At a certain point in the campaign, everything starts to move faster. Entire missions go by in blurs of blood and sweat, in cries of death and the grinding of mechanical joints that becomes ever-present, echoing through the jungle.
The Republic is starting to lose. The droids are tireless, can march on and on without stopping and are only somewhat hindered by the dangerous jungle around them Pistons don't tire like muscles do, metal doesn't rip and tear like flesh does. They can afford to move after dark has fallen, unconcerned by the nocturnal predators that come alive at night. They don't need sleep or rest or recovery time. The clones have always known that the Separatists would have an advantage over them in that area, but the facts have never been as apparent as they are now.
It rains again. Which means there is more mud, which means the turbo tanks are useless, which means everything is soaked and everyone is miserable. Hevy hates it with an intensity that he's rarely felt before. They're stationed back with the main force of the clone army again, acting as guards for the line of walkers that stretches far back through the fungus trees. The men are finally getting the hang of still staying aware while working to keep the tanks from sinking—they've learned exactly how long it takes to dig out a massive foot, and how many men are needed to keep an eye out for snipers or commandos hiding in the undergrowth.
Hevy has a close call as they're struggling to free one of the lead walkers from the sludge. The ground is different here than it had been where they'd initially landed. They're much deeper in the jungle at this point, and the ground is even more soft and malleable under their feet. Hevy and Cutup are side-by-side, struggling to move the mud away from the walker's trapped limb.
"Why are—kriff, why are we having so many problems with this but the droids aren't?" Hevy grunts out through gritted teeth, grabbing at the walker's leg and pulling at it (as if it'll do any good, but it makes him feel marginally better for some reason). Cutup shakes his head as he shoves a handful of mud aside.
"I don't know," he mutters. "I don't think they weigh enough to get stuck like our stuff does." Hevy almost wipes a hand over his visor to try and clear the water streaks away but restrains himself at the last moment—his hands are covered in mud. He groans instead, kneeling down to try and scrape mud away from the walker. His knees sink into the ooze. He winces uncomfortably at the odd sensation.
"Great. Hooray for us. What, they can't make lighter equipment?" He's finding some comfort through the complaining even though it's stupid, and he's grateful that Cutup chooses not to really answer him. His brother makes makes a noncommittal noise as the ground beneath the walker squelches wetly—
The enormous walker foot pops free. Normally this is cause for weary and subdued celebration, but this time—Force, this time Hevy is still kneeling directly in front of the limb, and as the walker starts to move he tries to get up and can't. He jerks his leg, struggling to tug it free, but the mud has grabbed hold and refuses to let go. He feels a flash of panic.
"I can't—Cutup—!"
Cutup sees what happening immediately. He grabs Hevy's leg and pulls with every bit of his strength, and there's an odd suctioning noise but it's not quite enough. Hevy grimaces at the strain on his calf. The walker's foot is reaching its peak, right above them now. Cutup pulls again, more frantically this time and Hevy lets out a strangled groan—he can already tell it isn't enough again, so in desperation he reaches down into the mud, feeling desperately for a clasp that he can't see. He gets his fingers around it and unlatches it just as Cutup pulls again—
Suddenly, Hevy is free. They both go toppling sideways. The walker's foot comes down exactly where they had been a moment ago as the pilot carries on, blissfully unaware of the incident that had barely been avoided. For a long moment, neither of them speak, panting softly as the fear-induced adrenaline dies away.
"Sithspit," Cutup finally says, dragging himself to his feet. "Did anyone else even see that?"
"I don't… think so," Hevy says, glancing up. The finally-moving vehicle had blocked the rest of Beta from witnessing their plight.
His foot is cold now.
"Are you alright?" Cutup asks in concern. He reaches down, helmet looking Hevy over as if searching for wounds, for a reason that Hevy hasn't stood up yet. Instead of answering him, Hevy sighs and lifts one leg in explanation. He's missing a boot.
"I had to get rid of it," he mutters petulantly. "It was the only thing I could think of that would help. And it did." The walker moves past. From behind them, someone lets out a shout—Beta squad has finally figured out that something had happened.
Hevy looks forlornly at the place where his boot most likely is, buried somewhere in the mud. It's unlikely that he'll find it, and even if he does, it's probably crushed by the walker's weight. "Blast it, where the kriff am I gonna get a new boot?"
As it turns out, getting a new boot isn't really a problem. There have been plenty of casualties over the past few days, so once the rest of Beta learn the story it only takes a couple minutes for them to conjure up a new boot through the grapevine of brothers. The man that brings Hevy the new armor piece is silent as he hands it over, and Hevy swallows nervously as he turns the worn armor over in his hands.
"Who did… whose—?"
"A friend," the other clone says bluntly. His voice is hard, and his visor tips in Hevy's direction as he speaks. "Do me a favor and don't do anything stupid out there. You carry a piece of him with you now, and I don't want to hear that he's been dishonored in any way, understand?"
Hevy's heart nearly stops in his chest, and he stares down at the boot in his hands numbly. Oh. He'd known it would be some unlucky clone's old equipment, but hearing that—seeing his brother, clearly mourning and bitter and angry but still willing to help another—makes it real.
Suddenly the boot feels heavy in his hands. The weight is of memories, of words that no longer exist and a friendship abruptly razed by the incessant waves of Separatists. He takes a deep breath and wishes there was something he could do for the other clone, but the man is already leaving.
The clone doesn't look back. Hevy can't decide if that makes him feel better or worse.
He slips the boot on and sends a silent prayer of thanks to whoever it had belonged to before. He'll do his best to make sure they get avenged, whoever they are. He at least owes them that much.
The next day, everything is dry again, which means the turbo tanks are back in action. Factory 001 is their next target, finally reached using the coordinates Echo had gained from their infiltration of Factory 003 earlier. With the turbo tanks in the lead, the advancement towards the factory becomes so much easier. It gives the footsoldiers a little bit of time to try and recover. Beta squad is lucky—they manage to get seats on top of one of the turbo tanks for an hour, to give themselves a break. Cutup's feet sort of ache, and he's grateful for the few minutes of rest.
Except… when they get to the factory, there's nothing there.
They send a couple scouts closer when they're able to move their heavy artillery in without even a hint of resistance. There's several extremely tense minutes where no one even moves, waiting for news with fingers clenched tightly around rifles.
