THIS IS A MIX OF WRITERS
The First 7 sections are written by Evenmoor beautiful hand, the last 4 sections are mine.
Translation for the little bit of Kaminoan is at the bottom. I'm using Samoan as the Kamino language because it is an actual language, but rare, and it has the flow and sound that feels right for Kaminoan speech.
A mission.
Their first mission.
A rescue mission.
Adrenaline surged through Sever's veins, burning past the haze of sleep as the other clones gathered around him. He realized after a moment that they were all looking at him now. Right. Methos had handed him the tablet.
He cleared his throat unnecessarily and looked back at the Jedi.
"What are the mission parameters?" he asked, concealing his nervousness as best he could.
The Jedi had his hands clasped behind his back, which was straight as any vod in parade stance. But Sever could see the gray cast to his face, the shadows under his eyes.
"That is a list of names. Your mission is to select four of them to join you in the Century. What criteria you use I leave entirely up to you. But your time is limited. Nine hours, gentlemen. No more." Methos gazed back at him with a stern expression.
Right. No pressure.
This was not training. Not an intellectual exercise. Real brothers' lives would be affected by the choices they made here.
"Understood," he responded. He tapped away at the pad for a few seconds, then looked back at his brothers. "Alright, I've just copied the data to all of you. Four squads each take a quarter of the names, and I want initial recommendations from the squad leaders. Gimbal, Gaffer, you'll be with Humble, 6389, and Flight. Snitch, you're with Sigma Squad. Get some caf, go do exercises, anything you need to do to get this done. And if anyone's got some bright ideas how we can go above and beyond the parameters, speak the kark up! Dismissed!"
The room erupted into nearly-frantic chaos as clones rushed to dress and head out to complete their assignments. Soon the room was empty, with only Apex lingering in the doorway.
"Hey, Sever…" His brother raised an eyebrow pointedly. "I know that you're going to sit there and go through all of the names yourself, too. Don't try to deny it. All of us remember what you did for Humble and 6389. No matter what we do, we won't be able to save them all. Just don't forget that we are saving some."
Sever couldn't help but flash his brother a somewhat rocky grin, but a grin nonetheless.
"We'll be saving even more once we get the kriff out of here and get out there." He gestured vaguely towards the ceiling.
"You've got that right." Apex slapped the doorway and followed after the rest of Sigma Squad.
It took Sever a strangely long time to realize that the bunkroom wasn't actually empty of everyone but him. How did one forget a six-foot Jedi, anyway? But Methos hadn't snuck out at all, or left in the throng of clones. He was sitting on an open pod bunk - Sever's actually.
In that moment, Sever didn't see the Jedi, the general, the one who single-handedly bullied Kaminoans, the Jedi Order, and the whole Republic Senate into letting him save a bunch of clones. He saw the man who had used the Force to help save a medical transport from crashing, to the point that he literally collapsed from exhaustion, only to get back up as soon as he could stand to help treat the flood of wounded. He saw a man who had been kicked to the ground, stood back up, and been kicked down again.
Sever saw himself, and his brothers, exhausted and beaten and near defeat after going through yet another round of training with only the promise of more to come.
This, this was the Methos behind the masks he wore, behind the snark and command and downright arrogance. And Sever realized the reason he'd tasked them with this mission, when he'd hand-picked every other member of the Century.
"There're so many, and you couldn't pick just four of them. You want to save us all," he said aloud.
"That would be a foolish and hopeless endeavour. I'm a pragmatist above everything. You should know this by now."
"That's dwang," Sever retorted bluntly. "You might want everyone to think that. Kriff, you might try to convince yourself of that. But I see it. And I'll bet that sooner or later, the rest of us will see it, too, if they don't already. Pretty sure Gimbal sees it."
"There's nothing to see."
"There you go again, and I'm not buying it. Listen, you ancient bastard, you don't have to carry the weight of the galaxy on your shoulders. And right now, you need to go to sleep. If you don't, I'll get Gimbal to sedate you."
The Jedi stared at him, nonplussed.
"Gimbal couldn't catch me to sedate me."
"You wanna bet the twins couldn't figure out a way?" Sever decided on a different tack. "We need time to go through these and come up with a plan. It doesn't do us all any good worrying about you in the meantime! Go, get some shut-eye, and let us handle this. You trust us with this mission, right? That's why you brought it to us, isn't it?"
And that was an argument Methos had no counter for.
"Cheeky, impertinent, and insubordinate. My lucky day."
"You're the one who told us not to call you 'general' or anything like that."
Methos stood to leave. As he reached the door, Sever suddenly spoke up.
"No matter what we do, we won't be able to save them all. Just don't forget that we are saving some."
The Jedi didn't turn back to look at him or anything, but a tiny amount of tension seemed to leave his shoulders. After a brief moment, he disappeared into the corridor, leaving Sever alone with his data pad and an altogether too long list of names.
"Before you head back to the barracks, Sir, I would like to submit myself for disciplinary action."
Having just woken up to this, after only 6 of not-nearly-enough hours of sleep to compensate, Methos narrowed his eyes at the clone standing firmly at attention in front of him, not even trying to guess what the ever-loving kriff was going on. Gimbal, one of the few clones out of his nascent company to never once stand on rank or protocol with Methos (or anyone else, for that matter), and here he was calling him "sir" and submitting himself for disciplinary action? Methos rubbed the remains of sleep from his face before sitting up and sighing heavily.
