"Ca'ad's death was just so… sudden. I knew he might not make it to the shuttle for surgery, but he just… died. Right there, in my arms.
I can't begin to describe how I felt in that moment when I realized it was too late, that... I couldn't save him. It was just too… tumultuous.
Do I have to go on with this shabla debriefing? I'm-I'm sorry, General, but I just lost a pod brother."
Ka'rta, during his debriefing after the Death Watch mission
1300 hours, 480 days ABG, Arca Company Barracks briefing room"I'm sure the three of you remember the gunship that crashed trying to get to you on Geonosis a year and three months ago," Jusik began. "That kind of accident isn't something you forget easily."
"We remember, all right," said Ajax. He hadn't been able to so much as smile since Ca'ad died. "But what's that got to do with our next mission?"
"We've encountered a similar problem with several other gunships recently."
"That's odd," commented Buckler. "It wasn't an isolated malfunction?"
"No. We've traced it back to a Separatist cell based out of Rothana."
"Rothana. As in Rothana Heavy Engineering?" Ka'rta looked incredulous. "From that planet, they could sabotage all our equipment. This could be a huge problem."
"That's why we're sending RCs. We need the best."
Ajax was staring at his feet. "We're still down a man, General," he said, looking up. None of them wanted to emphasize the empty seat at the table, but Ajax had to.
"That's another reason we've brought you here. Come in, RC-9726."
A commando with shiny, white Katarn armor walked in, helmet under his left arm. He raised his right hand to his brow in a sharp salute. "Sir!" he said.
It was pretty obvious to the real commandos in the room, from his strict sense of protocol, flash-learned accent, and unpainted armor, that twenty-six had been taken directly from the rank-and-file CT units. Ajax just hoped he was as good of a sniper as Ca'ad had been.
Jusik gestured to the vacant chair. "At ease, commando. We're all friends here."
The newest member of Phi Squad replied with a curt "Yes, sir!" and proceeded to the indicated chair.
"Tracker was at the top of his class in marksmanship. He passed the RC qualifier test with a score 30% higher than was needed to qualify," Jusik boasted.
"Can he hit a moving target two klicks out?" asked Buckler, with his arms tightly crossed. No one could replace Ca'ad in his eyes, least of all a white job in Katarn armor.
"Well, RC-8233, I'm excited to test the full extent of my capabilities," Tracker stated.
He doesn't have years of commando training under his belt, Buckler thought. He will never be able to replace Ca'ad. I don't know what HQ was thinking, assigning us a meat can.
"Well," Jusik continued, "now that you know the background, here are the details." In the Force, the room was a confused mess of resentment, anger, fear, and sadness. It was strange, though. Jusik didn't sense the Dark Side. Buckler especially stood out, a real whirlpool of all of their emotions. Tracker felt… different. Jusik noted that. He was a mix of excitement, hesitation, and, chiefly, worry. Worry he wouldn't be welcome, that he wouldn't fit in.
Jusik cleared his mind. "Your task, Phi Squad, is to track down the saboteurs and make sure they never sabotage our gunships or tanks again by destroying their virus."
"So, assassination and data wiping?" Buckler seemed to cheer up a bit at this. "Sounds like my kind of mission."
Tracker couldn't take his eyes off the long, pointed scar on Buckler's forehead. The commando's baldness did nothing to hide it.
Buckler shifted in his seat. "See anything interesting, nine-seven-two-six?" he threatened the newcomer.
"What's the thing on your forehead?" asked the newly dubbed commando.
"A scar." Buckler appeared to soften a bit. "Always wear a helmet," he joked. "Especially when there's explosives around."
Ka'rta laughed. Tracker looked confused. Ajax just gave Buckler his death glare.
Jusik observed the exchange with muted interest. "Go prepare for the mission. You leave at oh-eight-hundred tomorrow." He gestured for the squad to exit the room. Ajax stayed behind. "Problem, sergeant?" asked the Jedi.
"Yes, sir," the commando with purple stripes on his armor said. "HQ assigned us a general infantry unit for a fourth man."
"He's as good a soldier as any of you," Jusik stated. "Trained personally by Kal Skirata. What makes him worse than Ca'ad?"
Ajax tightened his fist at the sound of his brother's name. "The only thing he knows about Mandalorian culture is the lyrics of Vode An. He's far too observant of protocols, and he probably can't switch between weapon modes on a DC-17m when his life depends on it."
"He's trained for a year for this opportunity," Jusik explained, his calm air unfaltering. "Give him a chance, and if he doesn't prove his chops on this mission, then we'll find another sniper for you."
"One year," Ajax muttered, and sharply about-faced to exit the room. "He hasn't even been an RC since after Geonosis."
Phi Squad's quarters were unusually quiet. At least, quiet for having four people in them. A stack of twenty-two matte black armor plates sat in the corner, never to be worn ever again. Next to the Katarn armor, there was a Mandalorian bucket, colored grey with blue highlights. Buckler couldn't stand to look at it. The memory was still too fresh, even four and a half months later. The squad hadn't been on many missions in that time, only two. It didn't help much. Now there was a new face in their pod. An outsider. That would only serve to make matters worse. Tracker wasn't even from a different squad trained by Cuy'val Dar. He was a CT, a complete stranger.
Ka'rta supposed that Tracker would become a commando while going on missions with them. He was the only one who felt so much as an iota of sympathy for the new guy. He'd start the initiation with some paint.
Tracker tried to settle in, lying on the bunk that used to be Ca'ad's. Ka'rta got up from his bunk to look over at Tracker.
"Hey, twenty-six," Ka'rta said.
Tracker didn't look over.
"Tracker," Ka'rta tried. He must have gotten renumbered when he'd become an RC.
This time, Tracker turned to face Ka'rta. "Yes, eighty?" It didn't seem like he'd quickly start using names.
"Wondering if you wanted to liven up that armor of yours. White looks a little too… clean."
"Respectfully, I don't know. Regulation 336.27 says…" Tracker was interrupted by the other clone.
"We play by a different set of rules," the medic informed. "You're an RC now."
"Well, okay. Where's the paint?" Tracker asked, hesitantly climbing down the bunk ladder to the floor.
"Well, that depends what color you'd like."
Tracker thought a moment. "How about red? Or orange?" The new guy was warming up to the idea of paint quite nicely.
