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10/10 Fox day/Freespace

Fox dragged a hand down his face, staring at the mess in front of him. He really didn't want to know, but… “Why?”

The three shinies scrambled to their feet immediately, turning to him and saluting clumsily. They all started speaking at the same time.

“We-”

“So, you see-”

“-not my fault…”

“One at a time, explain to me why there is a group of cadets in our lobby.” Fox glared at them—the shinies, not the cadets, he wasn't heartless enough to want to scare cadets—and waited for a response.

CT-9333 stepped forward with a sheepish smile. “There was a technological malfunction and their transport got routed here instead of to their training mission.”

Fox raised an eyebrow at the words “technological malfunction” but didn't say anything.

CT-4338 crossed her arms. “I did nothing. My friends here on the other hand…”

The other two immediately started trying to defend themselves at the same time, sounding somewhat like chattering monkeys. Fox cleared his throat, and they quickly froze in their tracks.

The third shiny, CT-4576, sighed. “We may or may not have had a part in those technological malfunctions that were mentioned earlier.”

Fox looked at them with resigned annoyance, but softened when he turned to the cadets, who were all trying to hide behind each other. “It's alright, cadets, we'll get you back where you need to be. Do any of you remember where exactly that is?”

About half of them raised their hands. Fox nodded to one of them, who then stepped in front of the others and spoke. “We are in the medical track, sir. We were going on an educational trip to a high republic era medical museum to learn more about historical medical practices. The museum is on Coruscant. We are supposed to be here, but this was not the intended destination.”

That sounded like bullshit to Fox, who was pretty certain that Kamino didn't care enough about the clones to spend credits on a museum trip. He knelt down to the cadet’s level. “I don't exactly believe you, ad’ika. I don't think the longnecks care enough to spend that many credits to bring cadets anywhere. What's the real story?”

The cadet blinked rapidly, then lowered their eyes to the ground. “I just wanna keep my squad safe,” they mumbled. The other four cadets shifted nervously as Fox looked around at them.

“You couldn't do that on Kamino?” he asked.

“No, we're crooked,” another cadet piped up. This one had red hair and pale honey-gold eyes.

Crooked? Fox wondered, what do they mean?

“What do you mean, crooked?” Fox asked incredulously.

“Sorta like, there was something wrong with our tubes or something, and we turned out a little weird in the brains,” a third, with one green eye, spoke, while a fourth, taller one nodded along enthusiastically.

Fox was going to unpack that later, for now though… “What are your names?”

The cadet who was still standing in front of him spoke up again. “I'm Neuro. And that's Aiga,”—they pointed to the redhead—“Warlock,”—the tall one—“Key”—the one with the green eye—“and Shark.” They pointed at the last one, who had blue eyes, and had stayed behind the others almost the whole time.

Fox smiled gently at the cadet squad. “It's nice to meet you all, ad’ike.”

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10/11 Painting Armor

The corries all have uniform paint on their armor, applied when they arrive to Coruscant. The reason for this is so that they can replace one another at a moment’s notice without any natborn catching on. Their rules don't prevent them from adding designs to the inside of their armor, though, and today, three shinies have earned their paint. They've chosen their names as well. CT-4338 is now Seeker, CT-9333 is Carl, and CT-4576 is known as Ripple.

Ripple holds his paintbrush thoughtfully, adding a careful, delicate swirl on the inside of his chestplate.

Seeker paints with steady hands, a krayt dragon along her spine, her arms, her legs, the back of her head.

Carl applies paint liberally, in a pattern that makes sense to nobody but him. They're happy for him anyway.

Their armor looks the same on the outside, but they feel more confident, proud, safe. Their vode congratulate them on their paint, even if they can't see it, they just know. It's in the way they walk, the smiles on their faces, bright, not yet dimmed by the pressures of Coruscant.

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10/12 Tookas

“What the kriff.” That was Fox’s response to the unusual situation unfolding before him. He repeated it twice. That's how bad this was. What, you may be wondering, was the situation exactly?

Tookas. There were 12 tookas in a garbage can with a trooper in the center of the barracks. Scratch that, there were 13 tookas, because apparently this trooper is named Tooka. What even was his life at this point?

Ripple stood proudly next to the garbage can, snuggling an escaped tooka kit to his chest and talking to the vod with purple armor who had yet to get out of the can. Why, well because they were covered in tookas, of course.

Fox shut the door and left. Though not after picking up one of the escaped tookas and bringing it with him. It was very soft, and it purred, even if it smelled like a dumpster. Probably because it had been in a dumpster.

He named it Egg.

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10/13 Grizzer

Hound took one look at Fox and instantly thought, he’s gonna pass out any second now. Seriously, the man was already swaying on his feet.

Grizzer, evidently, had noticed as well, trotting over to the Marshall Commander and nosing his leg until he patted her on the head.

That was the moment when one of their dozen odd resident tookas, the one that the Guard was calling Fox’s emotional support tooka, Egg.

Egg was a big, fluffy tooka with a habit of getting into garbage and a unique sense for emotions. Specifically Fox’s emotions, but she would not hesitate to sit on anyone's lap if she decided that they needed to stay exactly where they were and not move for an hour.

Egg stopped directly in front of Fox, and started yowling, demanding to be held. When he knelt down to pick her up, Grizzer knocked him over and laid down directly across his chest, while Egg made a satisfied noise and curled up next to Grizzer, also on Fox’s chest, and began purring up a storm.

“Don't just stand there, vod, help me,” Fox said to Hound, who was currently trying not to laugh.

