Sorry for the long delay. I've been studdying for finals. Hopefully this chapter will make up for the length of the previous one.

I do not own Star Wars.

If there was one thing that a clone knew better than his own face, it was droids. He had been trained intensively on Kamino for ten years to fight them, and then in the war he'd been pitted against nearly uncountable varieties of droids in battle after battle. A clone knew nearly every droid's special particulars. He knew their arc of fire, their sensor range, how quickly their electronic brains processed information. He knew how much detonite it took to reduce them to shrapnel, whether or not they were susceptible to an EPM. A clone knew the strength of a droid's joints and where its armored casing didn't quite cover the underlying circuitry.

A clone knew how to take a droid down from the inside out.

During the war, Shades had always made a point of keeping up to date on all the latest changes and developments of various droid models, particularly those used by the Separatists. It wasn't that he enjoyed reading spreadsheets of numbers and statistics—he usually had to struggle to stay awake—but you never knew when something small, like the fact that a commando droid's photoreceptors had a tendency to come loose in their sockets, might come in handy. Shades never took for granted that he knew all that was worth knowing when it came to an enemy. The more you knew, the more you had to exploit.

As it just so happened, about two years into the war, Shades had come across a rather dry report over the grades of metal that a certain company was using to manufacture its products, among them droids. The report had mentioned how the company had switched to using a lower grade metal when manufacturing joint pins and turbo thruster connectors to cut back on production costs. Shades would have skimmed over the report and dismissed it as uninteresting and relatively useless if he hadn't noticed one crucial detail. In the list of product numbers that were affected by this decision was KA1337H4-ZED; the product number for magna guards. And as fortune—or the Force—would have it, Renegade Company had faced those droids not two months later on Commenor.

Magna guards were brutally efficient fighters with a frightening ability to improvise at the drop of a helmet. Things hadn't been going well, and Thorn had ordered everyone to fall back. Lieutenant Shmolt, who'd been taking cover in a den-like warren under a large fallen tree, had leapt to obey the order (as usual). However, one magna guard had been a lot closer to the lieutenant's hiding place than either he or the droid had guessed. Upon erupting out of the hole, Shmolt's helmet had connected with the droid's knee joint with substantial force. The stunned lieutenant had collapsed to the ground at the same time that the magna guard's knee had given out and snapped. To this day, Shades was certain that that droid had been more shocked than anyone else there.

If it worked once, Shades thought ruefully, it should work again.

What he had in his head couldn't really be called a plan; more like the beginnings of one, but it was all he had. He and Fib didn't have the luxury of time to come up with an amazingly complex and foolproof strategy. Their time was running out. We just need to get out of these cells. Once we're free, we can find a way out of this hellhole and off planet.

Realistically, Shades knew that this plan had very little chance of actually working. He and Fib were both in poor physical condition. They didn't have any armor or weapons. They didn't even really know how to get out of the prison once they were free of their cells. But he couldn't let himself think of that. He had to concentrate on the present, not on future possibilities, or he'd break under the sheer weight of what-ifs.

Just like training. One foot in front of the other. One step at a time. Concentrate on breathing and rejoice in every heartbeat, because each one means the possibility of one more.

Shades glanced down through the grated floor into the cell below. Fib was huddled in the same corner that he'd been in for the last six hours. The only thing that had changed was that his eyes were shut. Maybe he was finally getting some sleep. Shades toyed with the idea of telling his brother about his plan, but finally decided against it. In the condition that he was in right now, there wasn't much that the medic would be able to do, especially with that Force suppressing collar on. No, Shades wouldn't tell him, not yet. Fib needed all the rest he could get. Shades would let him sleep and take care of getting them out on his own. He needed to be the strong one now, until his brother was well again.

Crawling over to the cell's entrance, Shades scanned the levels, looking for the magna guards. They were still five levels up, making their way slowly along as they stopped by each cell and delivered the day's meal. I've still got some time.

Once they lowered the force field, he'd have to move quickly. Shades was certain that he could take the first one out, but the second one would be expecting an attack, and ready for it. I'll just have to be quicker. If I can get it inside the cell, I can use the smaller space to my advantage.

Letting out a painful breath, Shades shuffled sideways and settled himself in the corner closest to the force field, out of the droids' immediate line of sight. His head fell back lightly against the wall, and, eyes closed, he ran through the plan carefully, movement by movement, until his muscles twitched with the memory of actions they had yet to perform. It was a ritual that Shades had developed during his earliest training on Kamino. By envisioning precisely what he would do in any given situation, the clone sergeant felt prepared for whatever might happen. It was his version of Jedi meditation.