"Why not both?" Ka'rta said, jumping off his bunk. "Let's go find some paint."
Ka'rta led the way to a storage locker on the other side of the barracks. "Take your pick," he said.
Tracker looked over the selections. There was red, orange, yellow, blue, purple, black, white… He looked closer. It was definitely white paint. "Why is there white paint? Isn't the armor already white?" he asked.
Ka'rta chuckled. "For mixing with other colors. You can get some nice shades by mixing with black or white."
Tracker looked at his armor. Suddenly he started to see different patterns. He could do a checkerboard, stripes, curves, camo… The possibilities seemed endless. He quickly stripped down to his black bodysuit and grabbed green, brown, black, white, and grey. He began to paint.
1445 hours, Phi Squad Quarters, Arca Company BarracksBuckler was glad Tracker had a friend in Ka'rta, but he was still coming to terms with the death of Ca'ad. Everyone grieves in their own way, he guessed. "Why was it him? Why Ca'ad?" he asked no one in particular.
Ajax replied. "It'll be okay, Buckler. He's not really gone if you carry him with you wherever you go. I promise everything'll be okay." At the very least, he thought it would all turn out okay in the end. Then again, they could all die at any minute. Ca'ad's death had taught them that much. Nobody lives forever.
Buckler was audibly sobbing into his pillow. "Why?" He repeated the question over and over in between sobs.
Ajax went to Buckler's side and patted him on the back. "I don't know why. But I do know that we can't change what happened."
"I would gladly change places with him. I'd give up anything to see him again. I just can't believe I was still mad at him when he died."
"It's not your fault, Buckler. There was nothing any of us could have done to save him."
"Yes, there is. He died because Ka'rta couldn't use bacta to heal him. He died because I didn't try hard enough to get him to stop taking those shabla injections."
Ajax suddenly realized why Buckler still hadn't reached any kind of understanding with Ca'ad's death yet. He still blamed himself. Buckler thought he had killed Ca'ad as much as the person who actually shot him. "It's okay. You'll get through this. Get some sleep," the sergeant encouraged. "You'll feel a lot better."
Buckler ended up crying himself into an uneasy sleep that afternoon.
Two hours later, Ka'rta and Tracker walked back into their quarters. Buckler was fitfully sleeping, and Ajax was reading a holozine. The leader held a finger to his lips and pointed at Buckler. Ka'rta nodded, and made a signal for Tracker to put on his helmet. It was painted with a tan, grey, and grey-green camouflage. The rest of his armor was the same colors.
Once Ka'rta had put on his helmet, he started talking to Tracker. Their helmets were blissfully soundproof. "I didn't have the heart to tell you this back in the paint room, but your armor looks a bit like Buckler's with the camo and all."
"Better than it looking like Ca'ad's."
Ka'rta nearly reached over to slap the new sniper. He restrained himself. "Don't make jokes about him," he said, testily. "It's still too fresh."
Tracker replied, shocked. "I shouldn't have said that. Regulation 936.32: never talk about past deployments: they may be classified. I'm so insensitive."
Ka'rta softened. "It's all right. We all make mistakes. Why don't we go down to the mess and see what they have for dinner?"
"Sure. Should we invite oh-ei…sorry, Ajax?"
"Why not?" Ka'rta stepped over to Ajax and tapped him on the shoulder. When Ajax looked up, Ka'rta made a gesture that looked like he was bringing a fork up to his faceplate. Ajax nodded an affirmative, then scrawled a note for Buckler. "1700: gone to mess hall," it read. The three walked out of their quarters, purple, yellow, and grey helmets taken off and carried under their left arms.
0745 Hours, 481 days ABG, Arca Company Barracks landing padFor Phi Squad, it was the first mission in five months that they'd had a four-man squad. Ajax was closest to the place they knew their transport would land. Next was Buckler, then Ka'rta, then Tracker. For Buckler, it was good to be wearing his Katarn armor again. It felt safer than beskar'gam. That must have been because they had lost a brother when they were wearing Mando armor. Or maybe because Katarn armor was familiar. Maybe both. Buckler didn't care why. He just felt like he was at home.
"I think I hear our gunship," said Ajax, interrupting Buckler's thoughts.
"I hear it, too," confirmed Ka'rta.
An LAAT/i gunship came down to land in front of the squad. "Let's move, let's move!" Ajax yelled over the engine noise. Phi Squad did as they were commanded.
Once the gunship doors slid shut, a hologram activated in the center of the hold. It was the lieutenant from Geonosis, the squad's advisor. "Nice to finally see you, two-six," he started.
Tracker replied with a salute.
"Now that the introductions are over, I'll point you to your first objective," the advisor continued. "Your first task is to locate the Separatist infiltrators and take them out."
"Doesn't sound too hard," commented Buckler, quite cheery. The prospect of a mission always seemed to cheer him up, even now that he'd lost a brother.
"That's the spirit!" Ka'rta punched him on the shoulder in that friendly, masculine way. "Nice to see you back in the spirit of things."
"Always feels good to get in a larty," Buckler returned. "Like I'm finally home."
"I hate to break up the party, but you are going to a mission. Can I have your attention?" The advisor seemed amused.
Ajax used his death glare to great effect with Ka'rta. "Yes, Advisor, you have our undivided attention."
"Excellent. You're currently headed for the Vengeance, which is bound for Rothana. Once on planet, you are to report to RHE Headquarters. There, you should be able to locate the Separatist infiltrators. Employees have been instructed to give you their full cooperation. Those who don't… Let's just say you aren't responsible for what happens to them."
"We'll be maintaining open comms with you, I take it?" Ajax questioned.
"For the moment, yes. Rothana is Republic-controlled, so yes, oh-eight."
"Excellent. I like it when we can know what the hell's actually going on."
"You'll be docking with the Vengeance shortly. Good luck on Rothana." The hologram fizzled out of existence and there was a distinct thud. Phi Squad had landed on the Vengeance. The gunship doors flew open, and Phi Squad stepped out. Several flight deck clones stared at the colorful squad. Some even whispered to the people next to them. The RCs had arrived.
Tracker was amazed. "Why are they staring at us like that?" he wondered.
"Don't you remember being one of them? Wouldn't you have stared at the tank-like RCs back then?" Buckler could pull off a very good soft but menacing tone.
