Clone Wars: Let's You and Him Team Up

[Zeke]

Zeke stood in the Jedi Temple's Council Chambers, his traditional brown robe worn open over shining white trooper armor. The Clone Wars were just beginning, and he was receiving his first assignment and unit. He'd heard nothing about it, save that he'd be fitted for armor and would lead a joint effort with another Jedi. He was early, so the other Jedi was not yet present.

He stood with hands clasped lightly in front of him, a smile broadening his features, and met the eyes of each Council member. Obi-Wan Kenobi, Adi Gallia, and Yoda returned his smile. Severe Mace Windu's expression was unchanged, as was the face of an unusually fretful Ki-Adi Mundi. He had no idea if Plo Koon smiled or not, or was even capable of it. Yoda chose to fill the silent time waiting with questions, and began with one Zeke hadn't heard since he'd been Knighted.

"How feel you?" asked the tiny Master.

"Fantastic," answered Zeke. "All things considered, I'm feeling good about this mission and our success in this War, lamentable though it may be."

"An early win, you expect?" Yoda probed, a teasing smile on his face.

"I expect several early wins, but not to the War itself, Master Yoda. Even I'm not that optimistic." That seemed to break some of the tension of waiting. Several Masters chuckled. Zeke counted it a personal win that Ki-Adi Mundi's grave expression softened.

"So where's the lazy good-for-nothing you've burdened me with!?" he asked, voice full of jovial teasing.

"It's me, you naive child," grumbled a throaty voice from the direction of the Chamber's double doors. The sound of the Jedi's boots echoed dully without Zeke's voice to cover them, and Zeke twisted as best he could to look behind himself as the doors shut through telekinesis.

"Milek Tomberlin, exactly on time," said Adi Gallia with a hint of amusement in her eyes, before she bit her cheeks and clamped her mouth fully shut. She slouched in the chair and covered her face with her hands. Zeke grinned even more broadly to see who he'd been paired with.

Milek Tomberlin was Chagrian, tall and well-muscled, with a severe expression matched only by Mace Windu's famous sternness. Tomberlin's reputation as a dour pessimist was well-known through the order, and though Zeke had never once met the man in person, he knew the blue-skinned Jedi when he saw his face in holos.

"My new friend," said Zeke a rising tone of amusement. Adi Gallia loosed a repressed, snerking laugh into her hand. Obi-Wan Kenobi's fist came to his mouth, but there was no mistaking the smile hiding behind it.

[Milek Tomberlin]

Milek knew of this Human man by name and reputation only, and he didn't like what he did know.

The man had no proper name; who his parents had been was a fact lost to clerical error and dispassionate indifference. The man had never once thought to try to look. It was something Milek could accept, if only he thought it was born of duty to the Order. Rather, Milek suspected that Ezekiel just plain couldn't muster enough give-a-damn to go check. The man seemed to tirelessly employ his mind and wit to sarcasms, teasing, and games. Entirely unbecoming of a Jedi.

Still, the Chagrian took his place beside the man dutifuly, trying to ignore the way Zeke rotated himself slowly back to a proper stance, and stood with arms folded over his own new armor. "Let us get right to the unfortunate business at hand," he sniffed. "It is obvious that Ezekiel and I--"

"Zeke!" refuted the Human Jedi merrily.

"...that Ezekiel and I will be paired together for at least the opening battles of this war," continued Milek through clenched teeth.

"Aww!" retorted Zeke, shoulders slumping. Milek's right eye and lethorn twitched. Adi Gallia snerked into her palm again. Obi-Wan's shoulders were shaking, and Plo Koon's very even, very deliberate breathing was the sign of him exerting his self control.

"Where shall we be deployed?" asked Milek, his questioning finally having reached its end.

"You will be deployed to the Mid Rim, to carry out pre-emptive strikes against invading CIS forces to prevent planets from being captured," said Mace Windu evenly. "You will be expected to be highly mobile and flexible, which is why you have been paired together. Between the two of you, you should have the necessary skills, talents, and strengths to keep our holdings in the Mid Rim. If a planet falls, you will re-take it immediately."

