Long flights through hyperspace were not unusual for Clone Force 99.Everyone found ways to keep occupied while the Marauder took them too and from missions. Crosshair found himself sitting back in a flight chair, watching the others carry out the activities he'd so frequently been a part of before.
Wrecker hoisted Gonky about the ship and argued with Tech about whatever crazy contraption Tech was currently working on. Wrecker's arguements and inquiries weren't any different than the last series of debates he'd bellowed out over Tech's formally delivered obnoxious reasoning.
Crosshair couldn't help Wrecker discover the real reasons why Tech couldn't make the lights brighter, the explosions bigger, or the sound louder, and he didn't want to. The heated debate was strangely therapeutic - and it became even more interesting when Gonky eventually became Omega, and Wrecker broke off the life-changing issues he was discussing in order to give the kid a ride about the ship.
Hunter floated from monitor to monitor like a worn out scrap of paper blown by a lazy breeze. He still fiddled with controls, ever ahead of the curve, and then settled down in the flight chairs to read from his holo pad.
Crosshair smirked, remembering the time Hunter had been reading some series or other, and Crosshair had read the very last chapter simply to know the conclusion of the story before Hunter.
That arguement had lasted for several hours, goaded by Tech's righteous indignation on the proper way to read a story, and Wrecker finally asking if they could just blow the stories up.
In the background, the detonation debate started up once more in earnest, and Crosshair stood from his seat and glanced about the main area of the ship.
Hunter looked up as he passed by. "Y'all set, Crosshair?"
Crosshair scanned the cockpit and turned back. "Where's the reg?"
"In the hold," said Tech without looking up from the mess of wire couplings and ports that was tangled about his ankles.
"Doing what?" said Crosshair.
Tech balanced a red wire in between his fingers, tilting his head about like a bird as he studied it and the ports in his hands. "He is attempting to power up the AZ unit that we brought from Kamino. It appears there are more variables than just a loss of power which has made it impossible for us to activate it. And it would be ideal to have full access to its memory banks."
"Why?"
"So it can help us get yer chip out!" Wrecker barked.
Tech rolled his eyes, Hunter rose from his seat, and near Gonky, Omega hesitated in her work of attempted GNK unit maintenance.
Crosshair frowned his deepest, unsettled. "You are not going to perform more of your filthy scans on me," he snarled. "I already told you. The chip. Is gone."
"Yeah, well, we don't believe that," said Hunter.
Tech sniffed.
"I don't believe that," Hunter corrected. "Neither does Echo. We found something in AZ's files that suggests another clone had his chip removed well before we figured it out. AZ did the surgery."
"What clone?" said Crosshair.
This was getting more and more complicated. It was making his head hurt. Weren't the memories bad enough? The memories and what he didn't remember as well? He had fought the chip before, and he had beaten the heart of its commands, only complying enough to feign subjugation.
It had been removed. He remembered.
A stuttering of hesitation rippled through his mind as Tech straightened and adjusted his goggles.
"It was CT 27-5555, Echo's friend."
"Fives?" Crosshair breathed.
He remembered Echo talking about the ARC trooper before. Most of the details had come out when the reg finally fell into a fever from all of the Techno Union's forcible "modifications and improvements" to Echo's body. But Crosshair had never known a reg to so much as hear of the chips before the Emperor employed them -
A sharp jab behind his right eye made him take a step back, and he sank into one of the seats before he was aware he'd done so.He just wanted everything to stop, even momentarily - enough to allow him to think.
A hand on his arm made him jump. He looked up, prepared to tell Hunter to back off, but it was Omega who stared down at him.
He made the mistake of looking back a moment too long. Omega's eyes softened and her gaze flicked towards Crosshair's scars.
He stood, unable to stomach the idea of having her whine after him in misplaced sympathy - any sympathy actually was abhorrent to his pride. The squad didn't exactly thrive on indubitable rapport.
He returned to the bunk room and was glad when he heard Hunter forbid Omega to follow.