It's quiet. Too quiet. Even the forest is silent around them.
"Well, this can't possibly be a trap," Cutup mutters. Tipper snorts from behind him. When Nax elbows him, he shrugs. "What? Come on, there's definitely something wrong here."
Coric is on his other side, and the medic sighs heavily. "Cutup, I swear, if you jinx this I'm not going to forgive you."
"Yeah, why can't something good happen to us for once?" Nax complains. "Could we at least try to be optimistic here?"
"That's hardly realistic," Zeer mutters quietly. "This is most likely some sort of trick."
"Kriff," Droidbait sighs. "Maybe if I had done a better job of convincing that droid I was a prisoner back at Factory 003—"
"Oh, no you kriffing don't," Echo interrupts suddenly. He and Fives have been silent this whole time, completely still in wait with discipline from ARC training that the others simply don't have, but now they turn. "Droidbait, don't you dare even begin to think that this is on you. It isn't."
Droidbait's shoulders are all tensed up. "But I could have—"
"Hey, 'Bait, they would have done this regardless of if we'd picked up the call," Fives tells him. "As soon as we destroyed that factory they knew that we had gone through their datafiles and found the locations of the others. It definitely isn't your fault. Relax."
Droidbait lets out a breath, and his shoulders slump. "Alright," he says, and he sounds convinced.
"Hey, hey," Del says. He's listening to the comm chatter on the channel specifically for Sergeants that the others don't have access to. "I'm getting some info. The scouts say that the whole factory is completely abandoned."
"What?"
"Apparently the whole place is shut down. No guards, no machines, nothing. The assembly lines are empty, too," Del continues. He pauses for a split second, listening. "There's nothing in the control room, either. General Kenobi is ordering them to return to—wait."
Wait? Wait for what? Cutup shifts his feet nervously.
Suddenly, Del inhales sharply—a shocked sound that can't possibly mean anything good. Cutup freezes at the sound, and ice-cold dread claws at his chest. Something's wrong.
"Oh, no," Del breathes.
Something's really wrong.
It's like the Blue Shadow Virus all over again.
The Separatists abandoned their factory knowing full well that the Republic would do anything to claim it and move a massive portion of their men within a one mile radius of the facility. A one mile radius that the Seps had pumped full of a toxin before leaving—not the kind of toxin that makes you sick, but a poison that targets the immune system.
The jungle takes care of the rest.
The Kaminoans are good at what they do. That's why the clones don't ever have to worry about picking up foreign diseases—their immune systems are ridiculously strong. If they were anywhere else in the galaxy, the brief attack on their bodies wouldn't be nearly enough to do anything. They would adjust after a day or so of discomfort. Here, Felucia's microbacteria are quick to evolve and infect. Not even the Kaminoan's genetics can keep up with the myriad of diseases that sweep through the whole army without warning. The Jedi get vaccines to protect them at every new planet. The clones aren't that lucky, and it's their downfall here.
It starts with coughing—coughing that makes Cutup flinch every time he hears it, and Tipper, too, because it reminds them of the virus and neither of them are as comfortable with those memories as they thought they had been. Especially when so many of the plants around them are blue. Alone, Cutup doesn't mind the color at all, but when he hears coughing along with the sight it's enough to make him shudder, bringing up remembrance of the hopelessness and pain and fear.
The flesh-eating diseases are quick to reveal themselves, too—and there are far too many varieties to even pinpoint one exact cause. Beta is lucky—they're on the opposite side of the GAR from where those diseases seem to originate from, but they hear the horrific stories, words rattled off on comms in between painful coughs and retching.
Some squads are hit worse than others and that's the only reason the Republic doesn't fall to pieces right then and there. On the second day after the diseases start, a squad who'd avoided serious illnesses initially returned from a patrol feeling completely normal. None of them had woken up from their rest later that night—they'd been infected by a fast-acting parasite that had killed them in their sleep.
Suddenly, their enemy isn't something they can fight. A muted sort of terror falls over the men, because they can't do anything about this, and the medics don't have nearly enough supplies or information to deal with everything. They hadn't needed to, after all, and now they're paying the price for their lack of knowledge.
Hevy starts coughing up blood. He has to take off his helmet, and barely two hours later Coric does too.
"It's some sort of lung infection," Coric rasps to them painfully, stubbornly keeping his head tilted away from them even though it isn't really going to do any good. "With any luck, it won't be fatal. Coughing up blood doesn't necessarily mean you're going to die. We're still functional, it's just… not fun."
That seems to be an understatement, because when Echo, Zeer, Del, Nax, and Droidbait ineventibly start coughing as well, Beta squad is practically crippled. Most of the army is.
Cutup, Tipper, and Fives avoid the lung infection, somehow. Fives theorizes that it has to do with their exposure to the virus, which makes perfect sense—the damage the blue shadow virus had caused to their lungs actually strengthened them in the long run. They're not spared from the overall sicknesses, though. All three of them wake up nauseous on the fourth day, dry-heaving and unable to get any kind of food down at all. Cutup is practically choking all morning.
"Force, Cutup. Are you three alright?" Droidbait coughs out from where he's leaned against a motionless walker leg. Cutup gasps helplessly from where he's doubled over in the leaves a few feet away, stomach rolling unsteadily.
"Yeah, sure, just kriffing—ugh, peachy," Cutup forces out. He lifts his head wearily to look around them and clenches his fists in horror at the sight all around them.
The clone army currently looks more like a refugee camp of some sort than any kind of military operation. There are tents set up everywhere, and men are sprawled around the jungle, ignoring the shrubbery in their misery. In the distance, someone is shouting in pain, and coughing echoes through the jungle.
They weren't prepared for this at all. Cutup can barely move, much less get up and defend them if something happens.
On the fifth day, the Separatists grow sick of waiting for the jungle to kill them off and finally come after them.
Some of the illnesses have run their course and are starting to wear off, leaving men weak but more functional than they had been. That's the case with Coric, Hevy, Echo, Zeer, and Del, who have already started to recover. Droidbait and Nax are still incapacitated. Cutup, Tipper, and Fives can at least stand now, but it's not easy.
When the first shots ring out, everyone instinctively goes for weapons, even those who are practically half-dead. The droids are coming. Adrenaline and fear is enough to drive a large amount of men to action despite sickness, but there are plenty who don't have the strength.
