Chapter 3

Clone trooper training facility

Tipoka City

Kamino

The smell of the fried Nerf steaks still hung in the air as the taste of Tihaar lingered on Brelen's lips. Sitting with his elbows resting on the table, he swirled the clear liquid around in the small glass, staring at the table top through the bottom of the glass. The flavour still burned the back of his throat, causing him quite a considerable amount of pain which he welcomed. It was a much needed distraction from the thoughts that had been lingering in his mind over the past few hours since the end of the live fire exercise and his talk with Taler.

The young man had looked so much like Oul – they did all share the same face after all, but there was something more. There was a questioning expression, a longing to know what was going on, a desire to see more of the universe than they were ever going to be allowed to see. The Kaminoans had tried to splice that curiosity out of their DNA, but in many of the clones, especially the commandos, they had failed. Some had suppressed those tendencies, focusing on learning all they could from the flash files, while others had had it scared out of them by the fear of "retraining", a spectre that loomed over all of the clones when the Kaminoans were observing them. It sounded like such an innocuous word, but Brelen knew that there was something more sinister behind it. He had asked to see section thirteen many times, the area where they were taken for retraining, but the Kaminoans had said it was out of bounds due to the nature of the work that went on there. Brelen could not shake the feeling that they were lying to him and that there was more going on than they said. He was determined to find out what happened in section thirteen.

Lifting the glass to his lips once more, he let the clear liquid run over his tongue, burning away the thoughts once more as he raised his eyes to the window that stretched across the far side of the room, the rain that seemed to constantly hammer the stilted city thrashing down against the transparisteel.

'Rav's latest batch is a little more potent than normal,' a voice called out from behind him. Brelen could see a blurry figure reflected in the transparisteel in front of him, and as he forced his eyes to focus, he saw the same familiar face he had been thinking about moments before, only this time it was much older, the lines of a life lived creasing the corners of his eyes. Jango Fett stood in the doorway to the galley of his quarters, drying a dish he held in his hands.

'I think this one would take down a Bantha with just a drop,' Brelen replied, looking down at the glass and the last few drops that still swirled around in the bottom. 'Is she just trying to brew her own lethal poison at this point?'

'I wouldn't put it past her,' Jango said with a hint of a smile crossing his face, placing the now clean plate down on the counter top just inside the galley.

There was a soft chime from the corridor that led to the door, and after a few moments, Brelen heard the door open. A childlike voice greeted the newcomer, and an older voice replied with warmth. Moments later, heralded by heavy footsteps, a young boy no older than ten standard years old walked into the room dressed in blue. Brelen could already see the same features as Jango beginning to appear on his young face. As the boy moved aside, two more figures appeared: a red armoured female and an older looking man. The female was Rav Bralor, another of his fellow Cuy'val Dar. Even on this remote planet, cut off from the rest of the galaxy, she had a talent for getting things that others could not. The older figure was Kal Skirata, the training sergeant for Theta squad. He wore sand gold Mandalorian plates, and had a Verpine shatter gun strapped to his thigh plate. Brelen saw the older man walking in and felt the same surge of anger he had felt in the simulation. He did not know why seeing Kal had made him so angry. He had no quarrel with the man, and he considered him one of his closest friends, or as close as a friend as he could have here, but just seeing the ageing Mandalorian had sent his heart rate thumping.

He doused the flames with the dregs of the Tihaar, throwing the remaining content down his throat before slamming the glass down on the table in front of him. Brelen thought he saw Kal hesitate as he saw Brelen sitting at the table, but it was interrupted by Jango speaking to the older man.

'Hey, Rav. Evening, Kal,' Jango said warmly. 'You missed dinner I'm afraid. Thanks for getting the door Boba.'

'That's okay, dad,' the young boy replied, heading towards the galley with speed. Jango's arm shot out and grabbed hold of him by the collar, halting his progress.

'You finished your chores?' Jango asked his son. The boy's shoulders sagged and he looked annoyed as he shook his head. 'Go on then, get them done.' Boba hung his head in frustration and turned on his heels, heading out of the room once more. Kal ruffled his hair affectionately as the boy walked past him, unable to hide his smile.

'He's a good lad,' Rav said with a chuckle, walking around the room and lowering herself down opposite Brelen before reaching for the bottle of Tihaar that was still in the centre of the table. Pulling the stopper out of the top, Brelen watched as she inhaled it deeply before holding it out to Kal. The older man squinted, the fumes from the dangerous drink burning his eyes.

