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Cody liked to think he was a competent commander.
He was the top of his class on Kamino, he clawed his way all the way to the top in rank until he was Marshal Commander. He sat down and strategized at this point hundreds of missions and campaigns across the entirety of the Third System Army. Everything he put his mind to he finished with the precise perfection demanded of him right down to his genetics.
But there was one, small little thing that he could only wish he could fail at in a normal capacity.
Cody glared at the keypad to his quarters, watching the indicator light flash red and amber, the display scrolling through several error codes followed by 0 5 0 0.
Fuck off.
He banged his fist on the door, but it remained stubbornly locked and refused to let him entry. It didn’t care that he was running on two hours of sleep in the last four day cycles, having been stuck with General Kenobi in trying to balance out a very delicate situation on the previous planet. It didn’t care if he wanted to shuck off his shell and flop on his bed like a chutka seal and unceremoniously drool on the sheets in his sleep.
No, it sat here and mocked him with bright flashy lights and error codes.
Furious, Cody could do little more than whip out his comm, blood and death and violence a promise in the forefront of his mind as he jabbed at an all familiar name on his contact list.
CC-2224 has started a DM to CC-1010!
CC-2224: i fucnig hate you
CC-1010: I have done no wrong in my life.
CC-2224: your hole life is a cirme and thats why im going to end it
CC-1010: wow you must be really cranky. No caps no punctuation and misspellings galore? Let me guess, you got locked out of your quarters again.
CC-2224: i got fucing locked out of my quartz again becase SOMEBODY wanted to write in the regs that all officer quarters had to have passcodes
CC-1010: gee I wonder who that could be
CC-2224: as soon as we get bkc to croscaunt your ass? is mine.
CC-1010: oh im so scared.
CC-1010: i think the next version will have it so all datapads must also be code-locked
CC-2224: FOX IM LOCKED OUT OF MY ROOM FOR 500 YEARS AND IM ALREADY ON MY FIFTH DATAPAD THIS QUARTER ALONE LET ME LIVE
CC-1010: no <3
It took six days before Cody finally saw the inside of his quarters again. In that time he’d went around sleeping rough in various different parts of the ship after slipping the tech crew yet another work order for “Commander Cody Broke Something Again Help”. That arrangement lasted a day and a half until he woke up to CMO Jugs looming over him with a wild look in his eye and a knife to his throat and promised Cody that he was going to gut him without a second thought if he caught the Commander sleeping on the floor again when there were thousands of bunks readily available, and you wouldn’t want that, now, would you, Cody-?
That confrontation got him scurrying off to the nearest bunkroom, feeling very much like he was a cadet racing for his life away from a trainer who’d only just let him off the hook for casing problems. At least waking up with an arm thrown around Fury and with Salamander draped over him like a living blanket was significantly better than going through the way with a stiff neck and a crick in his spine that refused to work its way out no matter how he stretched.
By the time he did return back to his quarters, Cody had slipped into a lull of complacency. That was on him, he’ll take full responsibility for ever thinking Fox never meant what he said.
“What’s this?” he asked as Kenobi handed him a datapad, the sleek shell smelling like brand new plastoid and the screen unblemished from fingerprints.
“New encrypted datapads,” Kenobi explained, unaware of Cody’s growing horror as realization sank in. “In light of recent events, it was decided that our cybersecurity required beefing up. They were kind enough to upgrade, but I will miss using my old one. I like knowing where all the buttons are and what they do.”
“Of course, sir,” Cody murmured, his mouth very dry and his tone distant as he mentally strangled Fox with both hands. Preferably against a wall. Or the floor. Yeah, the floor would be optimal. Less strain on his arms for firmer gripping techniques.
A hand settled on his arm, jolting Cody from his homicidal imagination and turned his eyes to bright blue crinkling at him.
“It will take a little getting used to,” Kenobi reassured him with a smile that evaporated the ill intentions instantly. “But we’ll figure it out. We always do.”
Cody couldn’t help but smile back, ducking his head as he turned the power on the datapad. The screen lit up cheerfully, displaying a crisp and neat log-in page and promising a very simple, useful, and faster experience than the previous version.
It would be fine, Cody told himself as he carefully typed, erased, and retyped his passcode into the device. This won’t blow up or try to delete its own memory or lock out for 500 years. He will carry on without a single worry, and Fox will eat his own words for once. Everything will be fine.
(Not even 24 hours later he was turning in the datapad to the tech team, trying very hard not to look sheepish as the garish magenta and flickering cyan background looked up at them as its insides wailed its tiny little non-existent lungs out in the tinniest, high-pitched squealing it could muster while it simultaneously tried to reach the surface temperature of the sun).
