It was never a good thing when the Kaminoans entered the barracks.
The long-necks moved gracefully through the barracks, each step meticulously precise. Their eyes remained devoid of emotion as they stared at each cadet, searching for signs of imperfection.
Imperfection.
One of the first lessons every cadet learned on Kamino was to strive for the exact opposite of this ideal.
At the sergeant's command, each cadet lined up next to each other. Rascal stood along the end, his stance just rigid enough to avoid the Kaminoans' gazes. The boy took a deep breath through his nose. He figured it would be all right. Normally, the Kaminoans would walk down the line, jotting down their usual findings on a datapad. A hair out of place here, a minor training infraction there.
Rascal tensed his muscles as the lead scientist's grey eyes landed on him. The boy figured he would have nothing to worry about. True, he had gotten into a scuffle with some other cadets a few days ago, but the sergeant had already reprimanded him, and the boy felt he had done a fine job hiding the bruises which were still healing.
"You there," the lead Kaminoan instructed, voice cold and emotionless as he pointed his finger at Rascal. "Step forward."
Rascal's heart began to pound faster at that. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. He figured he would be let off with a warning from the Kaminoans like last time. He glanced towards his fellow batchmates, breath catching in his throat as he noticed the same, stoic stare on his brothers' faces. The implications of their silence were clear to Rascal: there was nothing they could do to help him this time.
"I said, step forward," the lead Kaminoan repeated, slightly raising his voice. "I will not say it again."
The cadet in question reluctantly stepped out of line. The scientist ushered the boy to stand between the other two Kaminoans. Rascal forced his legs to obey despite their trembling. As the lead Kaminoan and Rascal's sergeant stepped off to the side, Rascal felt a small hand tug on his tunic. His own bright eyes met the worried ones of his best friend.
CT-5385 was not the only friend Rascal had in his squad, but he was the one who cared the most. Not a day went by where the two cadets didn't look out for each other. Rascal had lost count of the number of times when he had gotten into fights defending his batchmate, but the scenario was the same. A group of cadets would pick on 5385, and Rascal would swoop in and save the day. Every time, Rascal would leave the scuffle with a few scrapes and bruises, and every time, 5385 would be there to patch up his brother's injuries.
"Don't worry," Rascal whispered, offering a reassuring smile to his friend. "We'll see each other again. I know it."
The two cadets leaned into each other, pressing their foreheads together. As the two said a silent farewell to each other, Rascal couldn't stop a small sense of relief from washing over him. Cruel as the situation was, the boy was silently thankful he had been chosen instead of 5385. Rascal, after all, had always been the rowdier of the two. His bravery and antics had helped 5385 shed some of his timid nature…enough so that the Kaminoans overlooked one cadet in favor of another.
Rascal found himself abruptly pulled away from his best friend. The look in the Kaminoan's eyes said enough. It was time to go. The boy only had time for one final glance towards his brothers before he was shoved out of the barracks, the door shutting behind him.
The long walk gave Rascal's mind plenty of time to think. He couldn't help but wonder what he had done wrong this time. Perhaps the Kaminoans had heard him talking about them behind their backs. Perhaps he had messed up once again in the training sims, and hadn't even realized it. Perhaps he had gotten into one fight too many. Perhaps the Kaminoan who singled the boy out had been having a bad day. Whatever had happened, the long-necks had decided to punish him for it.
His mind still continued to explore the possibilities once the group reached their destination. The head scientist strolled over to the keypad, fingers lazily typing in the code to unlock the lab door. All Rascal could see beyond the door was darkness, and he shivered in response.
A hand roughly shoved him in the direction of the dark lab. "Let's go, cadet," the dull voice behind him commanded. The boy had no idea what lay behind the curtain of shadow, but he had no intention of finding out. Rascal audibly gulped, taking a step backward and shaking his head in defiance.
That had been a mistake.
The Kaminoans grabbed ahold of the cadet without warning, dragging him into the dark chamber and ignoring his panicked cries. A series of dim lights flickered to life, chasing away some of the darkness and allowing Rascal to take a closer look at his surroundings. A metal exam table stood in the center of the room. A machine stood at the end of the table. Wires poked out from the machine, connecting to a computer beside the table.
Rascal flailed about, fighting back with everything he had as the scientists struggled to lift the cadet onto the table. One scientist recoiled as the cadet's elbow abruptly collided with his captor's face. "Hold him down," the Kaminoan commanded as he strolled over to a tray beside the operating table. Rascal continued to resist, resorting to using his feet as weapons when his hands were pinned down. A sting in the side of his neck caused the cadet to jolt. He glanced over in time to see the lead scientist set an empty syringe down on the tray.