"This is all the briefing we have," Ki-Adi Mundi interjected, cutting off Milek's next line of questioning. "There are no specific instructions for the how of it; you must think and react in unexpected ways, and confining you to a series of orders and tactics may prove detrimental. Of course, if you are found too indecisive within your freedoms, we will of course lay out the procedures for you."

Milek drew himself up huffily. "There will be no need, Master Mundi. We will see this done to perfection. No planet or system in the Mid Rim will fall."

[Zeke]

Yes, this was going to be an excellent partnership.

"So do we get Clone Commanders? I wanna name mine with a C, for the added alliterative appeal," he said without losing his merry tone to Tomberlin's glower.

"You'll have a battalion of Clones each under your direct command, and several battalions more that you will be in indirect control over," replied Obi-Wan. "You'll also have an Acclamator assault ship under your direct command, which you will share authority over. "

"We get to be roommates!" Zeke needled. Tomberlin shut his eyes and groaned.

[Milek Tomberlin]

"You'll each have your own quarters," said Mace Windu, his voice grating as his jaw clenched to hold in his patience. "For now, why don't you both go ahead and get prepared? Check your equipment and read your detailed mission briefs. You'll find them sent to your personal terminals in your quarters." Zeke bowed and left swiftly. Tomberlin sighed, grateful for the peace, and remained rooted to the spot til the door's closing sounded thunder behind him.

"Masters, I have one final question," he said in answer to their quizzical stares. "What of my Padawan, Kaligiros Obregon? He's not yet ready for trials. I would, in fact, judge him unfit to fight in this war by his fighting skills alone. He is impetuous and impatient more often than not, and I find him to be a poor study at situational awareness and fast thinking."

"Your Padawan shall go with you. A Padawan's place is at the side of the Master, to learn. It is regrettable that our Padawans must learn from war for the near future, but it is necessary. Go and make the proper arrangements. Make sure he knows what he's getting into," advised Ki-Adi Mundi. Milek bowed and left. He stopped a few paces from the door as it swung shut and sighed, eyes shut tight and hand massaging his head between his horns. Kaligiros was Thakwaash, a species blessed with a multitude of personalities which they could easily change between to call upon a host of new skills and knowledge at will. However, his melee fighter was almost a berserker, his strategist a bit too conservative in his planning, and his pilot just a touch too out of tune with his surroundings. Tomberlin was working hard to help each of the boy's personalities cover for their shortcomings by teaching each skills from another mind, but it was slow. Kaligiros was more likely to simply switch minds than try harder in a certain mind, and though the change was instantaneous, inevitably it caused some lag in his performance. It was not ideal for war...but then, nothing was ideal for war in Tomberlin's mind. He sighed heavily and looked up to find Zeke hovering in mid-air, upside-down relative to Tomberlin's orientation, eyes mere inches from the Chagrian's own.

"Oh, for the sake of the Force, what?" groaned Tomberlin. He felt he was earning another Padawan in the impulsive Knight who was to be his partner in this endeavor, and did not look forward to the task of babysitting him.

[Zeke]

Zeke turned himself to stand, his puzzled and somewhat hurt expression going unnoticed by Tomberlin as the Chagrian shut his eyes and rubbed at his head. "I...was thinking since we're teammates we need to look over the data together," he offered. "Get the numbers down, see if we'll be commanding any ships in addition to our flagship. You know, planning stuff." Tomberlin opened his eyes and cut the Human man a hard look. Zeke raised his hands. "Look, I know you're not super thrilled to be my partner in this. I know my energy and humor are abrasive to some, but I am capable of doing work and completing missions in an appropriate manner. I wasn't Knighted for nothing. Just...have patience." A quirk of Zeke's usual smile lit his face as Tomberlin raised a brow. "I know I am. Let's meet up in one of the Archive Hall's study rooms here in about an hour. We can look at the data securely there with your Padawan." He offered a hand. "Looking forward to our partnership."