"You better explain what you think you've done that warrants disciplinary action from me. It's too early for guessing games, anyway."
The clone doctor hesitated a second, contemplated sitting down, then remained standing at parade rest. Methos slid to the edge of his narrow bed, wishing he had the galaxy's largest cup of caf right now. Methos rubbed his forehead.
"I'm a-quiver with anticipation, Gimbal. What is this all about?"
"Sir, I have betrayed your trust and violated your privacy. I believed that I was justified in doing so and that my reasons were both benign and beneficial to the positive health and wellbeing of the Century as a whole."
A watchful tension suddenly filled Methos.
"What. Did. You. Do?" he demanded.
5 Days Previous
"You're Gimbal, right?" The younger clone seemed unusually nervous, so Gimbal offered an encouraging smile as he set aside his tablet.
"That's right. You're Shank and… Sneak, yeah?"
"How does he do that?" Sneak muttered in astonishment. Gimbal turned his eyes on the other clone, his grin growing bigger as Sneak realized that he spoke out loud.
"I assume you mean 'How does Gimbal keep us all straight when he barely knows us and we all look alike and sound alike'?" he asked in amusement.
"Um…" sputtered Sneak.
"Yes," Shank cut in, trying to salvage the moment.
"Well, none of the vode look alike and sound alike to me. Not even the Twins, however much they play it up. Have they found names yet?" Gimbal asked curiously. "I know our new Jedi's a bit anxious about it."
"It's actually the Jedi we're here about." Shank looked uncomfortable but determined.
"That so? What about him?"
"He just blew in and made all these big promises. Said we wouldn't be stuck in maintenance anymore, that we'd get out and fight. But we haven't done much of anything yet. And we're starting to wonder if he's… y'know… legit." Sneak crossed his arms, a gesture that seemed to Gimbal equal parts aggressive and defensive.
"I'm guessing you two aren't the only ones to be be wondering that," Gimbal noted thoughtfully, leaning back in his chair. "I'm definitely glad you came to me with your concerns, but why me ?"
"You're one of the oldest clones still on Kamino, but you've also got experience. Out there. You've seen action, and you've seen Jedi in action, and you were almost the first clone Methos recruited," Shank replied after sharing a glance with Sneak.
"I suppose saying that I have a good feeling about him won't exactly help in this situation." It was true, though; from the moment Gimbal had met Methos, when he'd helped Humble and 6389 and prevented Sever from being liquidated, Gimbal knew deep in his bones: Methos may not be nice, but he was kind. "You're looking for some sort of tangible evidence that he isn't just leading us all on."
"Well… yeah. Pretty much sums it up." Sneak had not uncrossed his arms, Gimbal noted.
Gimbal tapped a finger on the table thoughtfully for several long seconds. Sneak, Shank, and the other "Crazy Eights" had been woefully treated before Methos picked them. Frankly, he wasn't surprised at their trust issues, and he could easily name a dozen or more of the company who probably had the same doubts about their new Jedi. This needed to be nipped in the bud quickly if the Century wasn't going to fall apart before they even left Kamino. And... truth be told, he was a bit curious, himself.
"I'm going to need a couple things and a bit of help."
"Did anyone ever tell Gaffer that his armor smells funny? I mean, what is that, anyway?" complained Sneak in an undertone. Snitch, in Ochi's armor, didn't bother to hide the snickers Gimbal managed to stifle.
"Pretty sure it's blartree blossom today," Gimbal replied as he led the other clones down a corridor to a doorway that Sneak and Snitch were most definitely not authorized to access.
"Today? What, he has different scents for every day of the week?!"
"Just be glad that today was blartree and not stinkweed."
"Now you're pulling my leg."
"Nope. He just likes a little variety. Where he gets the scents is none of my business, and it doesn't hurt anyone."
"It's hurting me right now!"
"You're soon to be a fully trained soldier in the Grand Army of the Republic, you di'kuut. Grow a little backbone and suck it up," Gimbal advised him wryly, now completely unable to control his grin and thankful for the concealment of his own bucket. "Now shut up and just follow me."
"Hopefully the Great Jedi Hope is too busy torturing Sigma Squad to catch us," Snitch mused with far too much glee. "I can't wait to get my hands on open Holonet access!"
Gimbal keyed in his authorization and opened the door to the private hangar. No cadets were allowed in here, only troopers, trainers… and Methos. The Jedi's personal ship, the one he had arrived in, was parked amongst several other ships of various sizes and origins, though nothing larger than a small freighter in this hangar. In fact, it was the freighter to which Gimbal was headed.
"Hang on-" Sneak started, his body language uncertain.
"Not here," Gimbal said tersely. He marched with precision and mission to the freighter, and soon they were at the entrance. He gestured for Snitch to handle the door.
"Eh, no problem here," Snitch muttered softly. Sure enough, the door slid open after only a few moments with his multitool.
"I could've done that!" protested Sneak as they boarded the freighter. "Why's he here again?"
Snitch clapped him on the shoulder.
"You're a good slicer, Sneak. I'm the best. And if you want to know more about the Supreme Savior of the Galaxy without him finding out, you're gonna need the best. And also because you had to ask why we're on the freighter as opposed to slicing Methos's personal ship."
Gimbal could hear the cogs turning in the younger clone's brain as he just about froze in place for a moment.
