Trigger warnings: mentions of PTSD

"What was he trying to tell you?"

Rex is in his fatigues. If he had enough hair to be mussed, Echo's sure it would be a disaster. "Echo, don't do this," he says. "I've wracked my brain enough times trying to sort it out."

"I haven't slept in two days," Echo says and feels an immediate pang of guilt at the shadow that crosses Rex's face. I haven't slept since you told me. "It's not your fault. I was just – thinking. Fives wouldn't just go off the rails. That wasn't Fives. You know that."

"War is a hell of a thing. He was under a lot of stress. Just look at what happened to Tup."

Tup, who turned on a general. Tup, who's gone now too. Echo sets his jaw. "I know," he says. "I read the file about the engagement. I read everything. Tech got it for me. What I don't know is what Fives found."

Rex, at least, is kind enough to not point out the access restrictions. Maybe he's glad he doesn't have to relive it. It's not like the Bad Batch hasn't done worse. "I don't either."
"He spoke privately with the Chancellor!" Echo snaps. "And they claim he tried to assassinate him? Fives? Assassinate the Chancellor?"

"I know," Rex says tiredly. "I know, Echo."

"He wouldn't have."

"He was out of his head."

"Then maybe – maybe someone drugged him. Maybe they got to him. Maybe someone manipulated the file and he—"

"Do you hear yourself?" Rex asks. "There's no evidence of that."

"Is that what they told you when you went after me?"

Rex takes a deep breath. "I can't talk about this over an unsecured line," he almost whispers. "Get Tech to encrypt it."

"It is."

"With a standard encryption. Get a Tech encryption," Rex bites out, and winks away.

Echo's off like a shot, down the hall, up the ladder, and banging on Tech's door before he even considers the hour. It hisses open.

Hunter does have enough hair for it to be mussed. Echo's never seen anyone with a worse bedhead, but then, Skywalker was the only one in their unit with enough hair to manage a bedhead and the Jedi almost never showed up looking like hell.

"Echo," Hunter says. There's no frustration in his voice, only kindness. "What do you need?"

"Tech."

"He's up in the cockpit," Hunter says. "Making some modifications to the navigation systems while we wait for our next assignment to come through."

"Right," Echo says. "Um. Sorry."

"Don't be sorry." Hunter cocks his head. "What's going on?"

"I don't know. Yet. I – I need to talk to Tech."

Hunter nods. Echo doesn't stick around to answer any more of his questions, darting to the nearest access hatch, hauling himself up into the corridor, and dashing to the cockpit.

He almost runs over Tech. "I need your help," Echo blurts, and Tech blinks at him twice.

"With what?"

"I need one of your encrypted lines. To Rex. Right now. Please."

Tech quirks an eyebrow. "What's wrong with the standard encryption? Or your own encryptions, for that matter?"

"Please," Echo says. "Tech. It's about – it's about my brother. One of my brothers. He found something and I think Rex knows what it is and I need to talk to him. Please."

Tech scrutinizes him. "Give me a few minutes," he says, turning back to the console. "And in the meantime, try to remember to breathe. Your heart rate is one hundred and sixty-three beats per minute. A fit adult male has a resting heart rate between sixty and one-hundred beats per minute."

Echo eases into the copilot's seat. One minute. Two. Three. It feels like an eternity. "It's done," Tech says, when Echo's been there for seven minutes and four seconds. It shouldn't have taken that long. Knowing Tech, it didn't.

Remember to breathe.

"Thank you," Echo says. "Tech, thank you."

"It's just a simple encryption," he shrugs. His hand lands on Echo's shoulder, there for a beat and then gone. "I'll give you your space. If you need anything else, I'll be down in the engine room. There are some diagnostics I need to run."

Echo barely waits for the doors to slip shut before he pounds in the comm. code and waits –waits.

Waits.

Rex always answers immediately.

"Please, please, please," Echo whispers. The light blinks at him – connection loading, connection loading, connection loading.

"Echo." Oh. Rex was asleep. Echo's heart is racing too quickly to feel badly about waking him up for the second time.

"It's encrypted," Echo blurts. "Tech encrypted it."

"I see that," Rex says.

The background is different. Hazy. Cragged. "Where are you?"

"Top of a cliff overlooking the base. Can't talk down there."

