Forging the Past
FtF I FtF
"Walk behind me, Doran. It's really, really, really weird seeing you like this," Tracyn muttered, hastening her walk so that she was a step ahead of Doran. His every footstep clanked against the ground as he tried to slow his pace. It wasn't his new droid body that unnerved her, but his flesh-and-blood body partially sticking out of the makeshift sack attached to his back.
After the building filled with back-to-back Yuuzhan Vong-modified animals, the group had encountered little else in their trek. And after several hours of navigating the vast Kaminoan city, they stopped encountering people and animals altogether. This time, they didn't even encounter any super-dangerous predator.
To make matters more confusing, they had reached a door that had been sealed off and welded shut, with a mountain of debris clearly visible through the transparasteel door blocking the other side. If that was a clear sign telling them to go around…and they evidently missed the memo.
The way through the doors and barricade was the only viable path after having already double-backed twice. The ruinous state of the city had left very few paths still open, and right now the group was at a bottleneck. After spending some more time cutting through the door and then painstakingly disassembling the blockade behind it, they had continued their trek towards the data-center.
A part from his out-of-body experience, there was something else preoccupying Doran's mind. If the Yuuzhan Vong had truly wanted the data, why release all manner of murderous creatures throughout the city? Why didn't they retrieve the data beforehand? He understood analyzing the different species' fighting abilities angle, but there were other ways of doing that.
Even then, thinking about all this as a B3 Ultra-Battle Droid kind of put new emphasis on the word 'surreal'.
"You're telling me," Doran replied to Tracyn. Dinua was a few steps ahead of them with Rali Xici on her shoulders again, while Maze took point and Nate brought up the rear.
"You really are an or'dikut, you know that," Tracyn said almost little-girl like, scowling at him through the slat of her helmet. This was the most she had said to him after that creature-filled building, and he could hear in her voice the emotions that were bubbling over.
"Only returning the favor I owed," Doran said gently. "You saved my life on that moon. Cost you an eye and half your face."
"That's why you're an or'dikut," Tracyn said mutinously. It might have been his new body's audio-receptors, but it almost sounded like Tracyn was crying. "We're friends, family. We should never have to owe each other anything. I can count on one hand the number of friends I have that I truly trust. If I lose any of them because I was too stupid and couldn't watch my own back…"
"I thought that's what a Mando-family was for," Doran reminded softly.
"Shut up," Tracyn said almost petulantly.
"The droid-body," Dinua spoke up, not looking back. "Having any problems?"
Doran wanted to smile, but apparently his new body translated his 'smiling reflex' to bringing the two plasma blasters he had attached to his chassis online. He groaned, forcing his whole body to turn around so that he could look at Dinua. "None so far. But to use Tracyn's phrasing, it feels really, really, really weird not breathing, or blinking, or doing all the stuff I usually do. It's really, really, really cold in here, and I'm still getting used to this body. Other than that, I'm still okay, still me."
"Good," Dinua said, her emotions still closely guarded.
"Yeah. As cool as it is to be four meters tall, covered in armor plating, with a whole armory's worth of weapons attached to me, I kind of liked being my more squishy human self more." The talk was continued through the transparasteel passageway, and Doran was grateful that the Kaminoans were a tall race; otherwise his much larger figure might not have fit through the corridors.
"The feeling is mutual," Dinua noted.
"I can't ride on your shoulders when you're a droid," Rali added. "And Dinua can't make kissy faces with you. Like she did on the ship."
Doran had to stop where he was as Rali's words processed. "Weren't you supposed to be sleeping?"
Rali giggled. "You weren't feeling good so it woke me up. But when I saw Dinua come in I pretended to be asleep. Then she talked to you. Then…" As if sharing a secret, but not realizing that her helmet's speaker-system amplified her voice, Rali leaned backwards on Dinua's shoulders and whispered. "You almost kissed. If you become human again maybe you can actually kiss her!"
Doran heard Tracyn do her best to hide her giggle and Maze gave him a thumbs up.
Nate laughed. "There's motivation for you."
Doran wondered what it would take to destroy a nearly indestructible four-meter tall armored droid. He doubted throwing himself out the walkway would even dent himself. Then, Dinua surprised him completely and nearly made him topple over with her next words.
"Good point Raxi. If the silly person there becomes human again, I just might kiss him."
"See," Rali's voice was full of rainbows and cute Nexu kittens. "So you have to become human again, so I can ride on your shoulders and you can kiss Dinua!"
Doran was really grateful that his droid body was incapable of blushing. Not that it helped him feel less embarrassed or anything. "Yeah," he managed weakly. "Sure."
Tracyn lost her own battle and began giggling earnestly. "Oh, stars! Baby Hairless Wookie Two needs to hear this!"
"He doesn't, really," Doran deadpanned.
The group fell quiet again, their path becoming more and more difficult to navigate. The walkways were gradually sloping into a downwards incline due to the listing of the city. The listing definitely made passing some of the areas of the city harder than usual.
And in their current instance, almost impossible to pass. Maze stopped in his tracks and held up a hand. The entire group stopped where they were. Strangely enough, they could hear the sound of crashing waves even when they were indoors.
"This is going to complicate things," Nate commented with forced levity.
The others edged forward, and immediately saw what he meant. An entire section of the building had collapsed into the ocean below, leaving a watery hole where the floor should have been. The walkway they were on ended in a sheer drop, a wide gap existing between where it ended and where it was supposed to lead. Above, rain water leaked through the fragmented roof and cracked walls, trickling downwards in a sign that the roof probably wouldn't last much longer either.
"We can try to get to that lower walkway," Dinua shone her light onto a passageway below them. Her voice echoed in the cavernous room. "Set up a repelling line, then use ascension guns to get back up to where we want to be."
"That might be our best bet," Maze scanned the area.
A sudden rush of water above was accompanied by the sound of tortured metal groaning. Then, an entire segment of the roof fell down and hit the dark water below with a resounding splash. Rain water immediately began to pour through the new opening in the roof, lightning brightening up the area.
During the flash, Doran caught something out of the corner of his eyes—now photoreceptors. "I'll go last, not sure if the walkway can hold up under my new weight."
"Good idea," Maze said.
As the others began the slow task of repelling off their broken walkway and onto the lower one, Doran 'blinked' and switched his vision to thermal once more. He scanned the many alcoves and shadowy nooks that dotted the building's ruined ceiling. And then he spotted his initial target. A human-shaped heat-source crouched down, watching their progress. Doran wished he had a better view of the human-shaped figure, and then suddenly his vision telescoped outwards towards the target, a HUD appearing in his sight. Doran took a moment to think about what he was seeing. The figure had no blaster or armor. In fact appeared to be almost completely unclothed save for a belt and a light pair of pants. It was the object attached to the figure's belt that caused Doran's non-existent heart to skip a beat. Whatever was watching them had a lightsaber.
Like an insect, the creature crawled along the rafters. Doran tracked his movements, drawing his vision back slightly.
"Doran!" Tracyn's voice shook him from his focus. "Doran!"
"Yeah!" Doran looked back towards his allies. They were beginning to ascend back up to the opposite end of the catwalk. That caused him to twitch in alarm. How long had he been focusing on that shadowy figure? "Coming!"
He glanced back upwards one last time, but saw no sign of the lightsaber-wielding figure.
Doran reached for the cable that Maze had tied down to the twisted end of the walkway and tried to grip onto it. Unfortunately for Doran, his hand—see metal droid claw—was slick from the moisture in the room. As was the metal cable. With a startled cry of surprise, Doran lost his grip and his large form flailed as it fell the few meters to the walkway below. On the bright-side, he had fallen face-first and avoided turning his organic body into mush. On the not-so-bright-side, his very heavy droid body crashed straight through the roof of the lower walkway…and the floor of the lower walkway in a deafening bang.
