Chapter Text
Loren’s mother, Mrs. Ereno Yang, stood tall and slim next to her short and stocky husband. She had similar dark blue hair and light blue skin as her daughter, and a circle overlaid by three curved lines tattooed on each cheek. She was also unnervingly quiet, her piercing gold eyes momentarily sending Davijaan back to Kamino, cowering in front of Skirata and awaiting condemnation.
But after the initial once-over her gaze softened. “My husband says you flew in the war,” she said, and then bowed her head. “Thank you for your service.”
Davijaan had been told that by a surprising number of civilians. It always left a sour taste in the back of his mouth, but at least she sounded like she meant it. And maybe, as a fellow pilot, she did.
“In the air first,” she said, firm, and led the way out of the village and up the slope to a tiny hangar perched on the edge of a cliff. Inside were two ships, a modified G9 Rigger and an antique HWK-290 undergoing repairs. Mrs. Yang walked right to open hatch of the rigger, and Davijaan followed.
As he sat in the pilot’s chair and got his first look at the controls, Mrs. Yang sitting still and silent in the copilot’s chair, Davijaan realized he was nervous. Probably for the first time since he’d started working with real ships instead of sims. He even caught himself holding his breath as he got his headset on and safety harness secured, and started working his way down his take off checklist, familiarizing himself with the controls quickly and efficiently.
He forced himself to breathe. He was not going to panic. Absolutely not. He’d only panicked once– when he couldn’t shake the Vultures tailing him on Teth, and General Kenobi’d had to save him– and all in all it had been the most embarrassing moment of his life and he was not going to repeat it. It was just that it’d been a few months since Utapau, since he’d actually piloted a ship himself. He just needed to get back into the right–
“Her name’s Glimmer,” Mrs. Yang said, and Davijaan jerked his head up in surprise.
“Oh! Should have asked, sor–”
She shook her head. He swallowed down the rest of his apology. “You need to focus. But you also need to know who you’re working with.”
Davijaan had flown everything from Larties to ARC-170s to Venators, but he’d never gotten attached to a particular ship. He’d been familiar with several, but different missions called for different ships, and they were often destroyed– usually while he was in them– and replaced, and there was no guarantee you’d be assigned to the same one twice anyway. A starship was just a machine. A tool. Like a clone.
He reached out and brushed a cautious hand over the console. “Hello, Glimmer. Um. Looking forward to working with you.”
Mrs. Yang nodded once, satisfied, and settled back in her chair.
Take off was roughly the same no matter the ship, and Davijaan’d had these protocols memorized for over half of his life. Nervous or not, his hands never hesitated. The hangar doors slid open with a hiss, and Davijaan took the rigger up and into the sky.
It was so… open. No Vulture droids, no Republic fighters, no cannon fire or explosions or screams in his comm. Just the wide blue sky and the sun.
And Davijaan, the engine humming under his feet and the yoke warm in his hands, rising up and up into the blue until the rest of the world fell away.
And Mrs. Yang, who made herself known once again by clearing her throat. Davijaan blinked back to himself and relaxed his grip on the yoke, leveling out to skim over a mountain peak.
“Take her down into the valley,” she said, and for the next hour Davijaan followed her concise instructions and flew over and around mountain after mountain, and landed and took off from various cramped and unlikely locations. She even directed him down a slope and out of the range to fly over the tundra. She had him maintain a low speed, and gave her instructions far in advance.
It was too easy. And it was by far the most relaxing flying he’d ever done. He actually couldn’t remember the last time he’d flown without being shot at, not even in a sim.
By the end of the hour Mrs. Yang turned to him, lips curving slightly in a smile that reminded him oddly of ‘17, and said, “Good.”
***
With the issue of suitability settled, there was flimsiwork to deal with. Davijaan was familiar with flimsiwork. But maybe not exactly this type of flimsiwork.
There were questions about availability and contact information and past employment that were easy enough to fill out. There were some questions he couldn’t answer, like birthdate and surname, but there was enough diversity within the Republic that neither were required. He signed everything with his officially recognized name, Odd Ball, and copied out the new ID number he’d been issued along with his citizenship. Natborns made such a big deal about names, and Davijaan had laughed and laughed when he realized the Republic numbered their citizens too.
“And you will have to go down to Kyurem and get your local piloting license– I’m afraid there’s no way around that, for insurance reasons you see– and of course get an account set up at the bank, but if my wife is satisfied–” Mr. Yang looked expectantly at his wife, seated next to him behind the desk, and she gave a sharp nod. “– then I’m satisfied.”
