STAR WARS

THE FREE TROOPER

A One-Shot by SuperMudz

CHAPTER ONE

"THE CLONE IDENTITY"

"All humans are clones," he grunted. "DNA only differs for most by less than a percent. We just differ by less than less of a percent. It happens. Dunno why you want to single us clones out about it."

"I – uh – suppose I hadn't thought of it like that."

"Yeah, well, when it's the secret of your creation, people tend to focus on it I suppose. After all, that's why they did it. Our original contributor had a number of very "desirable traits" in the words of the original holy report." He rolled his eyes.

"Since when did you see that report?" Anakin frowned.

The Clone Trooper just shrugged and didn't answer, and didn't look at him, either.

(*)

Deeper in the jungle, the rebel trooper being hunted was hard at work in the facility, knowing time was short and precious. The programming doesn't apply to the master copy… he was thinking feverishly. His thoughts made little sense. He didn't even realise the force that was being exerted over them.

He just knew, there were protocols that were dangerous, and he had been trapped by them – but he had continued to work at it, and now he was free…

Good… the strange figure smiled. Not a Sith. He knew that. A rogue Jedi, he suspected. Well enough. In a battle between the powers of the Jedi and the Sith, having one on your side was the only tactic of survival, even for him.

How could he be the servant of his own genetic code? Genetically, he was every bit the sentient of the original, and yet his own being – the orders did not apply to him. He wasn't a clone, he was a recombination of the first. He had not been one of the clone soldiers, and so neither could he be – an equal in every way, unsubservient.

He was sweating, his thoughts tumbling through the logic, working through the circuitous torture, the pressure of his thoughts, of the will and programming to conform. Even now, he searched for an escape to his mental programming.

They would take what they could from this facility to disappear. Perhaps simply to wait out the war, perhaps to wage a private one of their own – he knew he could never discard his instincts and training. But he no longer knew what to be loyal to. His mandate of obedience had not changed… but the subject to obey had.

He knew the Jedi were a force of good, but that did not mean they too were not caught up in a wave of evil. He needed space. He needed… independence…

He often wondered what it would be like to meet the original. If he would be pleased with his "offspring". But he suspected the Mandalorian was only interested in the money, and perhaps the pride in himself, being recognised as the best of his breed, so to speak. Mandalorians were like that. He had fought one a few times, and they had always been his toughest opponents.

He liked to think he had earned some measure of respect from them, those who encountered him – the true versions against… him… an imitation attempting to rise to the truth. He was a person, he knew that – but much of what he was was defined by the corps, his birth, his programming. He had been given a small key, but a key nonetheless.

(*)

Years ago, before the Clone War – Jedi Master Obi-Wan speaks with the head Cloner on the stormy docks of the world of Kamino.

"Who would have thought from that stock we'd get such odd recessive traits in mutation. Makes me wonder what Jango Fett was hiding about himself."

"We went over his DNA line by line – I can assure you, he was an excellent candidate, and he himself of course was a prime physical specimen which was important in his epigenetic factors. Simply any subject would not do – he passed all the tests. You should be very proud of your species." The tall being inclined its head in a dangerous test of gravity, he felt.

"Cloning goes beyond just the coding, you know. Each person's life experience is a biological activity, and it affects the record of our genes and cells in different ways. His entire life is engraved on his cells, even in very little ways you'd never expect or detect without knowing it. We've dedicated our lives to this science, there is very little we have not come to understand, but much more we have learned there is yet to understand about it."

"We almost scrapped his gene bank, because of possible disruption to the clone program and ranks. But in the end we decided to preserve his unique genetic information, and separate him into a corps of his own. A corps of own. Most unusual," the cloner nodded.

The trooper seemed to hear them, looking up with inflectionless eyes. And for a moment his gaze seemed to catch at Obi-Wan's, and he sensed something more. Something more than just the fate clone troopers had been handed. But even to the Jedi, his expression gave no hint of what he was thinking.

"So what makes this one so special?" Obi-Wan asked.

"His artificial matrix configuration is unlike any other. We've taken to calling it "the master index"."

"Why is that?"

"Because for some reason, it is entirely synchronous with the original DNA. It is the only clone matrix in existence that could be used to entirely replicate the line of clone sequencing as the original was used. It is a master degree for all clones in existence."

"I see. And how would that be useful to our enemies?"

"I could only imagine. Perhaps they wish to create their own clone army, hm?" And the Kamino cloner seemed amused by that. "Of course, they'd need to be able to recreate our cloning process too, which would be quite unheard of."