"Doran!"
Doran was now dangling precariously above the giant hole that led to the ocean below. A single clawed hand was gripping a piece of shorn metal girder, keeping him from falling the remaining fifty meters into the ocean. Then the walkway he had smashed through decided to break too.
"Oh come on!" Doran yelled to no one in particular.
The twisting walkway broke off at one end and swung wildly, before the other end snapped and came crashing down noisily against the side of the large room. The cylindrical walkway then proceeded to roll down the room's sloped wall like steamroller, right in Doran's direction.
Doran reflexively tucked his head in, or tried to in any case. His motion activated his chassis' back-mounted missile-launcher. The two missiles that fired off veered towards the object he was looking at, the rolling walkway. The resulting explosion sent the walkway pinwheeling off the wall and hurling through the air like a missile in its own right. It blew through the adjacent wall, leaving another hole in the already mangled room, and disappeared out into the stormy ocean.
"Okay," Doran sighed in relief. His grip began to slip, so he tightened his hold. This caused the metal beam he was holding onto to crunch like a can in a garbage compactor, and that swung him even lower. Doran became more exasperated than anything. "Okay body, make up your mind. Are you going to help me stay alive or kill me!?"
"Doran!" Tracyn called out again.
"Stay up there!" Doran projected. "I'm okay."
"And the 'squishy' you?" Dinua yelled back.
Doran reached out with his free hand to grip the makeshift sack that held his limp form. Still dangling above the water, he gave his organic form a once over with his night-vision active. He did not appear to have inflicted any additional damage. "Still squishy, not mushy."
"Great, then get back up here!"
"Easier said than done," Doran mumbled under his breath. He placed his sack back onto his back and looked for a more stable handhold. Not helping was his handhold dipping him even further and further towards the ocean.
Just when he was about to do something wholly drastic—and probably equal parts stupid—he found himself floating unsteadily into the air.
It took him a minute to realize what was happening, and when he did, he mentally grumbled. Great, now he was going to have to owe Nate two at the very least. His floating trek through the darkened room was slow, his body taking stomach-to-throat-inducing plunges a couple of times as Nate's concentration waned. Finally, though, he was floated back to the opposite end of their initial catwalk and deposited to its surface.
"Watch your step, mate," Nate laughed, sounding completely exhausted. "You're twice as tall and three times as heavy as you were before."
"You don't say," Doran grumbled in embarrassment. "Thanks."
"Yeah."
"You okay?" Tracyn said worriedly.
Doran was about to answer, but realized the smaller Mandalorian was addressing Nate.
"Not really," Nate tried to stand, then promptly toppled over. Tracyn was the first to catch him, but she nearly went down with his weight. Maze and Dinua quickly moved in to help her with the burden. "Sorry about that. Most I've used the Force in a very long time. Out of practice."
"Maze," Dinua spoke up, her light still focused on the disc-like platforms that surrounded the pillars in the room. There appeared to be circular slots in each of the platforms, most empty or holding shattered containers of some sort. "What was this room used for?"
Maze looked in the direction of her light. "Looks like it was used to grow clones. Those things you're shining your light on are cloning chambers. Each of those discs could hold a dozen or more clones depending on the configuration."
Doran was reminded of the heat signature he had seen. "Any chance any of those clones are still around?"
"Nah," Maze chuckled. "Clones need the right environment to develop. Look around you, this ain't it. Whatever the Rebel Alliance did to this place left it a wreck, and it's been over twenty years since then."
"If you say so," Doran said dubiously.
"Doran?" Dinua was facing him, her helmeted gaze boring into his photoreceptors.
"It might have been nothing, but I definitely picked up something on my thermal vision before falling and everything."
"More likely a Vong creature then," Maze said warily. Everyone knew, however, that it was extremely unlikely that the Yuuzhan Vong creatures had gotten past the sealed door and debris-wall they had spent close to an hour getting through. "Everyone keep an eye out and let's double-time it through this building."
FtF II FtF
Ruinous. Mildewed. Beyond creepy. When only the last description out of the three fit the hallways and rooms they were now walking through, beyond creepy developed a new level of creepiness. They had expected hanging light-fixtures, water-damaged walls and ceilings. More rain pouring through cracks in a destroyed building. Instead, what they got was…
"How is this place so clean?" Nate marveled. His torch swept the passage before them and revealed nothing out of place. No blackened wall-panels. No furniture out of place. In fact, it looked as if the entire area had just been powered down the previous day and was waiting for the next shift to take over. The floor, ceiling, walls, light-fixtures, they were all in pristine condition. In a way, it was a lot scarier than the run-down wreck they had spent nearly the entire day navigating.
"Keep your eyes peeled," Maze said seriously, bringing the butt of his rifle into his shoulder. "If Doran saw something, then he saw something. The Kaminoans grew all sorts of weird things in this building. Add to the freaky things that the Vong have unleashed and we can't keep our guard down."
The others readied their weapons as well, with Rali moving over to grip one of Doran's legs and trembling from the disquiet. He glanced down at her and an idea came to mind. He might not be able to feel the Force, but even without it he could tell that the six year old girl was probably the most terrified out of all of them.
"Hey, Raxi," Doran said, doing his best to reassure her despite his synthesized voice hardly being the most comforting.
"Doran?" Her helmeted head looked up to him.
"Wanna be my operator?" Doran asked.
"Operator?"
"Uh huh. I'm a droid right? You can control me," Doran carefully used his hands so that one of Rali's small feet stood atop one of his own metal, boot-shaped feet. He shook his other foot and Rali quickly picked up on what he wanted and placed her opposite foot onto his. He then gently took one of her hands in each of his so that it looked as if he were one giant, metal exo-skeleton supporting her small figure. "Now, using my hands, you can guide me through this place."
The tiny Zeltron experimentally tugged on one hand, and Doran let her pull his body forward. She lifted one leg, and he lifted his leg with it. Rali's cute giggle sounded from her helmet as she performed an experimental dance, using Doran's droid body as an extension of her tiny limbs.
"I guess you want the job?" Doran asked lightly as Rali continued to use him as her own personal mech-suit.
"Uh huh," Rali said brightly, beaming up at him, the creepiness of the building forgotten.
"Where to next, Operator Rali?"
"Forward!" Rali announced, pointing with one of their joint hands.
"Roger, roger!" Doran played along, walking in time with her tiny steps.
The duo ventured bravely into the darkness, both ignoring the bemused stares the rest of the group was giving them.
"Danger, danger. Rali Xici, my sensors indicate an intruder is present," Doran said in his best droid voice.
"Fire weapons!" Rali pushed both hands out, and Doran made his wrist-mounted weapons appear.
"Firing," Doran said, then mimicked the sounds of his wrist-laser and flame-thrower as he pretended to fire on an unseen target in the darkened hallway. "Hostile life-form eliminated."
"Yay, robot!" Rali said with a giggle. "Forward again!"
As the two continued to treat the frightening-probably-containing-something-deadly darkened hallways as their own playground, the rest of the group continued to gape in disbelief.
"Right turn! No, the other right!"
"That's left, Operator Rali."
"Go left!"
"Is that kid crazy?" Maze gazed in disbelief. "He's going to get himself and the girl killed."
"No kidding," Nate was shaking his head, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. "Or at the very least let whoever is creeping around here know where we are."
