This Side of Tomorrow

Regardless, it’ll have to do.

Kamino has deemed growing even one of those trees useless and you’re not about to cut down one of your fruit trees to ease your homesick feeling. On that note, though, half the time you’re surprised by what they deem important to the greenhouses. You’ve gotten plenty of plants from all over the galaxy and that should make you thrilled. You’re allowed to play with germination and are working to create several new species so perhaps that’s your Life Day gift from Kamino.

Except that doesn’t remove the emptiness from inside.

Neither does the sock hanging limply from the bottom of your counter nor the wire strung with colored flimsy around the corners of your room.

With another sigh, you cast a mournful glance at the tree and make your way to the greenhouses.

The smell of fresh soil greets you as does the perfect climate. Not too cold like the icy feeling outside, and not too warm like you’ve been cast into a desert wasteland. This feels like home, making you wonder if the Kaminoans would mind your bed and sofa taking up space so you could live here instead.

As you move towards your newest patch of life, you’re delighted to see Master Ti already tending to your little sprouts. With the entire clone operation to oversee, you’re touched to find she takes one day a week—if possible—to spend with you in your haven.

After a kind greeting, your fingers eagerly sink into the soft, fluffy soil as you tend to your tiny ones.

“These are beautiful,” she tells you, a delight in her soft smile you’ve never seen from anyone before.

The look makes your heart sing, and you swear you could float. No one ever acknowledges your accomplishments nor gives such a high praise. A cacophony of emotions flow through your body before embarrassment floods through leaving you to stutter a response. “I-I-Uh…Uhm. Th-Than…Sure.”

Oh, if you could bury yourself in the soil and become plant food.

The Jedi gives an encouraging chuckle, easing the heat from your cheeks and you both look up as the door slides open revealing a soldier.

Confusion settles over your shoulders like a heavy cloak. You met Hunter two night ago when he caught you singing to your trees—another moment you could have buried yourself in the soft soil and let your plants have you. How or why he decided to meander through your gardens, you’re not sure, and…

You’re not sure about his presence today.

Greeting the two of you, he draws a slightly deeper breath. “Uh, may I be of any assistance?”

No, you think because you have it under control. Between Master Ti and the Kaminoans, your little operation here is running like clockwork—despite you working for most of the clock.

With another smile that slightly wrinkles her nose, Master Ti looks over at you. “Any suggestions?”

Giving a slight shrug, you glance over your shoulder to a small grove of meiloorun trees. “I’d appreciate it if you could gently rake the soil around their trunks.”

“Right away,” he replies.

“Rakes are in the tool shed located at the back of the facility,” Master Ti calls out before turning back to you. “Accepting help means getting to bed earlier.”

You scoff at that. “Doubtful anyone is going to sing to my trees.”

She chuckles, a charming bell-like sound. “It could free you up to spend more time singing to your creations.”

However true that might be, it would also free you up to the homesick feeling digging its roots deep into your heart. The tendrils spread and weave through your nervous system like a plague. What you wouldn’t give to know how to pull that root system out in its entirety.

“I imagine this Life Day is difficult.”

Scratching your forehead, you then attempt to brush off the dirt smudged there. “This is my first holiday without…anyone. I can manage without those holopics, but not having family is a bit more…challenging than I imagined it would be.”

Pausing her gardening, those dark eyes full of concern and care meet yours. “I could speak with the Kaminoans about a holiday off world.”

You’re quick to dismiss the suggestion with a shake of your head. “It’s fine. I know what I signed up for. I wouldn’t want to leave all of this.”

Though the thought twists your stomach, and you wonder just how well a Jedi can read your emotions.

Returning to a new patch of life, she begins working the soil there. “Have you put up decorations?”

You give a humorless chuckle as you run a finger over the little green leaves. “A mop for a tree.”

The Jedi burst into a fit of giggles. “A mop?”

“It even has spatula branches and a ladle for a tree topper.”

“Does the kitchen know of your thievery?”

Grinning, you’re quick to shake your head. “No. I imagine they wouldn’t be thrilled, but they can have it back after I’m through. I also have wiring with colored flimsi in replace of lights and a sock on the counter trying its best to be a stocking. If questioned, I would hope someone could understand.”

