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Offshore Job	By : dschinny Category: Star Wars (All) > General Views: 3310 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Star Wars movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter 1.3 – Picking up the Shards (Day 26)
“Please tell Boba that I’m at the medbay already.” Tomoe saw Mereel off and locked her apartment, then flipped open her comlink to find the way through the labyrinth of black and white corridors that was Tipoca City.
She would arrive a few minutes early, but preferred not to speed-limp with her sore foot. She wasn’t sure why Jango wanted to meet them here and she had to file her medical report for Mereel anyway. Maybe she could find out this way what happened to the kid. The door controls accepted her handprint without problems. The double door slid open.
The lights were on and Gilamar turned on her from the counter at the far wall with a fresh set of surgical tools. “Ms. Harada... I really have no time for you now.”
“I see,” Tomoe bowed but didn’t waver at the sight of the gurney, “Not here to interrupt your work, doctor, just to see if I can help you.”
“I’ve got all I need here.” Gilamar’s chin pointed at the med droid. He had no use for helpers with doubtful competence in the middle of an operation, but as a field medic, he was used to make the most of what was loafing around. “Go check the anesthetic recovery room.” Clones tended to have more problems finding themselves handicapped in a medical environment than being injured in an ongoing battlefield simulation.
“Yes, sir.” There wasn’t much to do aside what Gilamar had already started, but there was one thing a meddroid could not do: giving encouragement. Tomoe bowed and was about to go about the new task as she felt a small hand entering hers. She smiled and rejoiced inwardly. Her little one was back.
“And move Boba outta here, will you?” Gilamar barked after her.
Her son surprised her by leaning into her thigh briefly as he turned and talked back to the doctor with a green surgical cover over his sand-gold armor, “I’ve seen that before. Doesn’t scare me.” Boba sounded much older than he was - even compared with the rapid maturing clones. Tomoe picked him up, sat him on her hip and moved to the adjoining room without further comment. Gilamar chose to ignore them.
“Hello, I’m Harada, Tomoe,” she introduced herself, not really expecting an answer. The kids were in the ward with heavily bruised faces. Cuts and stab wounds hidden under voluminous patches. Six of them were coming around. There was no crying, silently or otherwise. They wouldn’t waste their energy like that. Their heavy breathing was the only sound in the icy silence that had settled over the scene. An invisible frontier ran through the room, marked by glares and unfriendly body language.
“Whoa.... didn’t you get your fill already? Stop it boys.” Ignoring the virtual daggers flying, Tomoe went to check on the unconscious first on both sides.
“It’s nothing, ma’am,” came from two sides, meaning: they would put it off while she was looking.
Tomoe criss-crossed the room to get an overview while handing out water, changing cooling packs and playing the nurse assisted by a softly humming care-taker droid. “What’s the origin for this epidemic... of bruises and cuts that has befallen you? You tell me,” she singled out the least injured and crossed her arms in front of her chest to announce that she had plenty of time and wouldn’t go away without an answer.
The kid decided that this mini-version of a training sergeant sent to look after them was really funny... trying to look as big as Vau when she didn’t have a head on them if, yes if they were standing. Bummer. But he wasn’t afraid. Everything about her looked soft and slow. His arm in a cast would be an asset to smack her one if she got too close. Of course they didn’t get sick - okay, one of them just got there again, but how stupid was that suggestion?
“We fought,” came the snappy answer. ‘Only give away the obvious.’
Whenever the clone was programmed or raised to be obedient, she could hardly expect him to see fighting as unacceptable. That’s what they were bred for after all. Whenever she could accept that or not, she wasn’t sure, but she knew the brooding violence had to stop right now. A compromise was in order. “About what?”
“The honor of our sergeant and Beta-company. They insulted us, we put it right.”
“Who is your sergeant?”
“Sergeant Vau.” – “And yours?” - “Sergeant Priest.”
“You believe you did the right thing?” she summed up and sat on the edge of his bed calmly.
“Our sergeant will tell us. We stepped forwards, upheld discipline and were allowed to resolve the matter by Sergeant Priest. One squad of them against a squad of ours.” They were no rabble. They were Vau’s company. ‘Where is Sergeant Vau?’ The question started pressing on his mind.
