Archive of Our Own

Alpha was starving.

Alpha was starving and he did not want rations.

Or any of the food in the conservator.

Nor did he want to cook, and he did not want the random pack of skittles gathering dust in the back of the cupboard.

The alpha clone stared at the inside of the conservator.

Was it empty? Hardly.

Packed? No, not really, but there was certainly enough left for him to cobble together something to eat.

Alpha liked to think of himself as... well, perhaps not an expert in the nutritional requirements needed to maintain peak health, but far from a passing novice. He could count calories and carbs; understood the benefits of both macro and micro nutrients, various trace minerals, why his body needed animal fats; enjoyed most herbs, fruits and vegetables and, frankly, relished the massive amount of protein that was so much better tasting than rations.

Usually, Alpha didn't mind preparing his own meals. He'd even go as far as to admit (if only to himself, though he suspected Fordo was on to him) that he enjoyed it.

He liked the sounds of cooking - the knife hitting the cutting board as he chopped veggies, the sizzle of meat in the skillet, the roiling boil of water or broth in a pot – and the scents. Fragrant spiced meat and roasted tubers, alliums sauteed in butter oil...

Alpha thought he would miss his bucket more when he was in the apartment after he'd finally contained the stinky plant, but.

But.

He didn't.

At some point during the past several months, cooking had even started to become a soothing activity. Something within his power to control absolutely amidst the unsurety of everyday life as a civilian, and often brought with it a pleasurable tingling sensation.

It was nice.

Calming.

However-

Sometimes, he just did not want to cook for himself.

Or eat rations.

And he had the freedom not to, even if he still had trouble accepting it most of the time.

Deciding that tonight was the night he'd finally allow himself this one small act of lazy-ness, Alpha closed the conservator and wandered out of his small kitchen and into the living room. Sat on his triple hand couch, stared at Bacara's revenge painting, and cycled through his options.

Most of the boys were busy.

Some of them weren't even on the planet (Fox, Davijaan, Wolffe, Faie – not that Faie talked to Alpha, but Muzzle updated him every so often).

Some were working (Rex, Neyo-).

Some were cloistered up in the kriffing barracks still like nuns (Cody-).

Some, Alpha had no idea what the kriff they were up to (Appo, who he honestly hadn't seen or heard from since well before the war ended when he'd still been fit for duty-) but at least they were alive (Bacara was probably painting something gruesome, so there was that, even if Alpha had no idea if he was doing anything else with his life-).

There were still other options before him, though. Untapped sources of information he'd been reluctant and too ornery to engage with.

Alpha grimaced and fished his com out of a pocket. He tapped out a short message,

Where is a decent place to eat at this hour?

And hit send.

A few minutes later, Alpha's com buzzed gently with a set of coordinates and a mouthwatering picture that made his stomach rumble.

Fucking Maze.

Alpha tensed as the chimes hanging from the antique swinging door to the noodle shop jangled harshly as it opened and shut behind him.

None of the other alpha's seated at the table so much as twitched. Of course, they didn't have their backs to the door, unlike Alpha, and there were no convenient places for him to check reflections. It pissed him off and he wanted to be pissed off at the others for putting him in the position where he had to rely on them, but.

The thing was.

He was sure that they hadn't done it on purpose. He was simply the tag-along who got the last seat.

Maze, fucking Maze had the chair that directly backed up against the back wall of the shop.

Kriffing 13 himself was in the back corner with a direct line of sight to the entrance, but that also meant Alpha had a whole table between them and a direct line of sight on 13. Which was appreciated. The other alpha-class would probably never not make him twitch.

The last alpha was, apparently, 42. Whom he knew of but was not personally friends or acquaintances with. 42 had claimed the seat on 13's other side – like Alpha, his back was to the front, but he was in a semi-protected position due to a partition and was angled in his seat to have an excellent view of the kitchen exit. This asshole was also the one who pulled strings to get his defective shebs'ika into Alpha's ARC class and had sent him that very first box of rations.

The only reason Alpha had not turned around and walked right back out of the noodle shop when he'd spotted them in the far back corner, was that he'd been able to literally follow his nose from over a block away, and that his stomach had rumbled the second the antique wooden door had been pushed open, chimes jangling, as he passed over the threshold.