There are plenty who can't get up, and some who won't ever get up.
The only reason the whole army isn't killed off right then and there is that the pilots have enough sense to use their vehicles as shields, even though half of them are in just as bad of states as the rest of the ground troops. They're still able to fire at the incoming Seps, and they move their tanks in between the men and the droids. It's something, but it won't save them for very long. Tanks are big targets.
The Jedi aren't stupid. They know that their fighting force is weak, and as much as Cutup hates it, he's secretly glad for the order that gets shouted through his helmet comm.
The Republic is retreating.
It's not an easy withdraw. Even with defense from the tanks, there's not enough cover and too many people who can't run yet. Fives is supporting most of Nax's weight and Zeer is practically carrying Droidbait as they join the crazed flow of men, half-delirious and stumbling through the undergrowth. They're grabbing each other, supporting each other because they can't leave men behind in a forsaken place like this. Cutup grabs the first man that he sees who's stumbling. Del is still with him somehow and grabs the new clone's other side to help.
"I—thanks," the unknown brother breathes to them through gritted teeth—he's in pain. A disease, most likely, and Cutup hopes it isn't one of the contagious ones. There's orange paint on his shoulders, he's 212th. "Thought I was a goner—"
"We're not leaving anyone if we can help it," Del grunts. They're headed slowly towards a cluster of fungi trees that can be used as much better cover along with dozens of other men. Behind them, a walker explodes. Cutup's heart skips a beat, and he wonders if the pilots realize they're dooming themselves by staying behind.
They probably do.
They're only a few feet away from the fungus trees when the clone in between them glances back over his shoulder, lets out a muffled gasp, and flings all three of them to the ground with a strength Cutup wouldn't have expected from his disease-weakened limbs. Just as they hit the dirt rapid-fire blasterbolts ring out, flashing overhead—the droids have breached the tank line and are coming after them.
Cutup hears someone scream in front of them, hears bodies crash to the ground. He and Del had avoided the initial attack thanks to their new friend, but it won't be long until the droids realize they're not on the ground because they're dead—but what can they do? The second they move the droids will know, but if they don't move the droids will find out eventually—
The sound of a lightsaber cuts through Cutup's panic. He risks raising his head as a blue glow flashes across his vision, and then he can hear the blade deflecting enemy fire.
"Keep moving!" General Kenobi shouts, lightsaber swirling around him like some sort of bioluminescent hurricane. "Don't stop, quickly now! Go!"
Del rolls to his feet. Cutup follows him, reaching down to grab the unknown clone to his feet, but—
There's a smoking hole in the other clone's back. Cutup stares the body numbly, almost frozen. He'd saved them at the cost of his own life.
Del grabs his shoulder and gives him a little shake. It jolts Cutup out of his stupor.
"We've got to move!" Del shouts at him, voice tight with something that Cutup barely recognizes as fear. "Cutup, come on! Cutup!"
Cutup finally moves. He gets to his feet, and they run—away from the droids, away from Kenobi, away from the scores of sick brothers who hadn't been able to find help and are now at the mercy of the droids. Cutup wants to go back. He wants to go back so bad, because there are still men back there, cut off and fighting and struggling to stay alive—but he can't. They can't go back. No one can, and that's what hurts the most.
A rancor's enraged roar splits the night air, startling Cutup awake. For a moment he's overwhelmed by the sound and the darkness. He flails, reaching for his weapon frantically until someone grabs his shoulder.
"Hey, Cutup! Calm down, it's alright!" A hand grabs his shoulder. "It's alright. That thing… probably isn't interested in us." Cutup finally gains enough coherency to see that it's Tipper right next to him, barely visible through the darkness. Their backs are pressed up against a wheel of a turbo tank in an attempt to get some sort of shelter from the jungle as they rest. Neither of them have their helmets on.
"Blast it, I'm sorry, Tipper," Cutup apologizes. "I didn't mean to wake you."
"You didn't," Tipper tells him, offering a tiny smile. "The rancor took care of that."
Cutup winces. "Oh, okay, okay. That makes me feel so much better."
Tipper raises an eyebrow at him, and then they both flinch when the rancor roars again. It's pretty loud. Cutup clenches his fists nervously.
"How close is it?"
Tipper shakes his head. "No idea," he answers. "Close enough that people are starting to get nervous."
Cutup glances around and is a little relieved to realize that he isn't the only one on edge—scores of the men sprawled around their makeshift camp are awake, grabbing for weapons in the weak light of the Republic-issued glowsticks . Farther away, he can just make out the many silhouettes of the current guard, most of them standing completely still in alarm.
"Well, there goes my beautyrest," Cutup complains. "I'm definitely not gonna get any sleep now." Tipper sighs and nods his head.
"Me neither. Fortunately, I do have this." He tugs something out of one of the pockets on his belt and drops the object in Cutup's lap—a deck of cards.
"No way," Cutup says incredulously. He grins. "You actually brought sabacc cards?"
"You're kriffing right I did," Tipper replies smugly. "I learned my lesson from last time we were stuck somewhere with nothing to do. You inspired me." Cutup remembers that, when they had been trapped in the underground Naboo bunker and he had asked if anyone had brought sabacc cards to pass the time. He laughs. It feels good to, after everything that had happened earlier.
"What's that I hear about sabacc?" someone asks sleepily. Cutup turns to see Nax getting up from where he'd been lying on the ground, uncaring of the plants beneath him. He's not the only one awake—Coric is with him with a glowstick, and Fives and Echo are a few yards away next to a ration crate, watching over Droidbait and Hevy. Cutup doesn't see Del or Zeer anywhere—they could be on guard duty.
"You feeling better, Nax?" Tipper asks worriedly. Nax waves a hand dismissively, shoving Cutup a little to the side to sit down against the wheel as well.
"I guess," he answers. "I don't feel like I'm about to cough up a lung, so that's good."
Coric sits down in front of them with a weary sigh. They haven't seen much of him for the past few days. He's been busy with the wounded.
"Our immune systems are finally starting to recover," the medic explains. "Whatever the kriff that virus was that the droids used could weaken our body's defenses for a little bit, but the Kaminoans designed those to be able to adapt, as well. At this point, we should be regaining immunity."
