Fox Is Trading Classified Information And His Brothers Indulge The High Prices Probably Because They

Fox is trading classified information and his brothers indulge the high prices probably because they love him

Even though they barely saw him, Fox was actually the most sought after little brother in the command batch for several reasons:

Not only was he still adorable to his barely older brothers as they still noticed the same stubborn curl of hair not sticking to the regulation style and the curiosity fueling every very intentional move under all his gruff and overworked exterior, he was also the most experienced in solving civil conflicts.

Contrary to the GAR being deployed wherever necessary, his corps stationed on Cruscant dealt with living (in most cases) breathing sentients of all shapes, forms and in various states of coexisting on a day to day basis. The Corries might not have been as efficient in fighting clankers, couldn't identify the typical formations and moves as fast, but much like their Marshall Commander they were patient and exceptionally well trained in reading social context clues.

Subsequently they were the clones with the vastest knowledge on how to not offend, peacefully interact with and even more importantly protect civilians. The Corries operated on a completely different scale when it came to navigating politically or culturally charged conflicts. One could say what Fox lacked in social skills needed to bond on a personal level, he made up for tenfold on a professional level. He keept tabs on everyone who owed him a favor and never ever ended up in debt to a brother. This put him in a position of being able to unofficially request parts of the other corps' rations and medical supplies even though he was the one who should have the easiest access to all resources available to the clone army.

Bacara has been watching this spiel go on for almost two years by now. He's one of the few who had only dealt in the Guard's currency of datachits for physical resources once. Information about the Outer Dim was hard to come by even for the Guard. He's also sure he paid a bit more than strictly necessary. Sure, it had been his own fault for not striking a better deal, but he wondered if the other commanders were actually oblivious to Fox subtle manipulation tactics or if they just liked him enough to indulge his antics. It's not like Fox was unlikeable. He never asked for truly unreasonable amounts in exchange for admittedly very valuable and not seldom crucial information on their next mission targets. But the Corries still took all they could get.

The Marshall Commander of the Galactic Marines was pretty sure the Guard got their info by spying on the Senators. He and Neyo mused their brothers on Coruscant had to be pretty close to some of the biggest assholes in the galaxy to be privy to those details. No politician would be dumb enough to carelessly discuss highly confidential tactics and locations in the corridors of the Senate building or the official meetings their brothers guarded, right? After all the Corries were no aides expected to be present all the time to bend to the Senator's every wishes, they only provided security where necessary.

Bacara wasn't very close to any of the commanders and wouldn't consider them friends per se, except for Neyo. The 21st was currently on their first and very limited shore leave after more than eleven months in the Outer Rim. His troops only returned to Coruscant for a classified mission for Mundi to run planetside. They all respected their General, but nobody was really interested in the Jedi duties the Cerean cited for their impromptu stay. What his men were actually interested in was stocking up on perishable and therefore rarely available foods and getting a drink at 79's. So that's where he currently found himself nursing some spotchka in a small booth in a corner. Nobody would dare to cause serious trouble and risk ending up in the drunk tanks or worse confined to their own cots back on the ship as long as he's present.

Their leave to Coruscant was scheduled on short notice. He didn't tell the other commanders about it because they wouldn't be at the homefront long enough to organize a meet up for batchers from different corps anyways.

So Bacara didn't expect to see anyone tonight. But even in the half darkness of the bar the very distinctive red of the local Marshall Commander's armor caught his eye instantly. Bacara was well aware the Guard always knee who was staying on Coruscant (he was pretty sure Fox also knew exactly where the others' deployments led them to and who of the commanders was currently sporting an injury grave enough to be reported to their medics and for what reason).

Fox seemed to notice him as well but took his time talking to a natborn Bacara didn't recognize nor care for before sauntering over to the only other clone still wearing a full kit except for the buckets. Bacara resigned himself to a conversation undoubtedly more suited to be held with a sober mindset but seeing the glasses the red armored man carried and the three empty glasses already stacked on his table it was a little late for that, wasn't it?

"Commander, it's a pleasure to see you and your men in our humble abode after such a long time."

Fox voice was smooth and even though he looked exhausted his smile actually reached his eyes. That's not something Bacara had seen often on his fellow Marshall Commander. He's also sporting some barely noticable fine scars and Bacara can't tell for sure what caused those.

"I'll make sure my men won't bother you. We're only planetside for two days anyways."

Fox nodded as he held out both glasses for Bacara to chose from. For a split moment his hands seemed to be a bit unsteady but maybe Bacara's eyes played tricks on him in the dim lights of the bar because the movement was gone in the blink of an eye. He took the smaller drink and held the glass out for a cheer. Fox clinked their glasses but instead of the usual Mando'a used by the commanders he cheered in crisp Concordian.

Bacara blinked. Oh so that's why everyone happily played along with Fox little games. That cold hearted idiot actually cared about them. So even the rational leader of the Galactic Marines being well aware of Fox coaxing him into a slightly unbalanced deal couldn't find it in him to say no too much. Nobody needed to know that he also decided to join the line of GAR commanders sending the Guard even more supplies than they asked for.

I don't know if Concordian actually has a different word for Mando'a "K'oyacyi" and if the Journeyman Protector training Bacara would have any incentive to use it in front of cadets but in this AU Bacara feels valued by Fox acknowledging his ever so slightly different cultural background as well as giving him the opportunity which drink to chose

Thank you for feeding this brainworm!

Sorry about Stone :( I feel like we need more stories about him disappearing, there's so much untapped potential..