It certainly had nothing to do with the fact that he missed Fordo and Muzzle. Trin and Trantos. Spar.

And he certainly wasn't going to back down from the perceived challenge.

So.

He'd taken the remaining seat and sat his ass down.

Damn Maze to hell and back, but the noodles, the kriffing noodles, were amazing. Firm to the bite and decently chewy. Alpha might actually have more of a reason for putting up with these shitheads than straight nostalgia if they regularly frequented restaurants with quality food.

Force.

Alpha was going to have to learn how to make noodles. Or broth. The beautiful savory both. Maybe he could learn how to make the broth and just buy the noodles. If he asked for a recipe, would the natties behind the counter tell him how to make it?

“Not bad, yeah?” Maze asked quietly.

Alpha hummed.

“It's not bad.”

Maze eyeballed the small mountain of bowls in the middle of the table.

“Hnm.”

Alpha did not roll his eyes, because fuck Maze, and chose instead of focus on 13 across the table, who was steadily plowing through what looked like his fifth bowl of noodles.

His eyes narrowed.

“Can you even taste that?”

13 blinked languidly and kept on chewing.

Freak.

“It's the texture,” 42 answered for 13 with out looking up from his datapad. Instead of adding to the small tower of bowls near him, he was steadily working on his second plate of succulent looking dumplings, dipping them into a thin, black sauce and eating them in two bites, while reading at the same time. “It's also warm and filling.”

“Ah.”

An older woman, small and wrinkled with thick black hair and slanted, pure white eyes, exited the kitchen carrying a tall carafe on a tray with a stack of small cups. The carafe had a bulbous base, narrow neck, wide mouth, and was wrapped in a hand towel. The waitress leaned down to murmur something as she set the tray on the table. Maze replied softly in the same language and he patted his shoulder. With a small smile, she slunk back into the kitchen quieter than a Corellian sand panther. Alpha watched her go curiously. Tao or Minashee, he couldn't tell, but at least part Arkanian.

“It's Koshu,” Maze unstacked the cups and poured some in each cup before passing them around.

“Oh?” 42 looked up from his datapad, “Did you save her daughter again?”

Alpha accepted the cup warily, the memory of Maze's gift of Fresh Young Zeltron Wine at the forefront of his mind.

“No. She said it's on the house.” Maze nodded at the small mountain of bowls and plates in the middle of their table, “Probably because of our bill.”

42 blinked at the pile like he was seeing it for the first time.

“I'll cover it.”

“And the tip.”

“Yes, Maze, and the tip.”

Alpha waited for both 13 and 42 to take a sip out of their tiny porcelain cups before reaching for his own (Maze's taste in drinks could not be trusted).

It was pleasantly warm and fragrant. Earthy and faintly floral. A cautious sip revealed a warm drink that was slightly sweet and smooth like silk. While it didn't burn like spotchka or an engineers rot-gut, it was definitely alcoholic.

Strangely, that little sip made his mouth feel full, much like the broth.

“This is way better than that trash you gave me,” Alpha accused.

“It's also about 100 credits more expensive.”

Alpha grimaced as Maze smirked.

“Levet picked it out. Want me to tell him you didn't appreciate the gift?”

“Don't lie out of your ass.”

42 snorted.

“Tell him how you saved the owners daughter.”

Maze scoffed, “It's really not that great of a story...”

S c a r e d, 13 tapped out.

"Concerned." 42 corrected, "About my ability to be a father, should this relationship progress like I would like it to."

Alpha stirred his noodles with the chopsticks.

This would be his final one, he decided, and then maybe he'd order some dumplings. It wouldn't do him any good to ask 42 for one of his. The bastard damn near stabbed 13's hand when the bigger alpha tried to sneak some. Not that it stopped 13 from trying again (and again and again and occasionally succeeding-).

After all, 42 was footing the bill.

"Why?" Maze asked, "We practically raised the gen 1 CC's. Spawning one natty and making sure it survives should be easy in comparison."

"Did we do a good job with them, though? Half of mine are dead, the other's won't talk to me."