Tracyn and Dinua were watching as well, and despite the obviously poor tactical choice Doran was making, both couldn't help but smile warmly behind the safety of their helmets. Tracyn openly chuckled in amusement, while Dinua just shook her head with resigned enjoyment.
"Come on, Jeban," Tracyn picked up her pace. "Let's keep him from getting all of us killed."
"Only the Di'kut would do something so…him," Dinua sighed aloud, not fooling Tracyn at all.
The two Mando girls quickly caught up with Doran and Rali.
"Operator Rali Xici," Dinua said in an official voice. "Your Mandalorian reinforcements have arrived. Your orders?"
Rali's big eyes glimmered with enjoyment from behind the eye-slat of her helmet. But then realized that they were still waiting for orders. She tilted her head back so she could look at Doran. "What should I tell them to do?"
"You could have them sing you a song…" Doran heard Dinua's metal-covered hand impact the side of his chassis and secretly hope she hadn't dented his new body. "Or have them fall into formation."
Rali nodded wisely. "Okay Mandalorians, fall into formation!"
"Yes, ma'am," Dinua saluted. She saw both Doran and Tracyn looked at her completely askance and felt her cheeks warm. "We have a job to do, let's ensure the OJA remains unharmed for the duration of this mission."
"OJA?" Tracyn asked, very much trying to hide another bout of laughter.
"Ori'jaonyc ad," Dinua said. Then for Rali's benefit. "Very important kid."
"Robot Doran, forward!" Rali directed, clearly having the time of her life. "Mandalorian reinforcements, forward!"
"Roger, roger!" Doran intoned once more, seemingly equally enjoying his droid body.
Despite his role as Rali's 'robot,' Doran kept his multi-spectrum vision scanning everywhere they passed. As they walked through a room full of circular wall-paneling, Doran's thermal vision warned him that something was off. He paused in the middle of the room.
"Robot?" Rali looked up at him.
"Scanning the room for hostiles, Operator Rali," Doran said with a forced cheer the other two girls picked up on. Maze and Nate had trailed several steps behind and saw the change in Tracyn and Dinua's posture. "Maze, what was this room used for?"
"Bunk-room," Maze said immediately. "Several similar rooms over on Tipoca City. Each of those panels is actually a sleeping-pod. The cadets would be assigned to one until they outgrow it and are issued military-style bunks. Why?"
"Unless my thermal sensors are off, half of those pods are full of something living," Doran said in a hushed voice.
"What…? Impossible," Maze rasped.
"Someone had to have barricaded the doors to this part of the city," Nate murmured, looking up at the row after row of sleeping pods.
"No, it's impossible. Those pods need power to keep the people inside alive, or they will suffocate to death. This building has no power. The entire city was dead."
Almost as if to prove him wrong, the pods let out an eerie hiss.
"I vote we get closer to the other end of the room," Nate whispered, pointing with his blaster towards the far door. "You know, for running purposes."
"Seconded," Doran agreed for the rest of the group. They edged slowly towards the door, their weapons aiming upwards at the equally slowly-opening pods.
How the pods were opening was a mystery, as the entire room remained pitch black save for the lights from their torches. Their lights illuminated the nearest pod. A single limb came into view, almost insectoid in appearance. Then another. Then a head that was too long to be human, yet had human characteristics peeked over the side.
"Those Shabla Shebse!" Maze's voice was hoarse but full of anger. "They…they spliced Geonosian DNA with human!"
The creature seemed to recoil at the combined light of their torches, a set of wings fluttering and taking it out of the pod and into the air. It wasn't the only one. Dozens of human-sized, part-bug/part-human creatures with four insect arms and two human legs, fluttered out of their pods. The two sides stared at each other for several long, passing seconds.
The almost olive-colored human skin that covered the creatures' bodies were very similar in shade to Jintar, Maze, Nate, and those with Clone Trooper DNA. Their wings, appendages, even mouth, were more similar to a bug. Their eyes appeared to be from a third species, glowing catlike and red in the darkness.
"Why are they just hovering there?" Whispered Tracyn, seemingly not sure whether to aim her blaster at them or not.
"They're talking," Doran said softly. He realized that his body's superior hearing range was letting him pick up the frequency at which the creatures were communicating at. "They're debating whether we're another test."
"What?!" More than one voice exclaimed.
"You can…hear them?" Dinua asked in a low voice.
"Yeah, audioreceptors of this B-Three are great," Doran replied dryly. "They're still talking Basic, but at a frequency humans can't hear. Apparently my presence, and the armors Maze and Nate are wearing, has confused them."
The flying human-insect creatures fluttered around for another few long seconds, before one fluttered to a compartment near the top of the room. The lights followed it as it pulled the compartment out and reached for something inside.
"I think we should leave while we can," Nate said nervously. But when he glanced at Maze, he realized that the old ARC was still standing in the middle of the room. "Uncle, we need to go."
Doran's audio-receptors picked up a litany of curses and mumbling emanating from the Advanced Recon Commando, much of which didn't make sense. It was as if the sight of the half-Geonosians had snapped something in the elderly man's mind. When Nate moved to pull Maze along, one of the creatures hovering in the air reacted negatively.
Nate let out a yell as a deadly-looking barb punched through one of his legs and dropped him to his knees. Another barb fired from the insectoid-like backside of the hovering creatures thunked loudly off of Doran's heavily armored torso.
"Not good," Doran swore, backing up with Rali still on his feet.
Dinua and Tracyn quickly moved to the front of the formation and began laying down suppressive fire.
The creature atop the room began throwing things out to the others.
"Oh heck," Doran's night-vision realized what they were. "Guys, we have to get out of here!"
"Backwards!" Rali said with a note of determination, taking steps back while still using Doran as her 'mech'.
"Good idea," Dinua said, her head snapping up at a sudden movement. "Down!"
Doran saw Dinua throw herself in front of them as an anti-tank rocket was fired from the cluster of half-human creatures. The missile actually skipped off the ground and exploded overhead like an air-burst round, peppering the entire group with shrapnel.
"Rali!"
"No damage!" Rali called out bravely, clinging tightly to Doran's hands.
The other part-Geonosian clones had armed themselves with blaster-rifles and were sending blistering fire towards the intruders.
"Uncle Maze, come on!" Nate yelled, limping and trying to pull a stunned Maze with him.
"Behind us!" Tracyn yelled, whirling around with blaster-pistols blazing.
Doran, not able to worry about Dinua at the moment, turned and saw a large group of figures running towards them. The hallway out of the room branched off into different directions, and each hallway was filled with the charging creatures. Their four arms were very noticeable as each limb held a blaster-pistol or rifle. They also had the same insect/human head as the smaller creatures in the room behind them.
"Found the adults!" Doran shouted. "Rali we need weapons now, hang on to the backs of my legs. Armor mode active!"
"Armor mode, active," Rali repeated, hurrying behind Doran and peeking out between his legs. "Can we change games soon?"
"Soon, promise."
Doran held up both his hands and promptly forced the charging half-human clones into cover. His wrist-laser repeated strafed the hallway, while a wrist-rocket zoomed out and neutralized several threats at once. He nodded, and a shoulder-mounted rocket flew out and created an explosion that was twice as devastating. In the smoky aftermath, however, his nightvision could see another larger group of the creatures swarming in.
"How are we doing on the little kids' side?" Doran called out.
Tracyn looked over her shoulder. "Dinua and Nate are keeping them back for now. Jeban's armor's had it though."
A laser flashed from the crowd of adult half-humans and forced Tracyn to duck again. More lasers flashed, some of them burning into Doran's ablative plating as he stood in the middle of the hallway. He retaliated with his chassis-mounted plasma blasters.
