No trigger warnings
"Fives, wait."
Fives stops at the top of the ramp. His pack is slung over his shoulder; he's in civvies, which is necessary for where he's going but still so odd when Echo's so used to seeing him in armor. "Yeah," he says. "What is it?"
"Be careful," Echo says. His throat is painfully tight. They both have missions to complete. Fives has to leave. Fives will be fine. It's Fives.
Echo just has the horrible feeling he'll never see him again if he lets him out of his sight.
"I will," Fives says. He cracks an easy grin. "You know that."
Echo nods mutely. "See you on the other side," he says, like he believes it. He hopes it sounds like he believes it.
It doesn't sound at all like he believes it.
"Yeah," Fives says. He stands there silently for a moment, like he's thinking, then decisively strides back up the ramp. Echo shifts aside, but Fives stops in front of him and sets his pack down.
"Hey, this isn't goodbye, Ey'ika," Fives says. He cradles Echo's face in his hands and presses their foreheads together. "I promise, vod. We'll see each other again."
"I know," Echo says, and shudders a breath. "I know."
Fives' arms wrap around him and pull him close. He holds tight. "It's okay, Echo," he says, muffled against Echo's shoulder. "I'm here."
When Fives does finally shift to pull away, Echo has to make himself let go.
"See you on the other side," Fives says, squeezing his shoulder. He doesn't pick up his pack until he gets a nod.
Then he's gone.
"Are you okay?"
Echo jumps. "I'm fine, Tech," he says. "Just thinking."
"About the upcoming op, I hope," Hunter says from somewhere above him. Echo presses his eyes closed and forces himself to breathe. May as well have the conversation now and clear the air.
Echo climbs up into the control room. The others, save Tech, are already gathered. They did a fair job of repairing the ship; if he hadn't seen the shattered mess it was fourteen hours ago, he wouldn't have known the difference.
"I know you think that what I did was reckless," Echo says.
Hunter doesn't look up from the holotable. "I don't think it was reckless," he says. "I know it was. If he was planted by the Chancellor, then you've just handed over all of our intel to the enemy."
Echo does his best not to bristle. "You thought I was a traitor at first too."
Hunter looks up at him. "We're trying to take down the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic and suddenly, your dead brother is back. You don't find his timing a little convenient? He happens to be in that specific base at the same time. He never even questions if you are who you say you are. He comes here with you and then he blows our control room to hell, which puts us fourteen hours behind."
"Cross pushed him," Echo says lowly. "It's not his fault."
"Hunter does have a point," Tech suggests carefully. "We don't know enough about where he's been and how he's still—"
"He told me," Echo snaps. "And I relayed it to the rest of you once he went to sleep."
"Why should we believe him?" Crosshair asks. He's propped one shoulder against the wall and folded his arms. "He has no evidence. Are we just supposed to take his word for it?"
"No," Echo hisses. "You're supposed to take mine."
"You're compromised," Hunter says.
"How'd he break everything without touching it anyway?" Wrecker grumbles. "Thought only the Jedi could do that."
"Or the Sith," Crosshair says coolly.
Echo scowls. "You don't have to be a Jedi or a Sith to be able to use the Force," he bites out.
His heart is pounding; there's fire in his veins. He doesn't know how to explain. He can't just say he feels like a part of him that died came back to life when he saw Fives, can't say that he followed him from the base because there was something painfully familiar about the broken note in his voice and a part of him couldn't stand to leave it that way. Can't just say he knows because he answered a call, because he feels it in his soul.
Feelings are not enough for them.
They shouldn't be enough for Echo, either. But somehow, with the low soothing hum in the back of his mind, they are.
"When I first told you all about the chips," Echo says, "you thought it was insane, but you looked into it anyway. And I was right. That intel? It came from Fives. All of this, everything we've been able to do: it's because of Fives. He started this. He's fighting for the same thing we are. That's why he was in that base. That's why he came back with me. Because he wants the same thing we do: to save our brothers."
They're all looking at him. Hunter's face is unreadable. Echo squares his shoulders. "You trusted me then," he says, "and it paid off. I'm asking you to trust me again now."
"We do trust you, Echo," Hunter says. "It's just…"
There's a long stretch of aching silence and all at once Echo realizes that the crackling strain in the air is not because they're angry.
It's because they're worried.
"You don't have to protect me," Echo says softly. "Not from Fives."
Some of the tension in the room eases. "You're sure?" Wrecker asks gruffly. "You're sure he's on our side?"
"I am," Echo says firmly. "I know my brother."
Hunter studies him for a moment. "All right," he says, and that's it.