Two weeks in and ten datapads later, Cody had the misfortune of making one of the shiny techs burst into tears over the “absolute torture you’re putting your poor datapads through”. He was only given the previous models after that- at least they only broke once a week, sometimes in two weeks, rather than the speed he’d been going through the newer ones. It’d been collectively decided that whatever security risk Cody imposed by using the older version would be minimal, given how often he crashed the system and times the entire device.
CC-1010: so how are the new pads?
CC-2224: Fuck you and the vat you crawled out of.
CC-1010: love you too <3
The sad part was that sometimes it wasn’t even his own equipment that would fritz out on him. The next campaign proved that, as he and a small squad were creeping through the dense jungle towards a known back entrance to the facility. Except of course, there was a droid scouting party that had stumbled across them, Haywire and Wheel were playing interference as Waxer and Boil watched Cody’s back and returned fire to the volleys splashing against the durasteel around them as he fumbled with the wires from the pulled out control system by the door.
“Fuck,” he hissed as the wires sparked, biting through the synthleather gloves and making his fingertips tingle. “Fuck fuck fuck this shit, fuck this shithole, fuck this door, fuck this war, and fuck my entire short life!”
“Uh, sir?”
“WHAT?!”
The facility suddenly made a whirring sound, not dissimilar to an engine getting dropped to a lower gear as all the lights lit up like Coruscant in a sea of red.
SYSTEM LOCKDOWN. EMERGENCY PROTOCOL 8.9.1 ACTIVATED. SELF-DESTRUCTION IN 5 MINUTES.
The three of them stared at the control box in muted horror, the hot blaster bolt passing by Boil’s head to splatter harmlessly against the wall going unnoticed.
“Shit,” Cody whispered.
“Shit!” Waxer intensified, already on the move with Boil and Cody hot on his heels as they dove back into the underbrush and nearly running over Haywire and Wheel who’d been trying to flank the enemy. All five of them instead bolted for it, plastoid rattling loudly as they booked it across the jungle, body checking unassuming battle droids that were unfortunate enough to be in their way and too startled to properly retaliate.
The resounding blast rocked the earth so viciously it triggered a sinkhole to collapse under their feet, which saved them from the wave of fire that devoured the surrounding trees for several miles radius. It did mean Cody had to help fight knee-high man-eating rodents and giant insectoids with a few broken ribs and possible fractured collarbone, but he could still stomp a massive bug’s head in with one well-placed kick, no problem.
(The problem came later, when they crawled out of the cave system and Cody collapsed into Kenobi’s arms in a dead faint- apparently the insects’ blood was toxic and some had gotten into his system, who knew?
He just wished he was awake when he’d fallen into his General’s arms).
When the little light on his comm started blinking, Cody had half a mind to ignore it. He was still stuck in the medbay, Jugs’ evil eye peering at him through the blinds set up on the window facing out onto the floor from the medic’s office every so often to make sure he hadn’t snuck off, and Kenobi had been needed on the planet below for some sort of diplomatic function and was forced to go without Cody backing him up. He wasn’t in the mood to entertain Fox and his antics, but he was also bored, so he sighed and carefully plucked the comm from the nightstand in a way that wouldn’t strain his healing ribs and squinted at the screen.
CC-1010: have you gotten around to fucking your general yet?
CC-1010: because if you havent I might try my luck because hes hot as fuck in person holy shit
CC-1010: that little nose wrinkle he does when he disapproves or unhappy? Exquisite.
CC-2224: You keep your filthy little paws off my General.
CC-2224: And how would you know what he looks like? Aren’t you on Coruscant?
CC-1010: nah, pally had kept it classified that he was coming here. something something wanting to show he did not fear the enemy and wouldn’t hide behind a gilded cage to feel safe blah blah unity and togetherness yadda yadda wahoo. If i wanted to be fucked sideways with bullshit i’d just go to another gar funding meeting.
CC-2224: So you’re on planet with my General and the Chancellor??
CC-1010: ye and let me reiterate- your general is hot. i would let him rail me any day. please do something about this soon or you will be losing out.
CC-2224: Fuck you Fox, we’re in a war. It would be unprofessional.
CC-1010: that’s quitter talk.
CC-1010: would you like to see my bucket cam footage?
CC-2224: Yes please.
Fox was right, Kenobi did look nice as the other Marshal Commander started streaming his bucket feed to Cody. He was dressed up in what he affectionately called his “Boring Event” robes, which were simple but sleeker than the usual browns or pieces of armor he preferred on the battlefield or wandering around the ship, the fabric weave a nicer quality and soft silver threading at the seams. He looked less like a hermit monk as he did knee deep in a swamp, algae clinging to his beard as he delightfully lofted up some sort of rare flower he’d decided to harvest in the middle of a routing mission, and more like a Senatorial Aide- dressed nicely but bland to help ease into the background unobtrusively.
