Chapter Text
“General?”
Plo looked up from his reports as a trooper stepped into the command tent.
“There’s… an issue, sir.”
Plo rose smoothly, setting the datapad aside. “Lead the way, Dust.”
They made their way across the camp toward the supply area. Inside, seated up on a crate surrounded by discarded ration wrappers, was a small male Togruta child. He couldn’t have been more than three or so, dirty but otherwise unharmed, his bright eyes locked onto Plo the moment he entered.
Plo crouched slowly, head tilting. “Kotoya, little one. You are far from home.”
The child blinked up at him, cautious but curious.
Plo reached out with the Force. The child was like a flickering candle, small, but strong with potential.
“I will not harm you.” He soothed.
The boy tilted his head, then hopped down from the crate, stepping closer.
“Do you have a name?”
“Kurai,” he squeaked, and then he was suddenly all in, flinging his arms around Plo and burrowing into his robes like he’d known him forever.
Plo gathered him gently, standing. “How long has he been here?”
Dust rubbed the back of his neck. “Not sure, sir. Comet ran inventory earlier and didn’t mention anything. No more than an hour or two, probably.”
Plo nodded, glancing down at the child. Judging by the growth of his montrals, he was definitely still a toddler. His skin was a soft bluish grey with violet eyes that glowed in the low light. He looked nothing like Ahsoka, yet for a heartbeat, Plo was transported, remembering another small, fearless child he’d once carried much the same way.
“Shall we return to my office, then?”
Kurai nodded enthusiastically.
Plo walked back across the camp. When he reentered the command tent, Commander Wolffe stood near the desk, helmet under one arm, datapad in hand. He snapped to attention at once.
“General. The perimeter is secure, all patrols accounted for and—” He broke off mid-sentence, eyes zeroing in on the small Togruta tucked into Plo’s side.
“What is that?”
“Not what, Wolffe. Who.” Plo adjusted the child slightly. “This is Kurai. Say hello to Wolffe, Kurai.”
The boy gave a small wave.
Wolffe blinked. “Sir, that is a tubie.”
“He is a child, Commander.”
“Yes, sir, but… why is he here? Is he from the village?”
“That is a likely assumption.”
Wolffe muttered something under his breath and ran a hand down his face. “Sir, I don’t have to tell you how skeptical that colony’s been. If they find out we have one of their children—”
“I will go personally in the morning and return him,” Plo assured him.
Wolffe frowned. “Wouldn’t tonight be safer?”
Plo shook his head. “You said the perimeter was secure. We both know what hunts in the jungle between here and the village. I would prefer not to entertain the risk.”
Wolffe tilted his head back and sighed. “Very well, sir.”
Just then, Plo’s comm chirped.
“I have a Council check-in. It should not take long.” He looked down at the boy. “Would you like to stay with Wolffe for a little while, Kurai?”
The child eyed Wolffe carefully… then nodded.
“Sir,” Wolffe said tightly, “I am not qualified for this.”
“I disagree,” Plo replied, trying to reign in his amusement. He could feel Wolffe’s nerves fraying, anxiety rising.
“You can take him to the mess and get him something to eat. I shall not be long.”
With that, he set Kurai on his feet and gave a wave as he stepped out.
Wolffe stared down at the child.
“Well… guess it’s you and me now. Can you talk?”
Kurai nodded.
“You hungry?”
Another nod.
Wolffe exhaled. “Can you walk?”
Kurai gave a very deliberate shake of his head.
Wolffe narrowed his eyes. “Right.” He could already tell he was being duped, but it was hard to be annoyed when the kid looked up at him with such wide, hopeful eyes.
He crouched down. “You get one free ride, kid.”
Kurai giggled and climbed up onto Wolffe’s shoulders like he’d done it a hundred times before, light and nimble, gripping the armor with tiny hands.
Wolffe rose, already shaking his head. “You better be worth the trouble.”
#^##^#
Plo’s Council meeting had run longer than expected. The sky had already darkened further by the time he stepped out of the command tent and went looking for Kurai.
He found him in the makeshift recreation room, though room was generous. A large field tent had been set up with crates and repurposed benches, a table in one corner, and a few scattered datapads and card decks. What caught Plo’s attention wasn’t the setting, but the gathering within.
Most of Wolffe’s entire squad was present, huddled in a loose circle around the small Togruta. Kurai sat proudly in the center, like he was holding court. He was happily gnawing on a snack bar and pointing at a piece of paper while Tracer and Boost cheered him on.
A stack of bright, clumsy drawings lay scattered across one of the crates. Someone, Comet, no doubt, had provided a stash of colored pens and paper. Sinker had carved the Wolfpack sigil into a piece of plastoid from a repair kit, threading it through a bit of twine to make a necklace. It now hung around Kurai’s neck.
The boy was radiant. His presence in the Force, bright and flickering with curious energy, had settled into something steady and content. He was still too young to understand what it meant to be Force-sensitive, to know he was projecting, but he had certainly responded to warmth, protection, and belonging, and tonight, he had all three.
Wolffe sat to one side, arms crossed as he watched over everyone.
Plo stepped closer. Kurai noticed him immediately and waved, sending half his drawing supplies tumbling.
“I see you’ve kept him quite entertained,” Plo said gently.
Wolffe gave a tired huff. “We tried to keep him out of trouble. He’s got a taste for snacks and sabacc cards.” He added wryly, pointing out a deck with some distinctive teeth marks.