'Wow, this is a good one,' he said, watching Rav pour him a small cup full before she looked down at Brelen's empty cup. Angling the bottle towards the empty cup, she looked at him with a silent question, offering to top it up. A slight nod was all the signal Rav needed to refill Brelen's glass.

'I'm sorry about Kappa,' she whispered softly, a heartfelt tone in her words. As Brelen let his eyes drift down to the glass once more, out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Jango moved to the head of the table and sat himself down, Kal taking the seat at the opposite end.

'So what happened today?' Jango asked Brelen without waiting, putting the towel on the table and rolling the sleeves of his top down. Brelen knew that this was going to happen, he knew this conversation was inevitable, but he still couldn't suppress the twinge of annoyance that made him clench his teeth.

'You've all seen the playback?' he asked, looking from Jango to Rav, and then to Kal, seeing them all nod solemnly. 'Then you know what happened. Theta reached their objective. They passed. Kappa didn't.' Brelen added, taking another slow sip of his now refilled glass. He could tell that they were all still looking at him, neither believing what he said. If he was honest with himself, he didn't care if they did or not. After ten years on Kamino, he was beginning to doubt if he had made the right choice. He had joined the Cuy'val Dar because he had no reason not to, no family and no friends to speak of. Plus the money had been good. But now he wondered if it was worth it.

Beside him, Jango leaned forwards a little, meshing his fingers together on the table in front of him.

'Either way,' Jango began, looking around the table from face to face, 'tomorrow they enter the last stage of their training. Whatever you've all taught them, or done for them up to now,' he added with a pointed look at Brelen, 'that's it. I take over from here. You're done. Do you think they are ready?' Jango looked across at Kal, Theta's sergeant, who nodded without a second's hesitation.

'My boys are ready,' he said proudly. Jango then turned to look at Brelen, and Kal met his eyes, seemingly hoping for some reassurance from him. Even Rav seemed to be hinting that he should say something.

Brelen wanted to say yes, he wanted to tell him his boys were the best of the best, but he could not bring himself to voice it. All he could think about was section thirteen. It took him a second longer than he intended to as the thoughts muddled his mind, and pushing the feeling aside, he drained the last of the Tihaar from the glass, slamming it back down onto the table before he stood up and turned to leave. The door had already closed behind him and he was half way down the corridor outside Jango's accommodation when he heard the door open again and heavy footsteps rushing to catch him up. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rav drop into step beside him. They walked in silence for a few moments, and it was only when they turned onto a quiet corridor that Rav cleared her throat as though she was about to start speaking.

'I never got a chance to see how you were…' Brelen didn't want to hear it.

'I don't want to talk about it,' Brelen said harshly, rounding on Rav. Even though he had just stated his need to not speak, he could not stop himself from speaking. 'Theta aren't my unit, they're his. He should have been down there with them, like I was with Kappa,' he added angrily.

No one had ever spoken like that about Kal, not even Jango, and Brelen wasn't sure if it was anger or the Tihaar, but he did not care what would happen. He had to tell someone what was on his mind, even if she was as loyal to Kal as his commandos were. He knew that even if he were sober, that Rav could lay him out cold with one swing. Despite this, he could not stop the words from falling from his mouth.

'He should have been the one commanding those enemy drones. He should have been the one watching as they take hit after hit. And he should have been the one struggling to pull the trigger…' He stammered to a stop as the admission slipped from his lips. He expected to see Rav looking back at him with anger, or vindication at the revelation he had in fact hesitated, but all he saw was sympathy.

'I know, vod,' Rav said softly, the familiar Mando'a for brother teeming with regret. 'I know he should have been down there. I know he would have done the same thing as you did. Shooting live rounds at our boys is the hardest thing any of us ever had to do. It's why he drinks this stuff every night,' she added, holding up the glass bottle of Tihaar she had taken from Jango's quarters. It was no secret that Kal had a problem. 'But he couldn't do it. He couldn't be the reason his boys failed.'

'So he put that on me?' Brelen barked back. 'With Kappa down there as well?' Rav looked back at him, but she said nothing. There was nothing that she could say. Brelen felt the anger draining from him, and his shoulders sagged as he stepped back and leaned against the wall. 'They took them straight through to section thirteen. They didn't even take them to the medical wing first. Just straight into retraining. I didn't even get a chance to tell them I was sorry, that I failed them. They just took them away.'

'You didn't fail them, Brel,' Rav tried to protest, reaching out to place her hand on his shoulder, but Brelen knocked it aside. He did not want comforting, he wanted answers.