"That's good," Tipper points out. Coric shakes his head grimly.
"Not good enough. Too many brothers have died. We've lost almost a fourth of our main force to disease alone. This campaign is a kriffing nightmare."
Nax groans and nudges Cutup. "Well, deal already. We're playing, right? I don't wanna talk about the campaign, I wanna gamble."
"Gamble what?" Cutup asks him, but obeys the command and deals out the cards.
It's a small game with only the four of them, and the game is interspersed with the sounds of the rancor, growing ever louder. Everyone is on edge. They keep playing because they don't know what they'll do with themselves if they don't have something to distract them.
The roar of a second rancor is finally enough to make them drop their cards. No one is sleeping anymore—everyone is awake, quietly hoping that the creatures won't come any closer. Fives, Echo, Hevy, and Droidbait finally join them, and Del and Zeer appear a few minutes later, having switched guard shifts with someone else.
"Any news?" Echo asks Del worriedly. The Sergeant shrugs.
"The Jedi are all on high alert, but we're not planning on attacking them. They're bull rancors. Big, territorial, aggressive. We're trying to stay off of their radar completely."
Cutup likes the sound of that. No thank you, he doesn't want fighting rancors to be on his to-do list ever. He's perfectly fine to let the rancors do battle themselves.
"Hey," Fives suddenly says. "Does anyone else hear that?"
Everyone goes silent, listens for a moment. There's a low rumbling noise emanating from the jungle in front of them. Everyone freezes as a massive dark shape appears out of the darkness.
A rancor steps from the treeline, heavy feet thudding ominously as it steps closer to the clones. Cutup's mouth drops open in horror as the beast lets out a dangerous growl, eyes fixed on a point somewhere beyond the clones—
Then it lets out an earth-shattering roar and charges.
Everything goes hazy after that. The clones are scattering, scrambling to get out of the way, racing to avoid being stomped on or crushed. The rancor isn't attacking them, it's attacking the other rancor—but the clones are caught in the middle, and a turbo tank gets overturned when the rancors collide with it. Someone screams. Everything is shaking—Cutup can't make any sense of anything through his terror anyway, so he just fixes his eyes on whoever's in front of him and runs.
It isn't until later, once they've gotten far enough away that the sounds of the rancor battle are muted howls in the distance, that Beta squad realizes that they're missing both Tipper and Zeer. They're simply gone, and none of the other squads have seen either of them when Beta begins asking around in desperation.
Tipper is missing. Cutup can't—he's having a hard time wrapping his head around it, because it doesn't even make sense in his mind. Tipper had survived the kriffing blue shadow virus, for crying out loud. For something as stupid as a rancor attack to be the cause of his death—
And Zeer, too? That makes even less sense. Zeer is the last person Cutup would expect to go out like that, but as the seconds, minutes, hours tick by and they don't appear out of the darkness, Cutup starts to lose hope.
"They'll find us eventually," Coric tells them all, voice shaking just slightly. "They were probably just separated from us in all the chaos, that's all."
No one has the heart to contradict him, especially after Nax nods enthusiastically, eyes wide and slightly desperate.
There are still plenty of men missing, so theoretically it's possible that they could still be alive. Most of Beta squad is simply acting as if they're somewhere else, but Cutup's hope is quickly replaced by frustration and helplessness and anger.
He could have done something. He could have grabbed ahold of Tipper, kept an eye on him, controlled his fear enough to stay level-headed during the attack. He could have done something, and now it's too late.
Tipper and Zeer are gone, and Cutup's very soul hurts, so he hides it with fury instead.
Fury is much easier to handle than anguish, after all.
Droidbait gets shot the next morning.
The clones are desperately trying to regroup. They're scattered, tired, and a few are still suffering from lingering sicknesses. The Jedi are struggling to keep the army together, to protect them from both the droids and the jungle. It's an impossible task. Fives thinks that it's amazing the whole army hasn't been decimated yet.
Beta squad, through some unspoken agreement, refuses to acknowledge the fact that Tipper and Zeer are gone. Neither of their bodies had been found at the destroyed site of the rancor incident, though Fives knows that doesn't necessarily mean anything. There are plenty of scavengers on Felucia.
Beta is still clinging to the hope that their lost members are still alive. It's the only thing that keeps Del, Nax, and Coric from falling apart.
"They aren't dead unless we see a body," Nax hisses in frustration when it's brought up again, voice cracking just a little. Coric doesn't speak but nods in determined agreement. Del remains silent, and it's not hard to guess what he's thinking. His fists are clenched, but he doesn't disagree with the words of his squad, either.
Cutup throws his helmet onto the ground so hard that the visor cracks near the side. He's hiding his grief behind a rage that the Teth survivors are struggling to stave off.
The droids don't give them time to grieve, or regroup. Beta squad and several other squads that had stayed close after the rancor attack are racing to reach a rendezvous with the Jedi when the droids find them.
This is familiar to Fives, in a horrible way. He remembers another jungle a lifetime ago, dark and misty, remembers the call to retreat and thinking furiously that this is all Krell's kriffing fault—
This isn't quite like that, because this retreat is actually ordered, but the frantic fear is the same. The awful feeling that your back is exposed, that you could be shot at any second. Blasterfire chases them through the undergrowth. Fives is practically running backwards, returning fire through the trees at their pursuers. The rest of Beta is racing ahead, but there's only so much Fives can do to keep the droids back—a few manage to get off several shots before Fives can take them down. He hears someone cry out and whirls around to see Droidbait stumbling, a brutal scorch mark on his side.
"No!"
Beta is already moving, turning around to hold the droids off while Fives sprints towards Droidbait, falling to his knees at his brother's side. Droidbait yelps when Fives reaches down to get a better look at the hit, he's trying to tell if the bolt had hit anything important but he—he can't tell, and he can't really get a better look because the droids are still firing at them.
"Medic!" Fives screams, and hopes, prays that Coric is within earshot. It's entirely possible that he's not because he's needed practically everywhere right now—
"Back up!" someone shouts. "Get out of the way, you kriffing idiot!" A clone dives to the ground and shoves Fives out of his way. Fives jerks in surprise, turning to the other man in surprise. He sees medic crosses and—
"Kix?"