"If Methos wanted to keep transmission records off of Kamino's datanet, he'd have to use an isolated communications device. But his ship probably isn't powerful enough to get a clear signal all the way to Coruscant without a booster, and I didn't see anything obvious."
"Good. And?" Snitch prompted, arms crossed.
"And if anyone were to attempt to spy on him, his own ship would be an obvious place to monitor. The freighter would have a power core large enough to boost the signal as far as he wanted, especially if none of the other systems were running!"
"Exactly! There you have it. Now, we go to the cockpit, and you watch and learn, kid."
Sneak pulled off his borrowed helmet. "Just so long as I don't have to smell blartree the whole time."
"That's the spirit!"
Gimbal grinned at the byplay. These two would've found each other sooner or later, given their, ah, shared interests, so he was glad to be the metaphorical fly on the wall as Snitch brought Sneak under his wing for a little off-hours mentorship.
They made their way to the cockpit, and Snitch sat down in the pilot's seat and pulled off his own bucket, setting it on the floor by his feet. He tapped at the controls, bringing up the power and then the communications display a few moments later.
"I'm pretty sure the com logs aren't supposed to be empty," Sneak point out dryly.
"'Course not," Snitch replied. "It's not as if they built this ship right here in the hangar. Even if it were brand new, and it's obviously not, there should be com records from both its departure from wherever it was built and its arrival here."
"Which means the logs were erased."
"You got it. Fortunately, nothing is ever really gone once it's in a computer," Snitch said smugly. He pulled out a small tablet computer and plugged a cable from it to the console. "Now we just run my very own restoration program, and gundark's-your-uncle-"
Snitch cut himself off.
"Something wrong?" Gimbal prompted after a moment.
Snitch narrowed his eyes at the readout on his tablet. It all looked like lines of gibberish to Gimbal, but he was a doctor, not a slicer.
"For a Jedi, he knows his tech. Or he knows someone who does. Then again, he was a librarian before he came here-"
"Wait, he was a librarian?!" cut in Sneak a trifle shrilly. "A librarian? As in, a person who sits around in dusty archives and makes sure you don't talk too loudly?!"
"You really need to read up on the Jedi," Snitch drawled.
"Snitch…" Gimbal tried not to sigh. The other clone, fortunately, seemed to take the hint, un-subtle as it was.
"Jedi librarians aren't just the sitting-around types from what I know. They're also the guys who go out there into the galaxy to find stuff to add to the archives. And protect the archives, if it comes down to it," he explained.
"Dare I ask how you found out Methos was one of these?" asked Gimbal.
"I accessed the file the Kaminoans keep on him after the rumors started going around that he was recruiting clones. Barest file you'd imagine, and you know the skinnies like to be thorough. All it had was his name, species, and what amounted to a some guesswork."
"So, bottom line: does that mean we won't be able to get the com record?"
Snitch blinked up at Gimbal momentarily.
"I got one more trick up my sleeve…" The slicer began tapping away madly, first on the tablet, then the console, then the tablet again. Gimbal couldn't even begin to guess what he was doing, though Sneak's eyes followed every move with what seemed to be surprise, and then perhaps a bit of awe.
"Did you just…"
"Yep. Quantum data still exists no matter how much the digital data is corrupted and/or expunged. Won't give us all the details, but it's still gonna be something."
The console screen lit up with line after line after line of text. Snitch grinned in triumph.
"What are we looking at?" Gimbal asked.
"This is signal traffic routed through the long-range communications system. And just eyeballing it here, there's been a lot of chatter. And the power draws during some of these periods are pretty significant."
"So some of these calls went far away," Sneak reasoned. "How far are we talking?"
"The Core Worlds, at the very least. And... With that kinda power draw maybe even the Outer Rim? And it wasn't just a couple of minutes, either. There's hours if not days' worth of draw on that magnitude."
"What time frame does this cover?" Gimbal stared at the wall of text, as if he could will it into coherency.
"I'd say it started right around the time he saved three cadets from getting liquidated." Snitch cocked a smirk in Gimbal's direction. "Can't be any more exact than that with what I've got."
It wasn't exactly the definitive proof Gimbal was hoping to find that Methos wasn't about to pull the rug out from all of them, but it certainly wasn't nothing, either. And this also gave him an interesting idea to pursue…
After ensuring Gaffer and Ochi's armor were returned to their proper owners, Gimbal left Snitch and Sneak to explain the whole story as promised. Hopefully, Sneak had the smarts to leave out his commentary on Gaffer's choice of scents. Knowing that Methos was spending long hours on the coms lent credence to the Jedi's claims that he was genuinely working on ensuring their freedom.
Nobody questioned Gimbal as he passed down brightly-lit corridors. Finally, he entered his old familiar medical bay. A frisson of guilt shot through him as he saw all the occupied beds and bacta tanks; too many brothers already injured in this new war, and he wasn't here to treat them.
He made his way to a computer terminal and sat down. He took a deep breath and stared at the screen. This was his last chance to turn back before he did something.
His fingers hovered for a moment before he started typing. An identification and password belonging to one of the Kaminoans, granting him unfettered access to pretty much everything on the mainframe.
After all, Gimbal might have no slicing skills to speak of, but even the least computer-literate vode could enter an ID and password acquired when one of the cloners didn't realize that a certain cadet was standing right behind him. Gimbal never really had reason to use his illicit knowledge before now.