"You fell asleep on a cliff?"

Rex makes a noncommittal noise and folds his arms across his chest, though it looks more like he's hugging himself. He shivers. Still in fatigues. No jacket. He must have rushed out of the base after he ended their last connection. "Fives," Rex says.

"What did he find?"

"A…chip." Rex's voice is suddenly hoarse. "It's an organic chip. The Kaminoans put a chip in our heads that they can switch at any second. Turn us against the Jedi. Against anyone. Make us do whatever they want."

Echo's blood runs cold. He presses his palm to his skull without really thinking about it. Plugged in. Pulled apart. Stop, stop, stop and I won't tell you meant nothing when they were siphoning the information directly from his neural interface.

I fought it. I did.

But a chip isn't something that you can fight. "How do you know? I mean, there's Fives – but how?"

Rex bites his lip and shrugs helplessly. "I got mine removed," he says. "I had leave after Fives and I know some guys on Coruscant."

No one very legal. Nothing very safe. "I'm all right," Rex says, like he knows what Echo's thinking. Maybe he does. "They weren't exactly legit but they were sanitary, at least. It was fast."

"Why haven't you told anyone?"

"We need more evidence."

"But we have it."

"The chip itself is not enough. We need to know who's behind it," Rex says. "We have to figure out who's pulling our strings."

Echo swallows thickly. "Fives met with the Chancellor," he whispers. "Fives met with the Chancellor and they accused him of trying to assassinate him."

"I don't know how high this goes." Rex's eyes are dark. Haunted. "We can't make a move until we know who the players are."

"How are we going to figure that out?"

"There has to be evidence on Kamino," Rex says. "They're the ones that engineered us. They're the ones that put the chip in our heads. They have to have records somewhere. Files. Schematics. Something that links them back to whoever wanted that chip made in the first place."

"How are we going to get to Kamino?"

"We're not." Rex smiles at him. "I'd be missed."

Echo's mouth slowly curves up too. "But I wouldn't be."

"Now you've got it."

"We have a what?"

"I know it sounds crazy," Echo says. Hunter's staring disbelievingly at him, maybe wondering if he's finally lost it or maybe just trying to decide if he ever had it in the first place. "I know that, all right? But my brother died for this. He wouldn't have gone rogue without a good reason."

"How do you know he didn't go at the Chancellor when he met with him?" Crosshair asks coolly. "He wasn't exactly in his right mind when the Captain and the Jedi found him."

"I knew Fives better than anyone," Echo bites back. Fives. Fives. He should've been there; he was strapped into a Separatist machine instead. Betrayer. Betrayer. "He wouldn't have just snapped."

"PTSD is common in soldiers," Tech says gently. "We're conditioned to believe we're invincible, Echo, but the data tell us that that isn't true. He could have suffered a nervous breakdown."

"No," Echo says. His heart is in his throat. "No. He hadn't lost it. He didn't have a breakdown. I know Fives. If he said he found something – if it was important enough for a Jedi to send him all the way to Coruscant to speak with the Chancellor – then he found something. End of story."

"We didn't know Fives," Hunter says carefully. Echo bristles anyway. Hunter's voice lowers. It's not soothing, not like Rex, but it's close enough. "But we know you."

"We have a medbay," Tech says. "We can run our scans there. If any of us has a chip, it'd be a good idea to extract it before we set foot on Kamino."

"So we're doing this?" Crosshair asks.

Wrecker shrugs. "Haven't broken anything in a while," he grumbles. "I'd love to bust up Kamino."

"This will be a stealth operation," Hunter says. Wrecker groans. "I mean it. They built us. They know what to expect – but only if they know why we're there."

Crosshair snorts. "We can't just walk in the front door," he says.

Hunter's lips curl into a smile. "Yes," he says. "Yes, we can."

"This is the stupidest idea you've ever had, Sarge."

"Quit whining. You're not going to be here that long," Crosshair hisses. Wrecker grumbles and tugs at the restraints around his wrists. The rest of them are armored up, surrounding him like an escort, but it's only Wrecker who's clad in fatigues and left to suffer the elements.

At least the canopy they cobbled together might keep him somewhat dry on the way inside.