“You think, you won, therefore it’s acceptable - because you’ve been ‘successful’.” She had a slow look at the other side. Priest’s boys were not talking in, but their faces clearly said ‘You sure you won? We will see to that.’ She shrugged a shoulder and faced Vau’s boys again. “Somebody talks - You jump. You fight. You get hurt. Who, you say, commands you?”
“We chose to fight,” the kid insisted. This person wasn’t big, but her stare was intense. Where was his helmet if he needed it most?
“So you freely chose to loose – the chance of new friendships and additional experience given to you and most acute: your health.” She shook her head at the room and Dred’s boys where suddenly glad not to be in the front line. “What a waste.” She could have said so much more, but she chose not to. “I wouldn’t waste my time on you if you weren’t more intelligent than that. Why?” she insisted.
‘Knowledge rich, experience poor.’ Boba thought. He had accompanied his mom to help her, to be useful. He wanted to sit and encourage his brothers, like he had done with aunt Ukon. But what could he say without lying? They had probably lost a lot more than his mom suggested. Mom, too, knew very little. He had never felt the difference to his brothers so harshly before.
“Our company is more important than any of us.” the RC explained as patiently. If anybody behaved foolishly, it was the stranger.
“Because you care for each other, isn’t it? Because Sergeant Vau cares for you?” - “Yes, ma’am.” - “That’s good.” She nodded and the boy’s eyes lit up at her understanding. “So how can you insult your company and your sergeant by suggesting that they are happy when you get hurt?”
‘Huh?’ a puzzled look came on the kids face, like that was a whole new idea for them. He was clearly taken aback. Why should Vau mind? Pain was a way to toughen them up. They needed to be tough. “Train harder. Be quicker next time,” the boy offered up.
“You honestly believe that you can become so much stronger than your genetically identical brother, strong enough to make it out unhurt one day? If you are that strong altogether, how can this mighty fortress fall at a mere blurb outside?”
He kept looking at her. Yes, they were identical in body, but no brother was entirely like the other. They could make a difference. Their sergeant would teach them how. “We won’t fail, ma’am.”
“I know. Because you are going to examine the gaps in your fortifications.” Her hand shot forwards. Damn, she was quick... or was he still drugged? “Here...” Her fingertips tapped on his forehead lightly. The touch felt cool on his skin which was burning in embarrassment. “...before you are accepted back into physical training.”
His “yes, ma’am” didn’t sound like routine anymore. He would have preferred one of Sergeant Vau’s parade ground speeches any time, anything that gave him clear requirements.
“Good.” she went to change a bucket and clean his brother’s face.
“You understood that, too?” Tomoe redirected her focus to the opposing side that had grown unquiet in her short absence. As their sergeant, they clearly didn’t respect. “Sure, ma’am.” She picked out the boldest. “You like to push limits, don’t you?” she watched him nod “Did it work for you? Did you grow stronger, fight harder, tolerate things they can’t?” she pressed on and harvested more approval. “So - If your limits are higher than theirs, then why don’t you push your own boundaries instead of picking on theirs? Afraid to meet a real challenge?” she arched a brow.
“What challenge would that be?” The boy relied on a pout because he couldn’t shrug off her suggestion with his patched collarbone.
“You have proven that you can start a fight with your japing. Now you have to prove that you can end it, as well, create peace by finding the right words. You can poison the air but can you create a good atmosphere for everybody’s studies?”
He had no idea, but they would not fail. “Of course, ma’am.”
“I certainly hope so.” She checked her comlink and bowed out a minute past half. ‘Oups’... Jango would be waiting already.

In fact, Jango had arrived three minutes early, with ARC-02 (Spar) in tow. The kids needed to get used to reporting and assisting... Jedi. His single minded, always helpful, fiercely loyal ARCs would be in the front line when the moment to strike came, their slaver-generals in an arm’s reach. No stinking mind-reader would ever find a doubt in them. They were a flawless weapon indeed, an upright blade like the woman awaiting him.