He breathed out as the system blossomed before him. He'd never had this much access before. The temptation was almost overwhelming. Instead, he focused on his mission. A quick search turned up the file that the Kaminoans had compiled on Jedi Master Methos.
A quick smile lit up Gimbal's eyes as he scanned over the information. Snitch had looked at the file, but that was before their Jedi had truly made himself interesting to the Kaminoans. There wasn't a lot of data there, but there was definitely more than before.
His name, his species (baseline human, what a surprise there), his rank as a Master, current position as Jedi General, 68th Company, previous position as a librarian in the Archives at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. Ah, and who trained him: a Jedi Master Ben-Ghi Ness (deceased).
Learn about the master, learn about the student. Gimbal clicked on the link.
If the file on Methos was bare, then the one on Ben-Ghi Ness was empty. Basically all the Kaminoans knew about him was his name, the date his death was reported to the Jedi ten years or so ago, and that he, like his student, was a librarian. They did, however, have one image.
Gimbal stared at the picture. To a casual observer, Ness seemed to be a fairly unremarkable near-human Jedi: long white hair over one shoulder, grey-cast skin, and bright blue eyes. But there was just something…
A chill spread through Gimbal. Despite the cosmetic differences, Ben-Ghi Ness had the same face as Methos.
As a clone whose brothers all looked alike, and a doctor on top of that, Gimbal knew how to spot the tiny differences that distinguish one from another. Instead, he kept spotting the similarities between the two men. The Kaminoans probably never even noticed that Ness and Methos had the same jawline, the same nose, the same shape to their eyes.
Was it possible that Ness and Methos weren't just master and apprentice, but something closer? Gimbal frowned and flipped back to the Methos file.
The date that Methos began working in the Temple archives was the same date reported as Ben-Ghi Ness's death. If this were one of the spy thriller holos that Snitch had "acquired," it would seem that Ness and Methos to be one and the same, one identity discarded as needs demanded while taking up a new one. But the man in the decades-old image didn't seem any older than Methos was now, and that would make Methos at least 60 standard years, if not older.
He was listed as baseline human. Even if Jedi aged more gracefully than non-Force-sensitives, there was no way Methos was sixty standard.
It didn't make sense.
A more reasonable explanation would be that they were related. Father and son, maybe. While Jedi were basically forbidden from marriage, they could and did have offspring through more casual encounters. But if the relationship were that close, Methos would not be a baseline human, either.
Regardless, Gimbal suddenly felt overwhelmingly guilty, as if he'd just pried into some deep, dark secret and was blundering about like a drunken gundark.
Trying to distract himself, Gimbal looked up the file the Kaminoans were keeping on their little group.
68th Company, "Century"
Jedi General Methos
CC-5632 "Sever"
CM-0112 "Gimbal"
CT-1132 "Gaffer"
CP-2013 "Flight"
CT-5575 "Ochi"
And so on.
Then he spotted the link marked "Financial Documentation." He clicked on it.
Spelled out was a summary of all the financial transactions related to the Century, from incubation to decanting to training to medical costs.
Gimbal frowned. Up until recently, all payments relating to costs incurred by members of the Century came from one account, which he assumed was the same Republic-sourced fund for all the clones. From the date Methos had saved Sever, Humble, and 6389, the money came from somewhere else. And the sum was staggering. Gimbal clicked on the account information.
It wasn't the Jedi Order, as he thought. The money, somehow, all came from Methos personally. How in the name of sanity had a Jedi, notorious for eschewing personal wealth, come to have enough money to pay for the health and training of an entire company of clone soldiers?
He quickly logged out, hoping that his use of the stolen password had gone unnoticed. They had the confirmation needed. But trust deserved trust; he was going to have to confess what he'd done to Methos, and soon.
NOW
"You seriously expect me to believe that you - you personally - sliced into the ship's com system?" Methos's expression of dubious exasperation actually rather amused Gimbal, despite the circumstances.
"That is what I reported, sir."
"And that you had no help whatsoever from any of your compatriots, that you did this of your own accord, and that you and only you should suffer the consequences?"'
Gimbal remained silent, staring straight ahead at the blank wall.
"You do realize that I can tell when I'm being lied to. Jedi are funny like that." Methos's voice remained light, but for the briefest second, Gimbal felt like he was surrounded by the whole ocean outside, flailing as its currents dragged him under.
He steadied himself and drew in a deep breath. He dropped his 'good soldier' routine and looked the Jedi full in the face.
"You came here and made big promises, Methos. Some of these boys - all of them, really - need to know that you aren't just spouting empty words. I know, and some of us like Sever trust, that you have good intentions. But good intentions aren't enough. You need to be able to back them up."
"Is that so? And has your late-night research borne fruit?" The words carried a harsh, almost sarcastic lilt.
"They now know that you've been actively advocating on their behalf, and that you've taken on the cost of their training and well-being. Even the most cynical are willing to give you the benefit of the doubt and admit that you might actually be on the level with your promises."
A flurry of emotions rippled across Methos's face. Was that… chagrin? Embarrassment? Gimbal had seen Methos physically vulnerable, after he drained himself to save Flight's transport ship from crashing. This was different.
"Is there anything else you'd like to confess while you're here?" the Jedi asked, perhaps a bit too quickly.
Gimbal thought of the eerie resemblance between Methos and his master, Ben-Ghi Ness, and how the latter had died on the same day Methos started work at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant.
"Nope, I'm good."