"What?" Kix snaps. "Listen, we've got to move him, he'll be alright but I can't do anything until I take his armor off to see the full extent of the damage. That's not something I can do while droids are firing at us, so we need to move."
Fives blinks at Kix in shock for half a second before pure instinct kicks in. He knows better than to get between Kix and a patient. He grabs one of Droidbait's arms and hoists him to his feet, ignoring the tiny whine of pain Droidbait lets out as the blaster wound is jostled. Droidbait can still walk a little, so Fives helps him limp until they're out of the direct line of fire. Another clone rushes to meet them, and Fives' heart skips a beat.
It's Jesse. He and Kix are as inseparable as always.
Kix gives Fives a little shove, pushing him away from Droidbait for a moment. Fives wants to protest, but Jesse puts a hand on his shoulder to stop him.
"We've got him, brother. But the rest of your squad needs you too."
He's right. Fives hates to leave Droidbait, but Kix and Jesse are about two of the only people he would trust with one of Domino's lives.
He takes a deep breath, stares at the familiar Republic cog on Jesse's helmet. They'll take care of Droidbait, he knows it. He has complete faith in them, so he turns around and runs back towards the firefight. As much as he wants to stay and talk with his old (new?) friends, he higher priorities right now. He's got to get the rest of Beta squad out of there first.
They make it to the rendezvous, by some miracle. The remnants of the 212th and the 501st are gathering there, around the tattered fabric of the command tent. There's still a decent number of men left, but there are too many missing. Fives only sees two turbo tanks, and every walker he sees is damaged.
The area set up for the injured is massive. Men lie or sit all around the clearing—at least a hundred of them, Fives guesses, a whole company's worth of injuries. He doesn't even want to guess how many have died if there's a full company of injured. There aren't nearly enough medics working among them. They do manage to find Droidbait somewhere in the middle of it all, devoid of the upper half of his armor and with a bacta patch across his ribs. He sits up with a wince and a grin when Beta approaches.
"Hey, guys. Miss me?"
"Not even a little," Nax teases half-heartedly. Fives breathes a sigh of relief when Droidbait chuckles. Their brother is going to be fine.
He zones out for a moment as Del, Nax, Hevy, and Cutup take a few moments to reassure themselves that Droidbait is okay. He glances around the makeshift hospital and frowns in disappointment when he doesn't see Kix or Jesse anywhere.
"Hey," Echo murmurs to him. "Don't freak out. We'll find them again. It'll be easy, now that we know they're here."
"Assuming we haven't changed something and they don't die," Fives says bitterly. Echo hums.
"If you think Kix or Jesse would let this planet kill them, you're not remembering them right," he says, and that does succeed in making Fives snort. Fives wants to believe that Echo is right, but at this point he's not certain of anyone's safety, not even his own.
The jungle has already taken two of Beta, and it nearly just took a third. Fives wouldn't put it past the universe to get rid of his friends before he even has a chance to officially meet them in this life.
It rains again.
Droidbait's side aches, and the bacta patch feels uncomfortable underneath his armor, but the medics had only allowed him to leave if he promised to keep it on.
Two days isn't even close to enough time to fully heal from a blaster wound, even with bacta, but Droidbait hadn't felt comfortable sitting on the ground while the rest of Beta continued to fight. There are men in much greater need of medical assistance than Droidbait, anyway, so he had gotten out of there as soon as possible.
Beta squad has taken refuge underneath an enormous fungus tree, bigger than most, to stay out of the downpour. Del uses the opportunity to pass around ration bars—tasteless things that Droidbait hates but eats anyway because that's all they have.
The silence is stifling. Tipper and Zeer's absences have never been more noticable, and Droidbait knows he's not the only one thinking that from the way Del's eyes have gone vacant and the way Cutup is clenching his jaw.
"I've been thinking," Echo says finally, breaking the silence. Everyone turns to look at him. "About what we should do about the chips." Droidbait almost glances around nervously, because Echo had said that kind of loud, but the sound of downpour drowns our their voices to any potential eavesdroppers. "I think we should tell Captain Rex."
Droidbait pauses mid-chew to glance at Echo curiously. Is it finally time to let the Captain in on some of their secrets?
"I know he'll be willing to listen," Echo continues. "We're going to need help, after all. The Captain's opinion will give our story credibility, too. More people will believe us if Rex believes us. He can organize a system to start removing the biochips on the sly, too."
"He'll believe you," Del says. "If we believed you, he'll believe you. Our Captain is a good man."
Fives smiles. "One of the best," the ARC says. Droidbait wonders what he's thinking about—what memory he's reliving right now, with Captain Rex in the future.
"Did you get any other interesting information from the Kaminoans while you were digging through their files, Echo?" Nax asks curiously. Droidbait doesn't even know the answer to that—Felucia had happened so quickly that Echo hadn't had time to share, but now Echo flinches almost violently at the question. It's such an out-of-character movement that everybody stares at him in blatant surprise.
"I—sorry," Echo mutters. "Yeah, I did find some other stuff that might be useful. It isn't… entertaining, though."
"What did you find?" Hevy asks carefully. Echo winces.
"Records of reconditioning," he answers slowly, carefully. As if he's trying to stay in control. The cursed word makes Beta squad collectively jerk.
Reconditioning. The process that's supposed to be a myth but really isn't. No wonder it's enough to make Echo nervous—it's far too similar to the brainwashing he'd experienced at the hands of the Separatists for comfort. Droidbait doesn't know the fine details, but he's heard the stories. They all have.
"Force, really?" Cutup asks, horrified. "But what—why would they keep that kind of stuff? Why document it?"
Echo lets out a bitter chuckle that makes Droidbait anxious. "For experiments," he says darkly. "To test different methods of brainwashing, see which ones are most effective. Other things, too. Things I really don't want to read about."
Droidbait swallows and tries not to let his imagination take hold of that. He's only partially successful.
"We're lucky, here. Reconditioning isn't really something we have to worry about under General Skywalker. There are others, though, who send men back to Kamino for simple mistakes," Echo tells them grimly.
Droidbait doesn't even want to imagine a world where he has to worry about being shipped back to Kamino and stripped of his very personality, his memories, his very existence. It makes him sick to think that there are other brothers who do have to worry about it. He takes a deep breath to try and hide his distress and shoves the last little bit of his ration bar into his mouth, grimacing at the tastet—or rather, the lack thereof.