[Milek Tomberlin]

Tomberlin rather doubted that Zeke could be stern and quiet without conscious effort. It seemed to the Chagrian that this was a calculated and practiced speech, but he extended his hand and shook Zeke's anyway."One hour. See you there." He brushed past Zeke and withdrew his commlink, pressing the button that would automatically tune his Padawan's frequency. "Kaligiros, come to my quarters for a brief on the double. We are entering the Clone War, and there is much to prepare." He arrived at his quarters to find his Padawan waiting smartly outside the door, stretching his calves against the wall. The looming Thakwaash stood to attention as his Master approached.

"Ran all the way up from the dueling rings. Master Drallig sends his regards," said Kaligiros as he squeezed himself into the quarters after his master. "He thinks I'm getting better, by the way. I won two training duels before this errand kept me from the third."

"Well done, Padawan," said Tomberlin, terse even with his praise."Take care not to show too much pride. I will test you myself before we leave on our mission."

Tomberlin opened his terminal and accessed the mission data. "We'll be going over this with Jedi Knight Zeke soon, but I wanted to review it ourselves first, so we can be prepared for the meeting. He and I will be jointly commanding defense of the Mid-Rim--or at least a sector of it."

Kaligiros clasped his hands in front of his equine face and shook his head slightly as he sat forward in his chair, shaking his head at the star chart. "The only Mid-Rim planet I know of off the top of my head is Dagro." His eyes flitted over their fleet. "An Acclamator?I might have thought we'd get a bigger capital ship. Is it named?"

"No,"said Tomberlin. "We'll work out that detail later. The name of the ship doesn't matter; it's in how we use it and the remainder of our fleet. I hope you've been spending time with some kind of starfighter or shuttle simulator. We'll need you to fly on occasion,no matter how the cockpit may discomfort you."

Kaligiros made a face. Thakwaash stood at an average 3 meters tall, and Kaligiros was just shy of that mark. Most pilot chairs could barely accommodate him, and the one star fighter he had ever piloted at been retrofitted at great expense; one of Tomberlin's few gestures of mercy to the Padawan. "Well...I'll do my best. Though I'd prefer to fight on the ground."

"I know," Tomberlin answered. "I have a keen interest in naval strategy, so I will volunteer to lead the naval engagements. When I do not require you as my aide in that regard, you can help the Clone Commanders lead the ground forces."

"Won't Master Zeke do that?" asked Kaligiros.

"I expect he'll be too busy playing games," said Tomberlin dryly. "He's yet to lead any mission. His silly attitude and penchant for quipping seems to be holding him back."

[Zeke]

"Yeeeeaaaaaah!" Zeke exulted as the trio met outside the Archives. "Dat Padawan!" He grinned broadly as he offered a hand to Kaligiros. The Padawan, midway through a bow, faltered and grinned abashedly, taking the Human's hand in his own. Zeke noted with a quirked brow that Kaligiros could almost take his whole fist into his massive palm. As they let go of one another's hands, Zeke put his hand to his forehead, leaning back slightly, eyes wide. "Oh! I'm having a vision! You..." Zeke bent, eyes shut tight. "...practice Form V! And...and...physical boosting!"

"Almost exclusively," answered Kaligiros. "How did you know?"

"Because you're huge like a Wookiee tree, that's how," Zeke answered, standing up. "Ever even tried telekinesis?"

Tomberlin stepped forward. "We didn't come for a theatrical review of my Padawan's studies, we are here to discuss our plans for the fleet and ground forces. Did you look at the specifications?" They followed the storm of Tomberlin's footsteps into the Archives. As they swept past the Chief Librarian, Jocasta Nu, Tomberlin made no acknowledgement of her. Kaligiros bowed slightly with a smile, and Zeke waved hugely, arm flying over his head. Kaligiros chuckled, then quickly stifled it as they crammed into a private room with a holoprojector. Tomberlin inserted a datadisc into the projector and it beamed out a projection of the fleet statistics.