He stood and bowed briefly, looking up to meet Davijaan’s eyes with a grin. “Welcome to Yang Family Shipping and Transportation. I am very much looking forward to working with you, Odd Ball.”
Davijaan rose and started to offer a hand before he caught himself, and bowed as well. “I am too, sir. With both of you. That is…” He straightened. “I’ll do my best.”
He wasn’t sure what he was feeling. Nervous, absolutely. Terrified, maybe. And he was already adding the trip down to Kyurem and the trip to the village bank to his mental checklist. But underneath all of it he felt light enough to fly on his own.
“Excellent, excellent!” Mr. Yang moved out from behind the desk and patted him on the shoulder. “Come back when you’ve got that license and we’ll put you on the roster straight away!”
Behind them the front door opened, a bell ringing in the back. Loren walked in, bag slung over her shoulder and hair covered in a bright yellow scarf. Davijaan swallowed.
Her father scooped her up in a hug and kissed her forehead before she’d even said hello, but she just laughed and hugged back. “Hey, pa.” She waved over his shoulder. “Hey, ma.” Mrs. Yang waved too, that slight smile appearing again.
Davijaan stood awkwardly off to the side, unsure what to do with his hands.
Eventually she was released, and straightened out her tunic as she studied the mess of loose flimsi on the desk. “I take it everything went well?”
Mr. Yang responded enthusiastically and drew her into a one-sided conversation about the trouble with finding reliable help that, judging from her politely amused expression, she’d already heard.
Mrs. Yang emerged from behind the desk and stationed herself next to Davijaan, watching him watch Loren until he caught himself and gave her his attention, embarrassed. Before he could apologize she said, “You’re friends?”
“Um.” Were they? Did Loren think they were? Had she told her parents they were? “Did she say that?”
“Not in so many words. She said you’d gotten to know each other very well.”
“Ah.” Well. He couldn’t argue with that. “What did she tell you… about me…?” Please don’t ask how I’m recovering.
“Not much. That you were a clone. That you were kind.” She tilted her head, considering. “Where did you two meet, again?”
Davijaan blinked. Kind? And where did they meet!? He glanced towards Loren and found her standing alone, looking back. “We met–”
Loren shook her head sharply.
“ – uhhh... We met… when Loren was on assignment?”
She nodded encouragingly. Well then. He was pretty terrible at lying but he’d give it his best shot. “On assignment. To. A safe planet, where my flight squad was stationed.”
Mrs. Yang frowned. Whoops.
“Not for a campaign! For–”
Loren stepped around her mother to stand beside him, laying a hand on his shoulder and cutting in smoothly with, “They were cleaning up in the aftermath of a campaign, but there was no danger. I was there to interview the locals and write a piece about how the Republic dealt with refugees and similarly displaced people.”
Mrs. Yang raised a brow, but before she could say anything Mr. Yang emerged from the back and presented Loren with two heavy thermoses that disappeared into her bag with a clatter. “All set, my dear. Though I know we have a dozen more of those up at the house.”
She shrugged. “Maraso and Videnka took the kids up to the peak, so I couldn’t find any left that were big enough. Thanks pa! I’ll bring them back!”
“I know you will.” He chuckled. “Enjoy yourselves. Be sure to be back in time for–”
“For dinner, I know,” Loren marched across the room. “You have something planned, though it’s really not necessary.” When she got to the door she turned and regarded Davijaan, head tilted, considering. She had the same eyes as her mother.
“Well,” she said. “You’re coming, right?”
He wasn’t entirely sure where they were going, but he was at her side in seconds.
***
“My sister and her wife took their kids up Amaura for the day, so we’re going up the first sister, Darumaka!” said Loren, making her way up the almost vertical dirt trail as though it were a paved road, without so much as a hitch in her breathing.
“Oh,” was all the response he gave.
It wasn’t that he couldn’t keep up, it was just. He was a pilot. He’d maintained a physical training routine because it was expected– and there wasn’t anything else to do in space, really– but he hadn’t run laps since he’d graduated command track. He’d be fine. He just… wasn’t interested in talking right now.
A voice in the back of his head politely informed him that '17 would be disappointed in him. He politely told it to shut the fuck up.
“Not all the way up,” she continued. “The trail’s a bit long to start this late in the day, but there’s a really nice lookout spot we can get to in time for a late lunch.”
“Sounds nice. Um. Was I supposed to bring food?”
“Oh, no. I brought something for both of us. Are you allergic to anything?”
“No.”
“Oh, good. I packed mostly the same foods we ate yesterday lunch just in case."
He didn’t respond to that at all, and they lapsed into silence. As it zigzagged its way up the side of the mountain the trail leveled off somewhat, and as they left the sparse tree cover behind a gust of cold wind hit Davijaan in the face. He took a step back, gasping. Loren turned to him, eyes squinted against the stinging force of it.