"Hey, 'Bait, I've got something for you," Nax says. It's an obvious change of the subject, one that Droidbait doesn't mind. He blinks as Nax reaches for his belt, pulling out a handful of—
Oh.
Nax offers him one of the little orb candies—one of Attie's candies, and after a split-second's hesitation Droidbait takes it gingerly, rolling the little sweet between his fingers.
"Attie still had a box of them, when he… well. There's a lot of them left. When we get back, you're welcome to help yourself. All of you. There's no way Coric and I will be able to eat all of them."
Droidbait stares at the candy quietly, lost in thought for a moment. Here on Felucia, with all of the problems that have been going on, it's been easy to forget. To not think about everything that had happened beforehand. In some ways, that's a good thing—he's all too aware that his grief for Attie had left him non-functional for a while, but he hadn't meant to forget completely.
He really misses Attie. He misses Attie's bright personality and optimistic views. He misses his willingness to talk to anyone about anything, and he misses the comfort and advice Attie had given when Droidbait was losing control.
"Do you know what the Jedi believe? They say, 'There is no death, there is the Force.' I don't pretend to know exactly what that means, but I like to imagine that our brothers are still alive, somehow, in the Force. Watching us. Cheering for us."
Is Attie watching right now? Droidbait wonders if he is. He wonders if Tipper and Zeer have found him yet, wherever the kriff he is now.
He unwraps the candy and pops it into his mouth, savoring the flavor. It's a massive contrast from the tasteless ration bar moments earlier.
"Thanks, Nax," Droidbait says quietly. "I… thank you." His heart aches at the thought of his lost friend, but it isn't a crippling pain like it had been before.
Nax smiles gently. "No problem, DB," he says, and Droidbait had thought he wouldn't be okay with anyone calling him that anymore because that was Attie's nickname for him, but it feels alright now.
It feels like he's finally recovering.
Nax had tossed candy to the rest of Domino, too. Cutup hums as he pops his in his mouth. "Oh man, Tipper would have loved these," he says bitterly. "He had such a sweet tooth—"
Coric jerks abruptly.
"They aren't dead," he snarls aggressively. Cutup flinches. Del lifts a hand to try and pacify the medic, but Coric bats it away. "Stop acting like you're certain they are. No. I refuse to believe that they're dead until we have proof."
Del huffs dolefully. "Coric, you might have to—"
"I don't have to do anything," Coric snaps. "Believe me, I know what the statistics say. I know how unlikely it is that they'll come back. But I can't—I don't want to…" he trails off, shaking his head. "It's just… too soon," he finishes. "It's too soon to lose anyone else. Is it so wrong to hope that they made it out of there?"
"It's not," Echo tells him gently. "You're fine, Coric. You don't have to defend yourself. We hope they're alright, too."
Coric takes a deep breath, relaxes just a little.
"Good," he says. "Good. Just let me have this, won't you? I've… I've failed to save too many recently. I need something to hope for."
The Separatists can sense that they have the clone army on the ropes. They see an opportunity to trap three Jedi in a hostile jungle, so they take it. The clones receive news that the Separatists are attempting to build a blockade around the planet, to stop supplies from coming in and the Jedi from escaping.
The Republic starts to evacuate. The Separatist blockade doesn't quite have a handle on the whole planet yet—there's still some time to get out before they enemy ships overwhelm the Republic's star cruisers.
The 212th men get evacuated first. They got the worst of the flesh-eating diseases earlier, and there are many of them that still need immediate medical attention because of it. Echo doesn't blame them for that, even though some of the 501st do. Everyone wants off this planet, but there's only so many men they can fit into a gunship, especially when the wounded are involved.
General Kenobi sends all of his men away, including Commander Cody, but stays himself. Echo sees him wandering through the injured on one occasion, chatting lightly to the men and offering words of advice as if everything was normal despite the mud and blood smeared across his tunic. Echo's always had plenty of respect for General Kenobi, but it grows infinitely after that.
General Kenobi could have left, but he didn't. Echo knows that's likely because he's worried about General Skywalker and Commander Tano more than he's worried about the men, but he appreciates it all the same.
The Separatists don't like that their prey is beginning to escape, so the droids light the jungle on fire.
They do it well after the rain has fallen, so the jungle is dry enough to burn. Fortunately it doesn't spread as quickly as the clones had feared, but it spreads all the same. The gunships are forced to halt the evacuations as their landing zones are covered in flames. Echo spends an entire day helping the rest of the 501st move the wounded out of the way of the flames, across a river that they find winding through the fungus trees.
They aren't completely casualty-free. The smoke is mostly negated by helmet filters, but a few of the men have lost their helmets or are unable to wear them due to injury. Some are just ignorant, and don't stop to put their helmets on while they help move the injured. Regardless, smoke inhalation is a problem, and Echo hopes someone had needled the Jedi into wearing oxygen filters before allowing them into the fray.
There are also men stumbling into camp, nursing burns, who practically sob with relief at rejoining with the clone forces again. Most of them had been separated from their squads during the initial evacuations, or thought dead and left on accident during a firefight. A few mention the rancor attacks.
Echo keeps a careful eye out, but he doesn't see Tipper or Zeer. Coric is correct, though—if these clones had survived, it's entirely possible that the two missing members of Beta are still out there somewhere.
Echo is actually with Coric during a startling experience—Coric is treating one of the burn victims while Echo watches the dark plumes of smoke billowing above the plant life in the distance. Echo admittedly isn't paying too much attention. He's focused on the fire, wondering just how bad the damage is and whether or not the forest will ever recover (because sure, the jungle has tried to kill them plenty of times, but that's hardly it's fault. It's sort of sad to see such a spectacular diversity of life destroyed so easily). He's not even holding his gun, so when Coric suddenly shouts in terror Echo whirls around, fists raising instinctively—
Some sort of giant plant has a vine wrapped around Coric's waist and is attempting to drag him away. Echo yells in alarm, diving to grab Coric's outstretched hand and digging his heels into the dirt. It's futile, really. The plant is much stronger than him.
"Get a gun!" Echo shouts desperately at the patient Coric had been treating. The man can't stand. His legs are too badly burned, but he's the only one close enough to do anything in time. "Hurry, hurry!"
