Chapter Text
Fox clenched his fists spasmodically, trying to ignore what lay ahead.
He wasn't blind, thank you very much, and he could see the way the soldiers of the 212th and 501st were watching him and his Corries. When the Chancellor had decided to get rid of the Guard's clone soldiers, he had had the vicious idea of sending them to join the GAR, which hated them. As soon as he'd learned of this, Fox had ordered their shinnies new arrivals of only a few weeks to remove all paint from their armour, knowing full well that the 501st would more easily feel sorry for young little brothers just off Kamino than for old Corries. He was glad to have his brothers, it could be worse, he could be alone and isolated, but he wasn't. The Guard protected its members, and they would stand together despite the hatred of their former brothers. At least no other little brother would be sent to the Guard to be starved and mistreated by the Senate while their brothers called them lazy, paper-pushers.
No one cared about them, and apart from their loyalty to the Republic and the welfare of as many innocent people as possible, the Guard were only loyal to themselves.
Their other problem was that he didn't like General Skywalker, a good friend of the Chancellor's, and even though he treated his brothers like gentle animals, Fox wasn't going to bend the rules without good reason or a formal, direct order. He remained aware of the looks on their helmets and their resting parade posture, again, he wasn't blind.
"They're pissing me off looking at us like we're freaks," Stone growled.
"Quiet," Thorn tempered.
"Maybe I can drop Grizzer on them and make it look like an accident?"
"Oh yeah, go for it!"
"No, you don't drop a massiff during a charging, Hound, and you, Thire, don't encourage it."
"Lek, Alor!"
"Don't think that just because you're talking at the same time I don't see you fiddling with Grizzer's collar."
Thire swore softly as he straightened up innocently, the movement of the helmet suggesting he was hoping to convince him with a cute face.
"Your helmet spoils your face a bit, vod, you won't convince me with your paint."
Hound burst out laughing, followed by most of the men behind them. The cute face Thire managed to get was a trap for even the most shinnies of them, so watching him fail was always amusing.
"Commander Fox."
Fox saluted, followed by his troops, and looked General Kenobi in the eye before running through General Skywalker, Commander Tano and Captain Rex.
"Generals, Commander, Captain. Aran Company waiting for order, sirs."
One would have to be very inattentive to miss Rex's grimace or Skywalker's disinterested pout, only Kenobi remained professional, and Tano was just a curious cadet. In Fox's eyes, no matter how well he performed, a cadet was still a cadet.
"You have been assigned to the 501st with your men, Commander Fox," Kenobi reminded. "We're going on a mission to dislodge Separatists from a moon on Rhyloth where they appear to be preparing for a larger attack. The 212 is participating, so we're all going together. We'll introduce you to your barracks."
"Yes, sir."
"Padawan, may I let you accompany them? Anakin and I have one last call to make to the Council before we leave."
"Sure, let's go."