"O hay numbers," Zeke said, throwing himself into a plush chair and putting his feet up on the edge of the holoprojector. "Didn't look at that part as much, except for the flagship. Figured you'd wanna do that bit. Just checked on the tanks and walkers and Clones. You know we got enough of 'em between the fleet that we could do operations on 3 planets at once!? They really want us stretched out!"

Tomberlin seemed surprised. Kaligiros grinned and shook his head. "Well, yes," said the Chagrian Knight, harrumphing to cover his discomfiture. "I've studied naval engagements and blockades closely since the business on Naboo. If we must break a blockade, or create one, we can. Also, given the relative strengths of our warships with the ones that the Separatists have begun to manufacture since Geonosis, I have begun to form strategies against them.

"What, in the last hour?" Zeke asked incredulously. Tomberlin glowered. Kaligiros turned his head, partly cowed by the stare (though for once it was not fixed on him) and partly to hide his amusement.

"I have been planning for this war since the Battle of Geonosis ended," said Tomberlin, his voice slow and restrained. "As you should have been."

"Forgive me for having fun the Younglings these past months," Zeke said easily. "My opportunities to teach will be less in the coming years."

[Milek Tomberlin]

Tomberlin sighed, leaning back on the wall as their plotting came to a close. A tray of caff and pastries rested on a nearby table, brought by a thoughtful Jocasta after the meeting ran past the hour and half mark. Zeke was sitting forward, lips pressed pensively to the last warm cup of caff as he stared right through the hologram to the opposite wall without seeing a single thing projected in the air between him and it. Kaligiros had recently fallen asleep draped across the room's only sofa, his limbs spilling over the sides and his mouth hanging open guilelessly.

"Okay. So." Tomberlin started, rubbing at his fatigued eyes. "We have plans for the defense of Dagro, Ord Mantell, Iridonia, Boz Pity, Malastare..." He wiped his hand over his face and let his voice trail off as he looked down at his wrinkled flimsiplast covered in names; planets they believed would be key to holding star systems or that would be soft targets for Separatist forces. "I wonder what other fleets are also assigned to this duty, and which Jedi. It would be much better to be able to trade information and tactics."

"I know," Zeke said, speaking up and sipping at his coffee now that it wasn't going to scald him. "I'm sure there are. We should have asked."

"Well, it's a start," Tomberlin confessed. I think tomorrow we'll get the data on our fellow fleets, narrow down the area we need to work in at the start. As the war runs on, redeployments will become more common, I'm sure. Good to have a plan in place."

"Speaking of plans, one last thing, while your Padawan is decked. What training has he had so far, and what do you intend to do to continue it during this war?" Zeke's voice was distant and concerned. Tomberlin was relieved to know he wasn't alone in his concern, but didn't appreciate the scrutiny.

"So far I've played to his strengths. Taught him the physical aspects of the Force and every lightsaber kata I could find, predominantly in Form V, my own specialty. He has great difficulty focusing and centering himself. I expect it's a result of his race's many minds. Each has it's own way to focus and think, but none can become clear enough to bring out his full potential."

"The kata helps?" Zeke probed. "A moving meditation, since he can't sit still long enough to do it ordinarily. I know how that feels, but even in kata I can't focus down sometimes. It takes real action for me to find centering. In the training environment..." He shrugged, sipping his caff. "I'm practicing breathing."

Tomberlin shook his head as he crossed to Kaligiros and tapped the Thakwaash's tricep. Breathing was basic; how had Zeke advanced so far? "Wake up. We're training bright and early in the morning, so get to your quarters and get some real rest." Kaligiros mumbled a response and shuffled out.