"Then we can get onto the punishment portion of this exercise." A terrifyingly sweet smile crossed the Jedi's face as he stood up and walked to a cabinet. He pulled out a large object and pressed it into Gimbal's arms.
"I expect you to read it all, cover to cover. Don't try to skip anything because I'll be testing your comprehension."
The object was a genuine, honest-to-kriff book. Not a flash training module, not even a digital text, but an actual book. For a moment, Gimbal stared at it in shock. Actual books were rare. And, as it turned out, surprisingly heavy.
"And if you finish with that before we head off to Concord Dawn, you can report to Ninety-Nine's Maintenance detail to help them with whatever they need."
"No problem," Gimbal said faintly.
As they left to go to the barracks, book clutched in Gimbal's arms, he could swear that he heard Methos muttering behind him, "I really need a beer…"
"I don't know where you got the list, Boss, but it's got to be the most karked-up collection of brothers in the galaxy," Sever remarked, tapping his finger on the edge of his tablet. The rest of the Century gathered around in the tense atmosphere of the large room that fit everyone with room to spare yet still had the audacity to feel oddly claustrophobic.
"That was rather the point," Methos replied. He looked a bit better than he had eight hours earlier. Sever wasn't sure if he'd actually managed to sleep, but at least their Jedi no longer looked so obviously beaten down.
"Unfortunately, we can't bring them all into the Century. But we did pick four, per the mission parameters," Sever reported. He handed over his tablet in satisfaction.
Methos glanced down at the information displayed.
"And why these four?"
"Yar has a spinal injury and a shattered pelvis. He'll get back on his feet eventually, but he'd never be fit for duty on the front line of a legion. But he's also an engineer with a specialty in cybernetics."
"I'm good with engines, and blowing things up," Gaffer nodded in agreement. "Not so much with delicate precision things like Humble's arm and leg, which'll need maintenance in the field sooner or later."
Sever knew that Gaffer was underplaying his skill with "delicate precision things" - he'd seen him fussing around with that droideka shield scavenged from Geonosis. But he wasn't wrong about the necessity of someone with specialized cybernetics skills, either.
"Next is Nix. No one's sure how, but he ended up with a civil engineering flash training module instead of, y'know, ship engineering or whatever they meant to give him. Apparently, he's about two days from liquidation because the damn Kaminoans don't know what to do with him."
"I suppose they never thought to set him building roads and bridges?" Methos asked rhetorically. "Who's next?"
"Lingo. Had his Larty blown out from under him, survived the crash, lost his eyesight. He could get artificial eyes, but that sort of thing apparently doesn't agree well with a lot of clones for some reason, so the skinnies aren't even trying anymore."
Everyone glanced at Gimbal for some sort of explanation.
"Hey, don't look at me, boys!" The clone in question held up his hands defensively. "I'm a trauma specialist, not a geneticist or a biologist, or a cyberneticist!"
"Anyway…" Methos prompted.
"So, obviously, a blind soldier is going to be a dead soldier in short order," Sever continued. "But then Humble and 6389 mentioned reading about the Jedi and being blind doesn't mean they get kicked out or anything."
"Is that so?" Methos cocked his head curiously at his two youngest recruits.
"I mean, Jedi can use the Force and stuff," 6389 mumbled. "I know we can't, we're just clones, but a blind Jedi can still help out people."
Was that… pride on Methos's face? Sever was certain that there was a glimmer of something strange, almost glistening, at the edge of the Jedi's eyes.
"You're absolutely right. I'm going to guess by his name that Lingo has some sort of talent with languages?"
"I'm pretty sure I heard him cussing up a storm while I was in recovery," Humble snickered. "I learned some really good ones, too!"
"Yes, he's good with languages," Sever cut in. "Thought he could help out with intelligence."
Methos nodded approvingly.
"Good thinking. And who is the fourth you chose?"
Sever took a long breath.
"Yarrow. He's from the same platoon as Lingo. Not batchmates or anything, but they were actually on the same Larty when it was shot down. Yarrow… well. He's not blind, or missing a limb, or anything like that. But…"
"Let me guess: traumatic brain injury?" Methos asked, bluntly yet kindly.
"Like me," 6389 all but whispered. "But worse."
"Seizures, to start. Cognitive problems. Slurred speech. Tinnitus. Mood swings," listed Gimbal. "Most of his physical symptoms are temporary or treatable, at least to an extent. But he's completely unsuitable for a battlefield now."
In short, all but liquidated already. And every man in the room knew it.
"Where did you get the original list?" Sever asked curiously.
"Cansu Taymasp provided it."
"A Kaminoan?" choked Rugger. "A Kaminoan gave you that list? Willingly?"
"It was her idea. She had already chosen one man. CT-9435. Once I give her these other four names, she will essentially adopt all five into her family."
There was a moment of stunned silence.
"I can't believe it. A skinny did all that?" remarked Hotspot. "It's a sign of the end of the universe."
"We kinda figured out within the first thirty seconds that all the men on the list were probably set for liquidation." Rue shared a meaningful glance with Gimbal. Of course, those two would notice.
"Wasn't hard to see what they all had in common," added Humble, flexing his cybernetic hand. "Been there, done that."
"Once we put that together, it made things simpler. Snitch did some quick and dirty analysis and found something interesting." Apex jogged his head towards the slicer, who took up the narrative.