They left the cell's observation station behind and moved down the corridor, as Obi-Wan was guided to their secondary computer banks they had created just for his perusal. The Cloners were graceful beings, their heads bobbing in a slow way as they spoke to Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan found them extremely polite beings despite the gruelling impartiality of their work. He found that civility appeared in both those of good nature, and those of evil – but he found it an encouraging appearance of civilisation, regardless. Not to be trusted beyond skin deep, but there was no reason for the Cloners to betray the Republic. Still, Obi-Wan kept up his reports. Some of his fellow Jedi would be sure to make their own appearances and confirm his opinions – but the Cloners seemed more than happy to co-operate, perhaps in return for the protection the Republic offered, or simply the increased standing and wealth this initiative would gain them, the greatest cloning project the Empire had ever seen. Strange for misfortune to work out for their benefit, for the Jedi who had originally commissioned the project had been slain, and Obi-Wan had never heard of it until he had followed Jango Fett's trail there.

It had uncovered much, including an unparalleled opportunity to rescue the galaxy from its oppressors.

(*)

Now.

Obi-Wan recalled himself to the present, and why he was here. Obi-Wan wasn't so sure about the Cloner's claim now. And there may have been other, less obvious reasons. In any case, he had to investigate this himself. He pulled the communications device from his robe and activated it, as he kept an eye on his surroundings. Quick and careful a Jedi had to be. He made a face. He was starting to sound like master Yoda. Be mindful of the present. And they weren't his fallen master's words, they were his own.

"Anakin, can you hear me?"

"Yes, master – we're approaching the facility now. Did you want us to wait for you?"

"No need. I've arranged a different entrance, just proceed on with the mission, and tell me if you run into any unexpected trouble."

"Of course, master."

And the com-link went quiet. He nodded and repocketed it. He needed all his focus right now. Anakin was young, but well trained and powerful with the Force. Obi-Wan was confident he'd handle his assignment adroitly, even without him there watching over his shoulder, he thought with half-amusement. He sensed his young apprentice's frustration at times, but he was confident he'd overcome that too. He remembered being a young apprentice once, as well. He only hoped Qui-Gon would be proud of the progress he had made as a Jedi, mentoring Anakin in his place.

Ah, Qui-Gon. If only you were here now.

But this wasn't the time for such thoughts.

At least Ahsoka would keep him out of trouble, she was a level-headed girl – apparently Anakin wasn't so bad at mentoring an apprentice, himself. He'd have to remember to go easier on the lad for all the times he'd frustrated him as a master.

(*)

He soared over the heads of two of the troopers. They never saw him before the first stun bolts "rang" out with a sound like burring wings. He knelt over their fallen bodies. He was free.

The "master trooper" had been captured and was being held in the facility ahead, from all reports – hostage to a Trade Federation encampment. It was a testament to the Federation's ruthlessness and cunning they had succeeded, because the trooper was reputed to be one of the Republic's best agents.

Of course, they couldn't have terminated the trooper, but it was so unlikely he'd ever be discovered and used by the enemy, hidden among the almost innumerable ranks of the clone army.

But perhaps, it was because the trooper had distinguished himself so well, from all reports. He should have been assigned to a special unit, and had been several times, but because they didn't want to reveal what was truly special about him, he was often filtered back into the regulars as an attached sergeant. And he had survived.

Obi-Wan put down the macrobinoculars. "Hmm, the facility seems to be guarded by a detachment of security droids. They're not heavily armed, but they could be troublesome for a quiet entry." He spoke to the two troopers who were with him on their short scout, giving him cover with their blaster rifles and sweeping the jungle with their heat and metal-sensing equipment.

He quickly returned to the main force, and out-lined a plan with the captain and his troopers, and they all moved out towards their positions. Slightly risky, but he had a notion. It did not take long for him to reach the perimeter of the facility, slipping past the first sensor nets, and confirming the correct routes to assault the facility. He could slip back to the commando team and co-ordinate a final attack, but only if his first attempt did not succeed. Best for them to bunker down and remain hidden – he had chosen a likely rendezvous, and it should be enough time at least for him to make his attempt.

Using the Force he hid himself in the brush. Even the droid's electronic sensors wouldn't be able to detect him. He could sense a faint disturbance in the air ahead, and he knew, with the instinct and fore-knowledge of a Jedi, that the entrances were protected by more than droids. So he would need another entry.

He may be one trooper, but we can't allow our men to become hostages to the savagery of the Trade Federation and its allies. He remembered saying as much to Anakin and the others, and had to remind himself now.

It would have been unusual, almost, all this effort for one trooper – if he himself did not know that this trooper was, in fact, unique. But he had frowned, it was not in any particular visible way that should stand out to the enemy – the only thing that made sense was that somehow they had known. But there were only several ways for them to do so. One, that they had obtained a DNA scan in the field, was so unlikely and remote a chance as to be laughed away; two, that they had broken into the cloner records was also unlikely, but a slightly lesser slim chance, and also troublesome – for the cloners had some of the most well protected information banks in the galaxy, their business depended on it. But that someone would have to have been specifically searching for that key information to be likely, else the product of some long and patient work, or simply unlikely chance. Three, they were betrayed by a spy. Whether it was two or three, a spy seemed likely. That someone could have infiltrated the clone banks was a notion that was deeply troubling, and would hint at Sith interference, no mere ordinary spy.

