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You see, the thing is-
The thing is-
The thing-
The Vod’e were not given a culture.
Any culture they have was taken (cobbled together from the trainers and Prime and the Kaminnoans, and then, later, from the cultures of the places they’re deployed, Ryloth and Christophsis and so many others, spreading through the ranks like lightning through a darkened sky) or created.
When all you have that is truly your own is what you make, what you create becomes all but holy.
Prime tells the Alphas of the Manda when they are five.
He tells them, when it all goes to osik, to pray to the Manda they get out alive.
The thing is, the Manda is for Mandolorians, and Prime has told them over and over again that they are not.
The thing is, the Manda seems such a big thing for such little boys.
The thing is, the clones are good at creating.
The Alphas tell their vod’ike:
"We are little right now, which means we cannot fight the trainers or Prime or the Kaminnoans. But one day we will be big.”
“One day we will be big" becomes the first crack of lightning before the heavens open and the rain comes down.
The thing is, the Force or the Ka'ra or whatever you wish to call it, is responsible for keeping the balance.
It is responsible for life and death, for growth and decay, for creation and destruction.
The thing is, Palpatine forgot this.
The thing is, Palpatine never considered the impact of artificially creating over three million lives.
(The Kaminnoans are also to blame, but they cannot sense the Force.
Palpatine should have known things more powerful than him would start paying attention.)
It starts with a boy and his brother.
It starts with a whisper.
Please let them overlook him, just this once.
And they do.
It starts with the boy who will become Fox, and the brother who will become Kote.
Word spreads fast on Kamino.
It has to, in that place, where not knowing can lead from anywhere to a beating from a trainer to a decommissioning.
Word spreads.
I asked anyone to save him.
Someone must have been listening.
So the others start asking.
The thing is, nobody can quite explain what the Force is with just words.
The thing is, there are three million souls on Kamino who should not be.
The thing is, the Force is responsible for life and death.
The thing is, the Force takes notice.
The Vod’e soon learn not to ask for big things.
Too many requests of “please don’t let them decommission him" go unnoticed for them to keep asking.
So instead they ask for little things.
“Please let there be melliroon jelly at dinner.”
“I wish I could spar with Fives today.”
“I wonder if I could have a name.”
They are answered, if not always kindly, but they are.
There is melliroon jelly at dinner, the boy who can quote the rules by heart (the boy who will later be named Echo) spars with his twin under the harsh eye of a trainer, the brother is branded Kote by his father (donor) with a cruel gesture and a bitter laugh, but he has a name.
“Little requests for little people.” The boy named for the calmest form of water jokes.
“Little prayers for little gods.” The brother who will one day lead a pack replies, solemn in a way he rarely is.
If word spreads like lightning, “little prayers for little gods" spreads like wildfire.
Praying to the little gods is the first part of their culture the Vod’e create for themselves.
The little gods mean more to them than they can say.
The thing is, the Force is made of concepts, but also beings.
The Father, Son and Daughter of Mortis are some such beings.
Those who can access the Force can understand the concepts, though it is not something that can be taught.
The thing is, if enough people believe in something, in someone, they begin to take shape.
The thing is, there are three million Vod’e who believe in the little gods.
The little gods become more than just beings to pray to.
In the years between their creation and the Jedi who would be a General once more arriving, the little gods become someone to talk to, to cry to, to mourn with.
The little gods become so much more than they were intended to be.
The Vod’e follow suit.
A conversation.
“Commander? I was wondering if I could have a word.”
A spine straightens, body stiffening. A prayer is sent to the little gods.
“Of course General. How can I help?”
“I was wondering. When I hear the men saying their remembrances for those marching far away, I often hear references to the little gods? I was wondering if you could explain?”
A pause.
“The little gods... they’re hard to explain.”
“Would you try?”
“The little gods are... I think, if the little gods are anything, they are carriers. They carry our wishes, our wonders, our weeping, our worries. They carry the names of our living and the lives of our dead.”
Another pause, considering.
“I think, General, that the little gods are hope when it is most needed.”
This must be remembered:
The Vod’e are not meant to exist.
By extension, neither are the little gods.
As such, they guard each other fiercely.
There is a certain beauty in such dedicated perseverance, don’t you think?
If you ask the Jedi, the Vod’e are incredibly lucky in incredibly little ways.
A scout has a bad day, and that evening they have a new shipment of his favourite rations. A gun jams just in time to save a brother’s life. A not-quite-shiny's brand new paint gets scratched, and the captain finds a new tin of paint that went missing.
The Vod’e know. That is enough.
The little gods are young, at least in the form they now take, but they carry so much.
It is a burden that is not unfamiliar.
“Have I ever told you,” a General asks his Commander, asks the troops gathered around him, “of the soul singers of the Young of Melidaan?”
Sometimes all you need is something to believe in.