'Yes i did,' he snapped back. 'If i'd done my job properly, they wouldn't have been ambushed like that. They would have succeeded. Now they have been taken away for retraining.' Brelen noticed Rav wince at the mention of it. 'They were in no state for retraining. Why would they take them there?' Rav remained silent, but something about her changed. Brelen noticed that her face seemed to lose a bit of colour, and her hand was clenched tight by her side and it was shaking violently. Looking up, he saw that Rav had tensed up and that her brow was now set in an angry scowl. Something Brelen had said had touched a nerve. 'Section thirteen isn't really retaining is it, Rav?' Brelen asked, his voice suddenly cold as realisation began to dawn on him. 'What do they do to them in section thirteen, Rav? I know you know something.'

'I can't tell you, Brel,' Rav said ominously, a warning flash piercing her eyes. 'You don't want to know what I know.' Of all the Cuy'val Dar, Rav had a knack of knowing things that she should not, whether that was good or bad. She was cursed with knowledge, and right now, Brelen needed to know.

'Cut the crap,' Brelen hissed, lunging forwards and grabbing her by the leather pauldron that wrapped over her shoulder plate. 'What have they done to my boys?'

The standard clones were kept apart from the commando units, and most slept in the lower levels of the saucer like sections that made up Tipoca city. They ate together, trained together, and then when their days were done, they would all return to their barracks. They were housed in large rooms with bunks for over one hundred clone soldiers per room. Their lives were lived as a group, and yet they knew very little of socialising, and so would generally clean their kit, read a few more manuals, or just climb into their bunks and go to sleep.

The commandos were given a little more freedom. As they had been arranged into four-man groups, they were given smaller rooms where they would sleep with their squad brothers, four bunks lining the walls, one for each of them. They would still eat, train and sleep as a unit, but once their days training was done, they were allowed a few hours of down time to do as they pleased. The Kaminoans did not understand why they would want to waste those hours, but the training sergeants of the Cuy'val Dar treated them like men, not clones, and they knew that without downtime, the human mind would begin to rebel.

Taler used to enjoy his downtime. He would go to the rec-room and speak with his fellow commandos. He used to watch Delta squad challenging anyone they could to an arm wrestling match. He would go to the gym and power through ten klicks of sprinting on the running machines without even breaking a sweat. He would read up on all the latest tactical information that had been smuggled in by their Mandalorian trainers. Today though, he did not want to do any of that.

He sat quietly in the corner of the rec-room, his mind preoccupied with thoughts he did not want. The hubbub and the yelling from the far side of the room drew his attention for a moment as Scorch won another round against the sharpshooter of Lima squad, the cheers and woops filtering across above the heads of the other commandos who sat playing tactical simulation games and a few hands of sabacc. Scorch remained sitting at the table, looking smug at another victory as his opponent rose to leave, rubbing his arm painfully as another combatant sat down in his place. It all seemed so normal, or as normal as he knew, and yet beneath it all, he felt something sinister, a feeling that something was very wrong with the entire situation. He felt a slight tingle in the side of his head, and he had come to trust his own instincts. Turning his head in the direction of the odd sensation, he glanced up at the corner of the room where the walls met the ceiling and he saw a security cam slowly sweeping around the room. He felt a stab of anger surge through his mind and he involuntarily clenched his fist.

Of course they were watching them. The Kaminoans watched them every hour of every day, taking notes and making sure that their product was functioning properly. As he looked around the room, he saw three more cameras, each placed in the upper corners, each of them scanning around the room. There were even large mirrored walls that seemed oddly placed around the walls. Taler even suspected that they were one way mirrors. He could picture the Kaminoans sitting in their observation rooms, their long pendulum-like necks swaying slowly from side to side as they stared back with those oversized eyes.

'Something on your mind?' a voice asked. Taler tore his eyes away from the far mirror and as he turned around quickly, found another clone dropping into the seat beside him, same casual blue clothing, same short hair, and same familiar face. As they settled into the seat, they slid a tumbler of blue milk across the table towards him.

'Isn't there always?' Taler said with a sad smile, taking the proffered drink in his hand but not drinking from it. The man beside him was Des, the sergeant of Canon Squad, and as an even louder cheer rose up from the group on the far side of the room, Taler looked across and watched as Scorch stormed off, kicking chairs out of the way angrily. It would seem he had been supplanted as champion – much to his annoyance – and in the centre of the cheering crowd stood a new victor. 'Ramik's upset him now,' he added, watching a grin creep across Des's face.