"Have you tried contacting them?"

"They never had a problem coming to me during the war," 42 replied. "Why would they have a problem contacting me now? My communications number has not changed. My net address has not changed. They know where I am. The answer to why, then, must be because they do not want to."

Oh. Alpha's heart pinched just a smidge, so that's what that felt like.

"Perhaps," he interjected, gathering a clump of noodles between the chopsticks and holding them up to let them drain over the soup bowl. Maybe it was empathy or maybe it was the Koshu that loosened his lips, Alpha didn't know, but figured it had to be the second - "They are waiting for you to come to them."

42 raised a white brow.

"Like you did?"

"A mistake." Alpha deadpanned, giving the noodles a little shake, "Currently in the midst of being corrected."

He shoved the noodles into his mouth and chewed slowly. Accidentally, he caught 13's eye and was surprised to find an approving look being sent in his direction.

The silent alpha turned his attention back to 42 and signed, pizza.

42 scoffed.

"Just because bribing the little shit with pizza worked for you, does not mean that it will work for or on others."

Worked on Stone and Bell.

"That does not prove a pattern."

"Who did you bribe with pizza?" Maze asked.

13 finger spelled - H a r l o c k.

"Ah." Maze's eyes crinkled ever so slightly, "Did he steal your vod'ika, 42?"

Alpha took another bite of his noodles and watched 42 set a narrow eyes and a firm frown on Maze. It was probably as close to a withering glare as 42 got.

Maze stared back, undeterred, and ate his egg-roll.

Alpha had not really spent a lot of time with any of the more reserved members of the Alpha class, though he knew of them (hard not to. They all knew of each other, they all just did not know each other). This was, he suspected, what passed for shitheadery, and smirked into his noodles.

Trantos would have flipped the table by now. Fordo probably would have threatened to shoot him. 66 - Muzzle already would have.

13 rapped his chopsticks sharply against Maze's wrist, frowning at the man when he turned towards him.

Maze raised a brow.

13 stared back.

"What about your own cadets?" Alpha asked.

"Those who survived are well." Maze replied without breaking away from the impromptu staring contest between him and the largest alpha. "I sent each a message, the majority of the resulting replies have been favorable. A few have even come to visit. Levet, for example."

"Hmm."

"Still getting gifts, 17?"

Alpha scowled. While the 'gift train', as Davijaan called it, had slowed significantly, every now and then he still received the odd and highly suspect gift.

"Unfortunately."

The staring contest ended in favor of Maze smirking at Alpha (13 stole an eggroll off Maze's plate.)

“Is it true that one of your CC's sabotaged a trainers ship to blow up?”

Alpha paused, dumpling halfway to his mouth.

“I can neither confirm nor deny this information.”

Maze tilted his head.

“Two of mine put dead fish in the vents near Priests room and convinced the mouse droids to leave them there. Another bit Fett.”

Alpha snorted.

“I think Prime liked it when a cadet bit him.”

“-throwing their weight around like they own the place.” Maze groused refilling the little cups with more Koshu. “Blatant disrespect. Blatant disregard for orders. Doing whatever they want. Rabid sociopaths, all of them.”

“Didn't you deck Ordo in the mouth?” Alpha accepted the little cup back, because even he, all the way on Kamino, had heard that interesting little tidbit. Fordo had been ecstatic.

A brief, blissful smile crossed Maze's face.

“In front of his girlfriend, too.”

“I heard Harlock got a job in the corporate sector.”

42's face did something interesting. Like he'd swallowed a lemon and snorted capsaicin at the same time.

“You are correct.”

“Didn't go well, I take it.”

Alpha could only imagine.

“He lasted a week,” 42 grimaced. “By the end of it he'd staged an uprising and committed mutiny.”

“I didn't realize it was possible to commit mutiny as a civilian.”

“It's not.”

“Then how...?”

“I don't know,” the white haired Alpha scowled. “Like I don't know how he's not dead with all the octane in his blood.”

“You can't blame the Corellians for everything.” Maze told him.

“I can and will-”

“Is it possible to get sick from someone touching you?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

13 gazed impassively back at Alpha.