When you return to your apartment that night, you freeze in the middle of your living room. Heart sinking to the bottom of an abyss, the wires you painstakingly hung are gone from your ceiling. Your sad little sock has gone missing and the mop-mess of a tree in the corner has vanished. With disappointment making a home in your chest, you shower before slamming your face into your pillow for the night.

The oddity comes in the morning when you find all your caf has been replaced with cocoa.

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“Everything was gone,” you lament to the mujas while pruning their vibrant green leaves. It isn’t quite time for red berries to spring forth, but you’re eager to taste them when they do. “I don’t understand. Who on Kamino would break into my apartment and steal my—well, borrowed supplies. I was going to return them. Honest. Right after the holidays were over. Is one broom that important?”

You let out a frustrated sigh and clip away at a mangled branch.

“That’s true, I suppose,” you tell the bush before setting down your clippers in favor of a spray bottle. “I don’t think Ninety-nine would’ve taken them back, though. He let me borrow the mop.”

As you mist the branches with a secret, natural mixture you created, a chuckle breaks through your lips. “I’m not certain anyone other than Master Ti even knows what Life Day is, so that’s doubtful. It’s not like a Kaminoan or a soldier is going to be helpful.”

“You sing and talk to them?”

Gasping, the bottle slips from your fingers and hits the floor with a BANG before rolling under the muja bush. Turning, your wide eyes meet those of Hunter’s. Uh… H-helps…uh, grow.”

“Huh,” he replies before bending down and recovering the spray bottle. After scanning over it quickly, he holds it out to you and glances around the garden. “How can I be of service today?”

“I don’t really need any help,” you respond, taking the bottle and placing it back on your cart. You push your cart towards a patch of large sizhranian lettuce and smile. “I’ve got it under control.”

“I know,” he replies and takes a deep breath. “I just assumed two hands could be better than one.”

“I’ve got two hands,” you reply, holding them up and wiggling your soil-smudged fingers. The quirk on his face has you biting back a smile. You don’t really want him to stay. You prefer the quiet unless Master Ti is here.

Hunter rolls his neck. “I know I’m not the best with gardening, but I’d like to assist, please.”

Gently touching the heads of lettuce, you find the comment off. No one on Kamino likes being here—especially the Kaminoans—except for Master Ti. Though, some days you wonder if she feels obligated to keep you company.

There’s something in this soldier’s voice that says perhaps he yearns for the quiet haven you’ve found here.

“I…suppose you can sweep.”

“Of course.”

The rain pelting against the side of the greenhouse sings to your weary spirit and causes a gentle smile to light your lips. The fresh scent of soil and the musical melody is enough to put you into an easy sleep. Still, the way it permeates the greenhouse leaves you wondering where time has gone because before you know it, it’s time to leave. Dusting off your hands, you look at Hunter who’s working the hose back onto its post after watering the plants.

“Thank you for your help.”

“Not a problem,” he responds and you part ways for the night.

Dreaming of a hot shower, you reach your apartment and tap the panel. Stepping inside, your jaw drops.

Strung along the top corner of your living room are soft, white lights. Chuckling, you head to the refresher to wash off before grabbing a cup of cocoa and gazing at the beautiful sight.

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Humming softly to jogans, you admire their small, rounded, violet form, marveling in all the wonders of growth. Only a few weeks ago this tree was without fruit and now it’s well on its way to harvest. You’re certain by next week little lavender lines will begin to stretch throughout violet, signaling a bountiful feast.

Placing a hand on the tree, you give a soft grin and tease, “You’re my favorite.”

“Won’t that make the other trees jealous?”

It shouldn’t surprise you to hear Hunter because as usual he’s snuck up behind you. Still, you’re practically leaping out of your skin. Turning, you open your mouth to give a snotty retort only to see innocent confusion spread across his features.

He really is wondering if the other trees are jealous.

“I…love them all,” you reply with a little white lie because the begonia trees are actually your favorite. Swallowing roughly, you raise a hand towards a path on your right. “I suppose if you’re going to continue helping, I should at least show you around.”

He gives a light-hearted shrug. “Maybe I enjoy searching the toolsheds for supplies.”

“Come along,” you respond, wondering if that’s an attempt at humor or a sting about your lack of hospitality. “The six greenhouses are nearly identical, but with different climates inside. Two are crops that grow in any type of weather. The other four are specific seasons: cooler temps, spring, summer, and fall. Tools of all types—”

“Are located in the rear of each greenhouse.”

