FIC: Haat'Mand'alor be Yaim'ol ~ Star Wars ~ Obi-Wan/Jaster ~ Mature ~ Chapter 5/10
Title: Haat'Mand'alor be Yaim'ol
Fandom: Star Wars
Author: Batsutousai
Rating: Mature
Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Jaster Mereel
Warnings: Time travel, canon-typical violence, fix-it (apparently), not everyone dies/some live, the Kaminoans are the worst, Jaster is the Mand'alor we deserve, character death, the clones deserve better, Jaster has 3 million grandkids, mental manipulation, Mandalorian culture, Mandalorian morality, an excessive amount of murder (of Kaminoans), Jedi culture respected, Jango needs a hug, Rex needs a hug, Fox needs a hug, EVERYONE GETS A HUG (except the Kaminoans), asexual Jango, nonbinary clones, trans clones, polyamory mention, disabled characters, happy ending
Summary: Jaster Mereel doesn't die on Korda VI, but is instead thrust forward thirty years to Kamino.
A/N: The clones get to discover hobbies. (And by hobbies, I mean I somehow involved sports, even though I hate writing sporting events. Whoops?)
The slicers' updates hadn't really been anything of interest to Jaster. Obi-Wan had seemed interested in the list of comm codes Tyranus' comm had called or received calls from, and while the information from Tyranus' nav comp didn't seem to surprise them any, they still requested that it, and what information the slicers had so far got from the 'pad-there were apparently layers of security on it, with traps that would wipe the entire device if they were activated, so they were going extra slowly with that one-be sent to the Jet'alore.
Seventeen led Jaster to Jango's flat, and then left with Obi-Wan, the pair of them already debating the best terminals to enable holonet access to, having been supplied with a program that should break through the security blocks the Kaminiise had put on all of them by the slicers.
Boba's taste in entertainment, Jaster quickly found, was not particularly to his taste, but Jango had shot him a knowing look after the third time he'd caught his attention wandering and shifted positions, and supplied him with a datapad open to a history book.
He'd stayed for dinner with Jango and Boba-loudly bemoaning the lack of proper spices for tiingilar while Jango threatened to make him eat in the trainers' mess and Boba giggled-and helped Jango put Boba to bed, then got Jango to give him directions back to the room he'd shared with Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan was in when Jaster made it back, sitting on the sofa with a glass of something and Tyranus' literature datapad. They glanced up when Jaster stepped into the room, something that he couldn't quite read in their eyes. "Not spending the night?" they asked in a tone that was almost casual.
"No," Jaster replied as he stepped around the end of the sofa and knelt on the cushion next to the jedi, reaching out to cup their cheek and not bothering to hide a smile when Obi-Wan leant into the contact. "Come to bed?"
"Yes," Obi-Wan agreed and leant up to kiss Jaster in an almost hungry manner.
Jaster groaned, kissing them back, and seriously considered just kriffing on the sofa.
Obi-Wan was the one to get them up and into the bedroom, trailing beskar'gam and clothing; if Jango came to wake them again, he was going to give Jaster so much shit.
(It would be worth it.)
It was actually Seventeen who came to wake them the next morning, and they were polite enough not to come into the flat, instead knocking steadily on the door until Obi-Wan stumbled out of bed and into their leggings, muttering curses the whole while, then let them in.
Apparently, Seventeen's escape from the post-chip recovery ward had inspired further escapes, which had opened up more beds, and proven to the clone baar'ure-"Although not," Seventeen had grumbled while rolling their eyes, "Trainer Gilamar."-that they didn't need quite so long a recovery period before they could at least return to their barracks, so they'd sped up the process a bit. As of that morning, all of the Null- and Alpha-class clones had been de-chipped and were back to their usual duties of minding the younger clones, while the command-class clones were almost done, with the first half having been released to their barracks.
"I'm assigning you one of the CCs," Seventeen informed Jaster over the grain-based cereal Obi-Wan had apparently collected from personal stores the evening before, on their way back to the flat.
"Why?" Jaster asked, baffled; did Seventeen think he needed a minder?
Seventeen rolled their eyes. "So you have someone to lead you around the city, or to help you find someone if you need something."
"Is that why you've assigned yourself to me?" Obi-Wan enquired mildly.
"I was just going to download a map to my helmet," Jaster insisted.
Seventeen pointed their spoon at Obi-Wan. "You need a minder for your own safety and my sanity," they insisted. "I have seen the footage of you fighting Prime."
"Ah."
Jaster made a mental note to see if he could find a copy of that footage.
Seventeen turned to Jaster. "Maps are all well and good, but if you need to find something quickly, having one of us to lead you is going to serve you better, and then you'll have someone you can ask stupid questions."