He waves them to the holotable and keys in the program code. The Senate building schematic flickers to life. "We've mapped the guards' patrol patterns and determined the times at which the building is most empty. Tonight, we should be able to get in, do a sweep, plant the listening devices, and get out."
"I isolated Protocol Sixty-Six in our chips," Tech says. "Then I created a program that should, in theory, counteract it and render the command useless."
"In theory?" Hunter quirks a brow.
"I've never coded a biological chip before," Tech says briskly, "but I have full confidence in my work. The only issue I haven't solved is finding a way to transmit the change en-masse to the entire GAR. If we discover a transmission mechanism in the Chancellor's office, I might be able to send it out immediately."
"How is the protocol triggered?" Echo asks. "Is he just going to flip a switch?"
Tech frowns. "The mass-execution command is tied to a very specific vocal frequency, one which I must assume belongs to Palpatine. We can say 'execute Order Sixty-Six' as many times as we want and it won't turn the chip on. But once he does it, and they hear it, it's over for any clone that hasn't had their chip removed."
The Chancellor has the access and the authority to relay a message to the entire GAR at once. Four words, and everyone's finished. A chill runs up Echo's spine. "We can't jam all communications coming from his office or personal device in the long-term. They'll discover it and shut us down."
"He must have a failsafe," Tech says. "A hard method of triggering the protocol in the event of a communications collapse or a voice-activation failure. That's how he was attempting to activate Commander Fox's chip individually. If we're able to find the failsafe, I'll able to use it to beam my program to various command center relays, which will then update everyone's chips directly."
Crosshair smirks. "Then if he tries to turn it on…"
"It fizzles," Techs finishes. He adjusts his goggles. "It would help if we had an idea of his timeline, but the likelihood of there being a physical record is slim to none. He probably has a small inner circle that's aware of it, but even if we were able to determine who that includes, I doubt they would talk."
"Do we think this circle includes Fox?" Hunter asks.
"If it does, it's not because he chose it," Echo says. "Fives is working on determining his location and – current status."
"We have to be prepared for the worst," Hunter mutters. "If he was working against the Chancellor and was discovered, he might be past the point where we can help him."
There's a sick pang in Echo's chest. Be prepared for the worst.
Be prepared to shoot another clone.
"Fives told us Palpatine's a Sith," Wrecker says, tilting his head to the side. "How are we dealin' with that, when it comes down to it?"
Hunter blows out a breath.
"Mandalorians have, historically, had the most success against Force-users, regardless of their alignment," Tech says. "The cuy'val dar trained us. We have their tactics. We just have to apply them effectively."
"You were," Echo says. "I wasn't. I'm going to need a run-through."
"We can manage that," Hunter says. He sweeps his gaze around the room. "The briefing starts now. Mission prep starts at seventeen-hundred. We breach the Chancellor's office at twenty-one-hundred. Clear?"
"Clear," Echo says with the others.
"Good." There's a steely glint to Hunter's eyes. "Then let's get this done."
They've been here twenty minutes and already Echo's really tired of crawling through the walls.
The Senate building has large ventilation shafts running throughout the structure; the place is too large for any other kind of system to function effectively. The upside is that there's plenty of space for them to maneuver in.
The downside is that they've had to dodge or disable no fewer than six security fans – one of which almost sucked Crosshair into its blades.
"They added these fans after a group of senators was taken hostage by Cad Bane," Tech says, a voice in his ear over the comm. "Bane has also broken into the Jedi Temple. After security teams noted that the fans in the Temple were an effective deterrent, they were installed here as well."
"Glad to know my decapitation would have had technical merit," Crosshair says.
"Cut the chatter," Hunter says. "We're coming up on the junction."
There's a faint clatter, Hunter removing the ventilation cover, and then a dull thud as he drops through. Crosshair follows him, then Tech. Echo's last. He shifts a mechanism in his prosthetic hand and secures a hook to the edge of the vent cover, then slowly eases himself over the edge and drops to the ground. One tug of the cable slides the cover back into place.
"Nice work," Tech says. Echo retracts the cable and shifts the mechanism back. He's grateful Tech took the time to work with him on an upgrade and grateful that General Skywalker was willing to give him some input when he was so busy and so far away. The replacement is a lot more versatile than the original.
The lights in the corridor are dimmed to save energy. Making the hallway look ominous isn't the intended effect, but it's the one it has on Echo anyway. A shiver creeps down his spine. He feels, suddenly, as if they're being watched, even though that's not possible, even though there are no cameras in this passage, even though the guards are, per the mapped schedule, on the other side of the building right now.
Even though the Chancellor isn't even here.