All he needed to do was to become a family man and get comfortable in a new life while the hundred-headed-serpent, manifestation of the jetyc bigotry ate the wanna-be masters of the galaxy. Anarchy in the galaxy meant boom conditions on Mandalore. Knowing about the value of a deal, the Sith could be dealt with. Mandalorians had done so before.
Tomoe wasn’t in front of the door, therefore Jango entered to have a word with Gilamar before she arrived. The doctor had just finished operation when his boss entered. He sat to sanitize and store his tools and file the records while keeping an eye on a monitoring screen, tapping on the side of his helmet to indicate close range com.
Jango was pleased to see the Tomoe and the doc got along without him breathing down their necks. He patched into the voice channel and had a look over Gilamar’s shoulder just when Tomoe suggested that care should not hurt.
“You are aware that Ms. Harada’s explanations can have quite a demoralizing effect?” Gilamar didn’t look up as he spoke on their channel that excluded the ARC. “Let’s hope she realizes the importance of military discipline with the thin personnel blanket we have here.”
“She knows and she holds her opinion in check.” Jango straightened his back. “Where does that limp come from?” - “Ask her.” Gilamar suggested and Jango went to have a look at the damage himself …just when she came out. “Hello cyar’ika, missed me?” he winked and bent down to pick up Boba. “How are you doing?” – “A lot better than ‘em, dad.” Boba pointed with his thumb over a shoulder.
“Yes, I finished Mereel’s treatment early...” they stepped aside to let Gilamar and ARC-02 pass with the last gurney. The door slid close and Jango used the opportunity to place his free arm around her and pull her close. His helmet still on, she got no face to turn to and rested her forehead against his shoulder with a brief sigh. “Turned out the doctor had a lot more work on his hands than I... need to catch up on the way things are done here.”
“...been helpful?” Jango crooned. “Gilamar can show you. Let’s have a look at your foot, and then off to lunch,” he proposed. “What happened?”
“Just a training accident. I need some tape... and a pair of boots indeed.” Jango let go as she wiggled from his embrace. She sat and undid her footwear carefully. The tissue under her toe-nail was blood-shot. There was an aberration on the swollen knuckle and along the heel. “I don’t think it’s broken,” she tried not to wince and sound as reassuring as possible.
“Mij, show Tomoe how to use the scanner.” Jango stood back with the little ARC. ‘Accident?!’ Kal would have her put to train with the Nulls. There were no accidents with the Nulls, meaning: run-in with Ordo, who – he checked again – wasn’t in the med bay. But unless the damage became more serious, he was to honor her wish to resolve her problems privately.
“Didn’t ask you to bring practice material.” Gilamar huffed then explained the scanner. To his surprise, the girl was flexible enough to see what they were doing on the screen, turning her foot this way and that way. “Nothing broken,” he agreed “What would you do now?” he probed and thought ‘colleague, my ass’
“Tape. No sandals for a couple of days. Rest.” She held one up on of her split-type socks to explain.
If she had no problem running around barefoot like a Wookie, so be it. After all, Tipoca wasn’t a battle field - most of the time. “Okay. You’ve been introduced to bacta spray already?” Gilamar passed her the tape.
“Yes. I forgot.” she nodded. ‘You mean, you don’t want to think about it, but you must if you want to help me,’ Gilamar thought. But then, she applied a thin layer before taping the toes to his satisfaction. “What happens next?” her chin pointed to the door of the adjoining room briefly.
“You go for lunch. I’ll have a nutribar and stay monitoring a while longer, but I guess your explanation will be sufficient under the circumstances.”
“Oh...” Nothing was ever private on Kamino, she remembered. “You are all alone on this station, with... millions... of kids in a physically demanding training?”
“I’ve got other things to do, as well. Got a company of my own, you see?” he shrugged. “They’ve got med droids, caretaker droids, kaminiise technicians...” he didn’t sound convinced himself. The whole ruckus that originated from this colleague-to-be annoyed him. Big time.
“Would you allow me to sit with them in the afternoon, while Boba and I do our exercises,” she looked at Jango, “so there’s at least somebody around?”
“After lunch. Under the condition Boba’s homework doesn’t suffer.” Jango agreed.