The jade-tinged semi-darkness of the bunk room was a welcome relief from the mess of lights and noise in the cockpit. Here it was silent, empty, and familiar.
Crosshair still couldn't remember what had sparked in his memory so recently. He knew it was the pass code to Hunter's accepting what he'd been told as fact without arguement.
He sank down on his bunk and buried his face in his hands. His breathing sounded loud in the silence, the air echoing back at him from inside his cupped hands.
Why did Echo care about the droid's memory banks? What could it possibly know about Fives? It made sense that even if it had known anything pertaining to the chips, its memory would have been wiped.
Or would it have? That droid was with the kid, and -
Crosshair allowed himself a groan of irritation. It was becoming even more difficult to formulate solid ideas behind the foggy awareness.
He started to get up, but his injuries, further aggravated by the morning's activities and still not healed from his mindless pacing routines throbbed unpleasently. But instead of increasing mental ability, Crosshair found himself exhausted and weary.
He pulled himself all the way onto the mattress and closed his eyes...
"Greetings, CT 9904."
So the droid was back again. It hovered about the exam table as Crosshair grudgingly lay down, the mechanical flicker of photoreceptors disappearing beyond the edge of the surgical pod as the table slid inwards.
The long-necks hadn't bothered strapping him down after the first treatment. He was well able to hold himself in place - enough to stay on the hard surface until his consciousness faded.
Crosshair wasn't exactly afraid of the pain, but it wore at his strength and made each awakening an embittered reality. He had been promised after the second treatment that there would be no more pain, but there was. There always was.
He wondered if this was what Hunter felt like after the trainers had set off the EMP grenades when clone force 99 had broken into the armory.
Tech had been furious, a silent ball of contained energy for the first day afterwards, but the trouble had only gotten worse from there. He had been up for hours, hacking into the Batch's medical records and altering the information so that Hunter's next observatory tests were postponed for the next two months.
It was weakness to rely on such a fragile thing as memory to distract himself from the wiring of the machine. His brothers had proven false, but that didn't mean he would hate them.
Crosshair shrugged mentally. Whatever worked to get him through this session. It would be better when he woke up.
The intermitent buzzing in his head increased tenfold, and Crosshair abandoned his former creed, pushing a memory of Clone Force 99 as close to the front of his mind as he could before popping lights of searing purple swept the image away.
Admiral Rampart came to the barracks after the EC squad returned from Onderon.
Crosshair rose when he arrived, only because the man was his key to survival right now. But the loathing had begun earlier. When Crosshair had said things. Done things he knew were necessary to say and do, but afterwards left him empty and sick inside. He hadn't realized he could be so ruthless.
He had killed sentients before, but always in self defense. This time...
No. The orders mattered... Why had they mattered so much? Didn't the others matter more? Not enough. And he didn't matter enough to them.
Rampart smiled benignly about the room as the other troopers stood at attention. The Admiral stepped to the floor and addressed Crosshair who looked him directly in the eye.
"Excellent work, Commander. The insurgents have been successfully routed. It seems you and I have a similar mindset." His dead-fish eyes roved the barrack's occupants and he tutted gently. Crosshair's stomach seethed.
"In what way, sir?" he hissed.
Rampart's eyebrows traveled a smidgen up his brow, and he tipped his head in a manner that suggested a calculating vulture. "In that if examples are needed - and I assure you, they are with such a lack of discipline -, examples will be made. You have done well, Commander."
Crosshair said nothing, but he could feel the three remaining EC troopers staring at him in a mixture of anger and fear.
So there were four of them again. He'd cut down the moral voice of the squad. Crosshair stepped forward until he was mere inches from Rampart's nose.
The Admiral looked up at him from under hooded lids, the intrigued attention of a man studying his most valued possesion all that was apparent in Rampart's eyes.
Crosshair hid none of the disdain in his own. He allowed the ire and confusion to pour from his mouth in tones of the most bitter resentment. "Have I, sir? Have I done well...?"
Rampart appraised him in silence, then caught his elbow and guided him towards the door. Crosshair followed, suddenly wearied.