“What happened?” 42 prompted without looking up from where he had his nose shoved into his datapad again. “Symptoms? Duration?”

Alpha cocked his head.

“Heart palpitations.” He recited, “Shivers. Clammy hands. Loss of speech. It lasted for only a few minutes.”

13 blinked languidly.

“She only grazed me,” Alpha went on, “and they only appear if I think about it.”

“She...?” There was a speculative tone to Maze's voice that irked Alpha, but Maze was irksome in general, “That's not-”

Thump

Maze scowled and hissed. The table thumped again and the stacked bowls clinked and wobbled.

Alpha's brow furrowed.

“It sounds like it might be contagious,” 42 said solemnly. “Have you seen a medic?”

“...No.”

Movement drew their attention. When he had their attention, 13 signed -

BSD. Highly contagious . Can spread undetected through asymptomatic shedding. No cure. Not generally, but can be fatal in the right circumstances.

...Oh.

“Is that the one where the women are the carriers, but only the men suffer?” Maze asked.

13 nodded, gold eyes never leaving Alpha.

Well.

At least it wasn't going to kill him...? He didn't really have a use for women anyways, so avoiding them wasn't going to be much of a problem. 

“Did you think over the proposition General Feemor offered you?” 42 asked Maze.

Alpha's gaze darted between the two as he ate a rangoon. Job? The Jedi could hire out? What?

“It does seem like something I'd be interested in doing,” Maze admitted slowly, “But I'd still like to consult with General Zey when he gets back.”

“Of course. Both of you would are welcome to come and discuss it more if you'd like.”

“I might take you up on that.”

“Your jedi hires out?” Alpha asked and 42 smiled thinly.

(Subtly, 13 snitched another one of 42's dumplings. Alpha pretended not to notice.)

“Something like that.” He studied Alpha, “The job offered to Maze is confidential and cannot be discussed here. However, we employ a variety of clones and natborns as independent contractors for various jobs we come across. There is a roster and when a job comes up, it is offered to someone with the skills to do it. If that person for some reason cannot do the job, then it is offered to the next one down the line. There are no dues, but payment for the job is made towards the... company, as they handle the contract. They take a cut for maintenance and emergencies, but the majority of it goes to the contractor or contractors, if it is a group job.”

Huh.

Alpha kind of liked the sound of that.

“One could compare it to a Guild or Union.” 42 took a sip of his Koshu and went on, “Only privately owned.”

“What kind of jobs?”

“-And they were never interested in being brothers or protecting the rest of us, and they never will be, unless it's for their benefit. Calling the rest of us ner'vod is nothing more than emotional manipulation. Spoiled as much as a clone can be and resentful of us for no good reason.”

“They're a lot like Boba in some ways,” Alpha mused between dumplings, “and worse in others.”

“Exactly-”

“How did you get your shebs'ika into my class?” Alpha demanded. “That brat is a terror. He was banned for a reason.”

42 smiled serenely as 13 turtled up suspiciously.

“99.”

A disgusted noise pulled itself out of Alpha's throat.

Damn 99's bleeding heart, may he rest in peace.

“That little shit.”

Maze snickered.

“Suddenly the ship is overrun with fuzzballs,” 42 jerked a thumb at 13, “because his genet had babies. General Feemor decided they were good for morale and promptly decided to get more.”

13 shrugged.

“The mouse droids almost staged a mutiny until we got them upgraded with more efficient filters.”

13 shrugged again.

Maze coughed into his drink as Alpha wrinkled his nose.

“Were they useful at all?”

“They are actually semi-sentient and highly intelligent,” 42 told them. “Excellent for search and rescue. Some were trained to help with PTSD.”

“You're saying the 4^th had service animals?”

“Essentially, yes.”

Maze frowned.

“And why was this not allowed on other ships or bases?”

“Can you honestly say that the Supreme Commander would have approved the wide spread use of service animals and that the Navy would have allowed the GAR to have them on their ships? Because I cannot.” 42 stated. “We were only able to manage it because both General Feemor and Admiral Hammond were in agreement about the benefits and practicality of having them, and implemented strict rules regarding them.”

“Ah. Still...”

“You're more than welcome to come aboard and see if one likes you.”