They were both nice, but he knew that Kenobi preferred being in a simple tunic and trousers, feet bare as he found a comfortable perch in various parts of the ship to read or quietly performing katas in the dead of night.
“I don’t really like shoes,” Kenobi admitted to Cody once, and the amount of times he’d seem him kick them off rivaled the tally of losing his lightsaber made him believe the validity of that statement.
He didn’t like parties either, Cody couldn’t help but notice as he started to nod off, that wrinkle on the bridge of his nose that Fox had also honed in on so prominent as the Chancellor nattered to him. He didn’t have that crease when he was around the men, even when saying he was disappointed he never once pulled that face at them, his eyes glittering with mirth or concern. Never truly angry with them. Never really upset.
After the war, Cody reminded himself as he finally slipped off to sleep as Kenobi twirled with a young Miraluka who merely wanted to dance and how could Kenobi say no to such an offer? After the war, he would let go of the stringent regulations, stop holding himself so straight and perfect to be a good example for the men.
He may not survive the war, but it was good to have something to look forward to.
But the war waited for no one, and soon Cody was back on his feet and fighting alongside his General and the rest of the men, trudging across sand dunes. They’ve been having to lighten the loads after their equipment started failing from the fine dust that found its way through filtering systems and into the cracks of their armor.
“Sir,” Fury stated, bringing him to the third AT-TE of the week that bit the ghost.
“Another one?” Cody sighed, but he was already cracking his knuckles, ignoring the questioning look from his General as he slipped past the men unloading the necessary supplies.
He knew what the men were doing, and he certainly played along pretending he was clueless. Weaponizing his special ability to completely lock up computer systems wasn’t exactly something he planned on doing, but it worked, and the men were safe from having their own equipment being used against them as he ran his fingers over the drive panels. Honestly, he wasn’t even trying to break them- he had minimal training on how to use AT-TE for emergency situations, but that was bare bones “I’d like not to die now thanks” training. He figured out what many of the hundreds of switches and buttons did and the various combinations of them, causing the lights to flicker or brighten or change colors into a club dance floor before the screen turned completely white and the whole vehicle suddenly flopping down on its metallic rump like a massiff, causing people and supplies to crash against walls with a ruckus of clanks and curses.
Maybe next time he’ll figure out if it had a roll function…
(Somewhere, a poor droid was going to fry their own insides from the stress of trying to decrypt whatever terrible horrors Cody had inflicted upon these poor machines, but he would be long gone off this planet by then).
“Enjoyed playing in the sandbox?”
“Fuck off,” Cody groused, kicking the chair out from the table so Fox could sit. 79’s wasn’t all too busy, with it being the middle of the day and the 212th being the only unit back on Coruscant for a quick resupply and shore leave before they back into the stars. There were a few other men mingling with the reds and whites of the Coruscant Guard who’d come with Fox, batchmates and friends who wanted to meet up, and Miss Haero being the kind soul that she was allowing them in through the backdoor while the establishment was supposedly still closed for several more hours. “I’m still finding dirt in my boots even after I- is that a tattoo?”
Fox dropped his bucket onto the table and grinned, which only highlighted the black outlines and shaded textures of vulpine jawbones overlaying his own, leaving a gap in the middle of his chin.
“Well, somebody has to pull the cool factor between the two of us, and I don’t see goody two-shoes like you letting loose, not with all those functions your General drags you to. Ah, to wear a bucket all the time does have its perks after all.”
“Yeah, it’s to hide that ugly mug of yours, you bastard.”
“If I recall correctly, your Jedi thinks I’m “professional and level headed” and I got his comm code unprompted for “continuing discussions on the GAR supply distribution”, so I don’t even need my face to steal your man.”
“You’re not going to have a face when I’m through with you-“
It was just like old times, Cody couldn’t help but feel even as they wrestled and growled at each other across the floors of 79’s, much to the catcalling and cheers of the others. It was as if they were back on Kamino, the two rivals competing for the top slots, with Fox poking and prodding and being so annoying that Cody’s well of seemingly infinite patience dried up in an instant as if Fox was both the sun and a fifty year drought. But even as Fox’s giant of a medic reached in and peeled them apart effortlessly, Cody couldn’t help but grin, matching Fox’s across the gap.
It was good to be treated not like a Commander or a tech destroyer, but a vod again, and Fox never failed to crawl under that metaphorical beskar shell like a sand spider and bite him until he was flinging it off to beat him senseless.
(He did manage to break one of the server droids… but that was par for the course with him).