The corridor is completely deserted. Echo follows them slowly down it and tries to press the feeling away. It's a swelling sense of foreboding, thick in his throat and heavy on his skull.
The closer they get to the Chancellor's office, the worse it gets.
Echo's breath catches.
"What is it?" Crosshair asks immediately, dropping back to fall in step beside him.
"Nothing," Echo croaks. His chest aches. It feels cold, like the stasis chamber. It feels wrong, like being told Fives was gone.
He's freezing. He's wearing ARC kit. He shouldn't be freezing.
Echo's dimly aware the others have stopped moving in front of him. "Echo," Hunter says. "Everything okay?"
"Something's wrong," Echo says tensely. Closer, closer. Cold. Go. Go. "We have to get out of here. Now."
"Why—"
"Now," Echo hisses. Before he's even finished speaking, Crosshair is prying a vent cover off the wall and shoving Tech through. Hunter hesitates only a fraction of a second and then dives after him. Echo follows Crosshair, clicks the cover back into place, and scoots as far away from it as he can manage without making a sound.
Then he holds his breath.
"What do you see?" Hunter asks, barely a breath over the comm.
Echo can't answer him; he's too busy reminding himself to breathe, breathe, reminding himself they're safe and out of sight. His chest is tight. His hands are ice. He strains to hear – something, anything. It takes a beat. It takes an eternity.
Footsteps.
"They wouldn't change their guard patterns so spontaneously," Tech murmurs.
There are two sets: one is wearing boots, the other softer shoes. Echo squeezes his eyes shut and shies away from the vent's opening. Swishing robes. Leather soles. Red. Kama. Hard plasteel. ARC pauldron.
Fox.
He's not alone. Echo's eyes snap open; he zooms in as far as his HUD will allow. He can still only see the robes, some armor plates, and the shoes. He can't make out the other figure. He doesn't have to.
Everyone knows that voice.
"Commander, I must commend you once again," Palpatine says. "Your work since your return from medical leave has been nothing short of extraordinary."
"Thank you, Chancellor," Fox says, even and controlled. It's not out of character for him, Echo's sure – Rex did call him a straight shooter, after all.
But something about the way the words hit Echo's ears is off. Out of place.
"I trust that you have made the necessary preparations for my speech tomorrow," the Chancellor says. "I do hope there weren't many complications with the room arrangements. The Senators, they can be so particular about their seating."
"None at all, sir."
"I am relieved to hear it. The robes swish; Palpatine takes a step closer to Fox, which puts him directly in front of the vent. Echo doesn't move. Doesn't reach through the opening and shank the shabuir's ankles for what he did to Fives.
There's a sudden streak of white hot rage through the arctic ache.
"The Negotiator and the Resolute are due to return any time now," Palpatine says. "It will be good to have them home again."
"Yes, sir."
"I think I will have a word with Marshal Commander Cody," the Chancellor says. Echo stiffens. "I've found his reports on their recent campaigns to be very thorough and enlightening. Tell me, what did you think of them?"
"Cody does his job well, Chancellor," Fox says.
Echo wrinkles his nose; it hits him: what Fox is saying sounds wrong because it's so subdued and eager-to-please. Most shinies move past that stage in the first few weeks of their assignment. As a clone commander, like Cody, Fox never would have had the luxury of the adjustment: he was trained as a leader and expected to stand as the example from day one.
"He does," Palpatine agrees, almost idly. He takes a measured breath. "Diligence is a value well-worth our admiration. It cannot, however, replace loyalty."
"Cody's as loyal as they come, sir. When it's time, he'll do his duty."
Palpatine snorts softly. "I know he will," he says, like Fox is an old friend. "He understands the merits of commitment and dedication, just as you do."
"Yes, Chancellor."
There's a long pause.
"This war has been long," Palpatine says distantly, like he can see something Fox can't, "but do not fear, Commander. It will soon be drawing to a close."
"How can you tell, sir?"
Something sick twists its way up Echo's spine; a wave of nausea sweeps through him. He does his best not to gag. His breath comes in a wheeze.
Don't throw up in your helmet.
"I can feel it," Palpatine says. "The tide is turning to our favor." He shifts, the barest shuffle on the marble floor. "It will not be long now. Our victory is on the horizon."
Don't throw up in your helmet.
"I hope you're right, Chancellor."
There's another long pause. The cold twists, twists, turns, heavy on his head, heavy in his chest. Echo curls his hand into a fist. Don't move. Don't breathe. Don't think.
Then, all at once, it's gone.
"Well, I think our work here is concluded," Palpatine says, like he's resolved an answer to a question only he can hear. "If you would escort me to my speeder, Commander."