“...Maybe.”

“I have a fish.”

Maze's brows rose.

“You have a fish?”

“It glows in the dark,” 42 said and 13 nodded. Alpha scowled at them and remembered abruptly the B&E that had happened when the Gift Train had been in full swing.

“13.” He jabbed a finger at the bigger alpha, “Stay the hell out of my apartment.”

13 blinked innocently.

Alpha scowled harder.

Asshole.

Midnight passed and three hours later, there were roughly forty something bowls stacked neatly in the middle of the table, twenty platters devoid of appetizers, four nearly empty glasses of water, and an honest-to-force clay teapot and cup set that was brought out at the very end. It had held an astoundingly fragrant tea Alpha was sure would have had Kenobi drooling. Three bottles of Koshu had come and gone, their cups whisked away after the third bottle was finished.

Alpha glanced at the bill and frowned.

“How do you have the funds to pay for this?” .

“The General said,” 42 said as he paid for their meal, “and I quote, 'Danyel. Go spend this blood money for me-'”

Alpha snorted as he picked up the meal he'd ordered to go.

Danyel, huh? Sounded like the name of some shaggy haired, four eyed space nerd in glasses that was allergic to sand.

“I should have ordered another bottle then.” Maze commented. 

“You already ordered two after she gave us the first.”

“I meant to take home.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Do you often eat out like this?” Alpha cut in and the two turned towards him.

13 stood from his seat and Alpha watched him in his peripherals until he was next to 42.

“Occasionally.”

“And not usually as extravagant.”

42 turned back to the droid manning the register.

“Thank you for your generosity, gentle-beings,” the droid replied. “It is greatly appreciated.”

“You're welcome, TOR1-K0.”

Alpha followed the others through the antique wooden door out into the Coruscant night, door chimes jingling. It was damn near the Dathomirian Witching hour, but the sky was only a dark shade of static and he knew, learned from his very first night, it would never fall into true darkness. There was simply too much light pollution – too much pollution in general. There were never any stars out on Coruscant and he'd discovered that the only part of the ecumenopolis that actually got any spit shine was the Senate District.

Alpha rarely missed Kamino, but there was something to be said for the true darkness of night that was found on other planets. For the stars glittering against the black velvety sky.

Pleasantly full and warm, enhanced metabolism cranking away, he turned and started walking towards the public transportation he'd used to get to the district, surprisingly content with the way his night had gone. Glad that he hadn't turned his ass around and walked right back out of the restaurant like he'd initially wanted to. It hadn't been like getting together with one of the others, where a good night usually ended in a fist fight, but it had still been enjoyable and the food good.

Neither Maze nor 42 had been completely insufferable, though 42 talked like a kriffing text book, and Maze was annoying and knew things he definitely shouldn't, and 13 was 13, surprisingly helpful in giving his disease a name though Alpha still didn't trust him. They'd even had some things in common: asshole vod'ika's, low opinion's of the nulls everything, and... Maybe Alpha emphasized with 42 about his cadets, and maybe he approved of how Maze rescued the noodle shop proprietors daughter from a trafficking ring-

thap

Alpha blinked.

42 stumbled, dropped his to go box, ducking as Maze threw another punch and landing an uppercut of his own. 13 landed a kick to Maze's back that sent him crashing into 42 and both clones tumbled into the darkened alley, knocking over trash receptacles with a clatter. Feral tookas yowled and scrambled as the two tussled.

Movement.

Alpha jerked, heart hammering. Jaw snapping shut, he whirled in place to see 13 lean down and pick up a fallen to go box. 13 looked him dead in the eye, popped the lid, pulled out a dumpling and ate it.

Alpha squinted at him.

“What's going on?”

13 blinked slowly and ate another dumpling.

Freak.

Keeping 13 in his peripherals, Alpha turned towards the fight.

One of them grunted and the other barked a quick laugh.

The edge of his lips quirked up a little.

Well.

After a wary glance at 13, who was still munching on 42's food, Alpha set his box down near the wall and inched into the alley

When neither Maze nor 42 showed any sign of noticing him, Alpha grinned and threw himself into the fight with a tackle.

Now it was a good night.