“It’s rather sudden. Exciting, I used to think. Want to take a break?”
He hesitated, and then nodded. Without further ado she plopped down on the short scrub next to the trail, her back to the wind, and dug around in her bag for the thermoses. Davijaan didn’t sit, but he took the one she offered him gratefully. The water smelled tangy, like–
“Is that the tea stuff? Pantoran tea?”
She sipped and swallowed with a hum. “It is! Pa must have put a few sprigs in.”
Davijaan took a cautious sip of his own, and then drank deeply. It was better than he’d expected. Spicy and rich. He’d have to use the stuff they'd picked the day before.
He sat next to Loren and handed the thermos back. It disappeared into the depths of her bag once again, and then she turned her attention from him to the stretch of trail they’d just climbed.
“There are roads and paths and trails all over these mountains,” she said. “It’s good to be familiar with them if you want to get anywhere, and they’re fun to explore. This might be a bit much for your first hike but I wanted to get you started. I never liked exploring alone.”
Oh. “I… thanks. I wouldn’t have known they existed.”
“Someone else would have pointed them out,” she shrugged. “They’re not exactly secret.”
“Still. Glad you took the time, before you left.”
She offered him a tight smile, and turned back to the trail.
After a moment of silence, he cleared his throat. “So… Your parents don’t know about Umbara?” Obviously they didn’t, but getting the details of what she had and hadn’t told them would be good, just in case it came up in conversation again.
She stiffened, and then visibly relaxed her shoulders. “No. I wasn’t in the hospital long enough for it to be a big deal.”
Turning to face him, she tipped her chin up, eyes hard. “And how am I supposed to tell them? Sit them down and say, hey ma and pa, just so you know I spent a tenday in a terrorist’s prison cell waiting to be executed for spying and patching my fellow prisoner up after torture sessions. Sorry I didn’t tell you when it happened, six months ago. It was only, you know. The most terrifying two weeks of my life.” Her voice cracked at the end, and he winced.
It hadn’t been, for Davijaan, because of so many weeks and months and years he’d somehow lived through before. But she was a civilian– and so am I, now– so of course it was different for her.
“By the way, how’s your back?” She looked down to her lap; picked at her tunic hem. “And hand? I forgot to ask yesterday.”
And he’d half hoped she’d keep forgetting, but he supposed you had to have a good memory for unanswered questions to be a reporter. And she’d helped patch him up. She deserved to know the results of her handiwork.
“Fine. No pain.” They’d been pretty bad, but not as bad as they could have been, according to Yikes. Once the infection was dealt with his back healed well, though the scarring made it stiff. His fingers had had to be broken again and reset, but they weren’t damaged enough that he couldn’t grip a steering yoke, and that was all that mattered.
She nodded slowly, and looked back up at him. “I never got to say thank you.”
He blinked. “For what?”
“For helping me stay calm. You were hurt, and probably just as scared as I was, but you kept me from panicking. So, thank you.”
“Oh, um. You're welcome." He shrugged, offered her a smile. "It wasn't a big deal. I wasn’t scared.”
She tilted her head, studying him. “Why not?”
Abruptly he turned away from her to look back down the trail, into the trees and rocks and scrub. Umbara was over and he really didn’t want to think about it again. But he was the one who’d brought it up in the first place, and she’d been carrying the conversation for a while now and he couldn’t keep giving half-hearted responses. He owed her that much at least.
He sucked in a breath and let it out, slow. “What was there to be scared of? In a situation like that, you either live or you die. That's all it comes down to, in the end. They either kill you or they don’t. Either way, it’s out of your hands. You just brace yourself for whatever comes. Everything short of death you can survive, right?”
“Hm.” She pursed her lips. "That’s a very morbidly optimistic way to look at things.”
He snorted. “It’s honest is what it is.”
They lapsed into silence again, and this time Loren broke it by standing with a sigh and adjusting her bag. “Almost there,” she said, and if her smile was a bit hollow, who was Davijaan to point that out?
***
Around early afternoon they reached the lookout, a spot where the trail widened and flattened before continuing to wind up the mountain. Several waist-high boulders had been arranged as a barrier against the steep drop off the side. It wasn’t very impressive, until Davijaan finally stopped wondering how the boulders had gotten up there and looked out over them into the valley.
The wind was strong, pressing against him where he stood between two of the boulders, stinging his eyes and almost forcing him backwards. He didn’t move an inch. He could see for miles, see the grey-green side of Amaura across from him and the red-green tundra stretching beyond. He couldn’t see the village, but he could see trails crisscrossing Amaura’s slopes, and when he looked down, he saw the trail they’d just climbed winding its way upwards.