"BYE KALPAL!" called Zeke as he finished the caff and picked up the tray. "Got this, man. Go rest up for your teaching. I'll see you in the morning." Tomberlin devoutly hoped that no, he wouldn't.

[Zeke]

Zeke entered the spacious lightsaber training room with a folding chair in one hand and a datapad in the other, seeking out the ring where Tomberlin and Kaligiros were practicing. He had a message to deliver, and ordinarily would just do so and walk away, but he liked getting under Tomberlin's skin already. The Chagrian Jedi needed to loosen up, and Zeke was going to needle him til he did. "Aw, dis gon be good!" he smirked, unfolding his chair and seating himself at the edge of the ring where they were practicing. They'd been at it a while already. Tomberlin's skin shone with sweat, and Kaligiros's fur was matted to his body.

"Well done for now, Padawan." Tomberlin's words carried an edge of irritation, and Zeke proudly placed a mental tally mark in his "daily goals achieved" column. "Now, we'll practice with remotes. Whatever darts you do not return to the origin, I shall return back to you in kind, so be sure to strive for accuracy. This will be the skill that lets you survive this war. It has already served me well."

There was no need to mention that the place he'd proven his skills was at the Battle of Geonosis. Kaligiros simply nodded and took Shien's smashball-player stance. "He proved it at Geonosis," Zeke cut in. Tomberlin's back muscles tensed.

"I had figured," said Kaligiros absently, his eyes flashing as he tried to find his mathematician's mind, to bring all he'd ever learned about angles and reflected light into his Force-borne "flow state". Tomberlin had walked to a rack to retrieve remotes, and as he got there, Zeke lifted them telekinetically and brought them to bear on the towering Padawan.

"I don't need your help to teach," Tomberlin said to Zeke, breathing deeply and slowly in through his nose and out through his mouth. "We're fine." At that statement, Tomberlin's presence in the Force shifted from the prickly bundle of energy Zeke had known it as and became smooth, flowing. Perfect harmony. It was a marvel to Zeke that the Chagrian Knight could be so easily bothered by the smallest of verbal jabs, but in action find his way to peace so swiftly. Truthfully, Zeke was jealous. His own energetic mind could be cleared and focused only when the needs of another were placed above his own; when doing so was vital to someone else's achievement. For his own sake? It had never happened. Ultimately, his Knighthood had come down to rock-solid knowledge of the Order's principles, knowledge of it's key historic moments and figures, peerless grasp of telekinesis, and ultimately, that he just plain could get work done when it was down to the crunch.

Zeke popped out of his reverie with a rapid series of blinks and headshakes, watching a veritable storm of tiny laser darts flit back and forth between Padawan, drones, and Master. "You got dis, Kalpal! If you can handle this easily, you can handle any droid! They're waaaay bigger targets than these piddly remotes."

Kaligiros began to block more energetically, in spite of his fatigue. Tomberin, however, faltered, and took a needle of light to the shoulder. "Don't distract him!" chided the Knight, knowing full well that he'd allowed himself to be distracted. So, he could be bothered over his Padawan's progress. Zeke noted it as a good sign; investment in the Order's future was something he himself took a great interest in, though the Council saw him unfit to have a Padawan of his own. Zeke vowed not to do it again, if he could help it, and rose from his seat, sliding the datapad across the floor to rest against his fellows' neatly-folded outer robes.

"Well, that's all for me. New orders for whenever you finish. Timetable's moved up. We leave out this afternoon, so no time to catch up with our fellow Mid-Rimmers til later. See you all at the loading zone." And he left without another word.