"I-I suppose so, sir. Even considering Regulation-" Tracker confessed.
"Keep this comm clear," said Ajax. "It's not for banter."
"Sorry, boss. But we do have some down time right now," Ka'rta pointed out.
"Right." Ajax's tone softened. "We'll meet back here at 1000 hours. Go do… whatever it is you'll do for the next…" Ajax looked down at his chrono. "...two hours."
"Aye, sir," replied Ka'rta, taking off his yellow-marked helmet.
Some of the flight crew personnel audibly gasped. Ka'rta even heard one of them gasp, "They are clones!" This made him smile inwardly. But the thought of being a clone was almost a curse for him. Ca'ad had been a clone, too. Why should one die and not the other? It didn't seem right. Then again, nothing seemed right. The new man in their squad, the new sniper, wasn't really an RC. He hadn't trained for ten years under Bralor like the rest of them had. He'd trained with Kal Skirata for one year. Tracker couldn't possibly stack up to Ca'ad. On the other hand, Tracker was a clone. He just needed a place to fit in. So why not be his friend? They were already brothers. Ka'rta decided to walk over to Tracker, maybe even play a few hands of Sabacc.
"Tracker," Ka'rta said.
The commando turned to face his yellow-marked friend. "KAH-rtah, right?"
"That's my name, but were you reading off your HUD?" Ka'rta asked. "You say the word like someone who never heard it pronounced. It's kah-ROT-ah."
"Huh. I'll make a note of that," Tracker promised. "Anyhow, what do you want?"
"How about a few hands of Sabacc?"
"I'd like that," Tracker replied. "But I'll have to find the deck in my forearm plate," he joked.
"C'mon. I know the way to the mess. We can play with a couple of shiny boys."
"Is that what RCs call us rank-and-file troopers?"
"Sometimes. There's also meat can, white job, GI, and reg for regular."
"Meat can?" The sniper looked hurt. "I have a lot of slang to learn," Tracker observed.
"And some Mando'a," Ka'rta added.
The two walked off the flight deck smiling and chatting. Somehow, his brother's kindness and acceptance seemed to lift a heavy weight from Ajax's chest. Like finally he'd been able to find peace with the fact Ca'ad had died. Ajax felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up, and saw Buckler. His green helmet was off, and the commando was smiling.
"You want to follow those two? I heard some talk about a couple hands of Sabacc," Buckler said.
Ajax grinned. "You know I'm a sucker for a game. Sure."
Buckler gestured towards the door the other two had walked down. "Let's go before they get too far away," he said.
Ajax started following his brother. Seems like Buckler has also found some temporary relief from his grief, he thought. That's good. Maybe we'll pull off this mission yet.
Later, in the Vengeance's mess hall, four commandos were playing what looked like an intense game of Sabacc. Several other clones stood nearby, watching. Tracker suddenly grinned quite widely. Ka'rta decided to exchange his card for another in the deck. He wasn't likely to get "bombed out." A frown spread across his face. The one card he shouldn't have gotten… was the one he got. He turned over his cards and said, "Bombed out. Damn!"
"Pure sabacc," said Tracker, showing his hand.
"Shab!" said Buckler. "That beats my -20. Why did I bet so much?"
Ajax smiled quite widely. "Vode, I present to you the magnificent Idiot's Array," he said, holding up his hand of the Idiot, plus a two and a three, both Coins.
Tracker stared in disbelief. "Is this deck marked or something? Are you cheating? That's the fourth hand in a row you've won."
Ajax just smiled coldly. "Just lucky," he stated.
Ka'rta whispered to the sniper: "He loses. Every time Mos Eisley has a cold front."
Buckler whispered back. "Ajax has a Sabacc gene. But don't tell the Kaminoans," he joked. "They'd think he has a defect."
Tracker and Ka'rta laughed. Buckler hadn't lost his sense of humor.
"You really think so? Thanks, vode." Ajax didn't lose his cool.
"Maybe we should start teaching the Dha Werda," suggested Ka'rta. "Sabacc is so boring when Ajax wins."
The conversation was suddenly interrupted by a shipwide alert: "Warning. Our navigation systems have gone offline. Repeat, nav systems offline. All crew to battle stations."
"Fierfek," Buckler said, getting up and donning his green helmet. "Do the Separatist infiltrators know we're after them?"
Ajax already had his bucket on. "I sure as kriffing hell hope not."
"If they know about us," Ka'rta began, "We're in deep osik."
Tracker unholstered his DC-17m. "I think there's one on the ship," he declared. "So let's find him."
"We can't prove that," Ajax countered.
"Let's see if anyone's leaving in an unscheduled launch," Buckler prompted. "That's probable cause."
"They'll be scrambling all fighters," replied Ajax. "That method's no good."
"What if we looked for a mongrel officer trying to leave?" asked Tracker.
Ka'rta replied. "I'm checking the crew roster right now. The only mongrel aboard is the Captain. And he's been on deployment since before the battle of Kamino."
"So if the saboteur is aboard, he's a clone." Buckler gulped. "A brother."
"It was always a possibility," Ajax pointed out. "And it's starting to look that way. Big time."
0915 hours, Venator-class Star Destroyer Vengeance, approaching Rothana"Advisor, this is RC-3608 of Phi Squad with a sitrep."
"What's your status, oh-eight?" the lieutenant replied.
"Vengeance is encountering problems. Consistent with the pattern of sabotage you've seen."
"You believe the saboteur is on board Vengeance?"
"Possibly. If he is, we're dealing with a traitor, a clone."
"Take out the saboteurs, no matter what, Phi. Understood?"
"Yes, sir," Ajax replied with a salute. The comlink was disconnected. "Buckler," he began, issuing orders as was his instinct. "I want you to slice the network and see if you find anything out of place. Try to trace the source of anything you find."
"Yes, sarge. With pleasure," replied Buckler, cracking his knuckles. He sat down next to a console and accessed the mainframe. "Hey, boss?"
Ajax nodded in acknowledgement.
"Should we tell the bridge crew I'm doing this?"
"No," the sergeant replied. "We don't want the person behind this to spook."
"Aye, sir." The slicer went back to work. He was breaking through around twenty levels of security, to get at the most critical data. This was where he found something. "You might want to take a look at this, sir."
"What did you find?"
"Looks like this virus was planted in the nav system by a clone in room 3618."