“I do not doubt it,” Plo smiled behind his mask.
“Look!” Kurai chirped, scrambling up and holding his drawing in one hand and the plastoid pendant in the other.
“I see,” Plo said warmly, crouching beside him. “You have been quite busy.”
“He’s an artist,” Comet said proudly.
“He called Boost stinky, sir,” Tracer chimed in. “I find that kind of honesty refreshing.” Sinker started laughing, Boost was less than amused and lunged at Tracer.
Kurai beamed, even as Wolffe had to pull Tracer and Boost apart, scolding them.
“I had intended to settle him for the night,” Plo began.
Wolffe shook. “With respect, sir… you’ll get no sleep with him climbing on everything in your quarters, and you won’t be able to use your settings.”
“He’s a bit of a menace,” Tracer agreed fondly.
“Just a little one,” Comet agreed with a smile.
“We can keep him here tonight,” Wolffe suggested. “He’s made himself at home. We’ll rotate watch, set him up on the couch.”
Plo looked around the room, seeing nods and smiles all around. The boy’s presence had grounded them. Calmed them.
Plo nodded. “Very well.” He let his hand rest lightly on the top of Kurai’s head. “Sleep well, little one.”
“I will!” Kurai promised, throwing his arms around Plo’s legs in a spontaneous hug before darting back to his cushion.
Plo took one last look before departing, his commander watching the child with something oddly soft in his gaze, the rest of the squad quietly bickering over who got first shift.
Yes, he would sleep soundly tonight.
#^#^#^#^#
Plo left for the village at first light, taking Dust and a newer trooper named Flip with him, at the firm insistence of his commander.
Wolffe had insisted on proper protocol and precaution. Plo hadn’t argued. Truthfully, he shared the concern.
Kurai had slept soundly. At breakfast, he’d devoured a full ration tray. Then he’d run between the ranks during morning exercise drills, giggling as the men attempted push-ups and drills around him. It was a sight to see.
Wolffe’s worry had been warranted. The village elders had been far from pleased to learn one of their own children had wandered into Republic territory. Tensions flared. Plo had to rely heavily on his years of experience to defuse the situation.
Eventually, Kurai’s father arrived.
The man was older, rough around the edges, and clearly tired. He had several children as it turned out, and his wife had passed the year prior. Kurai was the youngest, restless and impulsive, always sneaking away.
There was no embrace or real reunion. No tears. Only weary resignation.
Plo made the offer, an invitation to bring Kurai to the Temple, where his Force sensitivity could be nurtured, where he would be given purpose and care.
After a long, uncomfortable pause, the father agreed. There was no protest, only relief.
Most separations bore some pain. This one was quiet. The Force hummed with the rightness of the path ahead, Plo was certain of that. Kurai’s future lay not in that village, but with the Order.
The boy was far too young to grasp the weight of the moment. When Plo told him they were returning to camp, to the men, his whole face lit up.
He clung to Plo’s robes as they made their way back, chatting about breakfast and the drawings he wanted to finish and whether Sinker would let him try on his helmet.
Plo’s heart ached again. The attention and affection Kurai had received from soldiers, clones, bred for war, had likely been the most warmth the child had known in months.
As they approached the perimeter, Plo spotted Wolffe walking toward them, helmet under one arm, expression already shifting into puzzled wariness.
“Not the right villagers, sir?” he asked.
Plo adjusted his hold on Kurai, who had promptly tucked his face into Plo’s shoulder.
“No,” Plo said. “The decision was made that Kurai will be trained at the Temple.”
Wolffe’s brow rose. “He’s coming back with us, then?”
“Indeed.”
There was a beat, just long enough for Plo to feel the wave of something warm ripple through his commander’s mind. Then Wolffe turned on his heel and activated his comm.
“Comet, get a spare bunk prepped. Sinker, update the exfil manifest one extra passenger.”
Plo couldn’t help the smile that tugged beneath his mask.
Yes. Kurai would be just fine.
#^#^#^#^#^#^#
A few days later, aboard the Hand of Justice, they were deep in hyperspace, en route to Coruscant.
Plo moved through the corridors, his final walkthrough before rest. Tomorrow would bring their arrival, and with it, a new initiate at the Temple. It would be a busy day.
As he passed one of the recreation rooms, he caught the low flicker of light and the soft hum of a holo still playing. Curious, Plo stepped into the room.
Blankets and pillows were piled on the floor.
Sinker was snoring lightly, head tipped onto Boost’s shoulder. Comet was slumped on Wolffe’s one side, fast asleep, mouth slightly open.
And there, tucked under Wolffe’s other arm was Kurai.
Plo stepped into the room, careful not to wake anyone. The Force was warm and steady.
He moved to adjust the blankets around each of them.
Wolffe stirred, his eyes opened, slow and groggy but alert. Then, recognizing the silhouette, he calmed.
“Did you need something, sir?” he asked.
Plo reached out, brushing a hand over Wolffe’s head, ruffling his curls.
“No,” he said simply. “Sleep well.”
Wolffe gave a small nod, eyes already closing again.
Plo lingered a moment longer. He pulled the blanket more snugly around Kurai’s small form.
He thought of other children he had brought to the Temple. Of Ahsoka, so small when they first met, and how she had flourished. He could only hope Kurai would thrive just the same.
And he could only hope, however young he was now, that some part of him would remember this moment.
With one last look, Plo stepped away into the corridor, letting the door seal quietly behind him.
Tomorrow would be a new beginning.