was an imposter. He knew, being one of them, the extent of a Null's loyalty. They would kill a brother clone without guilt if they thought he was taunting them with their dead brother's name. The tattooed woman stepped between Jatne and the blaster.
"I have no idea what's going on, but if that's a weapon I ask you to put it away." Jatne was glad the stranger couldn't see his face, he couldn't stop the tears.
"I will not stand by and let this man steal Jatne's-"
"I am Jatne! Look no other clones would know about the night you saved us, buir. When you gave us uj cake and taught us about our heritage. You called us sponges because we learned faster than you could think of what to teach us. When I shot Orun Wa for recommending our termination, Ordo stole your blaster but I was the one with a clear angle. I have the scar on my retina from the live ordinance experiment. I remember when N-04 and N-09 died, and when you named them anyway. Jehav and Mirci't, did you ever tell anyone but us? You even named the ones that didn't make it to incubation right?"
"That's impossible, I saw you die. You were locked up in medical, there was nothing I could do. Your brothers almost died trying to get you out. Shab, Jat'ika it's really you?"
"It's me Kal'buir,"
"You look so old, son." Kal hugged him tightly, and ruffled his hair noting the couple grey strands here and there. The relief made Jatne cry even more. He hadn't thought anything of it at first. His brothers' armed siege at the spaceport, Ordo's hair wasn't grey around the temples. Jaing didn't have his prized leather gloves, and Kal looked far younger than he had earlier that day. These were all details he should have noticed much sooner.
"They were trying to put you in cryo, did you just come from Geonosis?" His voice was so quiet Skirata strained to hear.
"Yes," Mereel said, still looking unsure.
"That's not possible, Geonosis was three years ago."

It had been over 200 years since Roxil had been in Creation. Over 200 years since he had interacted with another person, or even since he had been a person. He had no idea what had become of his companions since then. Fading Comet had killed Dunwe, but after that Roxil had run off into the wilderness in the haze of his Limit Break. He had been ashamed of himself, choosing an exile in the Wyld to collect his thoughts. That exile had become 400 years of hunting Raksha and Wyld tainted creatures. Today however, he finally responded to the prayers of his people.


The 5 foot tall cat crossed over the border into Creation, taking a deep breathe of the fresh air. Without hesitation he transitioned to his War Form - the 9 foot human/cat hybrid - stretching his humanoid arms and legs having grown unfamiliar with the feel of them. For 6 days and nights he barely rested, running at full speed to reach his southern-most village. He passed through the gates and kept running straight to the stairs of the temple where the people had carved out a statue of him. There was nothing that could be more exciting to him than seeing his people again for the first time in centuries. Some had noticed his return and he shifted to his female human shape -and put on her pants- to greet them, but didn't get the chance.


There was a flash of purple light before Roxil saw what she had experienced only once before; different this time in that her skin felt stiff and sore around his protective tattoos. She was surrounded by the high pitched whine of thousands of curious metallic creatures flying through the air around her. The buildings were so tall she couldn't see where they ended in the sky, when she looked down from the platform she was standing on she couldn't even see where they started. Some of the whining creatures came over her head to set down on the platform, there was some kind of commotion.


"Ma'am, this platform has been cordoned, it's a restricted area. No civilians. I've already called CSF, please remain where you are."

"Civilians? Where am I?" There was a lot of wind up here, for the first time in centuries Roxil wished she was fully clothed. "What's a see ess eff? How do you get to the Wyld from here?"

"Slow down, have you been on spice? It doesn't matter, I'm placing you under arrest."


"You misunderstand General Camas." A man's voice distracted Roxil. He stood out in his brown leather jacket against all the uniformed bodies. "I have no interest in making them cooperate. I said I will get them to come out peacefully. If you try to put my boys in the freezer again I will no longer be cooperating." He hooked his thumbs into his belt drawing attention to several items attached under his jacket that Roxil could only guess the function of. What he could tell, was that the man was clearly important. His mere presence seemed to make everyone around a little nervous. That was good, the officer was distracted. "Ord'ika, you've been naughty boys again, haven't you?" The older man called into the building as he approached it after a target brief argument with the general. Roxil suddenly bolted, she ran straight off the edge of the platform. She stayed in free fall for just over thirty seconds, then shifted. She chose the form of a Stryx a massive bird with a fifteen foot wingspan.


She only had a few feet of clearance on either side, but it was at least enough to glide rather than plummeting to her death.  She turned sideways, narrowly avoiding another stream of the flying creatures, when she passed one she could have sworn there was a person in it. She shifted back to her human form as she got closer to a small platform rolling through the landing with practiced ease. There was a locked sliding door, but she was able to pull it open with relative ease. 


Roxil managed to find a tunic that was too tight around the chest, and a pair of pants that were too short, but it would have to do. She casually went out to the hall and down a flight of stairs to a building that appeared to be a bar of some kind. In the bar, she saw something truly spectacular. There was a woman with vibrant red skin, she had no hair but two flexible tail-like growths on her head. There were people with various insect faces, and one creature taller than Roxil that was covered in fur. 


"Hey beautiful," She said to the red woman putting on her prettiest face. "I seem to be a little lost, could you point me to the Wyld border?"
"I...have no idea what you're trying to ask me," She seemed annoyed by something. Roxil heard several men standing up behind him and a whirring sound he couldn't identify.
"Ma'am, need help with this lady? Listen pal I don't like roughing up a lady, but this place has standards. Couldn't even bother with a pair of shoes, miss?" It was the same old man from the landing platform walking in, he had a very pronounced limp. Behind him were six men wearing white armor coated in red dirt. They all had a single pauldron and heavy leather hanging from their belts the only discernable difference between them being the colors of their pauldrons and belt spats.

"Buir, why didn't you call me? Why didn't you tell me they tried to put my brothers on ice?" Everyone turned to look at the newcomer. One by one they removed their helmets, all the armored men had the same face and the same shocked expression. "Vode, you look like you're seeing a ghost. Did you think I'd forget how to pilot a fighter?" He tapped his head with two fingers. "I don't forget anything, just like you."
"Jat'ika?" The old man asked, he sounded like he was crying but Roxil couldn't tell.
"Last I checked... yes? I haven't been reconditioned since we last spoke,"