Shoulder To Shoulder

Tipoca City, Kamino; 21 BBY – three weeks after Mace Windu's attempted assassination

"Boba, to your left!" Dia shouts, diving for cover behind a barricade.

Yellow blaster shots ricochet on the other side, some flying over Dia's head. Boba, avoiding the blasts, skids to a stop on his knees behind another barricade to the left. He meets Dia's eyes through their visors.

"I'll take these ones out," his voice crackles over the comm in their helmets. "You run ahead to the next line."

Dia nods, clutching his blaster. "Got it."

"Alright. Three, two, one!"

In unison, Boba and Dia dart out from behind their barricades. Dia sprints past the approaching B1 droids as Boba shoots burning holes through their metal foreheads, not slowing his pace as the husks collapse to the grid floor around him.

Two turrets flank the citadel, spitting out yellow blaster shots. Dia drops into a roll to dodge the bolts and stops in a crouch behind a barricade just a stone's throw from the citadel tower. The metal rod at the top of the tower – their goal – blinks with a red light.

Peeking over the barricade, Dia takes a few shots at one of the turrets, and manages to take out the droid manning it.

A moment later, Boba slides in beside him. Dia ducks back down to safety. 

"I'll draw the last turret's fire," Dia says. "You go get the rod."

Boba nods sharply. "On your count."

They switch places so Dia is closer to the other turret, still spitting bolts.

"I'll jump out first." Dia's eyes are glued to the droid manning the turret. "Wait a second, then run for it."

"Okay. Don't get shot," Boba half-jokes. 

Dia winces. He's not keen to repeat the electrocution he'd suffered the first time they'd tried this test.

"I'll try." Hefting his blaster, he leaps to his feet, leaving the shelter of the barricade and aiming for the droid in the turret. "Go!"

Out of the corner of Dia's eye, he spots a flash of movement as Boba sprints towards the citadel.

Dia darts from barricade to barricade, drawing the turret's fire. He can barely spare a glance for Boba, until a fortunate shot lands between the droid's eyes, and the barrage of blaster fire finally dies out.

Holding his breath, Dia looks to the citadel.

Boba leaps up the stairs to the final platform, and grabs the rod. The light switches to green, and Boba hefts it over his head with a shout of victory that echoes through the room and the comms.

"YES!" Dia shouts, pumping his fist. "We did it!"

He runs up to the base of the tower as Boba hops back down. Dia can't resist a quick hug, slapping Boba's back in congratulations.

"Couldn't have done it without you," Boba says, tugging off his helmet. His hair is cropped regulation-short – a requirement for their training course on Kamino.

Dia, too, yanks off his helmet with a relieved sigh. His hair has been similarly chopped off, and now his curls are barely long enough to brush his ears, making the scar at the back of his neck all the more noticeable.

"Dyad Squad, report for debrief," a monotone voice says over the speaker system.

"Not even a congratulations?" Dia mutters with a sardonic grin, stretching out his aching arms.

Boba rolls his eyes. "You know what he's like."

"Now, Dyad Squad," the same voice says, growing annoyed already.

"Hi, 99!" Dia calls with a smile as they pass the cleaner, beginning to drag away one of the droid husks. "Sorry, we can't stop."

"Well done, you two." 99 shoos them away with a fond chuckle. "You'd better hurry!"

Dia and Boba jog out of the room and up the side hallway to the supervising balcony that overlooks the training room. An armoured clone stands with his back to them, gloved hands clasped behind him.

Dia and Boba stand at attention, a stance well-practiced over their weeks on Kamino.

After a long moment, the clone turns around. Scars cross his weather-beaten face, and his beard is tinged with grey. His gaze is sharp and burning, but Dia doesn't feel the urge to hide away. The first time Dia had failed a training exercise, he'd fearfully expected a strike across his face or his rations halved, but Alpha-17 had just calmly explained what he'd done wrong, and made him run an extra two laps of the training room. For all his bluntness and uncaring attitude, Alpha-17 is an incredible teacher.

"So. You've finally completed the test," Alpha-17 says.

"Yes, Captain," Dia and Boba respond in unison.

"You worked well as a team," their mentor acknowledges. "That's important. You must stand shoulder-to-shoulder with your vode in battle and in every aspect of your existence." His eyes narrow. "But you two only cooperate with each other."

Dia winces, remembering how he'd shot down a droid to save Boba from its line of fire, ignoring the cadet in danger behind him; how he'd watched that cadet and others collapse to the ground, electrocuted, and felt only relief that it wasn't Boba.

"You are part of something bigger than yourselves," Alpha-17 says sternly. "You are part of the Grand Army of the Republic. And you need to start acting like it."

"Yes, Captain," Boba says, his expression stoic.

"Sorry, Captain," Dia says, dropping his gaze.

"I'd have you run the test again as part of a larger team, but we don't have the time," Alpha-17 says with a hint of annoyance in his tone.

Dia frowns. "Does that mean we're being sent back to Coruscant now?"

Alpha-17 crosses his arms, expression unreadable. "That's for me and the general to decide."

Dia glances at Boba, noticing the faint furrow in his brow that means he's worried.

"Diaro, you have a medical examination this afternoon," Alpha-17 says. "Go rest before then. Dismissed."

"Yes, sir." Dia and Boba flick their hands in a salute, then start back down the hallway.