[Milek Tomberlin]

Tomberlin waited fifteen whole minutes to be sure Zeke was gone before allowing Kaligiros to stop training. The Padawan had taken no hits, but only because Tomberlin had stopped the exercise. The Thakwaash's arms moved like there were weights bound to them. Endurance would be key, and the teacher already thought ahead to what exercises could be done to improve the student's longevity. In a protracted engagement, Kaligiros would need every second he could earn. While the Padawan returned the droids to their racks, Kaligiros knelt and turned on the datapad. Several files detailed the when and where of their departure, and another counted all that they would be required to bring and what the specified dress was. Trooper armor and Jedi outer robes, one bag with spare clothing and lightsaber maintenance tools, datapads and portable computers for study of the Jedi philosophy and arts as well as military strategy. Tomberlin passed it for Kaligiros to read as the big learner seated himself on his robe drank deeply from his water bottle.

"So, this is it then," said Kaligiros after a time. "Me and you and Master Zeke out to defend the galaxy. Why show him so much irritation, Master? He means well. He wants to help you. I think he wants to be of use somehow, to whoever he can be of use to."

"What he wants is poke and play and toy with people," rebutted Tomberlin. "He has always been this way, by his reputation. He spent a week chasing Togruta and Twi'lek Jedi about the halls so he could telekinetically wave their lekku in the air and make whooshing noises as if they were moving very fast, or flying. Silliness such as that has no place here."

Kaligiros sat back on his elbows, pointing his toes out in front of himself to begin stretching his legs. "Surely he must have had a reason. How did the Jedi respond?"

"I don't know, said Tomberlin, pulling his feet in and placing the soles together, beginning his own stretches. "But he ought not to have done it regardless. Mindless folly such as that is why he has no Padawan, in spite of having been a Knight for several years."

"I think he wants us to have fun. Enjoy ourselves. Does being a Jedi always mean being so solemn and serious at all times? And he has taught. I used to see him often teaching groups of Younglings, those months back when you had suggested pacing the halls to order my thoughts."

"He plays games with them. He's not teaching anyone anything."

Kaligiros was put off. He rocked onto his back and raised his feet until they came over his head and touched the floor, grunting as his back muscles complained of the stretch. "But Master," he protested to his knees, "His games are effective. He made one up called Jedi Jump-Rope, using a broken jumping rope and sparring glove. He tied the handle-less end to the glove's finger holes and spun it around his waist, and Younglings on the outside of the circle had to jump over the glove. After a time, he made them play it "hard mode", and had them alternately leap in beside him to crouch under the rope as it passed overhead. Any Youngling who touched the glove, rope, or Master Zeke was disqualified, and they played til only one student remained. Younglings who participated showed a rapid increase in their agility and endurance. I heard Masters Luminara and Koth discussing it one day."

"He was trying to encourage them toward Ataru, that's all," said Tomberlin. "He thinks spinning is a good trick for winning lightsaber duels."

"You know he's just making fun of Master Skywalker, right?" asked Kaligiros skeptically, rolling forward into a seated position and drawing his left arm across his chest to stretch his shoulder.

"That's wrong, also," said the dour Knight abruptly. "You'd do well not to follow his example, and not to allow him to continue treating you childishly. Go clean up and prepare for deployment. I will see you at the loading zone."

Kaligiros sighed heavily as he switched arms and watched his Master walk away with his robe draped over his arm. Sometimes he thought his Master too stubborn to see his own shortcomings as easily as he saw Kaligiros's own.

[Zeke]

"Oh. No." Zeke said breathlessly as they stepped out into the open air of the landing zone and beheld their flagship for the first time. Not an Acclamator, as Obi-Wan had said. It was a Venator-class Star Destroyer, a mightier and more impressive vessel. "Obi-Wan was wrong and I can't stop being happy about it long enough to harangue him for it."

"Oh, is that so?" said an amused, Coruscant-accented voice from the side. Obi-Wan stood there smartly, with a half-smile on his face. "There was a last minute addition to the fleet. We thought it'd suit your task a little better, since you'll be spread thinly off the start. I'm supposed to be here to provide you with extra briefing, but I don't think you need that, or a morale-boosting speech. You three will be very successful, I can feel it. However, I will introduce you to your Clone Commanders. Come with me."