“Thanks. Call me if there’s an emergency. I’ll drop by at 1745 for your check up.” He wanted that bacta taste removed, preferably before tonight.
Boba followed his parents out of the med bay. Why couldn’t they remember him instead of his homework? Instead of using her spare time to train and have fun with him, mom rather wasted her time on those boring morons in the ward. How stupid was that? Even his bedtime story wasn’t secure anymore, if he understood that woman in yellow armor right.

Jango really needed a private moment now. He decided to make something to eat in their own quarter and therefore dismissed his little ARC for lunch. He cut out of the busy Cuy’val Dar-channel and placed his helmet on a shelf with a sigh. There was still much work to do after his absence. Entering the kitchen, Tomoe slapped her forehead “Oh no, I forgot...” he followed her closely and arched a brow, “Groceries. Fruits, vegetables... there was plenty of space left for a little extra in everybody’s menu.”
With a look back into the corridor, Jango dropped in his most burning questions like a side note to counter Cinciri’s evasive strategy, “Something else is missing as well.”
“Everything fit into the small locker in my own apartment nicely,” she smiled invitingly “Have a look... later.”
“You’re not moving in here?” he clarified and let some of his disappointment seep into his voice.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jango.” she found herself backed up against the kitchen counter and quickly averted her eyes. “We talked about it in the morning,”
‘Talked?’ However harsh she had been in the morning, she sounded all sweet and soothing now, but he didn’t buy it one bit. How schizophrenic was that idea? “You weren’t so uptight last night.” Since she had stopped fussing this morning, Jango had tried to avoid cornering her further, not talking about their relationship details.
“We’d like to keep things private, don’t we?” she turned to him and proposed “come and visit after lights-out, short way to go and socially acceptable...”
“Don’t you think folks here grew out of any variation of the stork-theory a while ago?” he smirked down at her with a raised eyebrow. Since the Cuy’val Dar gathering had put off a full-fledged war in favor of his unborn legacy, everybody knew they had intercourse. Since it was fully consensual now, nobody would frown upon that.
“Yes and we better avoid serving them any of the Moro-theory, as well.” she agreed with a slow nod.
He decided that was invitation enough and bent down, “So what?” Before she could avoid his next move he had lifted her up to sit on the counter. “I want you to feel at home, to keep my arms around you...” he cradled her head in his hands and wished his gloves to haran the same moment. “See, big difference for me, but what difference does it make to them?”
“The difference is that everybody keeps face.” Keeping her hands firmly on his upper arms, Tomoe explained patiently and studied his expression that could switch from merciless purpose to amused gentleness in the blink of an eye... and back? She had to be careful, very careful. Tipoca City was his domain. “We don’t need to make our relationship a public issue, so people who don’t like it can turn their heads on it.”
“Tomoe, I want you. Official and public. Mando’ade don’t do tact, but I’m not afraid to rip some heads off if their owners can’t keep their gums from flapping.” Fact was, the Mando’ade around them couldn’t care less about who lived within his rooms, but as long as she resided outside and denied his affection publically, she would turn into a walking temptation for whoever felt lonely in Tipoca City.
“Then why don’t you say so?” came her puzzled retort. It was no use to try and inch backwards now. The holster of his twin blasters pressed inside her knees and inner thighs. The velvety body glove brushed her bare toes and betrayed the firm calf muscles underneath. Jango was gorgeous in both, his determination and his gentleness, but she had yet to get used to the idea that he was actually protecting her.
“How could I make you say we share everything?” Jango paused to think before he detailed “I don’t want you to lie or to hide your feelings. It reminds me how I hurt you. And that hurts me, you know?”
“I understand,” she admitted and hung her head. She had not wanted to hurt him, she just wanted to get it right, to be accepted or at least to be acceptable, whatever that was? She had nobody to turn to with the emotional chaos roaring inside of her with old hurt and new lust, well versed autonomy and the longing to be loved and cherished...