'I won't hear the end of this tonight,' Des replied, shaking his head as he laughed, turning away from the scene and resting his elbows on the table. Now that he sat facing Taler, the tattoo that crept up the side of his neck from his shoulder was clearly visible as it peeked out from the blue 'civvies' that they wore when not training. It was unusual for a commando to differentiate himself from the others so drastically. 'So I hear you got an "adequate" grading from Olnil. That's high praise coming from that piece of Aiwah-bait.'

Taler had heard that phrase used by many of the non-clone residents of Tipoca City when referring to the Kaminoans, implying that they were nothing more than a snack for the larger sea predators that stalked the waters around the stilted city. The slang term seemed to roll off Des's tongue as though he was a native of Coruscant, and Taler felt a little unease at the thought. Of all the clone commando's that Taler knew, Des had seemed to embrace the mannerisms and culture of their Mandalorian trainers the easiest, and yet it seemed to scare Taler a little. These were words and ideas that were connected to a life that he and his brother clones would never get to experience, that was kept from them by the very fact that they were clones, artificial beings with no stakes in the universe.

'I'll be honest, she seemed disappointed that we didn't fail,' Taler said, trying to push the intrusive thoughts aside and finally taking a sip of his drink, but they would not leave his mind. 'I wouldn't be surprised if she still recommends us for retraining.' It was meant as a joke, but Taler still felt the stab of fear pierce his chest at the thought. He even saw Des suppress a shiver as the mention of the word.

'Don't even joke about that,' Des said coldly. 'Another unit was sent there today. That makes seven this past month since Hammer Squad. No one sees them again, and they are replaced by new units.' So Des had been keeping score as well. Taler knew the numbers were right, because he had been counting himself. More and more of them were noticing the disappearances.

'Who was it this time?' Taler asked, looking around the room but noticing none of the usual squad leaders seemed to be absent except… He felt the icy stab of realisation tear through his chest. Don't say it, he thought, please don't say it.

'Kappa,' Des said quietly. Taler had to suppress the panic that flooded his body, and it took all his control to stop himself from lunging out of his seat and rushing towards the door. He could feel Des's eyes watching him, and so he logged the information away at the back of his mind to process later, and then he tried his best to remain casual.

'When's your next exercise?' Taler asked, trying to change the subject.

'Tomorrow morning,' Des replied. 'We were supposed to be up there today right after you, but it was called off at the last minute, so Brelen's had us running drills all afternoon.'

So Brelen had cancelled the exercise for Canon Squad. Taler felt a pang of suspicion ripple down his spine. He had been granted a very analytical mind by the gene splicing done in his creation – all in aid of making the best informed decisions on the battlefield – and coupling this new piece of information with his suspicions that Brelen had pulled the shot, seemed to confirm to him that his squad should not have passed.

'Don't know why it was delayed though,' Des continued. 'We're ready.'

'That's what Oul said,' Taler said quietly, staring back at the surface of the table, the images of Kappa lying in the middle of the crater, their armour blackened by blaster impact marks and dried blood still fresh in his mind.

'Are you saying we're not?' Des asked, a stab of accusation in his otherwise even voice. Taler did not even look up at him.

'Are any of us?' he asked. 'Oul was the best marksman I know. Ten for ten, no misses. Passed every live fire without a scratch. Progressed to the final evaluation. I spoke to Link from Bravo squad, and he said he'd seen them last night in the training room. All of them, top of their game. And what happened today? What happened to Kappa? They're gone. Just… gone.'

The room seemed to grow silent around him, but he knew that no one was paying attention to them. He could still see their mouths moving as they spoke, and he could still hear their voices, but now they reached his ears as though they were separated by hundreds of miles, a whispered sound caught on the breeze.

'Something about it all just seems wrong. I mean, were we grown and trained to fight, to be the best soldiers, or were we made just to be cannon fodder? You can be the best of the best, and all it takes in one shot, one well placed blaster bolt, and that's it. It's all down to luck. What if today we just got lucky?' Taler had not meant to voice any of this. They were his darkest thoughts, his most crippling fears. His voice had been barely loud enough to reach across the table, but as he looked up at Des, he saw the man looking back at him with concern.

'Those are dangerous thoughts, vod,' Des said quietly, leaning in closer, his eyes flickering towards the nearest camera as he lowered his voice.

Taler nodded without speaking, and sighed. Without saying another word, he stood up from the table and began heading towards the doors. He heard Des call out after him.

'I miss Oul too,' he said kindly. Taler turned to face him.

'I just wish I knew what happened to him,' Taler replied.