The four Jedi approached the Venator's massive ramp for troop deployment, where Clones and dock workers were pitching in together to load the last the massive battleship's provisions on board. Near the ramp's bottom, two Clones in yellow-striped armor stood with helmets off, waiting on the Jedi to approach. One had found a credit coin and was passing it easily between his knuckles as the two talked, but he quickly put it away and stood to attention as the Jedi came within six paces.

"Good afternoon, Generals," they said with salutes. "I'm CT-450-2," said the one with the coin, who then indicated his fellow Commander. "This is CT-54L-GG. It's a pleasure to meet you all."

"I want that guy," Zeke said promptly. Obi-Wan and Kaligiros chuckled. The two Clones managed tight, awkward smiles, and Tomberlin shot a disapproving look at Zeke that the Human summarily ignored, or didn't notice.

"Fair enough," said 54L. He extended a hand to Tomberlin. "Your name, General?"

"Milek Tomberlin," he answered, shaking the Clone's hand firmly. "And my Padawan, Kaligiros Obregon."

Zeke smirked as 54L's expression waved at the sight of Kaligiros's hand engulfing his own. "He's not a Wookiee, so you don't have to worry bout any shoulder dislocations."

"Good to know," said 54L hesitantly. "So, a Padawan. That's like a trainee, right? So will you be commanding at all, Sir?"

"No," Tomberlin interjected. "Not at first. He will relay my orders to you and support our lead ground units and fighter squadrons when possible. Once he's proven himself, he may lead platoons or squadrons in individual engagements."

Zeke half-frowned as Kaligiros's face fell at the straightforward answer he'd been unable to give himself. "Right, well, we're still not done with intros," he said quickly, hoping to deflect some of Kaligiros's disappointment. "I'm Zeke." Zeke stuck out his hand and shook his Commander's hand somewhat too energetically. "No names for you guys?"

[Milek Tomberlin]

"Not as yet, sir," answered 450 as he released Zeke's hand and flexed his aching fingers. "Not all of us receive nicknames during training. If you have a name in mind, I'd be open to suggestions." Zeke made a thoughtful sound as his eyes traversed up to behold their flagship.

"Flagship got a name?" he asked.

"Not as yet, sir," repeated 450. "Our volunteer Admiral said names didn't matter as much to him as the ship's capabilities. Said to let you and General Tomberlin decide it."

"I wanna name it," said Zeke instantly, and Tomberlin moved swiftly to interject, determined to prevent his counterpart's immaturity from influencing the name of the vessel.

"I'll be commanding the naval engagements with this Admiral's assistance," he protested. "So I should be the one to name it."

"You're just worried my name will be more awesome," Zeke rallied back, a grin spreading on his face as he settled in for a battle of wit. The Clones, unsure of what to do, took a wary pace back. Obi-Wan put a hand over his mouth so he'd look pensive, rather than amused, and Kaligiros moved to stand beside him, rather than risk ill will with either of the Knights by siding with one over the other.

"The way you behave, you'd probably just name it Awesome," retorted Tomberlin, and Zeke clapped his hands, jumping up a bit on his toes.

"OH THAT'S PERFECT!" he exulted as Tomberlin shook his head in disapproval. "Can you imagine!? "Attention Separatist forces, this is Awesome! Surrender now!" He laughed, and even Kaligiros and the Clones couldn't help but smirk as Zeke barreled on over Tomberlin's half-started attempt to silence him. "Never fear, Republic Space Station! Your reinforcement is Awesome! Or the droids! Sir, we're receiving an incoming transmission. It's Awesome!"

"Absolutely not," grumbled Tomberlin as his Padawan made a suppressed snort of laughter. He cut the learner a hard glare, and Kaligiros instantly stopped laughing. "The ship needs a proper name, something to inspire the Republic's soldiers and citizens." Granted, he couldn't think of what that name could be, with Zeke behaving so childishly in front of their new subordinates. It was making a terrible impression. But at least his Commander seemed to share his viewpoint. Commander 54L had fixed Zeke with a disbelieving expression. However, it was Zeke's commander who stepped up to resolve the argument.