"Yes," Jaster muttered to his cereal, "you are definitely Jango's child."
Seventeen stiffened. "Boba is Prime's son," they said, voice sharp with something that almost sounded like pain. "I'm giving you CC-Ten-ten. He-well, they; he prefers the trainers to use they, and I expect you'll be the same-needs something to do, if only to keep him from plotting 'accidents' for certain trainers."
Jaster blinked a few times, realising-with some surprise-that this was the first time any of them had mentioned pronouns. He hadn't even thought to ask, defaulting to neutral pronouns, when necessary, unless he'd known their preferences before. (Which, admittedly, he should probably check with them; even seeing the proof of their ageing, it was sometimes hard to remember that thirty years had passed for everyone he had once known.)
"They sound delightful," Obi-Wan said.
"Pronouns," Jaster said, before the subject could move on too far, and received a curious look from Obi-Wan and a narrow-eyed glare from Seventeen. "I never asked; those who care usually clarify, if there's a chance we'll use a language that requires them."
Obi-Wan hummed and inclined their head. "Jedi tend to be the same, defaulting to gender neutral pronouns, unless we've been informed otherwise by the being we're speaking to or of, or we have been informed of their preference through other means. In my experience, it's uncommon to be asked, in most of the galaxy, unless a being's native language doesn't have a neutral pronoun, or the one they're speaking to doesn't match their culture's gender distinctions." They offered a crooked smile to Jaster. "You're mentioned in a couple of history books in the Temple Archives; I'm afraid I followed their lead and have been using masculine pronouns for you."
Jaster blinked a couple of times, feeling a little thrown by the thought of himself being in history books, then shook the surprise away. "I- Masculine pronouns are correct, yes."
Obi-Wan's smile eased into something a little more real. "And also for me," they-he-replied.
"If you've been kriffing, shouldn't you two have discussed this already?" Seventeen muttered.
"Why?" Obi-Wan asked, a glint of amusement in his pale eyes promising all manner of trouble. "One doesn't need pronouns for sex, you just need to know what-"
"Neutral!" Seventeen interrupted loudly.
Obi-Wan's smile widened. "In Basic, do you prefer they/them, or one of the alternatives?"
Seventeen blinked, expression blanking. "Alternatives?"
"Remind me," Obi-Wan said to Jaster, "to download a list of pronoun options from the holonet."
Jaster chuckled.
"Yes, dear one," Obi-Wan said to Seventeen, who ducked their head at the endearment, the same way Jango always had when Jaster reminded his ad how much he-they?-was loved, "there are several options. Many were brought from other languages, whose native speakers didn't care for any of the pronoun options Basic already had; some of them are meant for a gender that is specific to only one or two species, while others are variations on Basic's original pronouns."
"Oh. They/them suits me," Seventeen admitted, voice a little gruff. "But I might look at the others."
"Of course."
With that sorted, they finished their breakfasts, then followed Seventeen to one of the barracks, which was about half full with adult clones either lying in their beds-most of them extended from the wall-or huddled around what Jaster suspected was a terminal that had been attached to the holonet at the back of the room. The huddle at the back of the room didn't notice their arrival, but a number of those on the extended beds stiffened or sat up and turned towards their visitors.
Seventeen looked over the room with narrowed eyes, then said, "Excuse me," to Jaster and Obi-Wan before expertly climbing up the ladder and stopping next to a closed tube, which they pounded on the little window of, with enough force to get the attention of all of the clones.
The tube opened and Seventeen dodged a hand that swiped at him, something bright held in it catching the light, then reached into the bed and bodily pulled another clone half out of it, baring their teeth in a nasty grin when their victim yelped and scrabbled for purchase on the side of the bed.
"Kriff you and the vat that carried your ugly face," Seventeen's victim snarled, turning a vicious glare on the Alpha-clone.
Seventeen let go of their nape and gave a hard pat to one cheek. "Get up, you little mir'sheb. I've got a job for you."
"I don't have to listen to you," they snarled, taking another swipe at Seventeen with the hand that was holding whatever was glinting in the light.
"Fox, get up," someone else ordered, voice tight.
Seventeen's victim twisted to glare behind them, snarling, "Why the kriff-" Then they glanced towards the door, spotted Jaster and Obi-Wan, and their mouth snapped shut, eyes going wide.
Seventeen started down the ladder. "Now," they called back up, when the other clone continued to stare at Jaster and Obi-Wan without making any move to follow.
They snarled, but scrambled off the bed and down the ladder fast enough, they were practically stepping on Seventeen's heels when they followed them back to Jaster and Obi-Wan.