The clone scrambles across the ground, eyes wide in fear as he reaches for a weapon. He grabs it and fires randomly into the bushes in the direction the tentacle is coming from, but it doesn't do anything. The plant refuses to let go, and actually tugs harder, jerking Echo a couple of feet before he can re-dig his heels into the ground.
"Kriff!" Coric shouts. The vine is squeezing him. There's a sharp crack, but Coric doesn't cry out. His armor has splintered, not a bone. Not yet.
"Force, someone give us a hand!" Echo roars. "Blasted kriffing—" His grip on Coric's hand is starting to slip—
A flash of blue goes barrelling past them. Captain Rex disappears into the jungle towards the attacking plant, and Echo hears his twin pistols sound off several times. The vine suddenly thrashes, throwing Echo to the ground.
"No!" Echo shouts, scrambling to his feet—just in time to watch the vine go limp, coils going slack around its prey. Coric kicks his way free as the vine loosens, gasping for breath.
Captain Rex re-emerges from the undergrowth, holstering his pistols as he makes his way straight for Coric.
"You alright, Coric?" the Captain asks, reaching down to help pull Coric to his feet. Coric nods. He's obviously shaken, and there are hairline fractures across the armor on his torso. Other than that, he's unharmed.
"Y-yes sir," he says shakily. "Thank you, sir. The plant was… attracted by the smell, I think. We should keep an eye out for more."
The smell of charred flesh from the burn victims, he means.
Rex sighs. He takes his helmet off. The man looks exhausted, and Echo can hardly blame him.
"Hang in there, men," the Captain tells them wearily. "We'll be off this planet soon. Just a little longer."
A little longer. Echo hopes he's right. As the Captain moves to leave, Echo grabs his arm before he can get far.
"Captain, don't overwork yourself," Echo warns. "You've got to hang in there too, you know."
Rex smiles at him. It's a tired smile, but a smile nonetheless. Echo doubts Rex has done much of that lately.
"Don't worry about me, Echo," he says. "I'll be fine. Stay alert. Watch out for your squad."
"You do the same, sir," Echo says seriously as Rex leaves. The Captain deserves rest. Echo hopes he'll get it soon.
Something slithers past Hevy's leg.
He knows there's something in the water with them. Sithspit, there are probably lots of things in the water with them, but they can't do anything about it.
They're hunkered down in the middle of the river, helmets sealed and ducked underneath the water to hide from the massive column of droids above them. It's just Beta's luck that they'd run into such an intimidating force during what was supposed to be a brief scouting mission.
There's way too many droids to fight. Way too many droids for anyone to fight. This is the Separatist's attack force marching past on their way to wipe the Republic off of Felucia's surface.
Beta squad had barely managed to hide in time, diving into the river to avoid being seen. He can't see anything through his visor. The water is too murky, but he did manage to get a hand on someone's elbow and is holding onto it tightly to reassure himself that he hasn't been left behind and to stop the current from dragging him away. It's not a very fast moving river, nor is it extremely deep, but the force is still there.
"Everyone still doing okay?" Del asks carefully over helmet comms. They have to be cautious about how much they speak, because their sealed suits only have a limited amount of oxygen.
Hevy chimes in an affirmative and resists the urge to mention his unease again. They've been in here for almost ten minutes now, and he's already complained once. He doesn't want to risk any more oxygen to do so again.
Turns out, he doesn't have to. Nax complains for him.
"I swear there's something swimming around me," he groans. "I hate this. Can't we try and get out of here? The droids are probably starting to thin out."
"You really wanna test that?" Fives mutters. "I can still hear them up above."
"Not yet," Del answers curtly, and leaves it be. They lapse into silence again, listening to metallic feet stomping above, muffled by the water.
"Beta squad, this is Commander Tano! Do you read me?"
Hevy jumps at the Commander's unexpected voice over the comms.
"Here, Commander. We're pinned down in the water. The droid forces are headed right for you, sir. There's… there's a lot of them," Del answers.
"We know, we got your initial report," she replies. "More gunships have gotten through the atmosphere. We're trying to get the rest of the men off of the planet, and this might be our last chance before the blockade is in place. Can you make it back to us?"
Hevy's heart swells with hope. Force. They could actually get out of here.
Del is quiet for a moment, considering their options. "There's a bend in the river a half-mile downstream that might be able to cover us so we can get out of the water. We'll head for it, Commander. Give us a few minutes."
"Copy that, Del. Hurry."
At least the bend isn't upriver. Hevy keeps a tight hold on whoever's elbow he has, and someone else grabs onto his wrist so that they all drift together instead of alone.
Hevy still can't shake the sensation that there's something swimming nearby.
They get to the bend. It only takes a few minutes with the current's help, and Del had been right—it puts them out of the droids' line of sight, so they can haul themselves up onto land again. Hevy finally lets go of Droidbait's elbow as he pulls himself onto the riverbank, sighing in relief to be out of the water.
Nax screams behind him.
Hevy whips around. Nax is halfway out of the water, but there's… something keeping him from pulling one of his legs out. Nax struggles, and for a split second Hevy gets a glance of scales and fins and sharp teeth and blood around his leg.
"Nax!" Hevy levels his gun at the water and fires over and over again. There's a strangled screeching noise, and the water churns as the creature thrashes. It must let go of Nax's leg because the mechanic heaves himself out of the water, practically throwing himself onto dry land. Beta grabs him and drags him farther away from the river as Hevy fires several more shots into the water, gritting his teeth. He's not fast enough to kill it, but he does see wisps of inky-black blood drifting in the water after it's disappeared and feels a surge of satisfaction as he turns back towards the team.
Whatever that creature was, it's teeth had been sharp enough to pierce through Nax's armor. His leg is still there, which is good, but it's also a bloody mess. Coric is stripping off his greaves to try and get a better look and apply pressure to stop the bleeding. Cutup and Echo are holding him down as he writhes in pain so that he doesn't kick the medic.
The droids pick that moment to come investigate the noises. Hevy freezes as two of them come into sight, blasters raised.
"Clones!" one of them shouts, and Hevy knows if they don't move now they're going to be overwhelmed by droids in seconds.
He drops his gun. It goes against every instinct in his body, but he does it anyway. He'll need his hands free for this.