Opening his eyes, Shades gazed up at the grated ceiling. His breathing and heart rate had both calmed. His body thrummed in readiness for action, but his mind was at ease and his muscles relaxed. He'd "found his center" as Edi would say. In the quiet and peace of that moment, Shades felt a certainty that he hadn't felt for a very long time, and it left him elated. They were going to make it out. He knew it.

The clomp of metal on metal announced the magna guards' arrival outside the clone's cell. Shades forced himself to relax and closed his eyes to bare slits so, to the droids at least, he appeared to be sleeping. The soft thrum of the force field died as the droids deactivated it. There was a pause.

Come on, clanker. Come inside like a good little droid so I can turn you into scrap metal.

Through the narrow slits of his partially closed eyes, Shades saw the lower legs of one of the magna guards as the droid stepped into the prison cell to locate the prisoner that it hadn't immediately spotted.

Shades moved in a violent surge. His muscles shrieked in outrage, everything flared with a white hot pain that threatened to send him tumbling into unconsciousness, then it was all forgotten in the frantic rush to get out alive. Shades's reflexes were superb, honed from years of training and combat. Even in his weakened state his leg moved with near blinding speed. The hard ball of his foot made contact with the droid's knee, and the weak joint snapped. Before the magna guard had time to regain its balance, or even utter a shrill squeal of rage, the clone had ahold of its electrostaff and drove the weapon through its left photoreceptor and into its electronic brain.

Something hard slammed into Shades's back, sending him tumbling to the floor. He rolled before his head had time to clear, acting on blind instinct. Keep moving, was the only thought that ran through his head. Have to keep moving. If I stop, I'm dead. Heat seared past his right cheek, and then he was on his back, facing the other magna guard that loomed above him. The droid's electrostaff was planted in the floor next to his face. Only his quick roll had kept the electric weapon from spearing him through the head. But there was nowhere to roll now. Shades was trapped on his back, his enemy above him, preparing for the final blow. If it was possible, the magna guard almost looked smug as it raised its staff and drove it into the helpless clone's head.

Or attempted to. When the guard had struck at Shades the first time, the electrostaff had hit the metal grating of the floor with considerable force. Now the weapon was stuck in the slats. With all the desperate strength he could muster, Shades drove his own electrostaff into the droid's chest plate. The armor was too strong for the staff to pierce it—it was only dented—but the force of the blow was enough to send the droid staggering back a step. That was all that Shades needed. Never letting go of his electrostaff, the sergeant scrambled to his feet and repeated the same action that had been so effective with the first droid. The magna guard emitted a dying warble before collapsing at his feet.

Now the only sounds in the room were Shades's ragged, wheezing pants. Even the prisoners in the adjoining cells had fallen silent. Shades gulped down a few lung fulls of air, wincing as the cool gas rushed through his parched throat. He shifted his shoulders, absently pulling his loose, grubby sleep shirt back into position, then turned and hurried out of his cell and towards the nearest lift, which took him down a level. Once there, it was only a matter of seconds before he was in front of Fib's cell and fumbling at the control pad to lower the force field. The orange barrier thinned and vanished. Shades stepped inside, then staggered, struggling to hold up the medic that had just lurched into him.

"Insane," Fib whispered, his lips centimeters from his brother's ear. The other clone's voice was hoarse and shaky, weak from days of disuse, but Shades's couldn't think of a more beautiful sound in that moment. The warm weight of Fib's physical presence made him almost lightheaded with happiness. The sheer relief at finally having physical contact with his brother almost undid Shades. The few brief touches of fingertips through the grate hadn't been nearly enough. Only the knowledge that they might be discovered at any minute kept his mind focused.

"Wait here," he said, reluctantly settling the other man to the floor. "I'll be right back."

Shades hurried back to his own cell and retrieved the electrostaff that he'd killed the droids with. Returning to the other cell, he crouched down next to Fib and eyed the collar he was wearing. The medic gave him a suspicious look.

"What are you thinking?"

"We have to get that collar off you," Shades muttered. "If I stick the tip of the electrostaff in the access port, the charge should be enough to override the collar and unlock."

Fib rolled his eyes. "Oh, sure. Or it could just short circuit my brain. No biggy." He was cut off abruptly by a hoarse, wrenching cough that soon had him doubled over, arms wrapped tightly around his stomach.