"'On-edge,'" Wrecker parrots. "Be more believable if you said it was Crosshair that was this close to goin' off the edge and needed to go 'home' to reset."

"Come on, Wrecker," Hunter wheedles. "You always thought busting up the training droids was relaxing. Why would that change?"

Wrecker grumbles something unintelligible. Tech hits the ramp access. "Now remember, we're just here for some training and teambuilding. Nothing more. Even after we pass the entrance checkpoints, we'll be monitored. It's the same Kamino we remember. And after what happened with ARC trooper Fives, they'll have been certain to modify security accordingly."

"They won't know, right?" Echo asks. The others turn to him. He clears his throat. His chest aches. "They won't know we don't have our chips anymore."

"Not unless they run a level five atomic scan on our brains, no," Tech answers.

Echo nods stiffly. It's been a hell of a three days, healing up from the short surgery and then sitting around waiting to make sure no one suffered any adverse side-effects from the chip's absence. He thought he was going to start climbing the walls. He wanted to call Rex. He did call Rex.

Rex didn't answer. Busy. Fighting the war. Echo hopes he makes it through. The closeness with which he sticks to Skywalker's side is a reassurance, at least: if Rex is with a Jedi, he's more likely to make it back alive.

He needs to make sure they all make it back alive.

Echo straightens his shoulders.

The ramps stutters down and they march out into the rain. It's a short trip across the platform and through the door, but even with the shield they rigged up for Wrecker, he still gets soaked. Kamino's storms are the same, too.

"Aw, come on," Wrecker growls.

"We'll get you new fatigues once they assign us quarters," Hunter says. "They received the notification we were on our way. It shouldn't be long before you're armored up and breaking droids."

Wrecker says something back but Echo barely hears him. The last time he was on Kamino, he had Fives by his side and a fleet of Separatists descending from the skies.

"Welcome to Kamino. I trust your ventures have been productive."

Every muscle in Echo's body tenses; he has to force himself not to freeze. "They were, Nala Se," Hunter says calmly. "But Wrecker's a little tired of being cooped up on the ship waiting for an assignment."

Nala Se's eyes are cutting. Cold. She sweeps her gaze across the group and stops on Echo. "Your newest member, I presume," she says, and Echo's skin crawls under his armor. "CT-1409, designation ARC. It's a shame about CT-5555, designation ARC. He showed such promise before his termination. That makes you the last surviving member of Domino Squad."

Hunter stiffens, imperceptible to the Kaminoan but as plain as the sky above them to another clone. Echo sets his jaw. Nala Se looks him up and down, calculating. "The scans you underwent upon entry indicate that you have received significant cybernetic additions. I'm certain a record of your new physiology would be valuable to future prosthetic applications."

"We're just here to sharpen some skills," Hunter intercedes smoothly. "Science projects will have to wait until after the war."

Nala Se scoffs. Hunter doesn't waver. "As you wish," she says at last.

When she turns her back to lead them down the corridor, Echo finds he can breathe again. Tech's hand wraps around his wrist and squeezes, once. Echo curls his hand into a fist.

Hold it together. For Fives.

Their quarters are just a condensed version of a barracks: four bunks and a 'fresher. It's where the commandos used to room before they shipped to Geonosis, before most of them were massacred in the catacombs, deployed too early and withdrawn too late. Echo's chest aches.

"If there's anything you require for your training, you are aware of where to find me," Nala Se says, and then is finally, finally gone.

"Echo," Hunter says, and some of the haze clears from his vision. "You ready?"

"The faster we get this done, the better," Tech says. "The Kaminoans are vigilant. Whatever they have to hide will be well concealed. The sooner we start looking, the better chance we have to find it before we arouse any suspicion."

"Wrecker, Crosshair, and I will stay armored up and head to the range," Hunter says. "We'll draw less attention if some of us are where we said we'd be. Echo, Tech, find a way into the archives and get what we need. As soon as you have it, send the signal. We'll wrap up, fake a summons, and get out of here."

"On it, Sergeant," Tech says. Echo follows him into the corridor.

"Hold on," Tech says, and presses a small circle to the back of Echo's neck. It hums, flickers, and then goes still.

"What's that?"

"Hologram." Tech taps his own device, once, and his armor flickers like a mirage: basic shiny kit. "On the off chance we do get caught, we'll look like regular troopers. It'll be much easier to blend in."