"Most of these guys, say about half to two-thirds, they're actually treatable. Just not within the currently acceptable time frame relative to financial investment for the Kaminoans," he explained, growing more animated with every word. "So we came up with a plan to fix that."
Methos's eyebrows shot upwards.
"Oh, do tell."
"Jinx and Flight and Gimbal got together with the twins to create a distraction while me and Slip-Shot and Ochi got a virus into the Kaminoan systems."
"It's based off the self-improving test score mod that Snitch has been using to help the cadets stay out of trouble with the skinnies," added Slip-Shot.
"Ahem. Yes." Snitch actually looked a little embarrassed and pleased at being called out. "Anyway, this version is designed to gradually alter the cost-benefit analysis for injured soldiers. Instead of allowing, say, a week for recovery from a certain injury, that time will become a month. Or allow three days in bacta instead of one. That's just a hypothetical, but the Kaminoans are more concerned with the end data itself rather than necessarily paying attention to how the numbers were crunched."
A smile - a real, genuine, smile - had spread across Methos's face.
"And you did all this in eight hours?" he asked slowly, as if in disbelief.
"The modifications to the virus were easy enough to make. Just needed some input from our medical staff-" Snitch nodded at Gimbal and Rue. "-to work out some of the details. It was getting the virus into the system that was the fun part."
The terrible twins seemed ready to launch into an epic tale of their shenanigans, but Methos held up his hand to forestall it, much to their disappointment.
"I'll probably be getting a sternly-worded and infinitely-polite report from the Kaminoans on whatever it was that you did." The Jedi did not seem upset in the slightest; in fact, he seemed the happiest he'd been in… well, almost since the time Sever had met him.
If anyone asked, Methos would say he was overseeing troop transfers; the reality was that he was hovering. Cansu Taymasp and Gimbal had brought CT-9435 down to the small bay they'd converted into a medical station, and the unconscious clone's distress was all-encompassing and difficult to ignore. So when Mental and Rue ran up to Methos like they'd just discovered the meaning of life, it came as a welcome distraction.
"Yes?"
"You're never going to believe who we found!" Mental gasped out, gesturing towards the sedated clone in the bed.
"Probably not. So, please, enlighten me."
Rue was almost bouncing on his heels.
"We were trying to get information on 9435, see if there was anything in his back-log records that could help. Turns out he's got a batch brother on Kamino - right here, right now!"
Methos blinked and stood up from the door frame he was leaning against. "Seriously?"
"Their batch got scattered pretty quick after they were deployed." Mental waved a vague hand skywards. "But one of his brothers came in with his unit last night. The vod's team is beaten to hell, but 9435's brother came out relatively intact. Point is, he's here and is scheduled to stay here 'til his unit ships out again."
Rue swiveled his head to glance quickly at the grievously damaged clone.
"I know if it were me in there, I'd want to wake up to family."
Methos nodded a thoughtful agreement. "You got his profile?"
Rue grinned cheerfully, as if all the problems in the universe were solved with the data pad in his hand. Mental seemed no less excited than his compatriot.
"Figured we'd let you be the one to go get him."
ARC Trooper 9437 - better known these days as Conner - approached his brother slowly, gently taking the man's hand as he sat in the chair they'd provided for him. Methos stuck to the doorway, giving the two the respect and space they deserved. Conner swallowed thickly, overcome with emotion.
"I didn't know he'd made it."
"He was the only one... We've been slowly pulling back his sedation levels. He could wake up at any time."
The soldier shook his head. "I kept an eye on the feeds. He wasn't listed as KIA like everyone else in his unit. Kriff, I looked for ages, but there was nothing else about him. Not a peep. I just thought he'd died and they never recovered the body."
Methos bite back his now instinctual rant and focused on the clone in front of him.
"With the level of psychological trauma he'd endured, the Kaminoans didn't bother to place his name back in GAR rotation." Methos sighed, frustrated. For all their intellectual brilliance in the area of cloning, psychology desperately eluded the Kaminoans in some respects. "Part of the reason why your relation to him didn't get pinged sooner."
With his free hand, Conner stroked his brother's forehead, running his fingers through his hair. After a second of thought, the clone frowned in confusion.
"If he's off rotation, then what's he even doing here?" The ARC trooper looked around at the make-shift barracks that the Century had claimed as their own. "What's he doing in your company?"
Methos heard the unasked question, the one every vod asked silently: 'What hell are you getting us into?' Methos grabbed 9435's authorized citizenship and walked the pad to Conner before returning to his station at the door. The man readily accepted it, reading intensely before looking up at Methos in utter astonishment.
"He's surviving," Methos explained at Conner's questioning expression. "Well, maybe also a bit of communications relay, but that's for him to decide. There's a family I know- got a farm in a quiet corner of Core space. Nothing's been finalized yet, but I know they'll take your brother in. Malriche sure as all hells didn't start out playing in dirt; he knows what it's like to have everything you are ripped out and carved up. Annise, his wife, is good at listening without feeling the need to try and fix you. She's also one of the kindest people I've ever met. Until you threaten the people under her care, of course. Then she's terrifying. Six little ankle biters known as the 'barbarian horde'. Plenty of clean air and wide open, green space for him to explore. They'll teach him some farming, and more about life outside of war... It'll be good for him."
"Why?"
"The fast answer is because it's no less than what any of you deserve. The in-depth answer?" Methos sighed. "That takes a little more explanation. By any chance, do you know a Kaminoan by the name of Cansu Taymasp?"
