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After the third Jedi that passed him by in the hallway gave him a strange look, Gree gathered up every shred of his courage and pushed open the Temple library's tall, ornate double doors.
As he slipped inside, the smell was the first thing he noticed. It was a slight change from the clean, aerated air of the hallway, but a change nonetheless - a heavy sweetness added to the mix, earthy undertones with a hint of ancient dust. Preserved parchment and paper, kept dry and safe from extreme temperature changes for decades, possibly centuries.
Even though he'd never stepped foot into a real library before, Gree thought that this was exactly what one ought to smell like. Smiling, he inhaled deeply as he pulled the doors closed behind himself. Then, his hands folded at his back, he started into the labyrinthine rows of bookshelves before him.
Most of them were holo-recordings, of course. But as Gree let his gaze travel upwards along the high, towering shelves, he was delighted to glimpse a second level in the gloom overhead and, through a waist-high railing, what had to be rows upon rows of paper and parchment documents, scrolls and bound books and pamphlets. So many of them. He hadn't ever dreamed that there could be so much knowledge stored in just one room, in one point in space and time.
Quickly, he glanced left, then right. The corridor of shelves he currently found himself in seemed deserted. Safe.
With feeling, he whispered, "Wow."
When that didn't bring any immediate repercussions down on him, he wiped his sweaty palms on the front of his grey dress uniform and wandered towards a plaque that was affixed to the side of a shelf. Leaning forward, he read the small print while at the same time trailing his fingertips over the pattern of little nubs that stood out under each line.
"Ether," he muttered under his breath, voicing what he saw. "Ethereal Force users. Ethics. Ethnic groups. Ethrel's dynasty…"
Wow. He was so not going to find what he was looking for in time.
He straightened up and smoothed down the front of his uniform jacket. It sat uncomfortably on his frame after spending several days in the muck and grime of a Mid Rim planet war front, and it itched in places Gree hadn't even known could get itchy. However, it was a necessary evil to look his best, here at the very heart of the Jedi’s culture. They had gotten along just fine during their campaigns without having to involve themselves in local customs so far, but now, in hardly more than three standard rotations, they would be off to Tetzel, an Outer Rim planet with intricate social systems among the ethnic groups of its only inhabited continent. Commander Offee and General Luminara were currently both too busy strategizing and debriefing from their last campaign - so, of course, Gree had seized his chance and volunteered to do the research that was needed.
Well. So far, despite wandering through the Temple library for over half an hour already, he had done exactly zero of it. And he would continue to do nothing if he didn't find a catalogue or search engine of sorts - and fast.
He was leaning forward studying a row of dusty, leather-bound almanacs on Twi'lek history, frantically trying to appear outwardly calm as he sweated into his best clothes, when there came a faint rustle of fabric at his back.
"Would you by any chance require my help, kind stranger?"
Gree straightened up so fast he almost hit his head on the bookshelf and turned to the source of the voice. Resting his hands behind his back, he stood to attention - in front of what appeared to be an elderly human woman who was regarding him with a bemused smile.
"Ah," he said intelligibly. Then, "My apologies, sir- ma'am? General Unduli sent me to conduct a little research on the Outer Rim planet of Tetzel. However, if my presence here isn't permitted by the Temple code, I can-"
"General who?" the elderly Jedi asked, peering up at him with twinkling eyes. Her hair, he noticed now, was done up with pins in typical Coruscanti Third Tier fashion. After a heartbeat, her face brightened. "Oh, Unduli! You are talking about Lum. Yes, she told me to expect a special visitor today. I was wondering who she could possibly mean - they are all so special, our visitors are - but it seems I've found you now, my boy…"
She giggled in a tone that belied her age. Still, with his back almost brushing the shelf, Gree felt a little like he had been backed into a corner, albeit by an elderly human whom he towered over by at least a head.
"Oh, but I am making you uncomfortable." She took a step back, then, to give a single light bow. "I am Jocasta Nu, head librarian of the Temple library. It is the will of the Force that we have met."
"Yeah. It is, um, the Force." He bowed back, conscious of the sweat on his brow and scalp, of his awkwardly hunched shoulders. "I'm Commander Gree of the 41st Elite Corps, at your service."