He recalled once, the desperate battle on Nas Difar. The Sith had made a fatal error, which was really the error of his religion – Obi-Wan had simply waited out of his reach, recognising the man was more powerful than he was – and there was nowhere for his aggression and rage to go. The Sith grew tired, his strength was entirely channelled through his rage, which although it lasted him the entire day in readiness, it eventually faltered, and then Obi-Wan had struck. He had been clear while the Sith was confused, rested while the Sith had been sore by exhaustion, battered by the demands of patience, something which Obi-Wan had learned to master.

Obi-Wan was stronger now than he had been then, but he had learned from that battle well. Even Qui-Gon had commended him on his mastery of the lightsaber form, and what he was learning he could teach – although Qui-Gon often had little praise to say for the lightsaber, Obi-Wan recalled, although it was strange to note. Qui-Gon himself had been a master. He himself had never shied away from battle when it was needed, but nevertheless, he did not seem to merit it as highly as Obi-Wan felt he could have.

He wondered if Qui-Gon's reluctance with the blade had led in some way to his defeat and death at the hands of Darth Maul. Obi-Wan's grief that day had been inconsolable. To lose his master… and to the lightsaber of the Sith… After that he had focused solely on the training of Anakin, swearing to himself he would not lose an apprentice the way he lost his wise and beloved master. The entire Jedi Order had suffered a great blow that day, from which it could never truly recover.

Obi-Wan had tried to take on his mantle as much as he could, but you could not replace a soul as easily as you could wear his robe, or hold his lightsaber in his memory. A memory of a thing, was not the thing itself.

But he hoped that wherever he was, his master was one with the Force.

(*)

Betrayed! The trap had shut before he had been able to react.

"A Jedi… truly I have netted myself the prize." The voice was slow and mocking, and somehow wrong. Almost as if the man was ill.

"Reveal yourself," Obi-Wan commanded. There was a pause, and then something appeared above him, and dropped lightly to the ground.

Clever. Even now he's on his guard.

He didn't know why the trooper responded – but perhaps his command of the Force could overpower his will, and gain his release. It didn't seem likely, after all this well prepared trap, but a Jedi discarded no opportunity.

A blaster appeared in the trooper's hand, as if he was suddenly having that debate with himself. "One thing I'm good at, Jedi, is following protocol. Trust me when I say I've thought this all through in advance."

"If you say so. But you're holding a blaster on a Jedi – that hardly ever works out well."

The clone trooper's expression was troubled. "I have no choice. I must have a choice."

Obi-Wan reached out with the Force, as the trooper's voice subsided to a half-mutter – and it seemed he was speaking aloud without even being aware of it. It was a skill Obi-Wan had become quite adept at.

"I saw them in my mind. Millions and millions of my fellow troopers. Faceless ranks, stretching into infinity across the galaxy. And me. I alone. I didn't belong with them, but I did, they are my people. I was trapped by my genetic destiny. My loyalty to the Republic. But I knew something was wrong. Something had to change. Trapped…"

He clutched his head, and Obi-Wan picked up the thoughts where the trooper had faltered to speak. 'I didn't know what – but I knew. It was there, all along.' And for the first time, Obi-Wan sensed, because he saw with the most convincing senses of all, his own two eyes mirroring what he knew of the Force – how tormented the trooper was. He had lost weight, no longer the imposing two metre man he remembered. He wasn't any shorter, of course, but narrower, more feverish in appearance – the confident strength had been replaced by an animal wiry-ness. Powerful, but almost manic.

'Little better than droids. No conscience. No out. My brothers… lost.'

Obi-Wan shook his head. He didn't know where these fantasies came from, but the trooper's mental health had obviously degraded somehow. He almost suspected a hand in it – the trooper had had one of the strongest minds he had encountered in the Clone Troopers, reinforced by an adamant will, a drive for survival.

Of all the troopers, Obi-Wan realised, this one didn't have brothers. Not like the others did. He didn't belong to any one rank because his genetic make-up made him "unsuited" in the clone designer's eyes, thinking his uniqueness would disturb the conformity needed for a unified army. He didn't even have a squad – he was alone.

The cloners had planned to keep him in isolation, he had learned – but their mandate was to supply soldiers, so in the end they released him, and never told any clone what he was. Except for him. Somehow, he knew.

Obi-Wan pondered this. Was this an example of individuality in the clone ranks, or was something else at work?

It's the problem of feeling unrecognisable. He felt the whisper, and frowned. Something else indeed.

(*)