“Good girl, Grizzer.” Hound let out a chuckle as Fox sighed, likely resigning himself to his fate as a massif bed for the foreseeable future.

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10/14 Snuggle pile

Fox’s mandatory post-blackout mission vod pile was in session. That is to say, Fox was being smothered by his three fellow Guard Commanders, plus Hound, Grizzer, a few other massifs, and about a dozen tookas, including Egg.

He definitely felt like the barracks were too crowded for this, but it was happening anyway, whether he liked it or not. Which he did not, but it wasn't like he had a choice in the matter, it was called the mandatory post-blackout mission vod pile for a reason.

With Egg purring on his chest, and his brothers snuggled to his sides, it was hard to stay awake for long, and he quickly drifted off despite his best efforts.

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10/15 Bring your clone/jedi to work day

Today was a horrible day, all in all. And it all started with a fateful conversation that morning when a certain Jedi Shadow dropped out of the vents onto Fox’s desk.

“It’s bring your commander to work day today!” Quinlan claimed, loudly, as he landed.

Fox did not want to deal with this osik. “I'm not your commander.”

Quinlan pouted. “There's free caf!” he offered pleadingly.

“I'm listening…”

There was no free caf and Fox felt slightly betrayed. Plus, on the one hand, he saw his old squad again, but on the other hand, he saw his old squad again. The only redeeming quality of the day was that the Guard’s resident dumpster jetii was too busy bragging about how awesome Fox was to be too directly annoying. And, Fox did somewhat enjoy hearing Quinlan listing all the reasons that Fox was the best to everyone who would listen. Nobody got that much work done that day, mostly for the fact that they were too busy catching up with friends and bragging about their commanders. Fox was beginning to wonder if all jetiise were this cocky or just the ones that he ended up around.

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10/16 “We’re gonna get you home”

A squad of clone troopers patrolled through a market at just the wrong moment, or the luckiest moment ever, depending on how you looked at it. The beginning of an avalanche. The moment that kicked off everything. The precursor of things to come. Sting would understand that in the months to come.

A kid dashed across the square, colliding with the men before he could reach the alleyway he was aiming for.

He blinked up at the Coruscant Guard troopers with his huge magenta eyes for a moment before hopping to his feet and brushing himself off.

“Who’re ya, kid?” Sting asked, and the ad’ika tipped his head and shook it a couple times, as if to get water out of his shaggy ginger hair, though no water came out of it.

“Didja hit yer head?”

“No, I do not have any head injuries,” he stated calmly and matter-of-factly, though with an odd melodic note to his voice.

“Okay, you can hear us then. What's your name?”

“I am Nashaea,” he said, “of the three.”

“What ‘three’?”

“Sacheri, Kurathe, and I, the messengers of Coruscant.”

“Why’s Coruscant need messengers? The shifting passages seem clear ‘nough.”

“She always requires someone to deliver her wills to those who will not listen. We are her children. Also, she likes you.”

It was Sting’s turn to blink in confusion. What did this little teenager mean by saying that Coruscant had ‘wills' and ‘children’?

“I can tell you are confused, and I want you to know that it will make sense eventually.”

The ground rumbled as if in agreement, and a natborn threw something as if that would stop the quake. It obviously didn't.

A year later, the weather grid broke down, and Coruscant plunged into a winter like nothing her citizens had ever seen. Sting felt the pulsing warmth in the back of his mind, willing the Guard down to the heart, but they had to keep digging people out. Out of the corner of his eye, a shock of ginger hair among the blood red and white.

He turned to see Nashaea, a year older and a snowstorm shabbier, with a new scar across his nose, pulling a mirialan civilian out of the snow and guiding her to the medical tent, where Joss and Carrion were quite busy, and Sting felt as if he should help, but he didn't think he would be much help right now, his hands as numb as they were.

Sting was grateful that the boy was helping, but he was clearly not dressed for the weather—not that any of them were, and the temperature controls in Sting's armor couldn't keep up—, and he was shivering even as he went back out to help. The boy’s glasses were collecting frost, and he probably couldn't see very well, which was evident when he tripped and fell face first into the snow.

Sting ran over to help, and pulled the teenage boy up from where he fell. Nashaea almost immediately melted into Sting’s hold, falling asleep on Sting’s chest, likely because of the heated armor, which, really, wasn't that warm. Everyone was freezing, and they could all feel the tug of Coruscant in the backs of their heads, telling them to find her heart, to stay warm, to stay alive. Who was Sting to argue with the will of a sentient planet? 

He hefted the boy up into a proper carry and whispered to his sleeping form, “Let’s getcha home, ad’ika.”

The Guard gathered, declared that they had done what they could, and told Joss and Carrion to meet them the moment that they could. The medics understood what they meant.

Sting was carrying Nashaea, who was sleepily mumbling, and Joss suggested leaving him for her to care for only once. Sting had tried to give the tiny teenager to her, but the ad’ika was like a little barnacle—surprisingly clingy even when asleep.

They made it to the heart without incident. It was a place many of them had been before, but not all of them. Those who hadn't had a chance to be found by Coruscant and brought to her heart were almost in awe.

Sting gently placed Nashaea down, finally prying the boy off of him, and of course Nashaea almost immediately woke up, giving a groggy groan and rubbing his arm across his eyes before realizing he still had his glasses on and blinking the rest of the way awake.

He looked around, gaze flickering as he counted heads. “Where are the medics?”

“They're followin’, but they've gotta take care o’ the civvies first.”

“Oh.”

That might've been the first time that Sting had ever seen Nashaea stumped for words. The cold really did a number on him. Luckily they were in a warm place now.