"That's pilot quarters. Who's currently in those quarters?"
"Looks like CT-05/2201."
"Tracker," Ajax turned to face his newest charge. "Let's find that pilot."
"Right away, sir," the sniper replied.
The two left the practically empty mess to look on the hangar deck. That left Ka'rta and Buckler there. One other clone was still in the mess hall. Ka'rta went over to him.
"What's your name, trooper?" the commando inquired.
"CT-12/7839, sir."
"No, I mean your name. What do your batchers call you?"
"Three-nine, if they're feeling comfortable."
Ka'rta's stomach dropped. This trooper didn't have a name. "Do you know CT-05/2201?" the commando inquired.
39 looked pensive. "The pilot?"
"Yes. Do you know where he would be right now?"
"Well, after the General Quarters, he'd be on the hangar deck. I believe he flies Torrent F-23."
"Thanks, three-nine. You should report to your assigned post now."
"Yes, sir!" The nameless trooper stood sharply and replied with a salute.
Ka'rta raised his left gauntlet and tapped a few buttons. "Ajax," he said into his comm, "Our friend 2201 is probably in Torrent number F dash two three."
"We've already got him," the sergeant replied. "The console in his quarters was used, all right. But it was using somebody else's access code."
Ka'rta heard an impatient clone's voice over the comm. "Can I get to my fighter now? My CO won't be very forgiving when I'm late."
"Yes. Go on. The Republic needs you."
The pilot laughed, and Ka'rta heard receding footsteps, at a running pace.
Ka'rta broke off the comlink. "Buckler, I think Ajax has an access code for you to track."
"He's already sending it," replied the slicer. He was typing madly. "Traced it. The access code belongs to a CT-12/7839."
Ka'rta looked like a seasick sailor. "Fierfek. That's the clone who was here after Ajax left." The medic quickly ran out of the room toward the turbolift, opening his squad comlink as he ran. "Ajax, we've been compromised."
The other three members of the squad stopped what they were doing.
Ajax even stopped breathing for a few seconds. You could hear everything over a helmet comm. "Fierfek. I shouldn't need to tell you how bad this is."
"You don't."
"We should notify HQ."
"Already done, boss," Tracker said. "Regulation 97.23: report in any major developments as soon as they happen. Just got off the comm with the advisor. It's going to get real messy, real fast."
"You got that right," Buckler acknowledged. "I need to log off. I don't want any connection to those files. I still haven't found all the virus, Aje."
"Have you deleted what you could find?" Ajax asked.
"Yes, sir. But nav's still offline. I even tried a navicomputer reboot. No such luck. I'm missing something. Something big."
"We need to work fast. Our cover's blown. Those Seps down on Rothana are going to spook."
"Can we ask them to lock down the planet?" asked Tracker. "Regulation-"
Ka'rta interrupted him, not wanting to hear him quote another blasted regulation. "That's not actually a bad idea. We have clearance to land, so let's ground all outbound transports and get down to the surface. We've got enemies to find."
"We should also have the Captain lock down the hyperspace rings," added Buckler, who was now on his way to the hangar. He opened his comlink to the Captain. "Captain Ozzel, this is RC-8233 requesting a lockdown of all hyperspace rings. We have reason to believe there is a saboteur aboard."
"Why should we lock down the hyperspace rings?" the captain asked.
"The saboteur knows about our mission and will probably attempt to flee the system."
"Very well." Ozzel turned to a nearby officer. "Lock down all hyperspace rings and hyperdrive-enabled craft," he ordered.
The officer he ordered turned. "There is a shuttle leaving at this very moment. Shall I lock it down as well?"
"Yes! Lock them all down!" Buckler urged.
The officer punched buttons on his console furiously. "Can't lock it down," he reported. "Sending all available fighter squads to intercept and block its escape."
"Shab!" Buckler cursed. "This always happens."
Ten V-19 Torrents circled around the Nu-class shuttle to block its escape. One pilot opened a comm to the shuttle. "Stand down and return to the hangar bay immediately."
There were several moments of clean, soundless silence. Then all hell broke loose. The pilot of the shuttle responded to the ultimatum with a burst of fire from his forward cannons, taking out one of the fighters. The remaining Torrents opened fire. The shuttle was destroyed.
Phi Squad had all made it to the hangar bay in time to look through the open landing strip doors and see the pyrotechnic display.
Ajax saw the fighter get blown out of the sky.
Tracker noticed the other Torrent open fire.
Buckler saw several distinct flashes of light, then a big explosion. The shuttle.
Ka'rta had just stepped out of the turbolift on the other side of the hangar when he felt the explosion reverberate through the ship.
"Looks like we won't be getting any information from 39," Ajax mused.
"It won't be very easy to find the rest of those saboteurs," inferred Ka'rta. "I'm sure 39 told them we were looking."
"Well, let's find out."
The four walked over to an idling gunship from their different positions. The pilot was CT-05/2201. "Nice to see you again," the pilot said.
"I thought you were a Torrent pilot," said Ajax.
"Not always. Sometimes they put me in one of these." He gestured to the gunship. "Where you all going?" he asked, closing the doors and lifting out of the hangar.
"Take us down to Rothana," replied Ajax.
"Yes, sir." This pilot had a sense of humor, it seemed.
Buckler spoke. "So, anybody have a plan for this mission?"
"Well," began Ka'rta, "we could ask everybody some questions. Ask nicely if they planted a computer virus in the Vengeance's navicomputer."
"Or we could find the virus and trace it to its origin," Tracker suggested.
"That might be hard," Buckler reasoned. "But I like a good challenge."
"We can see who bolts first when we spread rumors about our mission," Ka'rta suggested.
"How about a combination of those plans?" wondered Ajax.
"That might work," answered Buckler.
The squad stood in silence the rest of the trip to the surface. Each commando was wondering if they'd make it down to the surface. Did this gunship have the virus? Was it spreading to every piece of artillery, starfighter, tank, gunship, and capital ship in the GAR? How many more clones - brothers - would die before they located the problem and eradicated it from the GAR's systems?
Sometimes, it was better not to think about such things. This time included. It was best, Ajax decided, to focus on the task at hand and get the virus out of the system before worrying about all those casualties. And once they'd figured out what the code looked like, Ajax reasoned, they could identify and destroy the virus everywhere at once. He snapped out of his trance and focused on his breath, like he'd been trained to do before every mission. Meditation was quite relaxing sometimes.