"Worst part is, I'm running low on ammo. Didn't expect to fire off so many rounds on a simple search and retrieve mission."
Another shoulder-rocket sent the half-human clones scattering, but at the same time, they were slowly pressing towards Doran and the others. One fired off a heavy-duty slug round that hit the joint and completely ripped away one of Doran's arms. Another few shots blew away one of his plasma blasters.
"I'm running out of weapons too," Doran shouted over the din.
The only bright-side was that the room with Maze, Nate, and Dinua seemed to have gone quiet.
Then, the entire ceiling where the adult hybrids were coming from completely collapsed via heavy explosives. The deafening roar shook the building, the plume of flame momentarily lighting up the battle-zone and knocking people off their feet. And then the last thing Doran expected happened. A team of three Mandalorians in gleaming red armor jetpacked through the hole they had made, their own weapons—heavy repeaters—completely leveling the swarming horde within seconds. More silence fell as the last of the bug-hybrids hit the ground.
"Holy…" Tracyn breathed out. She shook herself when the Mandalorians raised their weapons at her and Doran. "Mando'ade, mhi cuy tomade!"
"Allies?" One said skeptically, weapon still aimed, but finger resting outside the trigger-guard. "We'll see."
They approached with weapons raised, one of the trio turning around to watch their flank with dual D-17 blasters. Doran took the moment to glance behind him and saw that Dinua and Nate had fully dispatched the last of the 'cadet' half-human clones. Dinua, however, definitely looked worse for wear. The rocket had more or less made a mess of her chest-piece, and she was peeling away the destroyed armor part and groaning in pain at the same time. When Tracyn had called out in Mando'a, however, Maze's head had snapped up in alarm.
The aging ARC had taken his helmet off when the firing had stopped to examine the hybrids with his own eyes, so when he looked up at the new Mandalorians everyone could see a gamut of emotions flash across his face.
"Cuy'val Dar," Maze spoke almost reverently, slowly standing.
The front two Mandalorians flashed their light on his moving form, and they too seemed shocked.
"One of Skirata's?" The male duo asked to the female next to him.
"Has to be. He's not one of mine. I did get word that Kal was sending a team out here," the female acknowledged with a nod. "Solider, your designation."
"Captain A-26, Maze. Ma'am," Maze said with a military discipline that caught everyone else off guard. Gone was the slightly absent-minded uncle. Standing straight and at attention was an ARC from three decades earlier.
"Great, another ARC," the Mandalorian female bringing up the rear groan. "One of Tay'haai's people then."
"He seems sane enough," the male Mandalorian said mildly.
"They all do, until they flip a switch," the shorter female retorted.
"Control chip removed, ma'am," Maze said, turning around and showing them the scarring on his neck.
"Well that's something at least," the first female Mandalorian said coolly. She made a gesture, and her people lowered their weapons. "Su'cuy gar. Ne cuy Rav Braylor. With me are Vhonte Tervho and Cort Davin."
"Errr…can I ask what you Blamo-Mando-Commandos are doing here?" Doran voiced, hearing Dinua groan in the background and mutter 'please shoot him'."
"Rather self-aware for a B3," Rav said in surprise.
"Jedi spirit crammed inside. His real body is on his back and we'll heal it up after we're done here," Nate straightened from tending Dinua. Despite his leg wound, he seemed to have no trouble putting weight on the bandaged limb. "You know how it is."
"I wish we didn't," Cort, the male of the trio, deadpanned.
"You didn't answer my question. What are a bunch of Blamo-Mando-Commandos doing in a place like this?" Doran repeated. It was then he realized that Tracyn was not-so-subtly nudging him with her elbow. "Tracyn?"
"They're our, as in Mando'ade, equivalent of your Yoda, Obi-wan, and all your famous Jedi Masters. Except even better because they're still alive," Tracyn gritted out. "You do not call them Blamo-Mando-Commandos. Just like I wouldn't call Yoda 'wrinkly-green-frog-face'."
"Oh," Doran processed that sheepishly. He glanced to the trio of Manalorians, then back at Tracyn. "Aren't they very old then? I mean, the Clone Wars was over forty years ago so they're like what, seventy, eighty years old?"
"Please, please shoot him, Tracyn," Dinua groaned in anguish, using Nate to rise to a standing position. "Doran, they're the vode of Kal Skirata. The guy with Jedi healers and some of the best lab equipment on Manda'yaim. Now shut up and apologize to the three of them."
"Dinua Jeban," Rav chuckled, resting her blaster-rifle against her shoulder. "Mereel told me you found someone capable of piercing that durasteel you use to protect your heart. Didn't think it was a droid though."
"Temporary set-back, ba'vodu," Dinua sighed, lightly kicking Doran's leg and creating a thonking noise. "Ordinarily, he's a lot better looking. Still shoots himself in the foot every time he opens his mouth though, so that hasn't changed."
Doran recognized that his mouth had once again said the first things that had come to his mind, and he grimaced. Almost chagrin, he turned his attention to the new Mandalorians. "Really, really sorry! Please don't blast me."
"It'd be a waste of ammo," Rav said dryly. "As for why we're here? We're doing what Mandalorians do best, hunting someone."
"In this place?" Maze blinked.
"Maze, was it?" Rav said coolly. "Do the names Llats Ward or B'arin Apma mean anything to you?"
"Not that I can think of."
"B'arin Apma was one of the Cuy'val Dar who trained my grandfather," Nate spoke up.
"Grandfather? Not your armor then?" Cort said in polite curiosity.
"My grandfather was A-98, Jangotat," Nate said proudly.
"I know of him," Rav said approvingly. "He was an exceptional ARC. I was unaware he had time to father any children."
"Atrivis," Nate supplied. "My grandmother said that he sacrificed himself for millions, but that they were close before his final mission."
"And you are following in his footsteps, jate," Rav nodded.
"What about B'arin?" Nate asked. "If you're hunting him, then…he's here?"
"Him and Llats, and Alpha," Rav confirmed.
Maze exhaled sharply. "A-17 died in the war."
"MIA," Cort corrected, shaking his head. "Turns out that he spent time in a Separatist geneticist lab and has gone off reservation. Near as we can tell, when the war ended, he returned here and started using the failed templates to build himself an army of his own."
"These creatures?" Maze kicked the body of one of the adult hybrids. "Don't tell me…"
"Apparently he never actually left the city after Vader's project was discovered," Rav said grimly. "When Alpha started recalling the Cuy'val Dar, no one but B'arin and Lllats answered the call. Don't know what Alpha promised them, but they've stayed on. Eventually the word got to Mand'alor himself. Before he could do anything, the Vongese sent in a mercenary group, probably for salvage. That group was wiped out. The Vongese filled the place with their pets to try to flush out the threat, but it was a no-go. We came over with the rest of the mercs in order to carry out the orders Mand'alor has given us."
"It's also why we 'old' ones are here," Cort said in mild amusement. "B'arin and Lllats were of the Cuy'val Dar. You could say this is an internal family matter. Wouldn't feel right to leave this to the younger hunters. Not their screw-up, not their problem. Given that apart from Kal and Doc Gilamaar, we're the last of the Cuy'val Dar alive, the job falls to us."
"Wad'e Tayhaai is dead?" Dinua said in surprise. "He visited the Kyrimorut last year and seemed healthy as ever."
"Tayhaai went on his march beginning of this year," Cort confirmed evenly. "It was on some mission Mand'alor gave him. Don't know the specifics."
