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Language:
English
Series:
Part 3 of Magnets and Troubles
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Published:
2022-02-27
Updated:
2022-02-27
Words:
997
Chapters:
1/?
Comments:
14
Kudos:
203
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1,981

Nullifying Life

Summary:

The Null batch experiences civilian life, Mandalorian style.

(Companion piece to Magnet for Trouble. Starting from slightly before Chapter 6. Can be read as a standalone.)

Notes:

Chapter 1: Ordo: The Farm

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Ordo wakes up slowly but surely, instinctively squirming in discomfort. Prickly things on a solid surface jab him mercilessly from below, while strong sunlight beats down on him from above, as if he bedded down on a grassland without any shelter or armour!

 

He is not the only one discomfitted by this little situation. All round him, casually in contact with his own body in thankfully a familiar manner, other bodies – `Brothers?` – shift restlessly. Someone – `A’den?` – even whines softly in protest and annoyance.

 

`But we weren’t like this before… right? Where are we, anyway? This doesn’t feel like home. And that doesn’t sound like A’den – A’den of the now!`

 

He subconsciously scrunches up his nose. And, with that, he notices the smells. `Brothers? Dusty field? Growing things? Sun on garment?`

 

His eyes fly open, just so. `Open field! Unsafe! Why are we here?`

 

Sunlight blinds him, instantly, bright and formless, nearly colourless. `Breathable atmo, at least. Terrestrial. Not a desert planet. Good. But….`

 

Someone beside him fumbles for his hand and taps on his palm in dadita, `Where are we?`

 

`I don’t know,` he taps back, and repeats it when the one on his other side does the same… and the one whose feet are tangled with his, too, who taps on his calf to ask.

 

Someone else shifts carefully, probably lifting himself a little for a better vantage point and shading his eyes to boot. And then another message makes the rounds: `Safe. Get up. Must move. No concealment.`

 

They get up. They look round. They move. A literal lifetime of being elite commandos moves them as one, prevents any of them from freaking out at the farm – wheat stalks, fruit trees and all – they find themselves in, the child bodies they find themselves inhabit, the lack of weapons and armour, the red uniforms of the senior cadets they find themselves wearing.

 

There is a set of stout buildings on the horizon, which might turn out to be quite a distance away on this kind of terrain. There are baby cries wafting from them, carried on the dust-smelling, green-smelling warm wind blowing on their bare faces.

 

Ordo has to constantly wrestle down the urge to run, to seek any concealment possible, to pat himself down once more in case whoever sent them here and dressed them like this forgot to disarm them completely, in case whoever-it-is slipped them something to aid in their survival instead. He must give his brothers a good example and no reason to freak out even more. They must conserve their strength, prevent unnecessary addition of heat and loss of fluid, avoid unnecessary movements and sounds that could attract a hidden observer’s attention, act as if they belonged here and were just… returning home, or visiting.

 

Well, he doubts natborn children march neatly like this, or traverse what looks like a yet-to-be-tilled field while wearing uniforms, let alone both, but he is sure they can pretend to be natborn children pretending to be soldiers.

 

He is sure nonetheless that their ARC training was never this miserable, and it is not solely because the exertion.

 

The day slides down much faster than the distance they manage to cover, it feels. `It’s all the dry heat and open spaces,` they reckon. But they get to the cluster of buildings anyway, while the sun is still on the sky no less, if already closer to the horizon than what he predicted the travel time would be.

 

There are six buildings in total, varied in size but all made up of stone bricks for walls and stone tiles for roof. They roughly surround an open space in the middle, too, just like other Mandalorian compounds and homesteads. But, unlike the compounds and homesteads the brothers ever lived in and heard told of from their father and Mandalorian associates, there is too much gap in-between buildings to be easily defensible, though the clumps of trees stuffed at some places seem to try to rectify the problem some, and the open space contains a large pool which seems to double as a hydroponic farm instead of a courtyard for practise, sparring and gatherings.

 

The brothers skirt the buildings after checking that there are neither electronic nor mundane traps and ways of seeing that would either kill them prematurely or inform the inhabitants of this farm likewise. They make use of the trees and their own much shorter heights to avoid notice, slipping from shadow to shadow and from corner to corner one by one, avoiding sudden movements and loud, persistent noises. They check the buildings one by one, and the edges of the pool to boot.

 

Two of the buildings – set at either end of the heart-shaped pool – seem to be barns, judging by the various sacks and racks and hanging things in them. one – placed to the left of the main building, just beyond the thickest stand of trees found round this compound – seems to be a mix between a toolshed and a mechanic’s workshop. Another – placed wisely the farthest from the main building and the only half-open space among the whole collection of buildings – is an animal barn for nunas and a tiny herd of nerfs and a couple of banthas. Another – the tallest and biggest building, ironically, set on the main building’s other flank – is a parking area with removable walls plus bigger, enclosed storeroom.

 

And they are all empty.

 

This farm has no farmhands, nor wandering farmers.

 

`Where are they?` Mereel signs as they creep ever closer to the main building, from which they can hear the sound of children bickering now.

 

Kom’rk points at the main building. Ordo stifles a snort.

 

They found themselves in a weird situation. And, just now, they realise they found themselves in a weird farm, too. What farmer proud of their name and wishing to succeed in farming would not tend to their farm diligently all day?

 

Ordo dreads of finding out what more weirdness they will find.

Notes:

Folks, the "heart" meant by Ordo regarding the pool refers to the "iron heart" on a Mandalorian's armour, not what we would call a heart. :)

Hope you enjoyed this opening salvo! Would love to know what you think of it, if you'd tell me... :)

Rey

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