Homesick Angel

31 BBY

Kamino

Light.

It's the first thing I remember ever seeing. The first thing any of us saw. Warm, unbridled, ever-lasting light. That was all that was in here - inside the complex, inside our capsules. Inside our own little world where no one could see us and nothing could hurt us. The light fends off an incoming darkness, a perpetual storm that threatens to crash in all around us.

For now, we need the light. We curl ourselves up in it. Treat it like the mother's we'll never have. But in the end, we know the coming storm is the only thing that will make us stronger.

Because we are brothers in arms, wardens of the Republic. We've been destined to go where no one else will go, do the things no one else can do.

Our gestation period is almost over. Soon the light will fade and I will be trained to answer the call. They will call me CT-1138 -

"Alpha."

19 BBY

Coruscant

War!

For the last three years it's all the galaxy has known. For me, it's always been the only thing.

From Geonosis to Ringo Vinda, I've seen it all. Watched it unfold from the seat of my V-wing cockpit a dozen times over, and none of it's fazed me. Nothing can. Not anymore. Not when it's the same routine, the same mental gymnastics those clankers have been putting us through for the past three years. The same way all those simulations promised it would be.

The only thing that scares me anymore, is me.

Because I'm doing something different today. Something a clone is not supposed to do. Something that will get me court martialed whenever the Captain finds out.

But as the stars grow brighter in their shimmer, pinstripes crossing with canon fire all around me, getting court martialed might just be the least of my worries.

Our makers said Coruscant was going to be the brightest jewel of them all, the place most worth fighting for. For three years they promised to take us here, show us what we were really fighting for. Let us see why its the nucleus of the entire universe. With those golden arcs it's got lacing throughout its atmosphere, I'm finally starting to see why they're right. This planet's one big ball of light just waiting to burst. And if the Seppies get their way, it just might.

So here I am, sailing through space, charging right into the thick of that light. It's my one V-Wing against the whole Separatist fleet. And that's just the way I like it.

Thrusters are full go. I'm pulling at throttles and flight gauges, manning a corkscrew that threatens to rip my insides in half. If it's not that, it'll be the plume of death and tibanna gas that's expanding right behind me. I'm spinning and rolling, wondering if my intertial dampers are ever going to compensate, but they never do. This is where a flood of numbers should be churning on my tactical computer, but they won't.

This is where my new CO should start barking at me, probably asking why the hell I broke flight formation. I wouldn't know for sure, shut my comm off awhile ago.

This is where an astromech droid would be useful. Where it would calculate my next flight trajectory, tell me a way to get out of this mess. But I don't need it, jettisoned the droid out myself. Because if I can't fly without them, I don't deserve to fight against them.

That's the only worthwhile lesson war has ever taught me.

Wasn't a lesson that came easy. Took the death of my whole squad at Ringo Vinda for me to figure it out. If I had my way, I probably would have gone down with them. But I didn't, got 'lucky' and had the power zapped out from right underneath me. Got left to drift in this same metal coffin I call a ship, left to spectate all alone in the stars. Watch as my brother's innards splatter-painted across that vast expanse. Watch as their ships crumbled, their armor melted. By the time the vacuum got to them, there wasn't much left to get. We were better men when we were just test tubes in some facility.

Because it turns out when war is all you've trained for, war is your only salvation.

Again those golden gates kaleidoscope back into view. Coruscant's just as beautiful as they always said it would be. It almost reminds me of home. The days spent in those holo simulations they made us run to perfection.

I can feel my grip on the throttle start to lessen now, wince as nausea begins to overload my senses. Any ordinary man would have given out by now. But I'm no man. And the mental fail-safes that were supposed to make me feel like one fizzled out a couple minutes ago.

Because they decided to make us pilots, gave us reflexes faster than anyone else's could or should be. Entire batches had to be flushed away, rack after rack of test tubes gone to waste in the quest for the best. The quest for us.

By the time they finally got it right there wasn't much else they could afford to get wrong. We had been given intensive training from day zero. The same synapses fired over and over again, every day and every night. Physical and visual stimuli served on a never-ending platter, carefully curated, always being transmitted, always on. It would come faster and faster, growth accelerated to reach the next target, meet the next quota. Until the day finally came, until we were left to rot. Side by side, comrade by comrade.

Me and my brothers were all the same, but we were also different. More different than any line of genetic code could ever predict us to be. But there was one unifying factor always pulling back, one value that was inherent. For we were made to value life above all else.

And yet, why would I value something I was never given? Never allowed to appreciate?

Now that my brothers are gone there's only one thing left I ever really wanted to see, and I'm not going to wait around for them to give it to me. Not anymore.

So I let go of the throttle altogether, fight the programming that's inherent to my being, the same programming that was supposed to make our enemies so inhuman. I let my craft ease out of its tailspin, vie for a direct hit on the bridge of the Separatist's main cruiser.

Because all this time all I've ever wanted to do was see what was on the other side. To see what came after darkness eternal. To be back with my brothers. And yet, it's strange, as I let the Void consume me I never imagined it would feel so warm.

Shine so bright.

...

...

...

Light.

It's the first thing I remember ever seeing. The first thing any of us saw. Warm, unbridled, ever-lasting light. That was all that was in here - inside the complex, inside our capsules. Inside our own little world where no one would see us and nothing could hurt us. The light fends off an incoming darkness, a perpetual storm that threatens to crash in all around us.

For now, we need the light. We crave it. We curl ourselves up in it. Treat it like the mother's we'll never have. But in the end, we know the coming storm is the only thing that will make us stronger.

Because we are brothers in arms, wardens of the Republic. We've been destined to go where no one else will go, do the things no one else can do.

Our gestation period is almost over. Soon the light will fade and I will be trained to answer the call. They will call me CT-1139 -

"Omega."