And he could see the sky. Big and blue and open, just as it’d been that morning. It was like staring out over the wide expanse of the Kaminos sea, except instead of drowning, he was flying. He could almost step out into it, it was so close.
“Worth the climb?” Loren asked at his shoulder.
He could only nod.
They settled behind the boulders, which did a wonderful job of blocking the wind, and Loren dove into her bag once again. This time along with the thermoses she retrieved half a loaf of bread, a container of berries, and another of jerky.
Davijaan was not expecting positive things from the jerky. He knew better than to get his hopes up with anything field-ration adjacent. Which is why he could not be held accountable for the noise he made when he grimly sunk his teeth in and the damn jerky was actually good. Not just edible, but good. Spiced with something he didn’t recognize and soft enough to chew and just. Good.
When she stopped laughing Loren announced for absolutely no one to hear that she was going to have to stop drinking water when he was trying new foods.
The bread had the same tang as the kind in the restaurant, and the berries were sweet and mushy, and together with the miracle jerky it was one of the best meals he’d ever had.
“How’s the bread?” Loren asked as he tore off another chunk.
“It’s really nice! Like the stuff from the restaurant.”
“Ouch. Thanks. Glad to see the mass produced stuff already has you in it’s grip.”
“Wait,” he looked up at her, eyes wide. “You made this?”
“Well, me and ma. Pa’s the cook, ma’s the baker. We like to do a batch together when I’m home.”
Kote had dared to turn the stove on the night before and they’d burnt the bottom off the only pot they owned trying to boil water. Davijaan was going to have to be content to settle for restaurant bread for the foreseeable future.
Loren popped a few berries in her mouth and took a bite of her jerky at the same time. He tried not to grimace.
“So,” she asked, taking a sip of water, much too casual to be believable. “Do you… do you have someone? That you were able to tell about Umbara?”
Did she? “I have my brother, but he was leading the op that got us out, so.”
She looked up, curious. “The one who moved here with you?”
“Yes.”
“He’s a clone, then?”
Davijaan snorted. “What else would he be?”
“I don’t know! How does a clone get a brother!?”
He laughed. “You really haven’t met other clones, have you? That clears some things up.”
“Excuse me?”
“I was wondering how you’d recognized me, but if I’m the only clone you’ve ever seen–”
“No, no!” She threw her hands up, exasperated. “I’ve seen a few more since I met you, now that I know to look! You just– you have that scar on your cheek from– and the way you hold yourself. And, I don’t know. Lots of little things. I just knew it was you.”
“... Oh.”
She sighed. “And you don’t have to explain about your brother, it’s none of my business, and–”
“We’re– we…” He caught himself, took a breath. She didn’t know. She’d just been asking. And it wasn’t some big secret, he could tell her if he wanted to. “All us clones consider ourselves siblings. Some relationships are closer than others, but we’re all brothers in a way.” Brothers of blood and battle, ‘17 had always said. Honor twofold.
She had her head tilted again. “So it’s like having a twin?”
“I guess. Except there’s three million of us, all different ages.”
“Huh. My younger brothers are twins. They’re menaces, the pair of them.”
“You have brothers?” Mr. Yang had mentioned daughters. How many kids could a natborn family possibly have? From what he understood acquiring them was a much longer and more painful process than cloning.
“Just the two. They’re younger than me. One older sister and two younger brothers. I’m right in the middle, the odd one out.”
“Oh.” And Davijaan hadn’t been quite in the middle, but he knew the feeling. “That… Is that a lot? That seems like it would be a lot.”
She huffed. “Depends on who you ask. On Pantora, especially outside the cities, big families are normal. Maybe four to six children? On Coruscant having more than two or three is… unusual.”
From her sour tone he guessed “unusual” wasn’t the word she heard most often.
“Anyway,” she sniffed. “I like having lots of siblings. I don’t particularly want children myself, but if I ever change my mind, I’m having more than a measly two.”
“Seems like a smart plan. Be pretty tragic to force a child to grow up with only one sibling to torment. How are you supposed to gang up on each other?”
“Exactly!” She planted her hands on her hips, grinning. “See, you understand. Being lovingly bullied and taking gentle revenge are formative experiences, and I would never rob my child of those. I don’t know who I’d be without my siblings.”
His chest felt tight all of a sudden. “Me neither.” He cleared his throat. “Though I don’t know what you mean by “loving” and “gentle.” When Cody gets it into his head to be an ass he doesn’t let anything as silly as love hold him back.”