The pilot broke the silence. "Can I ask what you boys are doing down planetside?"
"No," Ajax answered. "You may ask, but we can't respond. Something about 'classified.' Never really understood why we're so top secret, though."
The pilot snickered. "Anything to do with the ship's nav malfunction?"
"That's why we were in your quarters, yes," replied the sergeant smoothly. "But that has only a limited bearing on our real mission on Rothana."
"I see," laughed the pilot.
Ka'rta couldn't see what was so funny. He decided to shut off his comms and get some sleep. Tracker had kept him up the night before with some pretty good stories and jokes about life as a white job. He drifted off, and soon found himself in the netherworld of dreams.
It was snowy. And cold. Ka'rta could definitely feel the chilly Carlac wind cutting through his bodysuit. In front of him lay a bleeding Ca'ad. Ka'rta was working busily to cauterize the internal wounds. Blaster shots were screaming past left and right. He could even hear explosions. But all of it seemed distant. He felt detached, as though someone else was making his body move. This dream had troubled his sleep for months. But it felt different this time. Ca'ad wasn't screaming like he had that day four months ago. He wasn't dead, either. Suddenly, the injured sniper cried out in pain louder than he ever had in reality. Ka'rta worked fast, too fast for his hands to keep up with his brain. It wasn't fast enough. Ca'ad's heart stopped beating. His wounds stopped bleeding in earnest.
"He's dead," Ka'rta said, unemotionally.
"Then come over here and help us," responded Ajax.
"No… no…" Ka'rta muttered in his sleep. "This isn't right."
Buckler gave Ajax a concerned glance. Ajax waved him off. "He'll be okay," the gesture seemed to say.
Ka'rta flung himself at the flanking Death Watch warriors. He felt true pain, like he could never experience through Katarn armor. It was good to feel so much tangible pain. The emotional torment he felt was so unfamiliar. The sensations of punching, kicking, and stabbing. Those were familiar. This was not that strange, emotional flip-flopping. Grief was strange. Battle was real. That was what mattered. In the distance, a sound became audible. The sound of an LAAT/i. A Nu-class attack shuttle landed. Phi Squad hopped in, still firing at the enemy positions. Just as the door started to raise to closed, Ca'ad's dead form, resting against a nearby tree, rose and began yelling.
"Wait! Don't leave!" its voice said. It was like Ca'ad's, but not exactly. It was more shrill-sounding and eerie than the commando's real voice. "I'm not dead! You can't leave me here!"
As Phi Squad departed, Ka'rta heard an inhuman screech of pain from the ground down where Ca'ad must have been. A scream so shrill and inhuman its sound could not be unheard…
Ka'rta jolted violently awake. This must be the LAAT/i I heard, he thought. It really was a Nu-class four months ago.
"You all right, ner vod?" Buckler wondered. His hand reached out to Ka'rta's shoulder.
"It was that dream again, Buckler. The one about Ca'ad," Ka'rta replied. "But it was different. He got back up and screamed at us after he died."
"That must have been terrifying," Buckler consoled.
"Strap yourselves in," the pilot yelled over their screaming entrance into Rothana's atmosphere. "We're getting close to the LZ."
"Understood," Ajax replied. "Phi Squad, let's get ready to go."
Buckler gave Ka'rta a final, comforting pat on the back. Then both checked the other's survival packs and gave the "you're all good" thumbs-up. Buckler loosened his DC-17m in his belt.
"You might not need that, Buck," Ka'rta said, noticing the action.
"We might, though. Can't be sure of anything," Buckler responded. "I don't want to be the one guy still unholstering his Deece when the shooting starts."
"Hopefully the shooting never starts," Ajax expressed.
Buckler laughed aloud. "That'd be a change."
There was a distinct thud as the LAAT/i landed. The doors parted to reveal a snow-streaked, rocky landscape. Directly beneath the gunship was a metal landing pad. Phi Squad stepped off the transport and proceeded to the front door of Rothana Heavy Engineering.
1030 Hours, Rothana Heavy Engineering Factory, RothanaA female Rodian stood just inside the RHE door to greet Phi Squad as they entered the facility. "Welcome to Rothana Heavy Engineering. We hope your time here is pleasant," she said.
Buckler smiled to himself under his helmet. He didn't think she knew how to talk to clones. And, of course, being a civilian, she didn't. But this was RHE, the primary equipment manufacturer for the GAR. One would think she'd seen a clone before. Or maybe she just thought RCs were to be treated differently than their more common brethren. Buckler's train of thought was interrupted by Tracker, who walked right into his back.
"Sorry!" the sniper said.
"It's okay," Buckler replied. "I was lost in thought. I kinda needed that push," he admitted.
Tracker stood up a little straighter after that, obviously smiling. "Glad I could do you a favor, then," he said.
The squad proceeded down the hall behind the Rodian. She led them to an overlook, a place where the clones could see the full extent of the production line. The factory was at least as large as the parade grounds on Kamino where the clones had first boarded their ships to leave for Geonosis, approximately 600 by 600 meters. "This is where we manufacture everything for the Republic." She gestured to the operation below. "As you can see, this area is under tight security, and it would be nearly impossible to sabotage our equipment at this phase of production."
So she did know about Phi Squad's mission. Ajax was the one to reply. "With all due respect, ma'am, we'd like to see your computer systems."
The woman nodded. "Right down this hall." She gestured to the squad's right, and began walking that direction. The commandos followed her until a door appeared on their left. It slid into the wall, revealing a medium-sized room, with holodisplays wherever there was space. The content of those displays included animated diagrams, blueprints, schematics, stress test results, sensor data on alloy composition, more quality control data… Tracker lost track of all the different data on the displays.
"So, which do I use?" asked Buckler, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.
The woman pointed to a display in the corner. "The terminal over there has access to all our file systems, and the software we load onto our products," she stated.
Buckler walked over to the indicated station. The squad followed, waiting to watch the master at work. Buckler sat down and began searching. First, he looked in the source files for the preloaded software. "Got something that doesn't belong, Ajax," he reported. "Here, in the LAAT/i software."
"That looks like the same bug we found on the Vengeance, if I'm not mistaken," responded Ajax.