Conner sat back, brow furrowed in thought before it suddenly cleared. "Yeah, I do. Bit of a strange one, but in a good way. If you were injured or sick, you wanted to be on her watch. I remember this one long stint in medical; she brought me stories to read. Not training manuals or any of the other things we usually had- but actual stories and poems. She even brought me these square biscuits once as a treat. They tasted horrible if I'm being honest, but I ate them anyway because how many other Cloners are going to put in that kind of effort? Anyway, 94 really took to the poetry; even wrote one for her. We all thought he was daft, but she accepted it well enough."
Methos nodded, the soldier's story confirming a line of reasoning that had started minutes after truly meeting the doctor. He motioned to the data pad.
"Scroll down and look at the citizenship."
The man did as instructed, blinking in shock as he continued to read.
"Karking hells... This can't be real."
"I understand the sentiment, believe me. But it happened. I'd basically pulled every string I could getting a team together when she came up to me and offered me way to get five more. The only condition she made was that one of the names to go on the list was your brother's, and that I agree that he never sets foot on another battlefield again." Methos shrugged casually as if they were merely talking about the weather forecast. "Agreeing wasn't a hardship."
"So... He's out?... I mean, this isn't temporary, right?" It was a heartbreaking mix of pleading and steel. "I get to go back out there knowing I'll never have to read a KIA report about my brother? He gets out and stays out, right?"
"I can't make that promise," Methos warned him cautiously. "What I can promise is that I'll never order him back. But if your brother chooses to go back into active service, I won't undermine his autonomy by denying his wishes. Pointing out alternatives, yes, but not that."
Conner seemed about to argue when 94 suddenly inhaled sharply and jerked on the bed. The soldier immediately drew his brother's hand to his chest, right over his heart, as he leaned in close to whisper.
"Easy, vod, I'm here. You feel that, that heartbeat? That's proof that I'm here and you're safe; we're both safe."
The damaged clone's eyes cracked open and he sucked in a hard breath.
"Conner?" The single questioning word emerged as a quiet rasp, barely audible.
Methos watched as the man's eyes misted over as he spoke.
"The one and only." Conner gently ran his hand through the other man's hair again. "Had to come see for myself when I found out you'd made it. You always were too much of a stubborn bastard to quit, weren't you, vod?"
For a second 9435 let out a broken chuckle, then his breath hitched and suddenly the man was choking out ragged sobs into his brother's chest. Methos took a step back and gently closed the door as he gave the two privacy.
Methos intimately knew some things were only meant to be shared in the company of a brother.
It had taken Sever a while to notice. At first he'd assumed it was down to him being the kind of reckless that gets your arse on liquidation notice. Then they'd gotten their own barracks and he'd put it down to nothing more than actual space causing distance. He was almost embarrassed to admit how long it had taken him to see it for what it really was. He looked around the mess hall; peak chow time and yet he somehow managed to be surrounded by a sea of empty chairs.
The other clones, they weren't stand-offish, exactly; they still smiled, and if you wanted in on a conversation all you had to do was walk up and insert yourself. And a few of them had even come up to him on their own, curiosity getting the better of decorum as they demanded to know which part of the rumours were fact and fiction. And he'd told them what he could; not everything - because he was still getting his head wrapped around it himself - but what he had down solid, he told them.
But at some point, they'd gone from being just another brother to something.. other. They'd been singled out, made unique to a degree no clone thought possible, something no longer part of a whole.
So more and more they were left alone, avoided.
Sever absently stirred his food as he let the chatter flow over him. Some of it was undoubtedly about him, he could feel the eyes. Sensed the brothers still curious, felt the glare of others wanting to know what made him so special. Why him and not them.
Two weeks ago, when a Jedi he'd never met came up to him and offered him the impossible, he'd only ever considered the advantages. That he and his batch-mates were being given the kind of chance a clone would be defective in the extreme not to take. The idea of a down-side hadn't occurred. Now he understood what Methos meant when he said that bracing for the consequences of what they were doing wasn't just about the reaction of the Republic.
And it was just starting to dawn on Sever, and most of the others, that it would always be this way for those who Methos chose. They would never fit as cogs in the machine again. Some of them suggested that's what it was like with the Jedi; but Sever suspected that this was strictly a "Methos" thing. And Methos was just... He was gravity. Anything that got close enough got pulled in. Because Sever seriously doubted just anyone, Jedi or not, could create the kind of changes that would make a Kaminoan of all people break rank.
Sever looked up as the mess hall ground into a strange kind of silence, just in time to see two Kaminoans gliding away from a third, who apparently had just gotten some very bad, though seemingly not unexpected, news. And on that note...
One advantage of being on the outside looking in was that it had made him adept at recognizing when someone else was in the same situation. And Cansu Taymasp was definitely in the same situation.
He supposed that someone not familiar with the species wouldn't see much. A slightly cooler edge as she walked by, a few clipped words when they spoke to her. But to a group used to their very survival depending on their ability to read the subtlest emotional cues, it was easy to read the Kaminoans' disdain for her stop only so far as they weren't actively spitting at her as she walked by.
He wondered what was going to happen to her. Thanks to Snitch, he knew she'd already been fired ("permanently removed from her current position and privileges") and was only around while they transferred her duties to some successor; it wasn't going to take her clan much longer to disavow her. What did that leave her? Would there be anywhere on Kamino where she would be welcomed? Was there anywhere else she could go? For that matter, why the kriff did she have to suffer just for being a decent person? That wasn't just absurdly unfair, it was wrong on so many karking levels.
