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The engines revved. Dust caught up in the wind around them. Just another minute or two and they’d hopefully be off this dustball of a planet for good.
CT-7567 had already had enough of this place. It had already been a Day and a Half. He and his batch and hundreds of others had been called from Kamino with zero warning. His training technically wasn’t even finished. But then, the Jedi who’d shown up had wanted as many troops as he could get. So ‘67 and his batch were sent out before their final tests had even been administered.
Then he’d fallen out of the gunship with that senator. They’d been in the middle of a sandy desert and he could not have been more thankful that they weren’t too far from the others. He hadn’t caught the senator’s name but she was young and pretty and definitely needed to see a medic. She was also strong and determined and highly reliable in a sticky situation.
After that, he’d been filtered back in with what remained of his batch within the stadium where the first squads had deployed.
So when he finally climbed into the last gunship, ‘67 could feel the exhaustion building in his muscles.
They were seconds away from leaving. Minutes away from being back on their cruiser once again. He could fall into a bunk and sleep for as long as he possibly could before- Well, he didn’t know what came next. They would return to Kamino or receive orders. The war had officially started now, even if he’d thought they’d been in it since before he could remember.
But either way, he was going to sleep.
He scanned the now empty stadium one last time, searching for survivors or straggling droids he knew weren’t there.
All of their fallen vode should have been taken away and burned in a funeral pyre. But they weren’t. They lay scattered across the hot orange ground. Broken, shattered droids littered the stadium floor, but that didn’t matter to him. Someone else could handle those.
Movement near the shadows on the other side of the stadium caught his eye. The body was small and hard to make out. They seemed covered in the same orange dust, but ‘67 thought he could almost make out a familiar shade of blue on their clothes.
The figure knelt and picked something up. It might have been a helmet.
“Hey, ‘67? You see that?” CT-7583 asked him with a bump at his shoulder.
‘67 nodded.
“Looks like a kid,” ‘83 offered curiously.
A frown pulled at his mouth and eyebrows. He tapped at the controls for his HUD to zoom in on the shadow-hidden figure.
It really was a kid. A familiar kid at that. ‘67 saw medium length, fluffy brown hair. Tanned skin. The child was dressed in the blue uniform of clone cadets. He couldn’t be more than ten, and there was only one person he knew who looked like that.
Fear gripped him.
But he was supposed to be on Kamino-
He was supposed to be safe!
‘67 was off the gunship before he even knew what he was doing. Shouts followed him. Calls of his designation and a name he didn’t use.
“‘67!”
“Rex!”
“What are you doing?”
“Where are you going?!”
Their transport was about to leave. Two more seconds and it would take off.
‘67 sprinted, pushing himself as fast as he could. His arms pumped at his sides, feet bounding at the slightly uneven sandy floor.
He had to get him. He couldn’t leave their vod’ika.
Not here. Not all alone.
“Boba!” he shouted.
The little figure startled, dropping the helmet in his hands. It fell to the ground and rolled. ‘67 didn’t dare spare the time to think of the gruesome sight that rolled out of the thing.
“Vod...?” The kid looked dazed. Frozen in time and staring with wide, pained eyes.
‘67 skidded to a spot at his brother’s side.
“Come on!” he shouted, grabbing at the kid. “We’re not leaving you behind.”
As he hauled Boba to his feet, the boy scrambled in his grasp, suddenly frantic.
“No!” he screamed. “No! What about Dad?”
“I’m sorry, Bob’ika,” he huffed. ‘67 tightened his grip, clutching the ten-year-old to his chest as he turned on his heel and made for the gunship again.
“No, let me go! Dad! Buir! Dad!”
‘67 cringed at his brother’s voice screaming nearly in his ear. Thank the stars for his helmet.
The gunship had left the ground now, hovering three feet up and rising, the doors still open. Vode ushered at them, yelled for them to hurry up.
Almost there.
Almost there!
Almost there!
He pounded out the last few steps, then hauled Boba up and into the gunship with all the strength he had. He almost got himself inside too, but couldn’t find the leverage with the floor so high.
Hands grabbed his own and latched onto his arms. Suddenly he found himself pulled inside the transport. The doors closed behind him.
‘67 dropped to the floor, panting and wheezing against the respirator in his helmet. He ached all over, the sudden burst of adrenaline subsiding slightly in favor of the bone-deep exhaustion.
“Rex?” voices said at him.
“Vod?”
“Come on, brother. Talk to us.”
‘67 didn’t care to respond. He still couldn’t breathe quite right. But now that they were on the gunship, he had something more important to deal with.
He ignored his batchmates as he shoved himself up. He pulled his helmet from his head and dropped it to the floor. It wasn’t how one should treat their armor, but it hardly mattered. There were more important things sometimes.
‘67’s eyes landed squarely on Boba, huddled against the opposite door in another brother’s arms.
“Boba,” he gasped.
The boy turned teary brown eyes on him. A look of recognition dawned across his face, then he was pulling out of CT-7583’s grasp and throwing himself at ‘67.
“Rex!” he cried. ‘67 caught Boba in his arms, wrapping him up tight. He put one hand on the back of his little brother’s head, rubbing gently at his fluffy hair.
“Why?” Boba whined into ‘67’s chest. “Why’d you come back for me?”
He pushed away the telltale sting of tears as he panted quietly to catch his breath.
“We never leave a brother behind, Boba,” he sighed tiredly. “Never.”
Harsh sobs trembled out of his little brother.
“Rex…”
‘67 didn’t like that name. He didn’t want a name. There were already too many things wrong with him. A name would just add to it; give the Kaminiise another reason to hate him and put him closer to decommission.
But when his little brother, his vod’ika, said it like that- crying and hurting and lost, clinging to him like he was the only lifeline left in the world… He didn’t mind it too much.
Rex tightened his arms around Boba and held him securely as they left the atmosphere and headed for their cruiser.
“We’ll always have you, Bob’ika. Ni haati.”