"It is," confirmed Buckler. "And it has the same effect, except they identified the malfunction on the Venator. The gunships don't have the same diagnostic programs, so they can't catch the flaw."
"Yet," Ka'rta added.
"Yeah, yet," Buckler conceded. "This code is similar in structure, so it looks like the same group was responsible."
"But 39 wasn't here to put this bug in these systems," Tracker pointed out.
"So someone else was using 39's access code to put the virus onto the Venator," Ka'rta concluded.
"Not necessarily," Ajax pointed out. "39 might have received the code in a transmission."
"How?" asked Tracker. "It's not like he could get a transmission containing virus code without someone seeing what it was."
"Unless the code was hidden somehow, encrypted in plain text."
"Possible," admitted Buckler.
"Tracker," Ka'rta beckoned, "let's start reviewing the Vengeance's received transmissions from the last week."
Tracker heaved a disappointed sigh. "Oh, fun times."
"It's not that bad," Ka'rta dismissed. "We could go over the messages from the last month."
"Sounds like a good plan," Tracker agreed.
"Let's get on it, then." Ka'rta made a wide, circular beckoning gesture. Tracker followed him over to a communications console. They hailed the Vengeance, and Captain Ozzel answered.
"Vengeance here," the captain stated.
"Phi Squad calling," Ka'rta answered. "We'd like access to all your incoming comms from the last week."
"For what reason?" Ozzel asked, suspicious.
"We're looking for snippets of source code that may be hidden in a comm," the medic explained. "We need to know the band the comms were sent on, the time they were sent, and the message content. The code could be hidden anywhere."
Ozzel grumbled. "Sending the data now."
A large amount of data was downloaded to the computer terminal. About a hundred gigabytes worth. There were a lot of transmissions to and from a capital ship, even in the short timeframe of a week.
"Thank you, Captain. This is a lifesaver."
"You're welcome," replied the captain flatly.
The communication ended, and there was now all this data to sift through.
"I'll get started on putting this data into the search algorithm," Tracker volunteered.
"I'll configure the algorithm," Ka'rta replied. "Hey, Buck?"
"Yeah, Ka'rta?" responded the slicer.
"Can I have a copy of the virus code you found on the Vengeance?"
"Sure," Buckler answered. "Uploading to your station."
"Got it. Thanks."
"No problem. I'll always have your back."
Ka'rta laughed joyfully. "Good to know." He began typing, then accessed the code sent by Buckler. He pressed the "start search" button with a bit of added vigor. "Search parameters entered. Time to sit back and wait for it to find something."
File names flashed across the display, as the search algorithm perused the given data for the virus code. A progress bar showed the percent of files remaining. About three-quarters of the way through the transmissions, a window popped up. "MATCH," the window read. "COMMUNICATION 438.15 MATCHES SEARCH PARAMETERS."
"Hey, Ajax," Ka'rta exclaimed. "Looks like the code was transmitted in a message to CT-12/7839. The code was hidden in an attachment, a file that looks like a systems upgrade."
"Was 39 a tech, then?" asked Tracker.
"'Did the file come from RHE or KDY?' is the more important question," dismissed Buckler.
"Looking," Ka'rta replied. "Verified as coming from Kuat Drive Yards orbital shipyards on day 438 ABG."
"So the virus is disguised as a software patch from KDY," Ajax mused. "We've got serious problems."
"Should I send a message to Fleet telling them not to accept a KDY nav patch from three days ago?"
Buckler answered. "Not worth the trouble. The damage has probably already been done."
"But they can stop the virus being downloaded onto other ships," Ajax reasoned. "Go ahead with that, Ka'rta."
Ka'rta quickly typed and sent the message to Republic Fleet Command. It read:
"We have discovered something in our search for Separatist saboteurs at Rothana Heavy Engineering. There is a virus disguised as a Kuat Drive Yards nav system software patch sent on 14:9:16, 438 days after Geonosis. This virus will shut down navigation systems on any vessel that installs it. Please advise all Republic vessels. Phi Squad out."
"Message sent, sarge. Hope they pay attention to it," Ka'rta asserted.
"They will. Everyone probably knows about these problems by now…" Buckler noted. "...except the civilians. The Holonet doesn't talk about such things. They just treat clones like statistics, like we're shabla numbers or something." Buckler had turned into quite the cynic.
"But we are numbers, RC-8233," Ka'rta teased.
Buckler wasn't in the mood. He grumbled and quietly muttered something indistinct to himself.
Ajax looked over with his trademark cold death glare. "Can't you be interviewing employees or something?" he snarled.
Ka'rta grinned. "I'll get right on that, boss. Come on, Tracker."
"Let's go," the sniper replied enthusiastically.
The two proceeded out the door to the tech room, and into the offices.
The first room they walked into was the office of a low-ranking tech specialist. He had access to certain systems that made him a suspect. There was a human man behind the desk, who looked like he was writing a very important message on a piece of flimsi. He had his pen between his teeth when the two commandos walked in.
"Can I help you two?" the tech asked, not even glancing up from his paper.
"Yes, sir," Ka'rta responded. "We'd like to ask you some questions about a virus we found in various RHE-produced vehicles in the last few months."
The man looked up at the two clones. "All right," he began, sitting up in his chair. "But I'll have to ask you boys to take off your helmets."
Ka'rta obliged, and made a hand signal for Tracker to do the same.
"Thank you," the man said, gesturing for the two armored men to sit.
The commandos sat in the chairs across the desk. Ka'rta began his spiel. "Do you recognize this code?" he asked, holding up a datapad for the man to inspect.
The man took the 'pad, and looked surprised to see something. After a fraction of a second, a period of time unrecognized by most, he realized his expression and wiped the surprise and familiarity from his face, replacing it with a look of deep study. He continued studying the 'pad for a few long moments, then handed it back. What he didn't realize was that clones noticed the tiniest details and smallest looks.
"I don't recognize the specific content so much as the formatting," he stated. "It looks like something our chief of operations wrote. He always uses this kind of white space. I guess it helps him proofread or something."
"Thank you. This will help us immensely," Ka'rta said. "Can you tell us where his office is?"
"Yeah. Right down the hall here, third door on the left."
"Have a good day, sir."
"I'm sure I will."
The two clones rose and exited the room. Once they were in the hall, they donned their helmets. Tracker decided to say something.
"For a moment, it looked like he knew something," the sniper extrapolated.