“I felt lonely last night.” He tipped up her face to emphasize his complaint, but an adoring smile wiped the seriousness off his features, “come, visit me again cyar’ika,”
“I’ll,” she swallowed hard, thinking of how she could become the reason for more trouble. It was crucial that everything ran smoothly in Tipoca city, now that she had seen how this could lead to more kids in the ward. She moistened her lips to admit yet to defend her point until she had a chance to interview Rav about the women’s local customs, “tomorrow.” And then he was so very close to her from one moment to the other, she had to seize the opportunity and kiss him, even though their chest plates were clanking.
Jango moaned his agreement into her mouth and silently made a vow to eat his little argumentative delicacy out the next day, right there on top of the counter until no contradiction was left inside of her. He brushed his cheek against hers and breathed in her scent when he had to interrupt his advance in favor of the kid’s lunch. He smoothed his palms down her backside and lifted her against him again, squeezing her heart shape butt one last time to feel her squirm against him before he had to let go. “Come eat, we have to put some meat on those bones.”

In the meantime, Boba had unpacked his own bundle. He dragged his picture book and Oji’s notepad to the living room table to synchronize his exercises with his old pad. “Would you like to work with this one, mom?” he asked politely as she put out the drinks while Jango found them some ration cubes, “It’s a low key machine, but it has your custom script and language options on it.”
“Yes, thank you. It would be to an advantage if continue your language studies, as well, so you don’t return an analphabetic.”
“When will that be?” Boba asked suspiciously. His father had been all pick-up and go – nothing said that they would ever return. Mando’ade were nomads, weren’t they? But then, the lush green valley with the thatched huts had been a nice ... ‘holiday’ they called it in holozines. It seemed to be pretty common for common people, but he felt privileged over millions of brothers.
“In a couple of years.” Tomoe offered.
“Years?” One year was hard enough to grasp, but several were an incredible long time span for Boba – a lifetime! The Nulls would be fully grown men already... “Plenty of time then,” he pointed, “Loading custom language specifications...” he let the pads shovel the data over and dug into his ration cube. “The lesson you missed this morning is under ‘manuals/tech’,” Boba added and felt pretty adult himself. Mom was far behind with her exercises and he already had a plan concerning his one and only book.
Tomoe looked surprised, but her son preferred to stay shut up like a clam until the lunch break ended and Jango kissed both of them good bye for the afternoon. Tomoe wiped a smudge of lipstick off his chin with a contrite smile. Jango grinned back until his face vanished under the immovable T-shape visor, her taste still lingering on his lips, undisturbed by the neutral ration cube.

His book and pad clutched to his chest, Boba strolled down the corridor beside his mom. He didn’t like his fast growing brothers that much, but he understood that Tomoe had a mission. While mom was using lengthy explanations why they should do this or that, his deal was far simpler: they had their fighting manual, but he was the one with the book, full of real, unheard tales they could not even read! If they wanted a story, they better toed the line!
It appeared that the RCs had stuck to their separate squads and got some rest, which was actually fine with Boba. He sat up his homework on a small table in a corner while his mom checked on the clones, not entirely trusting a droid to do a good job. It did, actually, at least unless a curious kid poked a nose into its innards like Boba had done to his caretaker droids.
The room was utterly calm now and time ticked by when Tomoe joined them to go over the lesson Kal had picked out for her. Apparently she couldn’t do without flimsy. She made side notes and was juggling the stylus between her fingers until she noticed her nervous habit and rested it on the table, but not before it attracted attention by a pair of bleary eyes.
“How are you doing?” Tomoe finally broke silence as it became uncomfortable.
“I’m not doing anything, ma’am,” fixing his gaze on her face, the boy answered the inquiry as truthful as he could. Vau had not trained him to loaf around. Boss was a keen observer and this person was very strange to him, sitting around in floppy fatigues with a single plate on her chest, obviously working less than efficiently. Though he felt fit enough to go back to flash instruction himself, he wouldn’t leave without his squad unless he was ordered to do so specifically. He cast a quick glimpse over his shoulder to check on his brothers. They were still not back to squad strength. On the next cot, Sev feigned sleep but was ready to back him up, Fixer was still out cold and Scorch had an eye on him as well as on Priest’s grunts.
