Fic: The average clone
Title: The average clone.
Author:astartea
Characters: A clone, Jedi Master Tholme.
Rating: R
Wordcount: Around 1400
Summary: A clone is surprised to find that he´s not so average as he thought.
Notes: Written for the second wave of order66fics . Crossposted with my journal.
Thanks toblairette for being my beta.
TF65 Was the average clone, and he was damn proud of it, thank you. He knew that some people had awkward feelings about clones, a stupid thing in his opinion. They were not droids, as lot of people tended to think. They were not exactly people, as others wanted to defend. They were simply clones: born to serve, to obey orders and never interested in that needless discussion about the existence or non-existence of a soul inside them.
After the battle of Geonosis, there were some units left without a squad. They were rearranged again, but about six or seven clones were still unassigned. Some Jedi Generals were collecting replacements in the area, so they were invited to pick from among the spare clones.
Of course, TF65 was one of those clones. He carefully observed the Jedi, who were chatting among themselves, walking over towards them. One was a nautolan, three of them were humans, another was a female Twi´lek and the last one was a Cerean.
He watched the three humans closely. One of them was Mace Windu. He knew him from Geonosis. He hadn’t seen the other two there. One of them was pretty skinny. And the other...
TF65 observed the scars over his face, his long, greying hair tied in a ponytail. The Jedi were now next to him and his brothers. General Windu picked two clones and said goodbye. TF65 thought that maybe he was in a hurry.
The other Jedi remained silent. He was able now to smell them. The nautolan smelled salty, and next to him, the human with scars and long hair smelled like grass and green apples. TF65 had never had an interest in odours, but this one was kind of charming.
Suddenly, he realized that he really wanted to go with him. But why? It was an incomprehensible desire.
“Choose me, sir. You wouldn’t find a soldier like me in all the Galaxy!” shouted TF65. All the other clones laughed. It was standard humour among them. Almost all the jokes they made were related to their similarity. Tholme smiled, his eyes fixed in TF65. “You're right there. What’s your name?”
“I’m TF65, sir.”
“My name is Tholme” he replied. Then he looked at Kit Fisto. “If you don’t mind, I’ll take that one.”
“Oops,” The nautolean moved his tentacles and smiled, “I wish I had been quicker. I wouldn’t find a soldier like him in all the Galaxy.” Kit teased, making the clones chuckle again. Tholme only smiled, sending a Force-assisted wave of fake self-confidence towards Fisto.
Ignoring the other clones as they laughed, TF65 followed Tholme to get along with his new command. He couldn’t remember a happier day in his life, but still he didn’t know the reason.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Since then, interplanetary battles and strategy were all that had occupied their days. General Tholme was unusually kind with the clones, and TF65 was really happy to have been chosen by him. They had some interesting conversations, and TF65 was delighted by that. They talked about death; for his part, the clone wasn’t afraid to die because his goal was to serve the Republic in any way. Tholme was convinced that there was no death, but Force.
TF65 didn’t understand very well what that Force was, but knew it was something very important for all the Jedi.
Tholme was a serious man, but with some hints of humour. He sometimes used clone expressions, for the amusement of the soldiers, and especially TF65.
The silence was only broken by some random sighs. In resting periods, very rarely conceded to them, they liked to go to some clubs, and the most fortunate ones had a chance of getting laid. Women often weren’t very satisfied with their performances, but they had learned from their training that in sexual matters, the only important thing was their release.
Still, for the vast majority, the solution to sexual tension was masturbation. And, of course, all the clones had the same habits even in masturbation matters. Fast and hard, and them a good sleep till next morning. TF65 sometimes thought of Jango Fett. Was he also an easy rider like his clones?
TF65 was caressing the tip of his cock with his thumb. After a few seconds, he started with the standard procedure of jerking off: Up-down-up-down… thinking of blonde hair….up-down-up-down ….A nice pair of big tits…up-down-up-down… sinuous hips… up-down-up-down…
But when he was on the edge of his orgasm, his thoughts moved into a song he heard some time ago in a pub.
It’s a little bit funny, this feeling inside…
Why was he remembering that stupid song? He was supposed to remember how to move into battle, how to use a weapon… not a stupid, inconsistent song about funny feelings.
Had it something to do with the man who smelled like grass and green apples?
General Tholme.
TF65 finally came, spurting into the sheets, not thinking of the average blond woman all the clones think about, but of his own commander. With surprise, he discovered that he wasn’t as average as he thought.
Oh! That really infuriated him, of course. But he knew that he wasn’t keen to change it. General Tholme was so good to him, and TF65 liked him so much. It was worth being a bit different from the rest of his brothers.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Days, months, even years passed with the same lovely routine. War was, in TF65 opinion, a very beautiful act of living. He was doing great things for the Republic, and at the same time, he was developing the abilities they gave him in Kamino. Some beings were created to live as civilians, and some others like himself and all his brothers were created to fight and kill, to protect those civilians. It was no big deal.
The best thing of all, however, was to be still alive. He wasn’t afraid of death. That would be a dishonour for an average clone.
But being still alive meant more missions, more battles, more time with his brothers and, above all those things, more time with General Tholme.
That day seemed to be another wonderful one in his life. He was with Tholme and one of his brothers, TG83. They were riding their motojets over a river, following some droids which were trying to escape. The three motojets formed a column, where topography permitted. Then, at the most unexpected moment, a voice rang inside TF65´s helmet.
“Execute Order 66.”
“Yes, Milord.”
They had to kill their leader. That was the meaning of Order 66. With a wave of his hand, he indicated his brother to slow down the motojet. Now the three-line formation was changed to a delta one. And Tholme was in the head.
The last thing TF65 saw of him was his face, turning to see what was wrong with the clones.
Then he shot, and so his brother did.
Tholme fell down, crashing into a rock and flying though the air. And he landed in the middle of the river stones, his neck in such an unnatural position that there was no doubt he was dead.
TF65 never had seen Tholme eyes so wide.
“We have to be sure that he’s dead!” His brother shouted, although that fact was evident.
“I’ll do it,” replied TF65 instantly “Give me an aquatic torch to burn the corpse.”
When TF65 arrived where Tholme was lying, his heart skipped a few beats. The Jedi was still alive, though his neck was obviously broken. He was shaking badly and there was some blood running out of his mouth. Tholme looked at him and tried to smile. But, as TF65 noticed, it was a very sad smile.
“Orders from the big boss, then?” Said Tholme in a pained voice. TF65 smiled sadly and nodded. 'Big boss' was such a clonish expression.
“Yes, sir.” the soldier raised his blaster and aimed at Tholme´s head. "Sorry, sir." The Jedi closed his eyes, accepting his death, knowing that he would be one with the Force.
And TF 65 pulled the trigger. The Jedi was finished.
He threw the torch into the water, watched the corpse slowly burning. Orders were orders...
It wasn’t the proper thing to do, and he knew it before raising his weapon. But he was pulling the trigger, feeling himself fall into the flames.
Then again, he was not the average clone.