"I live to serve, Chancellor."
Echo doesn't move until the footsteps have faded away. Then he slowly drops his helmet to the vent and breathes.
"So," Hunter says, "either Fox is the biggest sheb'urcyin on Coruscant, or they did something to him."
"Echo?" Crosshair calls tensely.
"I'm all right," Echo whispers. He can't stop trembling. He sucks in a labored breath. His lungs feel stiff, like when Rex took him out of stasis and he tried uncycled air for the first time in months. "We need to get moving."
"Let's hope that was the only surprise," Hunter says grimly.
"If we're not back on-time, Wrecker's going to be worried," Tech says. Echo eases himself out of the vent, conscious that they're all following behind him. "They came from the Chancellor's office."
The latest Palpatine stayed during their surveillance was 2000 hours. Each time, he was escorted out by a member of the Coruscant Guard – never its Commander. It's an odd role for Fox to take on, when he has so many other responsibilities. He must have been personally requested.
The Chancellor's keeping him close.
Echo wonders at the timing, as they make their way the last few meters down the corridor to Palpatine's office and Tech starts wiring his way in. It might be a coincidence. It might not. Can Palpatine sense that someone's on to him? Did he know they were in the ventilation system, listening in? It won't be long now, he said. His plan must be coming to a head – soon.
They don't have a lot of time.
"We're in," Tech says. The door slides aside.
The office is just as unassuming as Palpatine makes himself out to be. Clean. Organized. Elegant.
Mundane.
Echo shudders.
Tech wastes no time initiating a scan. Echo follows suit, holding out his right palm and running it along the wall. Every cable in the building is rated for rapid, high-volume data transfer. There are hundreds of them in this segment alone.
Well, what did you expect, Echo? A label that says 'For Order 66'?
Crosshair's taken up guard at the door. Hunter's very carefully installing listening devices in the ceiling. Echo and Tech methodically sweep the entire room. There's nothing out of place, mechanically speaking – no cables where they shouldn't be, no devices hidden away.
"The transmission method could be integrated into his datapad," Tech says. "Or it might be kept off-site at a different facility."
"The patrol will be coming through here any minute," Crosshair reminds. "Whatever you're going to do, do it fast."
They can seal the door, but then they'll be trapped in here until the guards pass over this section of the building – and that won't happen until the sun is up and the Senators come flooding back in.
"Tech," Hunters says. "Pull the Senate security transportation records for the Chancellor. We need to know where he is when he's not here."
"On it."
"Five minutes," Crosshair warns.
Echo's heart is pounding. Tech's fingers are flying. "I've got it," he says. "Transferring now."
Hunter's hand curls into a fist, uncurls, and clenches again. Stressed. He has one tic.
"Four minutes."
Three
Two.
"Done."
They sprint back to the access panel. They've just barely made it inside when the trooper patrol marches by.
"Too close," Crosshair growls.
The haul back to the ship is in silence.
"You're late," Wrecker grumbles. Echo's legs are shaking; he eases down onto the floor.
"Got caught up," Hunter says. "We ran into some problems."
"Did you find the failsafe?"
"No," Crosshair says. He sets his pack down with more force than is necessary, a sharp thud that makes Echo jump. "He doesn't keep it there."
"It has to be at a secondary facility," Tech says. He's already sliding into a chair and loading up the drive. "I'll go through the data and map his movements. It will be one of the locations he travels to with enough frequency that any unexpected visits wouldn't raise any suspicion." He glances over his shoulder. "It's going to take a while. I would recommend getting something to eat in the meantime."
The others disappear belowdeck. Echo leaves the control room long enough to grab two ration packets and then climbs back up through the hatch.
"Here," he says, sliding one onto the console in front of Tech. "You need to eat too."
Tech doesn't stop typing or scanning through the information, but he does quirk a smile. "Thank you," he says. "I'll eat when I'm finished."
"Is there anything I can do?"
"I don't mind the company."
Echo picks at his ration bar and rocks back in the chair. Palpatine mentioned Cody specifically. It makes logical sense that he'd be important, of course: Cody's one of only five clone Marshal Commanders in the entire GAR and has all the influence and following that comes with the position.
Knowing the fact does nothing for the ticking unease in his chest. He needs to warn Cody, give him a chance to prepare himself; he needs to check in with Fives, tell him about Fox.
They're running out of time.
"We're going to do this, you know," Tech says, like he's read his mind.
Echo blinks at him. "Do what?"
"Win," he says. "The Bad Batch has a perfect operational success score. I really would like to keep it that way."
Echo chuffs a laugh. "So would I, Tech," he says. "So would I."