(Jaster wasn't completely convinced the new clone wasn't purposefully trying to step on Seventeen's heels.)
As they stopped, Seventeen reached back and cuffed the other clone without looking, earning a curse, then grabbed them by the nape and yanked them forward. "Mand'alor, this is CC-Ten-ten. They'll be your guide."
"What if I don't want to be a guide?" CC-1010 demanded, shooting Seventeen a glare.
"Then I break your legs and give you to Gilamar," Seventeen replied flatly.
Several other clones let out snickers, while one called, "Like that would stop him."
"I'm sure that won't be necessary," Obi-Wan said, sounding thoroughly unimpressed.
Seventeen shrugged.
Jaster cast a considering glance over CC-1010. Their snarling and cursing reminded him of Jango in the months after his buire and ori'vod's murders, when he'd picked fights with anything and everything that moved because he was terrified that he would lose everyone again, and had decided that, if he didn't get attached to anyone, it wouldn't matter when he lost them. "Hello, ad'ika," he offered quietly.
"I'm not a child," CC-1010 snarled at him. "I speak Mando'a, you-"
Seventeen gave them a rough shake.
"You are not a child," Jaster agreed, because they looked to be at least eighteen, as all of the command clones did. "But you are my bu'ad, and I do not care for the serial numbers the Kaminiise assigned you, so I will call you ad'ika until you trust me with your name."
CC-1010's mouth fell open and they stared at Jaster with wide eyes, while the rest of the room went completely silent.
There came a thud as one of the clones on the second row of beds forwent the ladder in favour of just jumping out of their bed. They came over to stand on CC-1010's other side, watching Jaster through narrow eyes, one of which was bracketed with a curling scar that was red enough to suggest it was recent. "Do you mean that?" they demanded.
"Which part?"
Their mouth tightened, then they clarified, "Calling yourself ou- Fo-" They stopped, grimacing.
Jaster suspected he knew what they were trying to ask. "Jango is my ad. How they refer to all of you is...not something we agree on; so far as I am concerned, every one of you are my grandchildren."
The clone with the scar and CC-1010 traded wide-eyed looks, while other clones started whispering with their neighbours.
And then a clone who looked a year or two younger than the other command clones and had short-cropped blond hair peeked out from behind the scarred clone and asked, "Does that mean we can ask for hugs?" in a quiet, hopeful voice.
"Seventy-five sixty-seven!" Seventeen roared, and let go of CC-1010 to lunge at the blond clone.
The blond clone yelped and dodged around the scarred clone before racing over to hide behind Jaster.
"He's had his surgery!" the scarred clone yelled, while another clone grabbed Seventeen by the arm and leant back, almost overbalancing the Alpha.
Seventeen twisted their arm out of the hold and snaked it around the neck of the one who had been holding them before they could fall over, tugging them in close and keeping them in a headlock while they flailed and cursed. "I am going to have Gamma running laps outside until you di'kute drop."
"I'll tell Gilamar," CC-1010 threatened from where they were clearly hiding behind the scarred clone.
Seventeen pointed a finger at them. "You're joining them," they threatened, then swatted the top of their captive's head. "If you bite me, you little osik, I'll-"
"Dear one," Obi-Wan interrupted, sounding almost amused, "perhaps we can dispense with the threats?"
Seventeen's cheeks darkened with a flush and they let their captive go. "Fine," they bit out.
"What the kriff?" someone whispered.
Seventeen spun to glare behind themself, snapping, "I heard-!"
Obi-Wan cleared his throat.
Jaster ducked his head to hide his smile and found the blond clone peeking around from behind him and staring up at him. "Yes," he told them with a warm smile, "you may have hugs."
Their eyes went wide. "Even me?" they whispered.
Jaster couldn't stop a frown. "Of course even you."
They stumbled around Jaster and threw themself at him, letting out a sound that almost sounded like a sob when Jaster automatically wrapped his arms around them and hugged them tight.
He looked up at Seventeen, hoping for an explanation, but it was the scarred clone who said, "Re- Uh, Seventy-five sixty-seven has a mutation." They pointed at their own head.
"I can see that," Jaster replied drily.
"Clones that weren't 'perfect copies' were decommissioned," Obi-Wan spat.
Jaster had actually managed to forget that; he tightened his arms around the blond clone and said, "I am not a Kaminii."
"You're not tall enough," CC-1010 said, then grunted when the scarred clone jabbed an elbow in their side.
