"I was programmed to handle hard situations, Sir."
"Yes, but he was quite close to you, wasn't he? Did he say anything? Every piece of information he possessed could help us win the war. Isn't that what you want?" The Chancellor watches me closely...
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Day 646 SK Destination: Coruscant Republic Base 1900 hours
I'm sweeping in the barracks when someone knocks on the door. When there are six people and a wolf sharing one room, things get dirty quickly, even when you're as clean as the Wolfpack. So sweeping is a must, whenever I have the chance. I race Comet to the door, opening it to find myself staring at a batch of Shinies. Their white armor is unpainted, if a little scratched.
"Hello Sergeant Sniper, Sir," the one in front says. "We were told you have the paints?"
"What color do you need?" I ask.
"Green, Sir."
"Sniper's fine. I'll meet you in the cafeteria in ten," I tell them. I duck back into the room and walk over to the bottom cot of my bunk bed, which belongs to Boost. "Move your feet," I grunt, shoving them aside.
"Hey!" He pulls his feet onto the bed. "You could have asked!"
To which Wolffe says "Feet off the bed, or you'll be hauling those paints around for Pup."
"What?!" Boost replies, while Sinker, Comet and I erupt into laughter.
"Respect your elders, Boost," I reply, standing and heading for the door with my paint in hand.
He huffs. "You should teach respect by example."
I smile as Wolffe holds the sliding barrack door open with his fingers so I can turn back to Boost. "Let's just say there's only one member of the Wolfpack—other than Wolffe and General Plo— that I consistently respect."
"Wait, but there are four of us!" Warthog says. I laugh as Boost and Sinker immediately start shouting reasons that it's them.
Wolffe rolls his eyes to look at me. "It's like they're still Shinies."
"Good luck," I say, leaving him with the commotion. Peg barks, running up beside me after getting some begrudgingly given attention from Wolffe. I smile down at him. "You know I meant you, right?"
He barks again, and we enter the cafeteria to find the clones waiting at a table for us. Setting the paints and brushes on the table, I open the first bucket.
From their conversation, it sounds like they just got back from their second mission and are finally being assigned to a specific Jedi General. They laugh and talk amongst themselves while I touch up my own armor. About half an hour in, one of them lowers his paintbrush and looks at me.
"What does your armor mean, Sergeant? I've never seen another set like it."
I look down at the hip plate in my hand. He has a point; I've got quite the collection. Gray, of course, is the main color. But on my right bicep I've also got blue and orange, for the 501st and 212th. Then on my left hip plate I've got those, plus brown, red, black, green, and teal.