She giggled. “Maraso one time broke a chair by jumping on it, and when Ma asked who’d done it she said it was me. I would have gotten in so much trouble, except Mari felt guilty for lying after about three minutes and confessed it was her. She still can’t lie to this day.”
Davijaan’s lip twitched. “Something happened like that, once. Except I actually did break something, and Cody decided to take the blame for it.”
The trigger on his blaster had gotten jammed halfway through a sim battle, and in his panic he’d slammed it against a rock. He had no idea why. Percussive maintenance. Except that only worked on engines. Needless to say it had not worked on his very poorly constructed training blaster.
“He looked ‘17 dead in the eye– that’s um, he was our trainer– he looked ‘17 in the eye and said he’d done it. But ‘17 knew he was lying, and Cody knew ‘17 knew he was lying, and really the only reason Cody said it was him was because he wanted to see what ‘17 would do.”
“And? What did he do?”
“About the broken blaster?” He snorted. “Nothing. He gave the whole class a lecture about what to do if your weapon stopped working in the middle of a firefight, and that was it. About the lying?” He grinned. “Cody had to run double laps for a week. ‘17 said it was all well and good to lie to your CO, as long as it wasn’t about something as stupid as replaceable equipment. Cody was furious that he hadn’t picked something better to lie about. Like murder probably.”
Loren burst out laughing, and after a moment Davijaan joined her, and for a moment it felt like being back in the barracks, sharing stories and telling jokes and mocking each other. Lovingly.
***
“There’s no water. It has to be flown in. And delivered to each house.”
“Well, there is groundwater under the tundra. It’s just frozen year-round.”
“Water has to be flown in,” he repeated.
“Yes, it does.”
“There’s no water.”
“No unfrozen water.”
Davijaan just shook his head, eyes glued to the descending trail, still reeling at the idea of having to fly water up and over and around the mountains because otherwise. There was no water.
“What about rivers and lakes and oceans! There’s a river down the other side of the mountain!”
“Not close enough to be useful.” Loren was too calm about this. And way too amused. “Most of the water that gets shipped out does come from the lake at the head, though. It’s just a lot easier to fly it over the mountain than pipe it.”
“It has to be flown in.” At least he had job security.
“So–” he made the mistake of looking up and immediately tripped on a rock. She caught his arm just in time. “– what did people do before ships?”
“People didn’t live in one place before ships. They were nomadic. It wasn’t until the quarry was founded that people started to settle here year round. Though most families– like my pa’s family– were living in these mountains for generations before the quarry or the village or technology or anything.”
“Huh.”
They stood still for a moment so they (Davijaan) could catch their breath. Climbing up a mountain was all well and good but climbing down one was even more annoying.
“Not many new people move up here, you know,” she said, releasing his arm with a smile. “People come in the summer to work at the quarry but few of them stay. My ma’s still considered a marshwoman, for all she’s lived in these mountains for thirty years.”
“Do many people leave?”
She went quiet. He waited.
“No,” she said, finally. “Not many. And of the ones who do, most come back.” She looked over at him, mouth drawn into a thin line. “My parents are convinced I’m going to get tired of Coruscant and move back here any day now. My pa especially. Everytime I leave after a visit he cooks a whole elaborate goodbye dinner and makes a whole to-do about how much I’ll be missed.”
“Isn’t it good to be missed? Means you’re important.” He wondered sometimes if his batchmates missed him.
“You have a point,” she conceded with a sigh. “It’s better than not being missed.” Her eyes brightened. “Speaking of–”
She pulled her bag off her shoulder and buried one hand inside, muttering under her breath. “Do you have your comm on you?” she asked over her shoulder.
“Um. Yes?” He wasn’t going to leave Kote with no way to contact him, no sir. Not when he was gone for the second day in a row.
She emerged from the bag triumphant, a comm in one hand that she held out to him expectantly.
“We can exchange frequencies, and keep in contact. If you’d like to.”
If he’d like to.
Would he like to? Talking over comms was different than… whatever this was. Wandering around the tundra and the mountains and eating new meals and maybe sort of getting to know each other.
He must have hesitated too long, because Loren’s face fell, and she pulled her hand back. “Just because of– of everything, doesn’t mean we have to be friends, I know. But I was hoping…”
She was hoping they could be friends. She wanted to be his friend.
He felt a little bit like he was back on the lookout, standing on the edge of the incline, where one step forward would take him out into the blue.
Slowly, he reached out and took the comm. “I think I would like to.”
***
When he arrived home, he had two unread messages.
Hello! It’s Loren :)
It was so good to see you, and I hope we can meet up again when I come back.