"Seventy-five sixty-seven, come here," Seventeen ordered, and the blond clone pulled away from Jaster to trudge over to Seventeen, slouching. Seventeen sighed and caught their chin in one hand, using it to tilt their head to the side so they could see the white bandaging that the colour of their hair had camouflaged. Seventeen sighed again and poked their stomach. "Stand up straight, brat." As the blond clone straightened, Seventeen looked at the scarred clone and demanded, "Who did you bribe?"
The scarred clone crossed their arms over their chest. "No one. Gilamar said CC squads."
Seventeen closed their eyes and groaned.
"Am I in trouble?" the blond clone asked.
"No," the scarred clone insisted.
"You are trouble," CC-1010 added, and the scarred clone elbowed them again. They shoved the scarred clone in retaliation.
Obi-Wan moved before Jaster thought someone might need to intervene to keep a fight from breaking out, stepping up behind the two clones and putting a hand on each of their shoulders. "Gentlebeings," he said, "perhaps we can put the violence on hold for a while, hm?"
"Are we offending your delicate sensibilities, General?" CC-1010 asked in a too-sweet voice.
Jaster couldn't see Obi-Wan's face, but whatever expression he made in response to that had several of the clones blanching, while Seventeen bared their teeth in a nasty grin.
Jaster shook his head, amused, then called, "I believe we had a project for the day, and I would like to go past Jango's flat and see if they're well enough to assist, if you're done reminding my grandchildren that jedi are not delicate petals, Ob'ika."
"Well, not all jedi," Obi-Wan replied with a quiet chuckle as he patted the shoulders of the two clones, then stepped back.
Seventeen grunted and tapped the blond clone on the side of the head. "You can steal Ten-ten's bed."
"Hey!"
Seventeen pointed to CC-1010 and said, "You, Mand'alor. The rest of you mir'osike-"
Offended shouts came from around the room.
"The rest of you mir'osike," Seventeen repeated, raising their voice to be heard over the complaints, "stay in here and rest. I hear any complaints from Gilamar or the other medics about you interrupting surgeries with stupid injuries, I'm handing your entire squads to your Alphas for some special training."
Between the dark promise in those words, and the way most of the clones scurried back up into the beds, Jaster suspected 'special training' wasn't completely unlike the suicide drills he'd used as punishment for his ramikade.
The only ones who hadn't made their escapes were CC-1010 and the scarred clone, the latter of whom demanded, "Why is Ten-ten getting dragged around? He's just had surgery, same as the rest of us."
Seventeen cast a brief look upwards, as though asking the Ka'ra for patience, then looked back at the scarred clone and said, "Because, out of the two of you, he's more likely to plot chaos if he doesn't have something to do."
CC-1010 and the scarred one traded grimaces.
Seventeen snorted and started walking back towards Obi-Wan, adding in a too-casual tone, "And the Mand'alor killed Reau."
Jaster suddenly found himself the recipient of a great many intent stares.
"What about Priest?" asked a voice from up in the higher level of bunks.
Jaster pointed at Obi-Wan, who cleared his throat and admitted, "Yes, well, I'm given to understand it was...for the best."
"They kriffing deserved it, you mean," someone said.
"Couldn't have happened to nicer trainers," someone else said.
CC-1010 and the scarred clone traded looks, then nodded to each other, and CC-1010 stepped over to stand in front of Jaster. They hesitated for a moment, then said, "Fox."
Jaster blinked, confused for a moment, until he recalled the scarred clone's earlier fumble. "That's your name?" he asked, wanting to be certain.
They gave a sharp nod.
Jaster smiled. "Su cuy'gar, Fox'ika."
Fox shot a startled look back at the scarred clone, who shrugged, their own eyes wide with surprise, then turned back towards Jaster, staring at his chest, and uncertainly replied, "S-su cuy'gar." They raised their gaze, meeting Jaster's eyes for a moment, then dropped their gaze to his chin and added in a whisper, "Ba'buir?"
"Elek," Jaster agreed, and held his arms open to offer a hug.
Fox didn't hesitate to lunge at him, thudding hard enough into Jaster's beskar'gam it had to have hurt, but they gave no sign, just hugged Jaster around the middle and let out that near-silent happy sigh that Jango had often made when they'd truly let themself relax, when Jaster wrapped his arms around them.
Jaster held them for a long moment, then loosened one arm and motioned for the scarred clone to join them. They looked startled and glanced at Seventeen, before hesitantly coming over to join the hug, standing stiffly in Jaster's hold until Fox poked them and muttered, "Kote." Then they melted against Jaster, letting out their own near-silent happy sigh.
Jaster couldn't help but grin, delighted, and pressed kisses to the top of both their heads.
"Not fair," someone complained, while another voice muttered what sounded like, "I wanna hug."
Obi-Wan chuckled, while Seventeen let out a long, resigned sigh, and Jaster took that as permission to say, "Everyone who wants one can have a hug."