“Precisely.” Leading him towards the tool shed, you open the door and stand aside to allow him entry. “Each location is arranged exactly the same. Extra hoses of different sizes are along the north wall while the south wall hosts shovels of various types.

Walking the room, his gaze scans over the offerings held within before he turns back to you. “Where would you like me to start today?”

“I have some planting to do.” You grab several packs of blumfruit seeds. “If you’ll grab a bag of soil, I’ll show you how.”

Following you out to the table, he sets the soil on the ground and stands across from you. Arms folded across his chest, he studies the supplies laid out already as if mentally mapping how this process works—or perhaps coming up with a brand new process.

“You want to fill these little cups three-fourths of the way with soil,” you explain as you hoist the bag he brought onto the end of the table and open it. From there, you pull a planting cup from your pile, fill it with soil and poke your finger into the center of the squishing, damp dirt. “You then make a hole in the middle like so.”

“Understood.” Grabbing a cup, he mimics your process and holds it out for inspection.

“Perfect.” Opening a bag of seeds, you grab a tiny one and place it in the hole before covering it with soil. “Drop in one and cover it.”

“That’s it?” he questions as he copies your process. “Just one?”

“Just one,” you repeat and working on filling an entire tray with new life.

Returning to your apartment that evening, you’re exhausted. Somehow, having Hunter around meant more work was accomplished—not less. From planters filled with new seeds, to new trees planted in groves, you crossed a lot of tasks off your list but could sleep for a week.

Yawning, you smile in greeting at the lights before noticing a stocking with your name hung on the edge of the counter.

Smiling, you shower and collapse into bed.

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“I cannot thank you enough, Master,” you say to the Jedi as you tend a small patch of hidden roses you’d planted under begonia trees in the far corner of spring.

“Thank me for what?”

“The Life Day things. They’ve lessened the homesick feeling.”

Master Ti tilts her head gently. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You snort as you prune a rose bush. “The cocoa and string lights. Not to mention the stocking hanging on my counter.”

She shakes her head and confusion shimmers in her dark eyes. “I must confess, I should have done such things, but the thought never crossed my mind.”

Hands on your hips, your lips purse. Glancing to the Kaminoans in the distance, you question if one of those heartless creatures could have possibly seen your plight and lessened the depression within you. It’s not out of the realm of possibility you suppose, but which one?

Rawn Ga does seem to have a secret liking of spring gardening. You’ve caught him speaking with many of the vegetables and telling them stories of Tipoca City. Drun Oi has thoroughly enjoyed the winter berry bushes by the way she lovingly tends to the soil and touches their leaves. Icoa Ce gratefully accepts any job dealing with the summer orchards she puts countless hours of care into.

Could one of them have noticed your melancholy and decided to return the kindness?

Returning home for the evening, you look around your little apartment. The lights twinkle and wink at you, and the stocking welcomes you in. Nothing has been stolen or disturbed—the caf was found located in another cupboard days later, but that’s inconsequential.

While you’re not worried about these events, you are curious as to who would do such a thing.

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You spent the night in the summer greenhouse, throwing buckets of water back into the raging sea after the ceiling sprung a leak. The rainwater has flooded the floor and the orchards causing Icoa Ce to panic as she assists in tossing water out of the enclosure. As night gives way into morning, you’ve done everything you could to save the apricot trees as the Kaminoans have finally found a way to patch their faulty ceiling. Secretly, you wonder what else is susceptible to faults around Tipoca City.

Yawning, you work the giant squeegee down the paths pushing water and soil towards an exit. Your shoes are soaked, your clothes are drenched, and your spirits have considerably dampened. The repetitive squish-squish-squish you make with every step grates on your last nerve while a list spirals out of control in your head.

You’ll have to rework all the soil within the orchards and pray they take to the outrageous amounts of new soil you’ll need to replace all they’ve lost. Hopefully the trees will retain the nutrients, but you can never be too sure. Some of your lovelies are more finicky than others.

Given the icy rainwater that’s been flooding the room all night, it’ll take hours if not days to return this greenhouse back to its proper temperature and dread fills you as you realize not all of these crops will survive.

Happy Life Day to me, you think as you work the last of the water from the room.

Working with Icoa Ce—who has gone to Rawn Ga and Drun Oi for assistance—the four of you work diligently with others to restore in the room what you can.