"Commander!" Vhonte called out, drawing her weapons. Cort left the conversation and hoisted an assault rifle, dropping to one knee behind a fallen pillar. "Multiple contacts! Looks like the howler variation!"
"Lovely," Rav remarked. "I know that you lot are here to retrieve data to save a friend of yours, but at the moment, you'll all be dead if you continue on by yourselves."
"You're letting them come with us?" Vhonte said in disbelief as she began firing her dual blasters.
"Kal vouched for them," Rav voiced. "And we could use a few extra guns and a giant walking target." The last comment being directed at Doran.
"Great, extra guns, start shooting," Vhonte gestured towards the three other hallways that branched out from their own. Creatures charring on four legs were barreling through the hallways, seemingly undisturbed by the lethal energy and metal rounds being thrown at them.
"We're running low on ammo, ma'am," Maze said. "We didn't expect this many hostiles."
Doran spoke up. "Which pathway do we need to go through?"
Rav glanced at a small holomap, then gestured to the middle of the hallways. "That one."
Doran nodded, and the last of his shoulder-launched missiles flew out into the other paths, slamming into the ceiling. The explosion completely snapped off some walkways, and collapsed the others in on themselves.
"More than just a walking target," Doran quipped.
Cort and Vhonte were able to focus their fire down the singular hallway, clearing it in short order.
Rav gave Maze's group a once-over, then seemed to decide something. "There's an armory that was used for the Null's live-fire exercises nearby. You can rearm there."
Again she addressed the last sentence towards Doran. Doran blinked slowly, but then heard something tapping his side. Looking down he saw that Rali was holding his shot-off limb and trying to reattach it to his shoulder joint. The fact that the limb was taller than her only made the scene comically touching.
"Thanks," Doran said, taking the severed arm from her.
"Does it hurt?" Rali asked worriedly.
"Nope."
"He's too stupid to hurt at the moment," Dinua grumbled, shoving his damaged torso to no effect. "Can't believe you called the Cuy'val Dar Blamo-Mando-Commandos!"
"You doing okay, Dinua?" Doran asked, seeing a bacta wrap around her torso.
"Nate helped me with the bandaging. I'll be fine," Dinua replied shortly. "You look worse than me, and you're a dumb droid."
"The whole point of putting you in that body is so that we'd have some place for your spirit to be nice and safe until we can fix up your original one," Nate chuckled in disbelief. "Hopefully the armory has some sort of tool-bench I can use to fix you up."
"I'm okay," Doran protested. As he did, his one remaining side-mounted plasma blaster chose that moment to fall off. "Really." A blaster-burned armor piece fell away as well. "Okay, fine." Doran sighed in resignation, holding his damaged arm. "Lead the way. Jintar is going to so owe me for this."
FtF III FtF
The situation was a lot worse than the Cuy'val Dar survivors originally mentioned. The ARC known as Alpha, as well as the two renegade Cuy'val Dar Mandalorians, had had twenty-plus years to raise their mutated army. The only positive was that the trio had been working in a city that was more or less nonfunctional. Rav Bralor put the number of enemy soldiers anywhere between two to five thousand. When asked how she, Vhonte, and Cort were planning to take on an entire army by themselves, Rav held up a detonator. After neutralizing Alpha and the two renegades, Rav's group was going to completely blow what was left of Timira city, sinking the entire thing.
"No wonder the Vongese needed an army of mercs," Tracyn exhaled slowly, her face illuminated by the map of the city provided by Rav. She pushed a strand of hair out of her face as she studied the image, her helmet resting on an ammo-crate next to her. Secure in the very spacious armory, the two teams had decided to use the moment to rest and recuperate before the final push. "And an army of beasts. Five thousand cloned soldiers is a heck of a lot of manpower."
"I also got the feeling this mission wasn't exactly one of their official ones," Doran voiced, doing his best not to communicate how annoyed he was that Nate was wielding his arm back on. "At the start, the younger Yuuzhan Vong seemed nervous at even being here."
"Which is why they hired mercs instead of bringing in a Vong taskforce. Makes sense," Nate agreed.
"Doesn't this situation keep getting better," Tracyn said sarcastically.
"Could be worse," Dinua shrugged. "We could be walking into that army without the Cuy'val Dar."
"I have a question about that," Doran said. "I know Tracyn said that they were like the Jedi's Yoda and Obi-Wan. But what exactly is the Cuy'val Dar? Doesn't that just mean 'The Nobodies' in Mando'a?"
"'Those who don't exist,'" Tracyn corrected with gritted teeth. "The ultimate in plausible deniability."
Dinua, absently rubbing a sleeping Rali's back, added her own definition in a hushed voice. "Basically, Mandalorians who temporary abandon the homeworld to train a group of outsiders in our ways."
"Often for a great deal of credits," Tracyn said.
"Errr…correct me if I'm wrong, but don't you normally hate Mandalorians who do things for credits?" Doran asked the blonde Death Watch leader.
"Most of the time, yes," Tracyn said, glancing over to where the three adult Mandalorians were using the downtime to catch some shut-eye. "But the group that traveled with Jango Fett is a legend. They trained an entire army several times over. Instilled in that army the same culture that runs in the blood of every Mandalorian. And then they all somehow survived the mess between the Jedi and dar'jetti and managed to return home with their paychecks. Like I said, you Jedi have Yoda and Obi-Wan as legends to look to. The kind of Jedi you want to grow up to be. The Mandalorians have the Cuy'val Dar as our heroes. The fact that our heroes survived what killed off all your Jedi heroes only makes them more badass."
"I'll give you that," Doran said drolly. He read her face and would have raised an eyebrow if he had one. "You're starstruck."
"Am not," Tracyn immediately whirled back towards him, her face flushing.
"You are," Nate agreed with a grin.
"Any Mandalorian would be a little starstruck," Tracyn said defensively.
"Dinua isn't," Doran pointed to where Dinua seemed more focused on combing Rali's hair than the 'heroes' sitting meters away from her.
"That's because she's messed up in the head," Tracyn pouted.
"Says the Kyr'tsadika," Dinua replied in a dry tone, not even looking up.
"Why aren't you starstruck?" Nate asked.
Dinua blinked at Doran and Nate. "My clan is allied with Clan Skirata. When one of the leaders of the Cuy'val Dar read you bed-time stories, one is like an aunt to you, another performs your annual physicals, and a fourth gives you birthday presents every year, they stop being godlike and become mortal."
"I guess that would do it," Nate remarked, standing and stretching.
"How's the leg?" Doran asked.
"The leg? Oh, the leg," Nate smiled wanly. "Painkillers and the Force are an awesome combination. I'm sure the docs back on the Chu'unthor will give me a proper chewing out when I get back. Lucky for me, or not, that stinger just hit muscle and nothing else. Going to have a limp for a while though."
"And how's your uncle?" Tracyn said in a softer voice, gesturing towards Maze. The veteran ARC was leaning against a wall, his focus completely on the Cuy'val Dar as he stood guard.
"I've…never seen him like this," Nate said soberly. "I mean, everyone on the Chu'unthor knew he was slowly…going mad I guess is the best way to put it. They used to tell me stories about what he was like back in the old days. How he nearly shot a Jedi because of Order 66 and how it screwed up his orderly view of the galaxy. I guess if grandpa had made it out, he'd be the same too. The ARCs, they were lab-grown for the sole purpose of fighting and dying for the Republic. And then it turns out they're actually loyal to the entity that wants to end the Republic and that they've been fighting against the Republic all this time? That'd mess up anyone. Dad told me that Maze spent several years trying to find meaning to his life again. When the Skiratas came out with that cure for the accelerated growth, to hear my dad say it, Maze took that as a sign to do something more constructive than drink and mope. He threw himself into learning about the science that went into his DNA, received copies of the research from the Kyrimorut, and tried to augment that with his own studies. But I always thought that he left the soldier part of his life behind."