It took them nearly a half-hour to escape. Jaster wasn't certain if he'd managed to hug every single one of the command clones, but he knew for certain that a couple had come back for second and-in the case of the blond clone, who had whispered their name was Rex-third hugs. (Rex had looked like they might claim a fourth hug, but the clone Fox had called Kote had grabbed them by the back of their kute and chivvied them back up to the bed Seventeen had originally dragged Fox from.)
Jaster wasn't the only one giving hugs: Seventeen had looked long-suffering when a couple of the clones hugged them, and Fox had planted themself in front of Obi-Wan and demanded, "Do jedi do hugs?"
"Jedi like hugs very much," Obi-Wan had replied, tone so obviously fond, and ended up with his own line of clones clambering for a hug.
"Now the entire command class is spoilt," Seventeen grumbled once they were on their way to Jango's flat, Fox walking at Jaster's side with a bounce in their step and a rather satisfied smirk on their face.
"You're just jealous you didn't get a hug," Fox said, clearly delighted.
"I do not require hugs," Seventeen snarled, turning to shoot a truly impressive glare over their shoulder.
Fox shuffled sideways and half-hid behind Jaster.
"Seventeen can have a hug when they want one," Jaster said, grateful for the cover of his buy'ce, as it hid him rolling his eyes. He'd always heard that the best part of bu'ade, was that you could give them back to their buire when you'd hit the point where strangling them seemed like a good choice. Unfortunately, that was...less than true in his case.
Thankfully, Obi-Wan distracted the two clones with a story about a planet he'd once been on where hugs were only shared between lovers, which his padawan hadn't realised before he'd hugged the leader's daughter, so Obi-Wan had been required to negotiate both a peace treaty between the leader of the Republic-aligned city and the neutral hill peoples, and find a way to free his padawan from his accidental engagement.
By the time they reached Jango's flat, Fox was cackling like a mad-being, Jaster was snickering to himself, and Seventeen was muttering about empty-headed jedi in Mando'a.
Obi-Wan looked extremely pleased with himself.
Boba was the one to answer the door and, when Jaster asked after Jango, admitted that Baar'ur Gilamar had come by an hour ago and ordered Jango to stay in their flat and spend another day relaxing.
"Are you staying, Ba'buir?" Boba asked hopefully.
"I'm afraid I've already promised to help Obi-Wan with his project today," Jaster admitted, and Boba's face fell. "You're welcome to join us."
Boba looked behind Jaster, towards where Obi-Wan, Seventeen, and Fox had politely stopped to wait just in view of the door. "No, I've got shows I can watch," they said.
"And some classwork to do, I would wager," Jaster pointed out, because he hadn't seen the adiik do any studying the day before, and he had raised Jango.
Boba's disgusted expression was an exact match for Jango's at the same age, and Jaster had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling, having removed his buy'ce for the conversation.
Jaster crouched down so he was more on level with Boba. "Let's make a deal, hm? You do some of your classwork, show it to your buir, and if they comm me to let me know you got enough done, I'll come for supper."
Boba took a moment to consider that deal. "How much classwork?" they demanded.
"I believe I will leave that up to your buir to determine."
Boba let out a disgruntled noise, but grumbled, "Okay."
"Jate," Jaster replied, just as he'd always done with Jango when his ad grudgingly agreed to do some classwork, then he kissed the top of Boba's head as he got back up. "Go on."
Boba glanced towards Obi-Wan and the clones again, then raced back into the flat, the door sliding closed behind them.
As Jaster returned to the group, Fox asked, eyes bright with mischief, "So, what do we have to do to get forehead kisses?"
Jaster caught his bu'ad around the shoulders and tugged their head down enough to kiss the top. When he let them go, he found Fox's cheeks dark with a blush, their eyes wide and shining with happiness. "You only have to ask, Fox'ika," he promised.
"Oh," Fox whispered, and hesitantly reached up to touch the spot Jaster had kissed.
Jaster wasn't really certain how to feel about how happy Fox was to get a kiss on the head, so he distracted himself by asking Obi-Wan, "How far did you and Seventeen manage to get, yesterday?"
"We settled on which terminals to connect to the holonet and managed to get to all of them," Obi-Wan replied with a warm smile, "and I believe we settled on...three different classrooms to convert into quiet recreation rooms?" He glanced at Seventeen.
They nodded. "I thought of another one that we can probably convert, too, closer to the littles' barracks, for them to use. Especially if you're intending to cut back on the training time," they added, looking uncertain.
"It's not healthy for you to be spending every hour of your days going from class to combat exercises to meals to more class," Obi-Wan insisted, and Jaster nodded. "Recreation time is important."