By the time Rascal realized what the scientist had injected him with, it was too late. The cadet's eyes fluttered, his strength draining away as the sedative took effect. He still continued to buck and squirm, but the numbness spreading through his body made his efforts to escape difficult. The Kaminoans took the chance to move the boy's limbs through the restraints. One by one, the leather straps tightened, pinning Rascal to the table. Silent tears trailed down the cadet's face as the harsh reality set in. There would be no escape now.
With the boy secured, the lead scientist reached over to a contraption at the head of the machine. The device looked like one of the small helmets that Rascal had worn for training. Wires protruded from the top of the helmet, where they connected to the machine and the computer beside it.
The young clone whimpered as the lead scientist fitted the helmet onto Rascal's head.
"Please," Rascal cried out as the Kaminoans secured the device. "Please don't do this. I'll be good, I swear I'll be good! Please—"
The cadet found his protests cut off as one of the long-necks stuffed a gag in his mouth.
"None of that, cadet," the lead scientist responded, strolling over to the computer. "This will all be over before you know it."
Rascal let out a hopeless whimper, sobs wracking his small frame as the machine buzzed to life. He slumped against his restraints, and he prayed that whatever was going to happen to him now, it wouldn't hurt too much.
The Kaminoan flipped the switch.
The muffled scream that escaped Rascal's mouth barely sounded like his own.
CT-5385 lay in his sleeping pod. No matter how hard he tried, the anxious thoughts never seemed to go away. In the few days that had passed since the long-necks had taken Rascal away, 5385 had tried his best to step up. The cadet's knuckles ached from the hand-to-hand combat training exercises that had taken place the day before. 5385 had been trying to pay more attention during these lessons now that Rascal was no longer around to protect him.
Muffled voices from below kept the cadet from drifting off to sleep completely. The boy lazily slapped his hand over the pod controls, allowing the pod to slide out of the wall. 5385 sat up, rubbing the little sleep he had out of his eyes and glancing around for the source of the voices.
The sight before him caused the cadet's heart to soar with hope.
5385 rubbed his eyes, expecting the mirage to fade away. Yet it didn't. His best friend stood next to a Kaminoan, feet evenly spread apart and hands clasped behind his back. If 5385 hadn't been concentrating, he would have missed the shivers that wracked Rascal's body every few seconds.
"This cadet will be reassigned to your squad, Sergeant," the Kaminoan spoke, narrowing his eyes as the training sergeant approached. "See to it that we do not need to intervene in your group's instruction again."
5385 struggled to understand the meaning behind the scientist's words. The same could not be said for the sergeant, whose hands balled into fists as the Kaminoan exited the barracks. 5385 hopped down from his bunk, a small smile gracing his lips. Rascal had come back, just like he had promised.
The more he looked at Rascal, however, the more seemed off to 5385. Rascal had maintained the same rigid stance since entering the barracks. His once shaggy hair had been cut to regulation length. The sight of the new haircut had 5385 reminiscing on the many times the two cadets would playfully ruffle each other's hair.
Rascal's eyes also contributed to the weird feeling in 5385's stomach. Rascal stared straight ahead, almost as if looking through his friend without seeing him. A stoic look remained etched on Rascal's face. There was no sign of the light Rascal once shared, of the kindness or patience he had shown 5385 on the nights where the nightmares became too much to bear.
5385 still refused to let his hopeful smile wane as he approached his friend. "Rascal, I—"
"My designation is not 'Rascal.'"
The abrupt, no-nonsense response startled 5385, making the boy briefly forget his next choice of words. 5385 didn't like the tone one bit. If anything, it only made him miss the moments when Rascal would talk on and on about his love for the rain, or about his desire to become an ARC Trooper once he grew up.
"My number is 5385," the other cadet insisted, grabbing ahold of Rascal's shoulders. "You remember me, right? Your name is Rascal. You're my friend."
The stranger 5385 once called a friend showed no signs of recognition, no signs of the light Rascal once had. No signs that Rascal had even existed.
"I'm sorry, but I don't know this 'Rascal' you speak of," the cadet humbly answered. "My designation is CT-6922. Pleased to meet you, CT-5385."
It's been a busy, busy year for me so far, hence why I haven't posted many new stories. Lot of it has been spent working on Hell-Bent, along with some original stories of mine. Hopefully, this fic will make up for that.
With that, I hope you enjoy the story. Thanks so much for your support, and I hope you all have a great day! :)