"The need you feel to question your descisions concerns me, Commander," he said, voice low and stern as if he were scolding a child. "Do you harbor any feelings of remorse?"
The question caught Crosshair off guard and made discomfort squirm in his stomach.
"I want honesty, Commander. Not a show of bravado," said Rampart.
Crosshair considered his options, and spoke...
Aged metal creaked above and beneath him. He'd been right in anticipating the sergeant's next move. Their position on the artillery deck had the traitors securely cornered.
Hunter stood in front of him, DC-17 pointed at his helmet. But CT 9904 felt nothing but contempt for this man. A solid plan for survival and continued existence if one could rise in the ranks... Hunter had thrown it back in his face.
"Crosshair, this isn't you!"
Oh, how little he knew.
"It's your inhibitor chip!"
He could take that from the sergeant. He'd argued enough that at this point, it didn't matter what Hunter thought. This time it would be Crosshair who would stand tall amongst destruction and pull the others up with him. They were too weak to save themselves.
"He's telling the truth! The Kaminoans put chips in all the clones!"
The mental twinge was enough to cause CT 9904 to falter.
There she was. A definite danger, no doubt about that. The kid had usurped Hunter's authority, and had dragged the squad into hostile territory. The threat had to be eliminated.
"Aim for the kid."
His own voice echoed strangely in his ears, and anger at the sergeant's blatant ignorance in the face of danger nearly made CT 9904 pull the trigger right then and there.
Hunter's actions were slowly killing the squad. But no. If he couldn't reach the kid from his position, he'd have to reach her through Hunter...
Rampart's dusky eyes stared impassively down at him as he struggled against the raging inferno behind his eyes. He had decided, he had chosen, and the Admiral would make sure he didn't forget it. If he could survive this failure and accept the responsibility of his actions without cringing away into a broken shell of a man, he would be a good soldier indeed.
The key to survival was survival itself. And Crosshair would survive.
The admiral caught his gaze as the surgical pod lights dimmed away. "Do you have a question, Commander?"
Crosshair shook his head, aware that it was all pointless if they were going to recharge the chip again. But he been recalled from the foggy haze by that voice. That feeling. The awareness that someone in his squad was in danger. Perhaps we're not so separated after all... he thought.
A powerful surge of misplaced remorse and unavoidable regret rose from the lesser parts of his soul as he struggled against aching memories. It was cowardly, but in his weakness, he almost welcomed the familiar hum of powering up machines and the tingling sparks that increased the flames in his head beyond endurance. But instead of burning the memories away, it only seared them into his mind.
The combined agony from the thoughts and the lasers entering his brain swelled like a gale in his chest until he couldn't contain it.
He heard Rampart's distinctive disappointed sigh and the calm voice of a Kaminoan.
"We will lose him if we continue. We must remember that they are human and can only tolerate so much at one time before their systems collapse."
Rampart snorted. "Are you certain?"
"Yes. The indicator on the display reads beyond the danger point. He is falling into shock."
Crosshair could barely hear them above the animal roars in his ears. Eventually he ran out of air and could only feel the pressure of the examination table on his shaking limbs. Temperature distinction had fled.
He felt Rampart come up alongside him and raged in his mind that he couldn't prevent the straps being secured.
The Admiral's tone was heavy with scorn, his voice laced with dispassionate appraisal. "Then we'll remove it."
Crosshair was afraid. The faded throbbing in his skull erupted into sharp spurts of flashing lights in his mind, and it was only just now starting to dissipate into familiar darkness.
They had removed his chip.
He breathed slowly, bringing his heart rate to an almost standstill as he tested his other senses. The bed covers were rough and heavy. The mattress firm. He was in his barracks. The vague scent of cleaners still lingered in the silent air, and rain pounded on the transparisteel. His tongue felt fuzzy and rigid in his throat.
Footsteps clicked up to the door and paused, the sound followed by voices thickly muted behind the metal casing.