"We have an hour of recreation time in the evenings," Fox interrupted. "Trainer Gilamar insisted on it."
Jaster felt his jaw clenching at the idea that they only got an hour of recreation a day, and saw Obi-Wan close his eyes and take a breath. "Even the most capable of my ori'ramikade got more than an hour of recreation time a day," Jaster said, his voice coming out flat. "Obi-Wan is right; having sufficient time to relax and do something that isn't related to your classwork or training is necessary for your health. And you should have more than just an hour a day."
Jaster suspected that Baar'ur Gilamar had had to fight tooth and nail for every second of that hour, too, knowing what he did about the Kaminiise.
Obi-Wan cleared his throat. "Well, we have four rooms to outfit with comfortable seating and easels and whatnot, and Seventeen mentioned there's a fabrication unit in the city; the Kaminiise used it to generate clothing and armour, but if it's anything like the model the Temple has, it should be capable of creating furniture, though we may have to stop at a holonet terminal and download some schematics."
There had been a very old, slightly temperamental fabrication unit in the Mand'alor's residence in Keldabe, which Jaster had never had much use for, since he'd much preferred to spend the money from his jobs on goods made by those in the city, to help support them and keep the economy from stagnating, but it had seen a lot of use after a particularly dry spring had resulted in summer fires damaging the farmsteads that supplied the city and some of the buildings inside the city. The ability to cheaply create building materials and replace damaged furnishings had been a boon, and turned a season that could have been a death knell for the city, into a story those who had lived it could later share with a laugh.
"That will be quite helpful," Jaster said. "Do we know what sort of fuel or base materials it requires?"
"Salt water for fuel," Seventeen said with a smirk; Jaster had to chuckle. "And it uses some sort silicate compound that naturally occurs on the ocean's floor for materials. The Kaminiise used it for everything, so even if the city's automated mining systems stop working, we can just throw in furniture or knock out part of a wall."
"I believe we can hold off on damaging walls, for the moment," Obi-Wan said drily. "Let's head over to the fabrication unit, and see what our supply levels currently look like."
"Of course, Alor," Seventeen agreed, and took the lead again.
They did indeed have more than enough materials-the silicate compound made up most of it, but there was also a fibrous, reedy sort of material and something vaguely sponge-like, which the two clones agreed were both likely from plants that grew everywhere in the oceans-and there was a terminal with holonet access in the room.
Obi-Wan and Jaster had both picked out a few designs for seats and the recreation supplies they could think of, then left the clones to flip through the catalogues-one Republic, one traditional Mando-they'd been using while they got started with the fabricating.
Jaster's attention was eventually brought back to them when they got into a brief, hissed argument, which resulted in Fox shuffling over to Jaster and Obi-Wan and asking, "B-Ba'buir, General, can we- Uhm, we, we found supplies for something called get'shuk?"
Obi-Wan sighed. "Yes," he said drily, "I supposed get'shuk would be more of an interest than limmie to you and your vode."
Jaster chuckled. "Not a fan?" he guessed, before looking back at Fox and saying, "We'll have to find a space big enough to set up, but I'm happy to teach anyone who's interested how to play."
"Get'shuk is a little too, hm, hands on for my delicate jedi sensibilities, I'm afraid," Obi-Wan replied drily, while Fox gave an excited, "Thank you!" and raced back to where Seventeen was already poking at the terminal to send the necessary designs to the fabricator.
Jaster snorted. "And, unless much has changed, I don't expect meshgeroya is particularly popular in the Jet'tsad."
Obi-Wan's mouth twitched. "Oh, it's not popular for most Coruscanti, certainly," he replied with a gleam in his eyes, "but we have a few teams in Temple that will play against each other, and we have a long-standing rivalry with the Corellian Temple." He sighed. "They've won the last three years; I fear there will be blood, if we don't beat them this year."
Jaster raised his eyebrows, a bit disbelieving at the thought of jedi brawling over which of their Jet'yaime had the better meshgeroya team.
Obi-Wan tucked his hands into the opposing sleeves of his outer tunic and smiled.
"What would we need for, uh, limmie?" Fox called, sounding almost uncertain about whether or not they'd said the sport's name correctly.
"Mostly the same supplies for get'shuk, save the ball, and a net to add to the goal posts," Jaster supplied. "Get'shuk is based on limmie-called meshgeroya, in Mando'a-just a bit more violent."
"A bit," Obi-Wan said, tone dry.
"You were the one just talking about brawls breaking out over meshgeroya games," Jaster reminded him.
Obi-Wan let out an unconvinced hum.