"We can't get caught."

"We won't," Tech says. There's a soft note of soothing in his voice. "This is just a precaution."

Kamino is a maze to most outsiders, balconies and platforms and cool white hallways that look the same no matter which way you turn, but every clone spent every waking moment of their formative years in these facilities. It's as familiar to them as the backs of their hands.

The archives have always been off-limits, sequestered in a central hub around which the remainder of the facility arcs. It's barricaded by two sets of security doors, both reinforced by a handprint scanner and retinal recognition – and that's all before you reach the vault. The files themselves have their own encryption.

Echo knows firsthand. Hevy tried to get at it, more than once.

What can I say, Echo? When you run a highly lucrative intergalactic cloning business, I guess you keep your secrets close to your chest. Can't have everyone making copies of us, right?

His chest hurts. Hevy.

"Are you sure we can get inside?" Echo asks over the private comm. "That's a lot of security."

"I scanned Nala Se's irises and fingerprints when she met us at the door," Tech says calmly. "The Kaminoans aren't the only ones with upgrades the rest of the galaxy doesn't have access to. I'll transmit the profile to you. That'll fool the system into thinking we're Nala Se and set the cameras to a closed loop until we're long gone."

The corridor is deserted. None of the cadets have a reason to come down this far and the Kaminoans only venture here when they have a client for which they need to retrieve some highly redacted files or when they need to make an edit to a genetic profile.

Neither of those things happens very often.

He hopes.

Tech waves him forward. It's one motion to interface with the wall and a few mental machinations to relay Tech's profile to the system.

The door slides open.

The second is just as simple. It makes Echo's stomach turn. "This is too easy," he says. "It shouldn't be so easy. When we were cadets, Hevy tried to get in here. He failed. A lot."

"Hevy didn't have a supercomputer to help his brain bypass the security measures," Tech says calmly, easing into the console's chair. "Of course it's easier now, Echo."

It makes sense. It should make him feel better. It doesn't. Echo bounces his leg. Tech's fingers are flying across the controls. "How long will this take?"

"As long as it takes. Right now, they have no idea we're in here," Tech says. He's transfixed by the screen. Information whips by, a string of letters and numbers. "The Kaminoans have been in business for several centuries. There's a lot of data."

"We don't need centuries of data. We just need information on the GAR."

"I'm going through it as fast as I can. Plug into the other console. The work will be faster if both of us are searching."

Right. Like they discussed en route to Kamino. Echo shakes off the ghosts and interfaces with the console.

It's like running face first into a wall. Echo staggers and braces himself on the wall. Filter it, make it manageable, then start to fly. He's done it before. He can do it again.

Remember to breathe.

The data comes in streams. He lets it flow by, whipping through file after file and filtering for keywords: client names and concentrations and commands and special commissions for unusual modifications. Chips.

Fives.

The files for the GAR order materialize on the screen. Beside him, Echo feels more than sees Tech stop typing.

"You've got it. That's it. That's what we need."

"They're all encrypted," Echo says. He squeezes his eyes shut. "They're encrypted but I think – I think I can decrypt them. Transfer them."

"The drive's plugged in and ready to go."

"No one's on to us?"

"Not yet. Work fast."

He shifts through a thousand ciphers in the same of several seconds. None of them click. Next set. Next set. Next set. Repeat.

Hit.

Success.

"Transferring—"

His ears are ringing. It takes him a second to register the alarms. "Finish the transfer," Tech snaps, scurrying for the door. There's adrenaline pounding in his ears, acid burning in his throat; Echo pushes past it. Seventy percent. Eighty. Ninety.

Done.

"We might be too late," Tech says grimly, peering out the cracked door. The doors didn't slide shut to seal them in; Tech must have built a failsafe into his program. "I don't know how close security might be. We didn't have the opportunity to surveil their response times."

He's not worried about the other clones. He's worried about the Kaminoans that'll be there with them. Echo swallows thickly. "I don't know what I tripped," he says hoarsely. "I was careful. I—"

"It doesn't matter right now."

"We have to go."

"Not if we're going to trip something much more lethal," Tech says. His eyes are flitting back and forth behind his goggles. "I'm not reading any other traps, but that doesn't mean they aren't there."

