Mimic

1. Mimic

Before we begin. No, I did not look into how old the clones actually are, my numbers are all made up. Also, I try to make the Mando'a clear in-text, but there's a vocab list at the end of the chapter if it isn't.

Warnings: Clone trooper decommissioning and we're starting in cadet days so it's children.

Now, I haven't tagged this for major character death. However, there are OC characters of some importance that do die. I just- It's complicated, so I haven't tagged it. Once you've finished the whole story, let me know if you disagree.

The ending of this chapter is kind of sad, just warning you. Brace yourself.

The first time Fox meets Mimic, her name isn't Mimic yet. Physically and mentally, he's five standard, but he's only been alive two and a half years.

Cody snuck them in here, almost their entire batch, their closest siblings who all share their decant-day. Here being the nursery. They shouldn't be in here, they've never been allowed, but really it was Alpha-17's suggestion so they're just doing as they're told.

'Suggestion' might be an exaggeration. One of their flash training modules today was first aid, specifically emergency first aid in the case of civilian babies or— Ka'ra forbid— a civilian in labour. It was horrifying and Fox has never been more glad he's a clone commander rather than a medic. Briefly mentioned in the module was that babies need a great deal of skin contact to develop healthily. Of course, this left them all wondering who holds the tubies in the nursery.

They'd unanimously agreed without a single word that a trainer wasn't the person to ask this question to. No, they needed a vod, one of their many siblings, a fellow clone, preferably one of the older ones who might stand a chance of knowing. They'd gone to Alpha-17, simultaneously the vod who will take the least nonsense and take the most nonsense— it doesn't make sense to any of them, but it is true.

Alpha-17 provided them with the answer they'd gone looking for, but it was not the answer they wanted. Droids. Their kih'vode, their little siblings, tiny little babies fresh out of their tubes, defenceless little tubies, were being held by droids. Hard metal where soft skin should be. Pulsing circuit boards where a heart should sit.

Realistically, Alpha-17 knew exactly what would happen after giving an answer like that. That was basically the same as getting his blessing to do this.

The tubies are all fast asleep in cradles and they're so small. Fox can't remember being that small and he remembers a lot. He holds up his hand, leaning it over the edge of one cradle and finds his hand is the size of the tubie's face.

They came here to hold their kih'vode because nobody else would. Suddenly, Fox is terrified by the idea of so much as touching one of them. He doesn't know how to be gentle enough to hold a tubie. This was a ridiculous and terrible idea.

He's about to say just that when he comes across a tubie who's awake. Big brown eyes glint in the nursery lights, dimmed for the night cycle. Fox must make some sound at being stared down by the tiny ik'aad because his batch are quickly crowded around.

The tubie's arms reach up, mouth opening without a sound. Fox doesn't know why he does it, but he reaches back. The tubie's hand wraps impressively tightly around his single finger, startling a breathy, nervous laugh out of him.

"Hi, CT-4329," Ponds greets, his voice lilting strangely. He waves at the ik'aad and the tubie's spare fist shakes back.

"Go on, pick him up," Cody dares. There's no way to know yet if the tubie's really a 'he', but they're all so used to the trainers calling every vod 'he' and there haven't been enough brave vode yet to explain to everyone that he/him doesn't belong to them all.