"Coric, we've gotta move!" he shouts. "Do something to slow the bleeding!" Carrying injured brothers is normally Zeer's job, with his larger muscles mass, but Zeer isn't here right now. Hevy's plenty strong from hefting a Z-6 everywhere. Picking Nax up and hoisting him won't be easy, but Hevy can do it.
Blasterfire rings out. Coric is tying a strip of fabric around Nax's leg, who yells in pain, but they don't have time to be gentle. The moment Coric is done Hevy grabs Nax, hoisting him up into a fireman's carry. Nax swears violently, but Hevy doesn't even spare a breath to apologize.
He runs.
Nax is still bleeding. Coric has slowed it for the time being, but it won't last long, and if Hevy doesn't hurry Nax will start to bleed out.
Hevy is aware of the rest of Beta flanking him, helping him go in the right direction, but all he can do is focus on moving forwards.
Nax moans by his ear, breath hitching, and Hevy clenches his jaw and pushes himself to move faster.
They're running out of time.
When Beta squad bursts into the clearing where the Republic is currently stationed, they stumble into even more chaos than Fives even thought was possible.
The camp is in disarray. Gunships swoop overhead, and men are streaming towards them, carrying the wounded between them. Others are racing to arm themselves, fully aware that there aren't enough gunships for everyone and bracing themselves for a fight.
It's mayhem. Fives can't even keep up with Hevy—the gunner storms towards the nearest gunship, and the sea of trepidatious brothers parts to let him through. Perhaps it's Nax shouting in pain over his shoulders or the rivulets of blood dripping down both of their armor that convinces them to move so quickly for him—regardless, they don't get out of the way like that for the rest of Beta, so Fives is forced to shove his way through the crowd to catch up. He loses track of his squadmates momentarily, and he's barely able to make it to the gunship Hevy had gone for.
"Hurry, hurry!" the pilot is shouting over comms. "We've got to take off soon, the blockade is locking into place! Get in!"
Hevy is already inside the ship, as is Coric, tending frantically to Nax's leg. Fives pushes past several other men to make sure they're alright. Hevy looks tired, but he's uninjured, so Fives turns back as the rest of Beta joins them. Droidbait and Echo come in at the same time, and Del is just a few seconds behind them, but—
"Where the kriff is Cutup?" Fives barks out, glancing at the rest of Beta. Echo freezes and turns around.
"What? He was—he was right behind us!"
"Where is he?" Droidbait says in horror. "How did he lose us? We were right there!"
Force. Fives feels a twinge of panic as he pushes his way through the brothers still squeezing into the ship to stare outside. It's still chaos out there, and Fives doesn't see Cutup anywhere.
No, no no this isn't good. Cutup was just with them. Just barely. Where had he gone?
"We can't wait any longer!" the pilot cries. The gunship's engines are whining, preparing for takeoff. Fives' heart clenches in terror. No. They are not leaving Cutup behind. It's bad enough that they're still missing Zeer and Tipper, but Cutup—
No. Fives refuses to let this happen.
"Wait, we can't—we can't leave him!" Hevy cries, and tries to make his way outside. He almost stumbles as he moves. He's too tired after carrying Nax through the jungle.
Fives will have to go after Cutup himself. It's better like that anyway, Fives can handle himself. This way no one else will have to take such a large risk—
Suddenly, Echo is next to him. Suddenly, Echo puts a hand on his shoulder. Suddenly, Echo steps out of the gunship.
Fives blinks.
"Echo, what are you… Echo, wait!"
The realization is too late. Fives tries to go after the other ARC, but Echo whirls around and shoves him with a push to the sternum. Fives stumbles back, and then the gunship doors slide shut.
"No, no—Echo, you can't—!"
He's practically reaching for the emergency button to open the gunship doors as the ship rises into the sky. It wouldn't be the first time he's jumped out of a moving ship like this before, and he's willing to do it again in a heartbeat because now both Cutup and Echo are down there still and the droids are coming—
Someone grabs his hand before he can do so. The gunship is packed, far too crowded for Fives to throw the punch he wants to—at least, he wants to until he sees that it's Del who'd stopped him.
"Don't," Del tells him gravely. "He knew full well what he was doing."
Fives shakes his head. "But—"
"But nothing," Del interrupts. "He made a decision. He's protecting you this time. Don't let it be for nothing. Hevy and Droidbait need you."
"We can't just leave them down there!" Fives snarls, and instantly regrets it when Del actually turns his head away. His face is hidden behind his helmet, but Fives knows what he's thinking about and sucks in a horrified breath.
They're leaving Tipper and Zeer behind too, after all. This is just as hard for Del as it is for Fives. Del is just better at controlling himself.
"Del, I—I'm sorry, I didn't mean—" he tries, stumbling over the words. His mind is whirling, struggling to deal with with his fear and his relief and his nerves all at once.
Instead of getting angry, Del just sighs deeply. He puts a hand on Fives' shoulder as the gunship lurches, fighting against the atmosphere.
"It's alright," he says carefully. As if he's trying to convince himself of the words just as much as he's trying to convince Fives. "They're all going to be fine. We just have to trust them to get out of there safely. They can take care of themselves, you know."
Fives knows that. Of course he knows that… but it doesn't make leaving them behind any easier.
A/N: Last chapter was really heavily focused on bad stuff happening to tons of different clones. This time, we're much more focused in on Beta squad. They're more focused on each other and simply surviving this time, which is why the focus is a little shifted this time around.
This was so, so fun to plan out. It's really interesting to brainstorm about why the Republic lost so badly on Felucia, and experiment a little with the terrain and consequences of the setting. Soon we'll get back on track with the storyline everyone is familiar with, but there are some important things that I need to happen on Felucia before that, so we'll see how things turn out.
Question that I can practically sense coming: Why are so many bad things happening to Cutup, meridian? A: Well, bad things are gonna happen to everyone. Cutup has just been... really unfortunate recently. That's all I'm gonna say.
Hopefully the time skips aren't too confusing. Honestly don't pay too close attention to them, I wasn't tracking how many days I actually put them through like I should have been. Just realize that this chapter is taking place over the course of a couple weeks.
Thank you so much for the reviews and comments, guys! I really appreciate the support, this story wouldn't be possible without you guys! Come visit my tumblr at meridiansdominoes if you want more!