"He can't," the voice of Vhonte Tervho said from behind Doran and Nate. Both teens jerked in surprise, having not felt the Mandalorian's approach at all. The red-armored woman took a seat on a crate next to Doran and reclined casually, feet resting on a tool bench. "He can't just leave the soldiering behind. It was what he was bred for, what's hard-coded in his DNA. I'm surprise he hasn't lost it already, keeping all that bottled up."
"Jintar's father and the others at the Kyrimorut seem okay," Doran said.
"We are talking about the same Nulls, right?" Vhonte said skeptically. "The entire group was labeled as 'deviant' by the Kaminoans right from the start. The way Rav tells it, N-7 is a hopeless womanizer who'll never settle down because his loyalty is to Kal and only him. N-11 is a cold-hearted, anti-social bastard who has given up on everyone not in his clan. N-10 is a sociopath. N-5, N-6 and N-12 have a kid or so, even married. But the women N-5 and N-12 are married to knew what they were getting into, met them during the war and stayed with them because of it."
"What about Fi, and Darman, and Niner?"
"They aren't Nulls. They're Omega squad, run of the mill commando batch," Vhonte drawled. "And Fi is married to Rav's niece, so watch what you say about him."
"Huh?"
"Parja is her niece," Dinua supplied idly, like rubbing shoulders with the best of Mandalore was an every-day thing for her. "So technically she's Jintar's aunt, but since my mom left me with the Skiratas a lot…"
"She's your aunt too. Right now I am so jealous," Tracyn muttered.
"In any case," Vhonte continued. "There's nothing wrong with A-26 that a good run-and-gun fight to the death can't solve."
"You sure?" Nate said skeptically. "Because he seemed pretty certain that it was his genetics degrading his mind."
"Emphasis on 'fight to the death,'" Vhonte sighed as if she was talking to grade-schoolers. "He needs to go out with a bang, while he still has all his faculties. Not waste away and become little more than a joke, a sad remnant of the proud soldier he once was. Clones weren't meant to live past their shelf-life. Especially Alphas. The Kaminoans used what they learned from the Null program and corrected their oversights. Just because the Skiratas discovered a cure for stopping the accelerated growth doesn't mean they should have used it."
"How can you say that?" Dinua asked, head snapping up at the comment.
"Pretty much every single Alpha ARC, every single Clone Trooper that made it out of the war and took that 'cure' had piss-poor lives after the fact. They were bred for war: enhanced aggression, obedience to authority, lack of independence. The Cuy'val Dar trained them for war, trained them to become living killing machines that shot first and asked questions later. No one taught them how to function outside of the rules and regulations of the army. No one showed them how to get jobs, grow crops, raise a family. There was no way they'd be successful in society. Not even Mandalorian society."
"I take it she's the aunt that's never invited to family gatherings?" Doran asked Dinua before he could help himself.
"You had to be desperate, crazy, or have your own personal reasons to become a part of the Cuy'val Dar," Dinua said flatly. "Kal Skirata kept the first two away."
Vhonte chuckled at her comment. "Yes, yes, I was young and I needed the money. Don't hold that against me. Mand'alore brought me on because I was jatnese be te jatnese. Best of the best. But being the best doesn't pay debts, and I always pay mine off. Just because I took the job didn't mean I enjoyed any of it. You'll find that many of the Cuy'val Dar didn't find the job to be as 'honorable' as the rest of Mandalorian society sees it. We were training test-tube babies to kill for a corrupt government, secretly being manipulated by a corrupt leader, in a pointless war. But the money was more than good, so we did what we were told. It was people like Skirata and Fett who actually enjoyed the job. Although, more than a few did enjoy it for the more perverse reason of being cruel-hearted bastards who could do what they want to the Clones without anyone caring."
"Do the Mandalorians do this sort of thing often?" Doran asked, curious.
"Train outsiders? No," Vhonte shook her head. "The last thing we want is a bunch of outsiders running around thinking they're Mandalorian and us having to put them down to save-face. Funny you should ask though, from what Beviin tells me, one of your Jedi actually requested the current Mand'alor set up another Cuy'val Dar to train anti-Vongese militias."
"Huh?"
"A Jedi…what was his name…?"
"Kubariet," Dinua said in a whisper.
"Yeah that's it, how did you…"
"My mother was on the mission where Beviin encountered him," Dinua answered softly.
"The one where she died?" Doran asked tenderly.
"Yes."
"Oh," Vhonte trailed off. "May her last march be a long one."
"Thank you."
"Not sure if I regret asking Kal and his group of healers to do their thing," Vhonte said ruefully. "The Mando'ade I outlive seem to be dying younger and younger."
"What thing?" Doran was almost afraid to ask.
Vhonte removed her helmet. Rather than a wrinkled old face of a woman in the twilight of her years, she didn't look a year past fifty. "After stopping the accelerated aging, they tinkered with various genetic projects, combining them with the Force. Kal never went for it, but the surviving Cuy'val Dar were all offered several treatment sessions if we wanted that would make us the healthiest we've ever been. The only price was that it'd shorten our life-spans so we would have at most one or two decades of life left. Many of the Cuy'val Dar though were starting to feel our age and signed up. You almost never see an old Mandalorian for the simple reason that we're very good at getting ourselves offed in combat. What Cuy'val Dar was left wanted to at least be in fighting shape for one last hurrah."
"Is that why you're here, then? 'One last hurrah'?" Doran questioned.
"Still haven't found anyone who could outdraw me yet," Vhonte remarked with a tired smirk.
"When we make it out of this, what are you going to do next?" Tracyn asked.
"Well, I probably have about five years left, so I'll go wherever Mand'alor sends me. He's just like his dad in many ways, always knows how to use us best. I might be a piss-poor person, but I'm still a Mando'ade and I'll follow his lead."
FtF IV FtF
"I'm doing my best not to laugh, you know that, right?" Nate managed, failing to hide a snigger.
"Is it really that bad?"
"It's cute," Tracyn supplied, walking along side him.
"He's a B3 Ultra-Battle droid. They're not supposed to be cute," Maze's own mirth coming through his helmet's speakers.
"Dinua?"
"Rali is an excellent artist and made vast improvements over the initial design," Dinua said, her voice betraying nothing.
"It didn't have any paint scheme, anything would have been an improvement," Doran pointed out.
"Let's just say you're the first B3 Ultra with flowers and baby animals painted on it," Tracyn grinned behind her own helmet. "You did a great job, Operator Rali."
The little Zeltron girl, once again walking with Doran as her personal mech, practically glowed. "It was fun."
"Thank the nice whamo…lady for the paints," Doran prompted, the slight thunk of Tracyn's fist against his side reminding him to choose his words carefully.
Rali looked to the formidable Cuy'val Dar Mandalorian, Rav Bralor, on the opposite side of them. Rav had given Rali the small spray cans of paint during their down time, telling the little girl that she normally used the neon-colored blues, greens, and pinks to mark targets. "Thank you for the paints, Ms. Whamo-Lady."
"You're welcome," Rav replied with a happy chuckle.
"Jeban and I are so blasting you when you get back into your squishy form," Tracyn groaned.
"After he kisses Dinua though," Rali insisted.
"Yeah, after," Tracyn agreed.
"Nate…help…" Doran deadpanned.