"Look, Generals," he said exasperatedly. "I found this cred coin earlier. I'll just flip it." He revealed one side, which showed a spiral galaxy, then the other, which showed the Republic crest. "Call it in the air."

"Stars," said Zeke smartly, referencing the galaxy.

"Signs," grumbled Tomberlin, meaning the crest. 450 caught the tumbling coin and slapped it onto the back of his other hand with a dull smack, and drew his hand away. It was stars.

"AHA! YES!" Zeke crowed, fist pumping in a very un-Jedi-like expression of glee. "Oh man. What to name it? Not Awesome, you made that up," he said off-handedly to Tomberlin. "But I'mma call you Coin," he added, pointing at his Commander. The newly-named Coin tucked his namesake currency away as Zeke's attention rounded on Kaligiros. "Hey, how did you feel to see this thing when we first walked up?"

"Uh...excited?" Kaligiros said hesitantly, worried over his Master's disapproval.

"Then...we'll just call it Exciter," Zeke declared. "Now, let's move on!" Tomberlin shook his head as he lifted his bag and followed the Clones up the ramp, but he couldn't help thinking that the name wasn't actually so terrible as he'd imagined.

[Zeke]

Zeke stood at the bridge's holoterminal, watching hyperspace go by with the Admiral who had volunteered to help lead the naval actions. He was a last minute addition along with the ship, which was why they'd not known of him. He was white like he'd had flour thrown on him, and his face was raked with sharp purple tattoos. He was a Rattataki, of the planet Rattatak, a planet which the Republic had few dealings with. Zeke knew that Galactic Historians generally considered the Rattataki origin to be an offshoot of Humanity, descended from a lost research or exploration party of the historic Old Republic. Since that time, Rattatak had bounced in and out of Galactic affairs, and it's people had grown warlike on a planet where everything was trying to kill them. This man was a seasoned warrior who had voraciously learned all he could about naval engagement, and was supremely eager to see how the Jedi made tactics with the aid of the Force. Though Rattataki could learn Basic easily, he had learned it late, and thus spoke it in a bizarre, halting, heavily accented fashion, with certain words emphasized very strongly. He'd introduced himself as "Nasty Admiral Cho", though his nameplate read "Zhe'chot", and had welcomed the Jedi as fellow warriors.

"So, you see," he was saying. "I--left!--my home planet of Rattatak to come out and learn of the outer space naval warfare, or some things like that. Rattataki are already...masters!--of ground combat. The best in the whole galaxy, I think. So, you see, this is the only place where I can learn the new fighting." He shrugged one shoulder. "What are ya gonna do? Though I think it would be interesting...to see how a Jedi, fights! So, if you and General Tomberlin are doing some sparrings or things like that, I would be very grateful, if I could be allowed to watch."

"Sure! It's no big thing to me. You might wanna run by Tomberlin, though," Zeke replied, nodding his head toward the Chagrian, who stood some way off at the forward viewport with his Clone Commander. Occasionally, they caught snatches of conversation. Zeke had learned by eavesdropping that Tomberlin had uncreatively named 54L "Sal", and that the straightforward Clone liked the name. He also had learned that Kalpal's special starfighter was aboard, and that unless some accommodation could be made for the Padawan at the simulators, he was unlikely to participate much in squadron training outside of live exercises. He'd also learned that the Thakwaash would be leading some exercise and close-combat fighting lessons, to acquire leadership experience and allow Tomberlin to assess the Padawan's learning so far. Zeke was just wondering how to approach Tomberlin about training up the learner's telekinesis when he realized that Admiral Zhe'chot was over there, explaining in his juddering talk about watching a sparring match. Tomberlin reluctantly nodded, and turned back to Sal, who surreptitiously sent a message through his wrist comm. Zeke grinned. He loved spectacle at the sparring ring.