She studied him for a moment. Her eyes, pale like Cethian moonstones, shone from a bed of wrinkles that were lines of laughter as much as of worry.
Gree began plucking at a loose thread on his uniform sleeve as he stared back, unblinking.
"No," she said at last. "I believe it is I who should be at your service today. What did you say you were looking for again?"
"Information on the planet Tetzel, ma'am." Gree blinked - finally - and glanced down at the tips of his shined uniform boots.
Jedi librarian Nu had stopped smiling at him. In fact, she'd started looking concerned. She was probably not very happy about his being here, dragging the war into the hallowed halls of her place of knowledge.
No place for a clone. He should've known from the start.
He didn't jump when a leathery-light hand suddenly came to rest on his elbow, but it was a near thing. He looked up, into Jocasta Nu's pale eyes. The corners of them were all crinkled up.
"I wish half the Jedi padawans I get sent would harbor such a thirst for knowledge as you do," she murmured, her touch a warm, pleasant pressure. "What a shame that you cannot stay longer and extend your research beyond what you need for your campaign. But, oh well. Let us make the most of it. Follow me, please."
She let go then and turned to stride through an opening between the shelves. Gree pretended he didn't miss the soft warmth of her touch and followed, his height advantage allowing him to keep up without effort.
They'd hardly gone a few steps before Jocasta Nu turned again to him, without stopping or even slowing down. "Gree is an extraordinary name, indeed. Lum - oh, excuse me, I mean General Unduli - told me you chose it yourself. You are familiar with the Gree species, then?"
Gree tried - and probably failed - not to appear too eager as he nodded. "Yes. I read all about them in the library on Kamino when I was still a cadet. It wasn't much, though - there wasn't a lot of time between all the training, and the library was… small."
"They starve you of knowledge there, as all soldiers are starved of it." Jocasta Nu's eyes narrowed to slits for the briefest of heartbeats before she smiled again. "But you are here now. Tell me, do you remember the titles of the works you read?"
Gree paused to think before he answered, "I think so. Yes. I started with The Arts of Oral History on Asation, Licha In, Te Hasa & Gree. Then, I picked up The Lost Frigate - An Essay on the Gree Enclave Crisis…"
He kept talking, and Jocasta Nu kept smiling and nodding whenever he hesitated. Not once did she interrupt him – in fact, after a while it seemed to Gree like she was trying to keep him talking about what he obviously enjoyed so much.
By the time they finally got to a holo station where she showed him how to pull up and operate a search catalogue, Gree had the distinct feeling that they had walked by the same port at least twice already.
He decided to close down shop when his eyelids slid closed and his chin sank to touch his chest for the third time in an hour. A precariously balanced tower of books bracketed each elbow of his where they were propped up on the table, and the double stripes he'd shaved himself a few months back in a fit of rage and despair felt mussed beyond recognition from how many times he'd run his hands through them. But he had something to show for the effort. Saved to his datapad as well as to General Unduli's and to Commander Offee's was a very rudimentary handbook of conduct for prolonged stay among the peoples of Tetzel. Gree had drawn it up from the few sources he could find - field observations, cultural exchanges, very little holo footage.
Somehow, he had a feeling he'd get accepted into any natborn university immediately if he showed them the result of his research.
Or maybe that was just the tiredness talking. After all, he'd only done his duty – which had been to prepare a document with which the soldiers under his command would be able to avoid conflicts with Tetzel locals, even if they only skimmed through what he’d written. Hardly worth a scientific degree.
Groaning, Gree pushed back his chair and got up. His back cracked, as did his neck and knees, going off like a couple of stun charges in the silence of the library's reading area. He reveled in a full-body stretch for a moment or so before he set to cleaning up his workspace.
The books went back to their spots on the shelf - most of them in one place, lucky for him. That done, he wiped the dust he'd dragged over from the table he’d worked on and pushed the chair he'd sat in back in its place. He pulled his uniform jacket on, buttoned it up, straightened out collar, lapels, and cuffs. Finally, he took his datapad under his arm and picked up the now empty teacup which had materialized mysteriously beside his documents during one of his toilet breaks.
Then, ready at last, Gree started heading for the library's front desk and the exit beyond.