Jaster looked back at the two clones. "If you know of two rooms we can convert to sporting fields, we can fabricate two sets of supplies, and those of your vode who would prefer the softer version can run a game at the same time."
"Softer, is it?" Obi-Wan asked, a glint in his eyes that warned he would make Jaster eat those words.
Jaster raised an eyebrow. "Yes, softer."
"Shall we play a game, then?" Obi-Wan suggested, tone perfectly congenial.
Jaster narrowed his eyes, sensing a trap. "To make a fair comparison, we'll have to play a game of each," he pointed out.
Obi-Wan let out a sigh, the picture of long-suffering. "Oh, very well."
Seventeen only knew of one room they could for certain convert into a proper sports field, so they only fabricated one set of supplies. The Alpha clone had called on their vode at some point, and twenty Alpha clones showed up just as the last of the goals were finished, which was more than enough to move the furnishings for the sports, with some left over to move items for the quiet rooms.
Somehow, word of the game got around, and when Jaster and Obi-Wan finished directing the last of the furnishings for the quiet rooms, they found a crowd of spectators from the Cuy'val Dar, Alpha-class, Null-class, and more command-class clones than the baar'ure would likely be happy with. Boba was also there, surrounded by curious clones; Jaster suspected they were sharing knowledge of get'shuk learnt from Jango, who had been on their school team for a couple of years.
Jaster asked for volunteers from the Cuy'val Dar to make up their teams-some of the clones tried to insist that they could play, but since they'd only just heard of the game, and Boba was the only one who hadn't had brain surgery within the past two days, Jaster told them no, and Obi-Wan backed him-and wasn't particularly surprised when almost all of the Mando'ad members said they wanted to be on his team, while the non-Mando'ad members were largely split. Vhonte settled her-them?-self on Obi-Wan's team-Jaster wasn't particularly surprised-and Kal looked between Jaster and Obi-Wan for a moment, before following Vhonte-that surprised Jaster, and Obi-Wan, by his expression-but they were the only outliers among the Mando'ade.
By the time they'd managed to sort the teams and everyone was down to their kute or whatever counted for their least-armoured level of dress-Obi-Wan was in his tight undertunic and leggings, and Jaster was trying very hard not to be distracted by the sight of him stretching, muscles flexing temptingly-the clones had turned up crates and boxes and chairs to sit on against the walls of the room, and one of the Cuy'val Dar members who hadn't been interested in playing, had gone up to the balcony and played with the settings to form field lines on the ground, so they would know when they were out of bounds.
It took about five seconds after the buzzer to start had sounded, for Jaster to realise that he had severely misjudged Obi-Wan, when the jedi had moved almost too fast to track to claim the ball before Jaster could even get a foot on it, then wove through his team with it and kicked it so hard, it went straight through the back of the goal's net and cracked against the wall behind it.
"Using your Force is cheating, Ob'ika," Jaster insisted as his side's goalie attempted to pick up the ball to throw it back into play, and hissed because it was apparently too hot.
Obi-Wan widened his eyes at Jaster and said, "Is it? You never specified."
"Too late now, Alor," Vhonte added with clear glee. "Ball's in play, rules are set."
Obi-Wan let Jaster have the ball the next time, but his team didn't make it anywhere near the opposing goal before Vhonte got it away from them and kicked it to Obi-Wan, who put another hole in their goal's net.
Jaster's team lost spectacularly.
When they took a break for hydration and the removal of the nets, before switching to get'shuk, Jaster faced down Obi-Wan and said, "No using the Force, this time."
Obi-Wan's pale eyes glinted. "Very well," he agreed.
Jaster suspected he'd only agreed so easily because his point had been made: When you added use of the Jedi's Force, the game was anything but soft. They'd actually had to bring in a second and third ball, when the one currently in play had popped from Obi-Wan's over-powered kicks, and that third ball didn't look like it would have survived another kick. (At least Jaster figured out why Obi-Wan had fabricated so many spares.)
Jaster's team being made entirely of Mando'ade, while Obi-Wan's team only had two Mando'ade, should have meant an easy win for Jaster. (Which was sorely needed, after Obi-Wan wiped the floor with them in meshgeroya.)
It was not.
All of the Cuy'val Dar, even the non-Mando'ade, were more than willing to get physical with each other, and the non-Mando'ade clearly had something to prove, after years of being looked down on. And Obi-Wan, despite his comments about 'jedi sensibilities', proved that he was just as willing as anyone else to tackle members of Jaster's team, and-as Jaster already knew, and everyone else quickly learnt-his layers of tunics hid some impressive muscles.
Jaster's team won by one point, and they'd had to fight for it the whole way.