“Yes, but how do you feel? ... do you need something? ... you can ask any question, whatever it is on your mind.” Tomoe added into the silence and tried to remember how she had made up a communication with those strange kids last time... but back then, they had not been hurt and Rav had given them the orders to start with.
“Where is our kit?” was the first thing that came to his mind. Boss was really missing his deece and the serenity of his helmet.
“I think I’ve seen some plates in the next room, but I’ll ask Doctor... it’s Sergeant Gilamar, isn’t it?...” - “Correct, ma’am.” Boss arranged his cast on the blanket uncomfortably, - “in the evening.” Tomoe nodded, “Your kit and when that cast comes off,” she summed up and smiled.
He stared, and then tried a careful smile in return. Sergeant Vau rarely showed them his face and if, he never smiled. At least she seemed to understand some of his..., no, it wasn’t fear... his worries... but what was this person here for, if not to give orders or information or re-supply them?
Boss tried to sit straight and touched his brow with his good hand. Even though it was improper without helmet. “Sergeant Tomoe, RC-1138 reporting for briefing,” he nudged the moron to give him at least some information.
It brought her to her feet quicker than anything “Stay down... you’ve done quite enough for a day, little one. I’m not going to give you anything to do, you are here to rest and heal.” She scolded lightly and felt him flinch uncomfortably under her hands. She sat back on the edge of the cot, “It’s just Tomoe. You see... I’m not your sergeant. No need to rush things.”
‘Little one?!’ Of course he would fulfill the spec and outgrow this under grown adult within the next eight months. And his arm would heal all by itself. It still didn’t answer his question. “What are you here for, Tomoe?” Yes, he could skip politeness if required, not that it made this strange person a brother. And no, he wouldn’t give her his name in return. Names were a very private thing.
“I’ll be around for as long as it is needed to make sure you get well and not get into it again because of boredom or so.” Tomoe put out to the kid. Was it really that easy? Wasn’t she here merely for her own conscience?
Lengthy explanation or not, they had been commanded to stand down and not to fight. But then, she had just claimed not to be a sergeant, so wasn’t she cut out the line of command – sort of? But then, Kaminoan techs weren’t sergeants, and they were not to be crossed, either. The puzzled look came on his face again as he tackled a question more pressing to him “What is ‘boredom’?”
“Boredom is the unrest you feel in the moment. Nothing to do but the nagging feeling that you should be busy.”
“Hmm” that summed it up pretty well indeed. Was she a mind reader? “We miss exercises while we are here. Will you help us to make up for them?”
“Sergeant Vau will help you to catch up in a couple of days, or once you are better.” Tomoe tried to reassure him.
‘Oh no, this person is utterly useless.’ Boss thought irritably, “Days?!” he checked again.
“Of course he will help you, he’s your training sergeant, isn’t he? ...I’ll ask him, RC-eleven-three-eight. Maybe he has an idea what you can do in the meantime.”
The RC couldn’t imagine this non-sergeant walking up to Sergeant Vau almighty and make such a request for help lightly. Nobody did that before trying everything else, let alone with a demand that smacked off failure. You simply didn’t do that.
“... and your brothers could visit and share their notes with you,” Tomoe proposed, “Would you like to see some of your friends, maybe?” she added, apparently unfazed by Sergeant Vau brutal potential.
Boss broke eye-contact again. Friends? His pod was right here next to him. Others were rivals at best. Requesting support announced failure, already. It was okay to ask the transport battalion for extraction, but to ask another squad for information that was there in plain sight once he got his ass out of the bed? He made a face. No, he would never hear the end of it after such a demonstration of ...weakness.
Tomoe rose and made way to the door. She wouldn’t tire out the poor kids with any more talk and worries. “Please have a little patience with me, I’m new to this, too. Back in a few.” She bowed out. Maybe she could find and clean some of those plates in the next room since the kids felt so attached to those.
Obviously she couldn’t spoil them with stories, toys or candy like other... ten... no, five years old kids. Maybe she had to let go of that idea altogether. It disrespected their nature since they had never been allowed to be infants and she couldn’t neglect that by treating them like kids now.
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Offshore Job

Chapter 1.3 – Picking up the Shards (Day 26)