Unlike his brothers, Marshall Commander Fox hadn't suffered a single scar on his regulation perfect face over the whole course of the war

The GAR's system armies returned to Coruscant to reunite with those who survived the war that had come to an abrupt break after High General Windu had decapitated the Chancellor to rescue General Skywalker. Suddenly the heart of the republic was flooded by men who had lost everything but themselves to protect it. Men who were trying to recognize their brothers in scarred faces and warm voices.

Fox had always been adamant about wearing his distinctive red armor. His bucket was the only face he'd ever shown to natborns and GAR troopers planetside Triple Zero alike.

The only sentients who had consciously looked into Fox eyes during the years of war shared on Coruscant were those on duty with the Guard. It was not like there was anything special to see, all his features were picture perfect according to the regs set up for the alpha CCs on Kamino. Not a single scar or hair out of place, no glint in his eyes and no personality to his curt responses.

Wolffe didn't recognize his little brother in the man standing in front of him. He didn't know that this was how Fox had been able to wear a thousand faces on Coruscant. That after Commander Stone had vanished during a prison riot one year into the war the Guard had never been able to retrieve his body, only his armor. That since then it had been Fox or Thorn who had worn it. Or how the Marshall Commander still desperately wished he had been the one wearing the SIC armor on an escort mission to Scipio. Wolffe didn't know the recently promoted Guard commander, a young CC named Thire, was way more experienced than his mission profiles let on.

Wolffe didn't know what Fox had not told him. He did not know how every single scar lighting into his brothers body had faded without medical attention. How the pure pain etched into the smooth skin over and over had made Fox numb. There was no sign or proof of what he had suffered. So Wolffe just handed the package he was tasked to deliver over to the blank version of Fox that Triple Zero had spat into his face, his cybernatic eye trying to catch any sign of what thoughts ran through the other's mind. It was one of the first times he could look into Fox eyes with no visor in between. He still came up empty.

A quiet "Thank you Commander" was all Wolffe got when Fox carefully accepted the bundled item with two hands and retreated into the empty room he and Thire had been assigned to. Wolffe wanted to scream at the door closing in front of his face. He just kept staring at it in silence.

Looking at the package didn't give away much about it's origins to Fox. It was a pathetic thing honestly, something small, not bigger than a pauldron but flat, and wrapped in old rags looking like some destroyed fabric from prison blacks. Fox hands began to tremble slightlyat the familiar smell. He carefully turned the bundle around.

There's a small piece of flimsi stuck to the back. Fox recognized the chicken scribble without reading the words. He knew it from thousands of little annotations that had been stuck to his data pads over the last years. He could not bring himself to decipher it.

Fox slowly unwrapped the item. The sharp edges would have cut into his skin if not for the gloves he was wearing. Thire had not yet convinced him to leave more than his bucket on the armor stack in the room.

Fox blinked at the shard in his hand. His own eyes stared back at him. His brothers' eyes stared back at him. His face looked like a million other faces on this force forsaken planet. He could be anyone, there were no actual scars on his skin that had been burned by lightning countless times.

But the face looking back at him was distorted by a single crack in the makeshift mirror, running straight along his nose and down to his left jaw. It was Thorn who was looking back at him. Thorn whose armor had been destroyed on Scipio. Thorn who had carried him through the pain and desperation when they had lost Stone. Thorn who he had trusted the most, whom he he had loved more than any other brother even his own batch. Thorn who had died kriffing a tenday before the war ended. It was Thorn's scar carefully etched into this small unpposio shard.

Fox clutched it like a a lifeline. His breathing started to rasp. Desperate for a word from the brother he had lost he tried to concentrate on the message that had been attached to the fabric. But the flimsi didn't offer any explanation, just two questions stealing more air from his lungs.

"Can you acknowledge that I live? That we lived?"

Fox armor clattered when he fell to his knees. A high keen tore from his throat before he began to weep loudly.

Wolffe overrode the door lock and ran to his little brother.

The cracked mirror resembles Thorn's facial scars to a t. It is wrapped in a piece of fabric of the same kind Stone wore on prison duty the day he died. It still smells like prison. Fox mourns the brothers who can only live on in his memory because Thire hasn't been around long enough. I wish this piece turned out different but I could not find the right words. Maybe I'll rewrite it one day. Inspired by @howdidthisevenhappenanyway's post on how Lichtenberg figures actually fade over time and this post by @cc-tens

Parenting difficulty ranking by Alpha-17

Wolffe

Fox

Bly

Cody

Ponds

Parenting difficulty ranking by the batch

Boba

Boba Fett

Boba Fett, alias CT-1313

Boba Fett, alias CT-1313, angry feral much too clever child with access to too many weapons

Rex

While every brother chose a name to have just for themselves and to distinguish themselves from each other, Boba chose a designation number to have something in common with his brothers and to blend in

> Activate HUD

╭────────────────╮

> Open

Comlink

Flimsi

Holofiles

Logbook

╰────────────────╯

Uhm.. hi! English isn't my first language and actually I have no idea what I'm doing here '◡'✿

I created this blog to indulge in my renewed love for SW (esp JFO and TCW) and release some of my brainworms into the void!

Interacting on Tumblr is confusing to me but please feel free to talk to me anytime (unless you hate on Commander Fox & the Corries) ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

How does reblogging and communication via hashtags work.. Sorry I struggle a bit with this app

Meeting Cal - Star Wars Jedi : Fallen Order (PS5)

Rick's best friend - Star Wars Jedi : Survivor (PS5)