Concerned, Shades pressed his hands to his brother's shoulder to provide support. He wished there was something he could do, but he wasn't a healer, or even a medic. He could only wait for the coughing fit to pass.

After a few minutes, Fib pushed himself upright. He took a few shallow breaths, coughed once, then sighed. "I'm okay. Just a cough. We might as well go on with your idiot plan, because I haven't got a better idea."

Shades gave him a forced smile. "Who are you calling an idiot?" he asked, voice deliberately light to hide how badly he was shaking inside. Fib was right, this was an insane plan, but what else could they do? If they were going to have any chance of getting out, Fib needed to be able to use the Force. It was the only advantage they were going to get.

Shades braced his arm on his knee and raised the point of the electrostaff, aiming carefully at the small hole on the front of Fib's collar. The medic craned his head back to give him an unobstructed view. Shades's stomach gave an unpleasant lurch, and then, as carefully as possible, he placed the point of the staff into the access port. There was an electrical crackling, then a snap-hiss that sounded almost like a lightsaber. Shades yanked the staff back just as Fib emitted a sharp yelp and the collar fell to the ground, smoking. The medic rubbed at his neck, eyeing the collar warily, then glanced up at Shades.

"It actually worked." He sounded amazed.

The clone sergeant let out a shaky laugh. He actually couldn't believe it himself. It had worked.

At that moment, everything came crashing back down on Shades. With the ebb of adrenaline from his system every torn muscle, bruised bone, and burned patch of skin woke up. He couldn't suppress a moan as pain flooded his system and caused him to sway where he was crouched. Through pain-blurred vision, he saw Fib's face move close, his concern evident. Then warm hands were pressed to his cheeks and then pain that had overwhelmed him eased before finally vanishing. Shades sighed in relief.

The hands were abruptly gone from his face. Fib swayed, then flopped sideways and sagged against the wall. He was breathing heavily and there was sweat on his face and chest. "Sorry," he mumbled. "Couldn't heal it…just…make it feel better."

Shades stared at the guy in disbelieving anger. "You moron," he hissed. "Don't go draining yourself for me. I'm fine; it's only a little pain. Come on, we've got to go." Before Fib could protest, Shades slid an arm around his brother's lower back and hauled them both into a standing position. Once there, he pulled Fib's left arm over his shoulders and started out the door. "Moronic, Force-using idiot," he muttered under his breath.

The moronic, Force-using idiot in question chuckled in response.

They made painfully slow progress down the walkway. The prison compound was a giant cube, with level upon level of cells stretching in both directions. The walkways ran the perimeter of the huge room, and Fib's and Shades's goal—the main lift—was on the far side. At any minute Shades expected to be shot by a sniper droid hiding somewhere on one of the other levels. But they made it safely to the lift and inside.

They rode down six levels—Shades remembered at least that much from when he'd been brought here—and stepped out into a bare, dimly lit hall that stretched off in both directions. After looking both ways, Shades had to admit defeat. He didn't remember which way to go. He glanced over at Fib. "A Force hint would be useful right about now," he prompted.

The clone medic let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes. After an uncomfortably long time they opened again. "Right."

They went right.

The next half hour passed like this. The two clones made their slow way down hall after hall, guided by the Force. Shades was amazed at how deserted the place was. He'd expected to run into at least one droid by now, but they hadn't. Not that he was complaining, mind you.

Eventually, though, they needed to stop and rest. Fib was sagging against Shades, barely able to stay upright. The sergeant wasn't doing so well himself. His vision was blurred with weariness, and the muscles in his legs and back ached from supporting his brother's weight.

Finally giving in to exhaustion, Shades lowered Fib to the ground and dropped down next to him, leaning on the wall for support. He fully intended to stay awake and keep watch while the other slept, but his body had other ideas. Darkness swallowed him.

Shades awoke to Fib's hoarse shout and the sound of an electronic voice saying, "You're under arrest."

The clone sergeant reacted before his eyes had even opened. His bare foot shot out, connecting with the blaster in the battle droid's hands. The gun clattered to the ground not far from Shades, who lunged for it. Still on the ground, he fired pointblank at the droid directly above him before turning his attention to the other six. Battle droids were stupid compared to magna guards. The others were still telling him to drop his weapon as he opened fire on them. Shades snatched a blaster from one of the downed droids and tossed it in Fib's direction. The medic, standing braced against the wall, caught the weapon and let loose with deadly accuracy. Shades was vaguely aware of what sounded like running feet in the background, but he was too focused on the droids in front of him to pay it any mind.