"So we run for it."

"If we must."

They dart through the security doors. There are pounding footsteps coming toward them, a legion of clones ready to do their duty and down the intruders. Echo's chest tightens. If they're caught it'll give the Kaminoans a reason to commandeer him and then they'll cut him to pieces.

Don't get caught.

Echo whips around the corner with Tech at his heels. The clones are closer now, an ominous thrum that rumbles the floor beneath them. They won't make it past them. There's only one way in and out of here.

Don't get caught.

Echo looks around desperately. No vents. No hatches. Just cool white. Just that damned cool white.

"We could retreat to the vault," Tech says. "Barricade ourselves in until the others find a way to extract us."

"They'd never make it." Should have been more careful. Should have looked more closely. Too late now. Too close now – louder and louder. "There are too many of them."

"You can't get caught," Tech says urgently. "We have to find a way to get you out of here."

"I know that. I know—"

"Boys. Can I help you with something?"

Echo and Tech whirl at the same instant. The voice isn't familiar, not at first, but when his eyes land on its source, Echo recognizes him immediately.

Kal Skirata.

"This area's restricted," Kal says, though there's something in his eyes Echo can't quite place, like they're sharing some kind of secret only one of them knows. Tech looks between them, bewildered.

Anything is better than Kaminoan custody.

"Yes," Echo says at last. The boots are almost on them now, a few paces away from bursting into the corridor. "We got…lost."

"You'll need a better excuse than that for them, son."

The squad of troopers rounds the corner, weapons drawn and raised. "Take it easy," Skirata says, shifting in front of Echo and Tech and raising his hands placatingly. "Put those away. I needed to talk to them away from their unit. Public discipline is bad for morale."

"You still train troopers, sir?" The clone at the front is hesitant. Still a cadet, then. "I thought you were stationed on Coruscant now."

"I agreed to come back for a bit," Skirata says. There's a paternal note to his voice. "Put the blaster down, son."
"But the alarms—"

"Jaing is testing the security systems. He must have tripped one."

The trooper lowers his blaster. The others follow his lead. Echo doesn't move. It still hurts to breathe. There's a Kaminoan behind the trooper squad, narrowing his eyes. Skirata meets them squarely.

"You wanted the best of the best testing your system," Kal says. "You've got it."

"He tripped the alarm," the Kaminoan says coolly.

"Maybe some of your system isn't as out-of-date as you thought."

"Maybe he's not as good as you thought."

Kal scoffs. The pair stares at one another for a long beat. It's the Kaminoan who breaks the eye contact and spins on his heel, fluttering robes and a sharp scowl. The troopers wait a moment, shift uneasily, and follow after him.

Skirata doesn't turn to Echo and Tech until the corridor's been clear for at least two minutes. He sizes them up for a moment that feels like an eternity. Echo wants to slip by, walk away like nothing happened.

But they wouldn't have made it if he hadn't intervened.

"I don't know what you were doing in there," Kal says at last. "But don't try it again."

"Yes, sir," Echo snaps off with Tech. Skirata steps aside to let them by.

Walking is the most difficult thing Echo's done all day: stride in time, calm and collected, back to the barracks. Deactivate the disguise. Slip inside.

Tech pulls off his helmet at almost the same time as Echo. He's breathing just as hard, but not from relief.

"What is it?" Echo asks breathlessly.

"Damned Null ARCs," Tech hisses. "You didn't trip any wire. Jaing did. Remotely."

The Null ARCs. The ARC prototypes. Dangerous. Unpredictable. Disobedient. Slated for execution. Saved by one of the cuy'val dar – the Mandalorian Skirata. Every clone knows the story. Every clone knows their names.

"What do you mean, Jaing did?" Echo asks. "Skirata said he was testing the system."

Tech coughs a laugh. "The Null ARCs would never test the system for the Kaminoans, but either the Kaminoans don't know that or they don't care. I guarantee you, Echo, Skirata and Jaing are here with their own agenda. And that agenda could have gotten us killed."

"He helped us out of there," Echo says tiredly. "That's all I care about."

Tech stares at him for a long beat. "I'll send the others the signal," he says, and turns away.

It's still storming when they lift off again. Echo clutches the drive and reminds himself to breathe. Breathe.

Just breathe.