He walked past glowing shelves of holobooks, quietly charging in their ports. He passed by stacks of scientific magazines laid out open for the interested and uninterested alike. He ran his fingers carefully, reverently, over the hard backs of a row of real paper volumes and wished with all his might that one day, he would have the time to read them all.
Only his wish might not be enough. Gree ran his palm over the curve of his skull next, over the buzzed and dyed twin stripes of his hair. They were a reminder of all his siblings whose grand plans had come to nothing but a quick death in the muddy or dusty or rocky trenches of some far-away world.
Head librarian Jocasta Nu was waiting to intercept him at the reception desk. She got up and took off her reading glasses as soon as their eyes met, then came around the desk, her robes rustling. As she went, she picked something up from beside the scroll she'd been reading in - a small, flat rectangular object, and a bigger, thicker rectangular object.
Gree held his back straight and dutifully held out the empty cup to her. "Thank you for the tea, ma'am."
"Oh, it's nothing, really. Just a little courtesy." She waved him off as she took the cup and floated it over onto the desk. The satisfaction written into the crinkles around her mouth and eyes, however, was unmistakable. "Well, my dear boy, did you find everything you were looking for?"
Gree couldn't help the smile tugging at the corners of his lips. When had the 'dear' slipped in-between the 'my' and 'boy'? For all that the Jedi preached their no attachment rule, they sure took to using terms of endearment very quickly - Cody, Gree had heard, had experienced a similar thing with his own Jedi.
"I found everything I needed - and more," he answered, motioning to his datapad under his arm with his free hand. "All thanks to your capable instruction, ma'am."
"Oh, well, I’m only doing my job. If only we'd had more time, I could've shown you a few interesting pieces from our archive… but I waste your time as I speak." She shook her head, not looking sorrowful at all at holding him up. Then, she stepped closer, peered up at him, and smiled. "Of course, we may get to spend a little longer together the next time you drop by. That would be in two weeks, then."
Gree opened his mouth, and nothing came out safe for a strangled, "Uh?"
Her hand patted his elbow lightly as she made him accept the two rectangular objects - a plastoid card the size of a chain code as well as a booklet as wide and long as his hand. The Aurebesh on its cover read Between Crèche and Hearth - A First-Hand Account of Child Rearing Methods in Gree Cultures.
"Your own personal library card," Madame Nu told Gree as he just continued to stare. "And I checked this book out for you, seeing as it may be of interest. Make sure to return it here in two standard weeks' time - and if that really isn't possible, put in for an extension with me. But when you do drop by again, make sure to let me know a little earlier so we can have biscuits with our tea. I hope you like ginger and lemon shortbread – it’s my specialty."
Gree's vocal cords finally stopped striking.
"I- Thank you," he hurried to say, tongue almost stumbling over the words as he rushed them out. "I appreciate you doing this for me. Thank you, ma’am."
"I quite enjoyed our meeting. And, my dear boy, if after the war you want to deepen your studies, do not hesitate to come find me. I will recommend you to some of the best universities for your line of interest." She looked up at him, pausing in her rapid-fire monologue. A shadow hushed over her face.
Then, she reached out a hand and very gently patted his cheek once, twice. Gree felt his eyes and cheeks grow hot at the touch. He bit his lip, swallowed back the tears.
Did the Jedi get taught special classes on how to touch clones extra gently?
"Oh, but I'm keeping you from doing the things you need to do." She lowered her hand and stepped back to give a slight bow. "Farewell, Commander Gree. May the Force be with you."
He possessed enough presence of mind to drop neither his library card and book nor his datapad as he bowed back. "And with you, Madam Nu. Goodbye."
She nodded, and he turned and headed out the now open doors of the Temple library. Without really paying attention to where he was going, he followed the well-known path to the hangar. There, a shuttle was waiting to take him back up to the 41st's venator in orbit around Coruscant.
All the way, he clutched his very own library card and his first borrowed book close to his chest.
He would survive the coming campaign, and the next, and the next. He'd fight for the lives of his soldiers, and he'd win. And when it was over - all over - he would come back here, to the Temple, and read not for a mission, but for the pleasure of reading. For the pleasure of knowledge.