A crippling blow to the back of his head made him wish he'd done otherwise. Stunned, he tried to turn and face his attacker, but then another blow to his collarbone sent him to his knees. Shades looked up to see a magna guard standing over him. The droid almost seemed to leer at him before it smashed its electrostaff against his side.

Shades screamed as electricity coursed through him. His body shook with it, jittering and convulsing. A blood vessel popped in his left eye, smearing his vision. His teeth bit through his tongue and blood filled his mouth. His vision turned red, then white as the pain increased beyond anything he'd ever felt. It was like the marrow in his bones had turned to acid and was eating him from the inside out. Then as suddenly as it had started, everything stopped.

Shades's vision slowly returned. He was lying on his side, his face resting in a puddle of blood that had dribbled out of his own mouth. Several meters down the hall, he saw the smoking remains of the magna guard. The droid looked like it had stepped on a landmine. For the life of him Shades couldn't figure out what had happened.

Then he tried to breathe, and his chest caught fire. He gasped, then choked on the blood still in his mouth. His vision was spinning again, and he knew he was about to faint.

Hands, hot against his burned skin, pressed to his side. The fiery pain in his chest eased, then vanished. Shades felt a sensation like hundreds of tiny insects crawling across his skin where the hands pressed against him, followed by the same sensation on his tongue. The vision in his left eye cleared. Then the pain disappeared entirely, save for a few muscle aches.

He took a slow, deep breath, then opened his eyes and sat up just in time to see Fib collapse. Shades cursed and scrambled to the other man's side. The clone medic was shaking badly, his eyes half lidded and his breathing shallow. Shades pulled Fib into his lap. Well, everything made sense now. The idiot had somehow blown up the magna guard with the Force before nearly draining himself to heal Shades.

"Idiot," the sergeant whispered into his brother's hair, even as the other slowly stopped shaking. After a moment, Fib's eyes opened.

"You okay?" he mumbled.

Shades was tempted to snap back a reply, but he really didn't feel like fighting at the moment. They needed to get out as quickly as possible so he settled for answering, "Fine." He once again pulled them both to their feet and, supporting Fib, made his way down the hall.

Soon enough Fib was able to support some of his weight. Shades wasn't sure if he was drawing on the Force for strength, or if his stubborn streak refused to allow himself to be carried. Either way, they made quicker progress down the hall to a lift at the end.

"Up," Fib panted. "We need to go up."

Up. Up to the surface. Up out of this wretched prison and into the open air, where beings walked freely, without restraint. Shades's spirits lifted as the lift rose. We're almost there. We're almost out. We're almost free.

A loud clank announced their arrival. Shades braced as the doors opened, fully expecting a contingent of droids to be on the other side. But the room was empty, bear even of furniture. There was only a solid looking door directly opposite the lift. Fib pointed a shaking finger. "There."

Excitement surged through Shades as the two clones hurried across the room to the door. There were no electronic locks, only an old fashioned bolt. With some effort Shades shoved it back. Then, with Fib's help, he slowly pushed the door open.

The sight that greeted them was one of a large expanse of metal planes under a smog-filled sky. The prison compound was obviously located in one of Coruscant's abandoned industrial districts. No need to worry about random citizens stumbling upon the prison out here.

"Okay," said Shades. "First objective: get out of sight. Second objective: get transport and get off planet."

"And where exactly are you planning to go?"

Shades glanced over at his brother. "Anywhere that's not here. I really don't care, not as long as you come." There'd been a time when Shades would have turned red with embarrassment at such a statement, but that time was long past. Keeping up pretenses didn't seem nearly as important as it once had.

Silence greeted his frank statement. Checking on his friend, Shades saw that the guy seemed to be fighting back tears.

"Corny," Fib muttered. His voice sounded watery. "Yeah, okay, fine. I, uh…that works for me, too. I guess."

The clone sergeant snorted in amusement and tugged his brother quickly down the walkway. They needed to get under cover and work out what to do next. But even with everything they still had to do, all the obstacles they had yet to face, Shades knew they'd make it. He couldn't explain how he knew, but he did. He'd never been more certain of anything.

Fib dropped without warning, crumpling to the ground in a heap.

"Fierfek," Shades muttered, dropping with him. "Fib, you okay?"

The stun bolt hit him in the lower chest, causing his abdominal muscles to spasm, then everything went black.

As always, please review and let me know what you think.

mad'ika