"I think he does," Ka'rta replied. "The way he reacted immediately when he saw the code gave it all away. I made sure to hide a bug in the cushions of that chair, just to see what would happen."
"And if nothing of note happens?"
"Then we don't kill that man. This is war, Tracker. Not everybody can survive. Some people have to die. And these saboteurs will pay for every clone they've killed." In reality, Ka'rta wasn't looking for vengeance for all dead clones. He, like Ajax and Buckler, was looking for a way to get back at the Separatists for the death of their brother Ca'ad.
"I see," Tracker confirmed. He could tell that this was a quest for personal vengeance. It must have been the anger in Ka'rta's voice.
"Well, then, we've got some more people to question."
"Yes, sir." Tracker looked at the door to his right. "Is one of the others listening to the bug you planted? This seems like a good time for that tech to make a call to the Seps."
"Ajax should be listening to the feed."
The sergeant's voice cut in. "Quiet so I can listen," he joked. He switched to a quieter comm channel with a faint clicking noise.
Tracker glanced up. "This is the third door on the left. Right here," he announced.
"Let's go in," Ka'rta said, unsealing his helmet to take it off.
Ajax's voice interrupted their walk again. "Do not enter that room. Repeat, do not enter the room."
Tracker stopped dead in his tracks, a moment too late. He had accidentally tripped a proximity sensor in the door. Something just behind it exploded, sending metal fragments everywhere.
"Suspect is fleeing," Ka'rta yelled. "Can you cut him off, Ajax?"
"Moving to intercept now. Is seventy-sorry, two-six okay?" Ajax almost said seventy-six, but stopped himself. Ca'ad was still dead.
"I think I'll live," the knocked-over Tracker diagnosed. "Get that suspect."
Ka'rta had already halved the distance between Tracker and the suspect tech when a purple-striped commando, Ajax, in a blur of motion, tackled the man mid-stride. He collapsed with a kind of "oomph" sound. Ka'rta unholstered his DC-17m blaster and pointed it at the man's face.
"Move and you're dead," the commando prompted.
The man simply nodded in response. He wasn't a very good covert operative. He didn't know how to avoid capture or sweep for bugs. There had to be somebody else. Somebody who was leaving the factory right now, knowing the operation had been compromised.
"Buckler," Ka'rta ordered, "I need this factory on lockdown. Now."
"On it," Buckler replied.
A second or less later, an alarm started to go off. The lights turned red, and a voice issued from the PA system: "This facility is under lockdown. Please lock your workstation and proceed to your designated shelter immediately. Repeat, this facility is on lockdown."
The man Ajax was pinning shifted nervously. He glanced up at the clone, obviously afraid of something. Probably his superiors. Maybe for his life. Ajax didn't care. The man would be dead in a few minutes no matter what.
"There anybody else here who…" Ajax collected his thoughts. "...is a Separatist?"
The man shook his head in a negative.
"Why don't I believe you?" Ajax took the man's arm and twisted it behind his back so he could break it. "Talk, or say hello to the hospital."
The man stifled a whimper. "There's a director on level three who ordered me to create the nav patch. He's the only one I know of." Ajax's grip tightened on his arm. "I swear on my life!" he sobbed.
Ajax was cold and angry today. "Ka'rta, he has nothing more to say. Fire."
The medic didn't argue. He pulled the trigger. One muted blaster shot to the head. The tech was dead.
"What the hell?" Tracker screamed. "You killed him! What if he was lying? He was just following orders. Why the hell would you do that? It's not right!"
Ajax got up off the floor and adjusted his helmet. "Calm down, Tracker. He was a saboteur. He deserved to die. We aren't responsible for what happens to the saboteurs, remember?"
"Does that mean we can just kill an innocent man?" Tracker was still in shock and distress.
"This guy wasn't innocent," Ajax snarled. "He wrote code that disabled navigation systems on more than a hundred GAR vessels."
"But-but he was forced!" Tracker stammered.
"Doesn't matter," Ka'rta interjected. "He wrote it, he pays the consequences. Simple."
Ajax steered the conversation back to their mission. "Let's go find this director. Buck, who are we looking for?"
"A guy named Joq Antilles," Buckler replied.
Ka'rta laughed. "That's a generic name. Let's find him. What shelter is he assigned to?"
"Shelter A-13."
"Let's kill that bastard." Ajax was going to get his vengeance yet.
1200 hours, Shelter A-13, RHE factory, RothanaPhi Squad, in their colorful, tank-like Katarn armor, strolled into shelter A-13 like they owned the place. All except Tracker. He kept giving furtive glances over his shoulder, expecting something to jump out at him. Ajax held up his fist in a "stop" gesture. The commandos halted and dispersed into the crowd, letting their HUDs run facial recognition on everyone they could see.
"Got him over here," Ka'rta declared over their private helmet comm. "Director Joq Antilles. Converge slowly on my position."
"Copy that," replied Tracker. He began to meander over towards the commando in yellow-marked armor, when he was suddenly stopped by an employee.
"What's going on, trooper?" the employee, a female human, asked. She sounded quite annoyed with the lockdown.
Tracker didn't even notice the woman's ignorance to the fine line between RCs and troopers. He simply responded. "There was an explosive device that went off on the ground floor. We're currently searching for others."
"Oh," she said, stunned. "Thank you." She got out of Tracker's path.
"You're welcome," replied the camouflage-armored clone.
Ajax and Buckler were also wandering in the general direction of Ka'rta.
"He's moving toward the door," Ka'rta reported, putting one hand on his sidearm.
"Understood," replied Ajax. This part had to be done quietly, by all involved parties. Antilles was trying to leave without raising suspicions, and the squad was trying to nab him before he realized what was going on. That part must not have been going well. He wouldn't be trying to leave if he hadn't suspected they were onto him. Ka'rta just hoped he wouldn't pull a blaster.
Antilles got over to the door, and Ka'rta was right there to stop him. "Going somewhere?" asked Ka'rta, his hand still hovering over his pistol.
The director responded by dropping a holdout blaster from his sleeve into his hand and raising it to shoot.
Right about then, Ajax and Buckler came out of the crowd near the two, to help protect the civilians. Tracker wasn't far behind. The four commandos, in perfect unison, all but drew their sidearms. "Four in armor against one with a holdout isn't good odds. Drop the blaster and follow us," Ajax dictated.