"I learned my lesson the last time I got together with Mando girls, you're on your own," Nate held up his hands.
"When was the last time?" Tracyn asked curiously.
"Couple years back at the Kyrimorut. I think Dinua was with her mom on a mission of sorts," Nate shrugged.
"Oh, you're the one," Rav said with a knowing scoff.
"You heard?" Nate asked hesitantly.
"The girls were Parja's nieces, of course," Rav grinned. "And Kal had a grand old time telling me about it over a few drinks."
"What did he do?" Tracyn said brightly.
"Well, apart from being caught with his pants down…"
"I can tell her," Nate said hastily. "I kind of went out with and kissed a girl…" Rav cleared her throat. "Or three. Separately."
"That doesn't sound too bad," Tracyn said hesitantly.
"…And was found in bed with a girl…not one of those three."
"Oh!"
"Wow, you're still alive?" Dinua whistled.
"Mereel convinced the others not to neuter me," Nate breathed out. "Said something along the lines that it'd be a waste of…guts…when someone was brave enough to four-time four Mandalorian girls."
"Alright, traps shut!" Vhonte called out from the front in a loud whisper. "According to the schematics of this place, we're nearing one of the larger chambers in this part of the city. Stay alert and don't go dying on us."
Slowly, the group inched forwards, a heavy metal door directly ahead of them illuminated by their torches. The control panel on the wall was dead and there wasn't any obvious way to open the door. Not that it would stop the Cuy'val Dar.
To the surprise of Doran and his friends, Rav opened a container attached to her utility belt and pulled out the last thing they expected a Mandalorian to carry.
"That's a lightsaber," Doran said dumbly.
"Door opener," Rav said with great amusement. She emphasized her word by jamming the blue blade into the door and making short work of their obstacle. Job done, she deactivated the blade and tucked it back into the container it had come from. "Even if you can't fight with one, it's a helpful tool to have."
The group edged through the hole in the door, growing even more cautious as sounds that shouldn't be present in an abandoned city started to echo through the hallways. There were talking noises, boots rhythmically stomping, metal clanking, and more.
"Remember, target only Llats, B'arin, and A-17," Vhonte told the younger group. Ahead a room that inexplicably had power was visible through one last set of transparent doors. "We'll detonate the city and let the ocean deal with the rest."
The door opened, and everyone froze.
Both the Mandalorian group with Doran's group, and the other occupants in the room below the balcony.
Hundreds of them.
"Well that's not good," Nate blinked. Doran and company had walked onto a balcony overlooking the mess hall. During meal time.
Staring up at them were a medley of various part-human creatures. Some of the clones more than two arms, some literally had four eyes, or compound eyes even. Some had claws, others had hands. A few had tails of the simian or reptilian variety. It was as if someone had let a mad-scientist loose to do whatever he pleased.
"I think we know how the data for all the rejected batches were used," Cort said tersely, gazing out on the crowd.
Someone began clapping, and the group glanced across the way at an adjacent balcony.
"B'arin," Rav Bralor addressed the gray-armored Mandalorian.
"Rav, and if I'm not mistaken, Vhonte and Cort too. How delightful," the gray-armored Mandalorian said brightly, madness in his every word. "I was wondering who the whelp of a Fett would send."
A blaster shot rang out, but the beam hit a ray-shield surrounding the other balcony and ricocheted into the wall.
"Really Vhonte, I'm glad to see you too. But that was excessive, wasn't it?" B'arin said patronizingly. "We're all aliit aren't we? Gave up our places on Manda'yaim, our flesh and blood, to train an army. To make our own family. Skirata had the right idea. We made the clones into what they were, they should have been ours to command. Our family. Jango had us give up everything for those things, and for what?"
"You're mad," Rav said, a note of shocked horror in her voice.
"Oh no, not mad," B'arim shook his head. "You see my children below you? My wonderful children. Their predecessors were never given a chance at life because they were deemed 'failures' before their full potential could be realized. How wrong they were. Children, go and get your armor and weapons. These aruetii are here to cull you just like they did your brothers and sisters before you."
The crowd of hybrids let out angry hisses and growls, some of them scowling up at Doran's group with extreme hatred. They began to head for the doorways out of the giant room.
"Not so fast," Cort said coldly. He held up his assault rifle and squeezed a secondary trigger. Grenades shot out of the lower barrel and arced high above the dissipating crowd, spinning for several long seconds.
Doran realized what was about to happen and scooped Rali up. "Don't look."
Then the grenades detonated. A literal firestorm engulfed the room, a torrent of blue and green flame fueled by the initial fuel the grenades had released ignited the oxygen below. There was an all-encompassing whooshing noise as the breathable air was temporarily consumed in the blink of an eye. The multitude of creatures below screeched and howled as they too ignited. Neither Cort nor Vhonte wasted anytime as they poured their own blasterfire into the group, mowing down anything that was still moving with extreme prejudice.
When the flames had consumed their last ounce of fuel, they went out, leaving a charred and gutted mess hall below. Most of the bodies had been reduced to ash by the extreme heat, the massacre having ended the lives of every living thing below the two balconies.
B'arim was silent for a very long moment, then shook his head slowly. "You will pay for that. You will die slowly. Or better yet, we will keep you alive so you can watch the rest of our grand army descend upon Manda'yaim and reshape it into an image fit for the gods we truly are."
"Gods?" Rav asked incredulously.
"What else would you describe us as after we've raised and trained millions of beings? What else would you call the power we had to decide whether a clone was worth spending more resources on or not? We decided who lived or died. We poured our souls into the army so that they might be made in our image. The image of Mandalorians. We were gods and they our instruments of…"
A second blaster shot sounded, but the retort was a lot louder and metallic sounding. B'arin's head snapped back, then his body staggered forward. In the light of the room the others could see a circular hole in the man's visor, blood spurting out. Eyes turned towards the source of the second shot.
Maze was standing, arm extended, a slug-thrower scavenged from the armory in his hand. Capable of sending lumps of melted metal at just below the speed of sound, the projectile it fired wasn't energy based at all and easily bypassed the ray-shielding. The veteran ARC stood in his pose, not moving, not saying a word, his helmeted gaze on B'arin's staggering body.
The gray-armored Mandalorian hit the balcony railing and pitched over, his body tumbling down into the ash-strewn mess-hall where it landed with a loud clang. Complete silence followed.
"Well," Vhonte said softly, slowly holstering her weapon. "That's one down. Two more to go. Good job, trooper."
"Just doing my duty, ma'am," Maze replied automatically.
"Uncle," Nate said in shock.
"Continue your duties, Captain," Vhonte said firmly, though her body-language suggested that she was being more cautious than actually giving orders. "Order 62 will remain in effect until the designated targets Alpha-17 and Llats Ward, are confirmed dead."
"Understood, ma'am," Maze said firmly, lowering and holstering his blaster.
"Order 62?" Nate looked to Vhonte.
"Captain," Vhonte gestured. The other two Mandalorians seemed content to let her take the lead.
Maze nodded once and looked to Nate. "In the event superior officers or other designated commanding military personnel are deemed a threat to the Republic and its interest, subordinating officers are given full authorization to use lethal force to neutralize the threat."
"Like Order 66," Doran whispered in stunned silence.
"Orders 60 through 69 were primarily about giving the Grand Army of the Republic permission to neutralize superiors in the name of the Republic," Vhonte said with dark amusement. "Call it the dar'jetii's skifter in case things started going wrong. Order 65 lets the GAR remove any sitting Supreme Chancellor in office in case anyone tries to replace the dar'jetii. Or if the Senate was determined to be acting against the best interest of the Republic, Order 64 gives the GAR the power to arrest and even execute senators deemed a threat to the Republic."