Someone had called baar'ure during the game, so all of the players had to suffer the unimpressed stares of Gilamar and their small army of clones.
"What, in all the suns," Gilamar demanded as they set about prodding at Jaster's bruises, "possessed you to introduce get'shuk, of all sports, to the clones?"
Jaster winced at a particularly sharp jab of pain in his side. "Seventeen and Fox wanted to learn how to play."
"Of course they did," Gilamar snapped. "They've been raised to think beating on each other is fun."
"It's a fun game," Jaster insisted, and Gilamar jabbed a finger a little too hard against a bruise. He winced, then admitted, "I wasn't expecting it to be quite so hard to win."
Gilamar snorted and finally left off poking at Jaster's bruises. "No broken bones, but I suspect you bruised a rib."
Jaster grimaced and nodded; that would certainly explain the sharp pain.
"I'll have a bruise balm left in your room. Put it on before you go to sleep, so it can work overnight, and if you need it, put on more in the morning. But go easy on that rib for a couple of days."
"Yes, Baar'ur," Jaster murmured, ducking his head.
Gilamar nodded, then turned towards where the clones had huddled into a mass, their voices excited as they spoke about the games, and let out a loud, piercing whistle.
All of the clones straightened to attention and turned to face the baar'ur, even little Boba.
"There will be no get'shuk games for a week," they said. When the clones started making noises of complaint, they raised their voice to say, "I will make it two weeks!"
The clones shut up, some of them looking mulish.
"You've all just had surgery," Obi-Wan commented in an even voice as he stepped up next to Jaster. "If you start tackling each other, you could do some real damage, and a week is fair, so more of your kih'vode have time to get their surgeries and heal up some, at least so they can come and watch you play."
A couple of the eldest of the clones-the Nulls and the Alphas-still looked disgruntled, but that seemed to have soothed the command-class, at least.
Gilamar glanced back at Obi-Wan and gave a hint of a nod. "I heard you were playing limmie, originally?"
Jaster groaned and was near positive he saw Obi-Wan's mouth twitching. "We did play a game, yes."
Gilamar turned back to the clones. "I'll allow limmie starting tomorrow, for the Nulls and Alphas, but CCs have to wait another two days."
Groans and mutters filled the room, but they all quickly shut up when Gilamar raised a finger.
"No one's going to be playing until you've all learnt the damn rules," Gilamar pointed out, and a couple of the Cuy'val Dar laughed, while some of the clones started looking a little sheepish. Gilamar grunted. "Get'shuk balls will be kept in the infirmary; no one plays without at least one medic on call."
"Reasonable," Jaster agreed, before the clones could start complaining again.
Gilamar spun and pointed a finger at him, almost certainly glaring behind their buy'ce. "You should have comm'd me before you started playing, Mand'alor."
Jaster winced, then ducked his head. "I apologise, Baar'ur. That was an oversight on my part, and it won't happen again."
When Gilamar turned to Obi-Wan, the jedi gave a bland smile and said, "I don't even like get'shuk; I wouldn't have played it if I wasn't challenged."
Jaster pressed a hand to his elbow, where Obi-Wan had performed a perfect jab to his ulnar nerve to make him drop the ball at one point. "Are you sure?" he asked drily. "You seemed quite capable at it."
Obi-Wan's pale eyes gleamed. "I'm sorry, Mand'alor. If I kiss you, will it help your bruised pride?" he asked, voice gone low and falsely-sweet.
Jaster narrowed his eyes. "No. But I can think of a couple of other things that might help it."
Obi-Wan's responding smile was sharp with promise, and Jaster felt a thrill go down his spine and straight to his groin.
Gilamar sighed. "Just...remember to put the bruise cream on before you fall asleep," they told them, then turned slightly to the side and called, "Tervho! You missed your physical!"
"What physical?" Vhonte demanded.
"The one you signed up for when you started kriffing around with room assignments."
A number of the Cuy'val Dar laughed, while Vhonte glanced over at Jaster and Obi-Wan. "Oh," they said, "that physical." They flashed the baar'ur a smile with teeth. "You'll have to catch me, first," they informed them, and then made their escape, their back lek thumping against their nor'cabur as they went.
Gilamar looked at the baar'ur clones. "Whoever drags her into the infirmary, gets a week off," they said, and the clones left the room at a run.
Gilamar ordered all of the CCs back to their barracks-they got a little testy when Fox hid behind Jaster, who had moved to put his beskar'gam back on, but Seventeen said, "It's necessary, for everyone's mental well-being," and the baar'ur let it go-then ordered two Alphas to help them grab all the get'shuk balls, and left.
Part 2/2
Chapters One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Glossary
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