Antilles simply responded by revealing a thermal detonator in his belt, and pressed a button on it. The detonator began flashing red. Tracker tackled the director just in time to buffer the explosion. As the detonator exploded, Tracker was pushed up briefly by the explosion. A second later, all the civilians in the bunker started panicking in various ways, running, shoving, and yelling. None of it helped anything.
Once the ringing in his ears had subsided, Ajax turned on the voice projectors in his helmet. "Please remain calm," he said. Ajax only knew one way to calm people in a combat situation. "Everybody take a few deep breaths," he instructed. "In… out… in… out."
The RHE employees breathed with Ajax. Everyone stood still, too focused on their breath to panic.
"Good," Ajax said once the room had calmed. "I'll need you all to remain here while we investigate this. Is that okay?"
The employees murmured a general consensus.
"Excellent. Buck?"
Buckler activated the door control. Ka'rta dragged the charred remains of Joq Antilles out of the room after Tracker had risen to his feet with some help from Buckler.
"You okay, ner vod?" Buckler asked his brother.
"I'm fine," replied Tracker. "But Antilles isn't. Do we need him to get info on who else here works for the Seps?"
"Nah. We'll just wait for someone to try the front door and nab 'em there."
"And if nobody shows up?"
"We release the lockdown."
"And if there's more?"
"Nobody gets on- or off-planet without us knowing."
"I still feel like this plan will go wrong."
"Always does."
Ajax was fuming. "Cut the chatter. Or keep this comm clear. Whichever you like better."
"Sorry, boss," Buckler replied.
The squad walked through the corridor to the front of the building without speaking. Ajax was in one of his moods. Nobody wanted to mess with him. Ajax suddenly held up a fist in a "stop" gesture. He could hear voices coming from the corridor ahead, where the door was. It sounded like they were bickering about how to break the door. He heard a plasma torch begin to cut through the metal. Time to move in. He made the "go ahead" signal, flicking his left hand forward with a smooth wrist motion. The four commandos practically jumped into the corridor, Deeces raised.
"Step away from the door, put the plasma torch down, and come with us," Ajax said in his most controlled tone of voice.
The man closest to them turned around, raising a blaster.
Buckler saw the blaster and reacted instinctively. Three shots, one to the head and two to the chest. The man dropped to the ground, firing once before his body hit the ground.
"He would have been useful, Buck," Ajax admonished, pulling out his non-lethal PEP attachment and putting it on his Deece. He fired at the other man, the one with the plasma torch. The man let out a loud grunt and dropped to the floor, stunned. Ka'rta moved in with a pair of binders, which he promptly slapped on the downed man's wrists.
"Should I wake him up?" the medic asked, pulling a syringe of stimulant out of the medpac on his belt.
"Sure," replied Ajax. "I want to get this over with ASAP. We've been investigating long enough."
Ka'rta raised the unconscious man's wrist and pushed the contents of his syringe into the man's bloodstream. A few seconds passed. The man opened his eyes and slowly rose to a sitting position.
He tried to move his hands. "What is this?" he asked. "GAR doesn't operate on domestic soil. You aren't authorized to do this to me. Release these binders and I won't file a complaint."
Buckler casually tossed a thermal detonator into the air and caught it. He did this several times to make his point. They wouldn't have any qualms about killing him. "See your friend over there?" Buckler asked, pointing to the corpse on the floor. "If you don't tell us about the rest of your Separatist comrades here at Rothana, you'll end up like him." Buckler took a knife from his belt and threw it into a wooden table inches from the man's ear. "Talk."
"Not without a lawyer," the man sneered. "If you are a legal operation, you'll let me have a lawyer."
Ajax made a signal in Ka'rta's direction. The medic took one of the man's arms out of the binders and broke it. There was a very loud "crack" as his bones cracked cleanly in half.
The man screamed in pain. "Alright, alright! I'll talk!"
Ka'rta slapped the binders back on the man's wrist. "Who else is involved in the sabotage?"
"There's just four of us," the Separatist whimpered.
"Then we already got the rest," Ajax observed. "He's of no more use." Ajax made a slashing motion across his throat.
Ka'rta pulled his sidearm and placed the barrel next to the man's temple.
"Wait," he pleaded. "No. You can't-"
His pleas were silenced by a single pull of Ka'rta's trigger. He fell on his side, away from his killer.
"Well," Ka'rta began, a note of relief in his voice. "That's done. Do we want to call a shuttle for exfil?"
"Why not?" asked Ajax. He put two fingers to the side of his helmet. "Advisor, we have taken care of the Separatist presence on Rothana. Requesting exfil."
"Understood, oh-eight," the advisor replied. "Requisitioning a shuttle for you now."
Buckler put a hand on Tracker's shoulder. "You alright, ner vod? That was a brave thing you did, jumping on that grenade."
"Just my training," the new sniper replied. "Nothing special."
"Oh no," Buckler persuaded. "I know you're wearing tough armor, but it takes guts like nothing else to jump onto a grenade like that. That was really something."
Tracker smiled underneath his helmet. "Yeah. I guess it did take some blind courage, didn't it?" It looked like he would get on well in Phi Squad. If Buckler could accept him, they all could. "Do we need to release the lockdown?" Tracker asked, suddenly remembering where they were.
"Y'know, that might not be such a bad idea," Ajax admitted. He stretched out his arm to pat Tracker's camouflage-painted shoulder plate. "You did a good thing back there in that safe room. People would have gotten hurt if you hadn't tackled that guy."
"I'd like to think it was the armor," Tracker conceded. "But thanks anyway."
"Phi lead to Rothana Heavy Engineering security. Threat neutralized," Ajax stated. "I repeat, threat neutralized."
"Thank you, Phi Squad," the RHE chief of security responded. "Releasing lockdown." The comm made a clicking sound as they disconnected from the RHE comlink.
The advisor's voice came floating back into their ears. "Your shuttle should be arriving shortly."
"Thank you, advisor," Ajax replied. He led Phi Squad out the door to the main landing pad. As they approached, a Nu-class shuttle was folding its wings up to land.
"I'd call that a job well done," Buckler declared as they boarded the shuttle to depart Rothana.
"You got that right, thirty-three," Ka'rta agreed. The door flipped up behind the four commandos and they left the planet for good.