"Wait, the Cuy'val Dar knew of the orders?" Doran said in confusion.
"After the fact," Rav answered. "Captain Maze is hardly the first clone we've encountered. One trooper who called himself Hock Malsuum actually deserted from Vader's stormtrooper corps and lived to tell the tale. After several attempts, he finally wrote down his experiences and sent a copy of it to Manda'yaim to his Cuy'val Dar trainer. Sadly, he died of accelerated aging, but we learned a lot from his memoirs."
"I thought those orders only worked with the control chips?" Nate said, concern for his uncle at the forefront of his question.
"The chips only ensure the clones follow the orders. The orders have already been ingrained in them from the start," Vhonte shook her head. "It's like a reflex action to them. Give them an order and if they're too dependent on the command structure, they'll carry it out without a second thought. For the Nulls and Alphas, the chips were a must to get them to carry out their commands. Even then their independence streak made it possible for them to heavily resist or reinterpret the order to the point of disobeying it."
"I'm fine, Nate," Maze spoke, his voice strong. "Feel better than I have in a long time."
"Are you sure?" Nate pressed.
"The only thing that would make this better is if I had a few of my brothers alongside me as well. Then it'd be just like old times," Maze's grin audible. He glanced back to Vhonte. "Ready to continue execution of Order 62, commander."
"K'oyacyi." Vhonte gave Maze a hearty pat on the back. She then gestured to Doran and the other teens, before pointing to the opposite balcony. "Let's set up bridge for the Shinies. Wouldn't want them to get scuffed up hunting scum now, would we?"
"No, ma'am," Maze laughed. He took a grappling gun from Vhonte and fired the piton across the vast chasm until it buried itself into the opposite wall. Vhonte, taking Cort's grappling gun, did the same. They then fastened the guns to the upper wall behind them, creating an incline.
"Secure the opposite side, Captain. We'll be over on your signal."
Maze saluted sharply, then using his blaster, zip-lined down the cables.
"What are you doing?" Nate hissed to Vhonte, spinning around on the Mandalorian.
"Giving him what he needs," Vhonte replied evenly, hooking her own blaster above the cables. "He's not the first clone I've met who's mind has reached the end of its time. Each time the madness has been on different levels. But the one thing that helps is to remind them of who they once were. Make their minds return back to that time were they had a clear purpose, a duty. Even if it's only one last time."
"He's working on a cure," Nate argued. "The Altisian geneticists are close and maybe the data we'll recover will help."
"Does it look like your 'uncle' minds, kid?" Vhonte asked. "He knows his number is coming but puts on a brave face for you. Believe me when I say there's no scarier thing than knowing your mind is going and that there's nothing you can do about it. I took the treatment Kal's people offered even if it was cutting my life short because I wanted to die on my feet with a blaster in each hand. Not a wrinkled old relic, sipping out of a straw and laughing madly on a chair somewhere, too out of it to ask for a blaster bolt to the brain and hands too swollen to do it myself. Want that to be your uncle, kid? Because that's what it'll come down to eventually. You can tweak the toys the Kaminoans came up with all you want, but in the end, what they are is down to their DNA"
Vhonte zip-lined to the other side after Maze signaled the 'all clear,' leaving a stunned group of teenagers, and one six year old, with the other two Cuy'val Dar Mandalorians.
"Was it true, what she said?" Nate asked softly to Rav and Cort, no longer looking like the confident young man Doran was used to seeing.
Cort exhaled slowly. "You have to understand. Very few of the clones we trained personally survived after the Clone Wars ended, survived long enough to get the Skirata's cure for their aging. Those that did, we kept tabs on them lest some hu'tuun like Shysa take advantage of their loyalty and obedience to make them do something idiotic. Seven of Vhonte's batch survived. None are alive today. She had to stop the last two from massacring a group of civilians on Murkhana. Even then, she didn't pull the trigger herself. She took command of the both of them, led them into an unwinnable battle against the security forces—Clone War-era Battle-droids fittingly enough—and allowed them to go out the same way their brothers had gone out. Guns blazing against an army of Confederate droids, returning to them the identity they had lost along the way."
"That's…crazy," Nate gaped, struggling to find something to say.
"That's the Mandalorian way," Tracyn murmured in understanding. "The war might have been over for a long time, but Cuy'val Dar are still responsible for the clones. They helped raise and train them, the clones are still family. Why do you think a tough-as-nails Mando'ade like Kal Skirata took in the Nulls and cared for them when the war was over?"
"But Kal doesn't help them by getting them killed," Nate protested.
"Different ways to help people, kid," Cort said sympathetically. He hooked his gun up and prepared to join Vhonte and Maze. "Some, you give them a family, a place to call home, a new life. For others a mercy kill will do more for them than any things else."
"Which is what we're doing for Llats, what we just did for B'arin," Rav gestured for Dinua to be next. Rali was clinging to Dinua like a small limpet, a cable wrapped around her waist and attached to the older girl. "You saw how mad B'arin was. Heard his insanity first hand. The war got to them, changed them. We're doing them a favor and helping them be remembered for the people they were, not the ones they've become."
"Just…just stay away from my uncle," Nate growled out, stepping up next. "He has another twenty years in him at least, so he better not be going on any 'final' mission courtesy of you crazies."
"That went well," Doran sighed, watching Nate slide down to the other balcony. "But the Cuy'val lady is right."
"You agree with Vhonte?" Tracyn asked in slight surprise.
"I've met several Clone Wars survivors in my travels. Some, mom says, are stuck in the past, can't let it go. But the past is the past, you can't have it back any more than you can stop tomorrow from coming. I think the Nulls are doing fine because Kal taught them to look towards the future and live in the moment. Maze…sure he had the support of the Altisian Jedi…but they're isolated hermits who live in a gas cloud. That's a lot different than the rough Mandalorian world the Skiratas were brought into. He never really had a chance to make an identity that was different than 'Maze' the commando."
"Nate said that Maze got into genetics after his accelerated aging was cured," Tracyn pointed out.
"He might have gotten interested in science, but again, it's science related to his own body. A body created for the war. Maybe Maze will find a cure to his condition. Even if he does though, how much of his madness is genetic, and how much of it is him never truly finding his place in the galaxy? Culturally, he sure wasn't brought up Altisian. Dinua once asked me if I was still a Jedi if you took away my Force powers, lightsaber, and robes. I eventually decided that I was. But look at Maze now, in the same armor he wore over four decades ago, creeping through a city that more or less gave birth to him. If you take away that armor, if you forget he's a clone for a minute, what is he?"
Tracyn breathed out a dejected sigh. "It's kind of sad when you put it like that."
"Yeah," Doran matched her tone.
Tracyn hooked up her blaster, and Rav moved to follow.
"What about me?" Doran asked in bewilderment.
"Your chassis has jumpjets on the back," Rav said wryly. "You didn't know?"
Doran grumbled mulishly. "No."
"Oya," Rav laughed on her way down the line. "We have two more insane madmen to put down. Don't fall behind!"
Doran groaned audibly, wondering if the fates hated him. He found the processes to activate the jumpjets and would have gritted his teeth in annoyance if he still could. Seeing that they were already moving on, figuring his four-meter tall, weapon-laden body would withstand any threat thrown at it, Doran hurried to the edge of the balcony. Of course, now all he needed to do was learn how to fly.
"Crazy Mandalorians!"
FtF Chapter End FtF
A\N: Update next week, hope you enjoyed!