And while Methos hadn't started training them yet, there was one thing he'd taught them by example: when you saw something wrong, you damn well better do something about it.
Sever looked at the blank spaces all around him, then into the eyes of the brothers still trying to stare him down. He threw down his fork and got up, glad that Gaffer had seen to getting them personal comms.
"Snitch, Sneak, Gimbal, Gamble, Rugger you there? Hells, is anyone listening?"
"Way to sound desperate," Shank's voice chimed in. "Just tell me who and what you need, I'll find them."
"I need vode that can get me intel... Primarily about what the GAR's policy is on non-clone recruitment."
Turned out they weren't done with the rescue mission yet.
Sever pushed forward, willing his legs to go faster while cursing out all Jedi in the universe under his breath. Go figure that it would be in the middle of an extremely time-sensitive situation with Sever truly not knowing whether this would be sanctioned or whether Methos would hang him out to dry that said Jedi would sudden decide to disappear without a trace. So now he was making a mad dash to the flight deck while furiously trying to figure out what he was going to say; because when it came to ostracizing one of their own, the Kaminoans operated fast. He slide around a corner in time to see the tall, elegant woman he was after walking towards the transport shuttles open ramp. He burst out into the open, took a deep breath as the cold rain lashed into him, and called out.
"Cansu!... Cansu!... Argh, Cansu Taymasp, would you hold up for one kriffing minute!"
The Kaminoan paused, turning to look at him in surprise as he brushed past others to jog right up to her. Of course, any grand speech he'd planned went out the window in the reality of catching his breath.
"We... need a... ship-board medic." He sucked in a breath, trying not to inhale rain. "Not an... official squadron... without one."
Cansu stepped towards him, her tilted head displaying her confusion. "I'm afraid I do not understand."
Sever took in another deep breath, then forced it out slowly, gaining control of his airflow. "GAR regulations state that no squadron can operate independently without a certified medical doctor on ship at all times. Only Gimbal qualifies, but if he stays on the ship, that leaves us at risk during ground operations, which also conflicts with regulations... Unless we get another full medic before we ship out, Methos will have no choice but to put Century Company under the banner of another unit." He stared into her large, unreadable dark eyes with every ounce of earnestness he could muster. "We need you."
A cold voice came from behind him. "Lava. O le a tatou le tow mafatia i nei taufaaleaga. Tu'ua i matou, Cansu."
Sever locked his knees and ordered his body not to tremble. He knew that tone, and he was all too familiar with the voice attached to it. He slowly pivoted on his heels until he could see the Kaminoan behind him. Tani Du stood at full height, angrily towering over Sever like the portent of doom he'd been for so many years of his life. Sever swallowed hard and desperately wished he had back-up.
"You are dismissed," Tani Du ordered flatly.
Sever almost obeyed. Too many years of indoctrination making it instinct to follow commands. It was a gentle hand on his arm that stopped him. He turned his head to look at Cansu, who looked back and gave him a small, delicate nod. Such a little thing. Permission and understanding and thankfulness all rolled into one small movement. And he'd seen it so many times, on so many brothers who just took the hell handed out to them because there wasn't anything else they could do.
But this time there was something different. For the first time, Sever put his complete faith in a promise written on a data pad tucked under his pillow; he whipped around, growling low in his throat as he squared his shoulders and stood as tall as he could.
"No."
Tani almost seemed to sway backwards in shock.
"My name is Sever Bralor of Clan Bralor, dedicated to House Skirata, citizen of Mandalore and Acting Commander of the Century 6-8 Squadron, 7th Sky Corps, of the Grand Army of the Republic. That means I have every kriffing right to be out here." He narrowed his eyes. "And seeming as how Cansu Taymasp is no longer in your employ, I'd say I have a great damn site more than you. So consider yourself dismissed."
For just a second there was a flash of shock, anger, and open disgust on the Kaminoan's face before the man turned suddenly and went back into the building without another word. Meanwhile, on the platform, Sever just stared at where Tani had been. He waited for some sort of punishment; any sort. He realized none was coming the same moment he realized that Tani wasn't allowed to punish him. They were all free citizens of the Galactic Republic; no Kaminoan could touch them, not without having to explain their actions to the worlds that had granted them citizenship. He took a step, and swayed.
He'd... They'd known, but had any of them really believed...?
Sever felt his knees give out absently as the reality of everything came down around him.
He had given Tani Du an order and the Kaminoan had obeyed it. Had to obey it. Because whatever else Sever was, he was now an actual person, someone whose voice had power and authority. For the first time, he felt like he might understand what Methos had meant when he said they were free.
As absently as the pain he felt in his knees, he heard two voices echoing above him. He blinked and looked up into the eyes of the Jedi who'd given them... everything. He grabbed on to the assisting arm extended at him as he realized there was something he needed to say. He went to salute, aborted the movement, then frowned and decided to do it anyway. Because they weren't in the war yet, and if he wanted to show a little respect then he was damn well allowed to do so, wasn't he?
Now standing again, he snapped a salute.
"Sever Bralor of Mandalore reporting for duty, Sir."
Kaminoan translation
Tani Du: Enough. We will suffer these insults no longer. You're dismissed, Cansu.