"It was a success, Admiral. The effects of the enhancement might deteriorate within a few days, but proper management should ensure immediate and unquestioning compliance. It is not something we designed the clones for - effectiveness as fighting units, you understand. But it is possible to realign the brain functions and confuse chemical flow for less varied and consistant results. Inclination monitored by a separation in the mind between actions and the reasons for those actions is the main ingredient to produce total compliance."
"I am most pleased, Prime Minister. And as for when the functions fail?"
"Judging from your particular methods, I would suggest immediate termination. But only as a last resource. CT 9904 is not known for natural compliance to instructions. That is why Experimental Unit 99 was such a succesful product of our labs. Human tendencies bonded with experience and natural personality made them an effective force, able to confront any problem they were faced with." Lama Su sounded nervous.
And you have a right to be, Crosshair thought. He himself was gripping the bedclothes as if they were a means of escape from what was being discussed outside.
"And now I find myself faced with the problemofClone Force 99," Rampart sighed. "Or one of its members at least. And you do not need to promote the clones' abilities to me, Prime Minister. I have no interest in whether they live or die. If they live under my command, well and good. But I like to know all the cards in my hand. Sometimes it is easier and wiser to start with fresh chips than a handful passed from another player. I do not gamble lightly." His delicate chuckle carved the breath from Crosshair's lungs.
The door opened, and he pulled himself upright, turning to face Admiral Rampart and his horrendously enfuriating smile.
"Ah, Commander. How are you feeling?"
Crosshair ground his teeth together. "Mad."
"Indeed?" Rampart inspected his fingernails and his gaze flitted briefly to the side of Crosshair's head. "Mad animals are not what I like to deal with. Any wise leader would bring a leash. Which I have."
Crosshair permitted his mouth to twist in disdain. "What is that supposed to mean?"
He found himself amused as before, but not scoffing. Why should he scoff at Rampart anyway? It was important to maintain his position and rank in order to survive and have a voice to speak for his brothers when they returned...
"It is nothing but an encouragement to help you become a better soldier," Rampart soothed. "I do not prefer coercement. I prefer free choice."
Crosshair hesitated.
And he remembered.
He stepped forward and lowered his headbefore meeting Rampart's searching gaze. "I have chosen."
"Indeed?" The Admiral checked his fingernails again, then straightened his immaculate jacket cuffs. "And may I ask your reasons?"
Crosshair frowned, turning his face away as a storm of emotions rushed against his walls. "I am not required to explain my personal motives to you, Admiral," he breathed.
Rampart did not appear fazed in the least. "Permit me to remind you, Commander, about the lack of dicipline I mentioned to you before. There are less pleasant ways of extracting information; but I trust you."
Crosshair looked up in surprise. Rampart nodded graciously.
"That is correct. I said I trust you."
"Trust what exactly?" Crosshair hissed.
"That you'll perform your duties to the utmost of your ability without hesitation or arguement," said Rampart. He stepped closer. "After all I've seen, I have decided not to have your first squad killed. You are a formidable man, Commander. I value strength. But examples must be made. I wouldn't want to increase the intensity of your squad's punishment when they are retrieved. Would you?"
Crosshair stared through the hard eyes in that placid face to the power-hungry mongrel beneath.
"I'm the commander, correct?" He struggled to keep civility in his tone. He was walking a knife's edge as it was. "Wouldn't any disciplinary measures be my call?"
"Not 'any', Commander. 'The'. We cannot permit any lapse in rigid adherance to order. Chaos needs only a little leeway to break free. Cell block A on my flagship will be left free for your use. I do hope to see you all together again, Commander. Strength in numbers is nothing to the forged bond of loyalty between brothers."
The sneering undertone was so strong Crosshair barely held back from cramming his fist down Rampart's throat. This game had ended up with Rampart holding every Ace and Crosshair left with the joker.
The joker in the form of his 773 Firepuncher.
He envisioned a sniper bolt punching through Rampart's brain as the man smiled and turned to stride in elegant dimissal back to the barrack's entrance.
He looked back once, and after a moment of locked gazes, Crosshair conceded.
It was all about survival. Survival for his squad. And that was why he'd chosen.