In the end, you lose a few blackberry bushes, and three apricot trees. The shurras took a harder hit with a fourth of them being destroyed, but overall this room will be able to recover and you consider that a true Life Day gift.

By mid-afternoon, you trek back to your apartment with the same squish-squish-squish. You want nothing more than a hot shower, a warm cup of cocoa and to fall asleep to whatever Life Day film you can get on Kamino.

Rounding the corner to your apartment, you consider how much quicker the work might have gone had Hunter been around. He’s become a good acquaintance, borderline friend, and some days it’s frustrating, or perhaps disappointing, to know he’s been sent out on long missions with his squad.

And you do admit you don’t mind his company these days.

Tapping the panel with a shivering finger, the door swishes open, and you let out a soft gasp.

The clone standing in the middle of your living room has no business being there. But, for once, he practically leaps out of his skin before clearing his throat and itching the bottom part of the skull tattooed on his face.

“Uh… I honestly didn’t mean to intrude.”

Except, he’s somehow in the middle of the living room in your apartment without being offered a code. Still, you lean against the wall as a curious smile lights your lips.

“And this would be…?”

“Sorry,” he mumbles and shifts from what foot to another. “I’m sorry. I… wanted to thank you.”

Your clever retort about trespassing dies on your lips as you take note of the tree standing in the corner lit in the same white lights as the ceiling. Decorated with stringed popcorn, it’s the prettiest Life Day tree you’ve ever seen.

“…It’s you,” you whisper.

His shoulders rise to his ears. “Um…”

“It’s always been you,” you continue with a soft huff of a chuckle before shaking your head and turning to him. “But why?”

“Heard you talking about being homesick,” he comments before shoving his hands in the pockets of his grey work outfit. “I wanted to thank you for letting me assist in the greenhouses, though… This might not have been the best way.”

Walking to the tree, you gently touch the tips and relish in the fragrant smell. “But how did you… How? You don’t celebrate Life Day here.”

“The mop for a tree was a clue,” he chuckles—a sound that warms the chill in your cheeks. “A bit of research filled in most of the blanks. Ninety-nine let me in, and we discovered the rest of it. Would’ve been done sooner had I had a mission where there were trees. Seems like everything’s a desert these days.”

Chuckling, you turn to him and smile. “I have to shower after the fiasco that happened in Summer—”

“What happened?!”

Holding up a hand, you chuckle some more. “Give me an hour to shower, dress in cozy pajamas, get some food on the stove and cocoa going. I’ll tell you all about it over a Life Day meal.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he agrees and leaves to change into his own pajamas.

As he gazes at the floor, the arm draped across his shoulder entices him to follow. It hints of peace and rest, all things he’s worked hard to avoid. However, the way tendrils of cold slip around him makes the idea more tempting with each passing heartbeat. The arm pulling him closer provides safety and warmth from the fear ahead.

“Don’t leave us…” whispers 9725.

“We need you,” murmurs 9732.

“You swore an oath,” reminds 9723.

“You can’t escape,” states the admiral.

“Soldier?”

Gaze rising, he looks at the blond clone before him. An aberrant who’s face is laced with concern, but he wears… A pauldron.

Is that possible?

“Soldier?” the aberrant repeats, hand settling on a broken shoulder bell and the arm slips. “Are you okay?”

Wetting his lips with a dry parched tongue, he leans around the commanding officer. Teeth chattering, he cowers back and shuts his eyes. “C-C-Can you see them?”

The man looks over his shoulder before turning back. His voice is low when he speaks. “What happened?”

“We were boarded. A Separatist raiding party.” He looks up at the officer. “No one survived, did they?”

The man draws a deep breath. “You did. You’re alive.”

“Why?”

“There’s still more for you to do in this life,” he responds softly. “You’re not stardust yet, Trooper.”

Leaning around the officer again, he looks at the ghosts of all those awaiting him. Whispers reach his ears again, telling him he belongs with them, they need him. They order him to follow. It’s his duty to join them. “I have to go. They’re calling.”

“No. They’re gone. You’re needed elsewhere. The Force has plans for you.”

Brow rising, he looks at the officer before him. He’s never heard any clone so brazenly speak of the Force. Most of his brethren—especially those who are ARC troopers—believe in Mandalore traditions.