Star Wars: The Bad Batch

In Secret

by Gabrielle Lawson

Chapter Five

CT-9902 was asleep when Hemlock came to check on its progress. Given its condition, Hemlock had already accepted that CT-9902 would need sleep quite often. But it had made good progress when it was awake. He pulled up a log of all the activity CT-9902 had been involved in since it was plugged in. It'd covered more than Hemlock would have thought. He'd been going over the Kaminoan records himself since the data was delivered after the destruction of Tipoca City. CT-9902 had covered nearly half as many records as Hemlock had managed in less than three rotations. It was impressive. And further threats to Omega hadn't been necessary.

CT-9904 however, was now rather extraneous. Hemlock was sure CT-9902 would not want its 'brother' harmed any more than the girl. Which meant that Hemlock could not use it for his experiments. If CT-9904 was harmed in an experiment, or even killed, CT-9902 might take that as a sign that Omega would be harmed as well, so it wasn't worth complying. Omega at least was kept busy helping Emerie. CT-9904 was languishing in its cell all day.

Hemlock checked CT-9902's vitals. They were in line with his present condition. He injected more paralytic as the previous dose would have started to wear off. Then he went to the lower lab to check on the status of the Zillo Beast. It was in suspended animation and the tank was secure. He didn't want another incident like that on the Osanna research vessel. Several samples of its DNA had already been taken and were now being sequenced. It was a side project with several potential applications. One of them did have relevance to his main project, while the rest was of interest to the security services.

Nala Se would need access here as well, though he didn't think he needed CT-9902 in this regard. He had Kaminoan equipment.

Crosshair sat in his cell with nothing to look forward to but a few rations twice a day. He watched as another prisoner was taken away. For months, he'd told himself that he was better off alone, and he had at least managed to convince himself that he was all right alone. His brothers had left him behind, having chosen what he thought was the wrong side. Good soldiers followed orders. They were soldiers. It shouldn't have mattered that it wasn't to the Republic anymore.

But it did. Mayday had done his duty. He'd fought in the war and obeyed orders all the way to Barton-IV. He'd fought the locals and lost all his men, guarding crates of gear meant for human conscripts. He'd died, an expendable piece of equipment, not worth the expenditure of Imperial resources. He was deemed worth less than the crates of gear they'd failed to recover. Mayday was a good soldier. He deserved better.

His death, or rather the callousness of the lieutenant, had given Crosshair a new perspective. One his brothers had managed all the way back at Kaller. Yes, the inhibitor chip had compelled him, but he'd stayed loyal even after its removal during his recovery from Bracca. He remembered the governor of Desix. Commander Cody had gotten through to her. She'd released Grotton and lowered her weapon. And then Grotton had showed his callousness. He ordered her execution, and Cody gained that perspective while he obeyed the order. Crosshair had murdered the woman for trying to keep her people safe.

He remembered going to Onderan with his brothers, to put down a group of insurrectionists. There were a few Republic fighters and families of refugees, with old people and children. He'd derided Hunter for not following orders. And when he was ordered back with the elite squad he'd trained, he'd executed the one of his new squad who had the right perspective. And the others followed orders, killing every one of the refugees.

Why had he come to this so late? He'd trusted that Admiral Rampart had valued him and his skills. But the Empire, led by Rampart, had left him stranded on that platform for thirty-two rotations. He was more dead than alive when they finally deigned to retrieve him. Rampart, Grotton, and that sniveling lieutenant. Each one elevated to positions of power for being selfish, power-hungry, sycophants. At least Rampart was even now sitting in a cell much like Crosshair's own.

And now Hemlock. The Empire was led by evil men. It subjugated worlds under the auspices of peace, whether or not those worlds agreed to the plan. Crosshair had been played. First by the inhibitor chip, then by his other programming. Obey orders without question. His brothers had questioned. Cody had questioned. Mayday questioned.

He had abandoned them. Each time they had met after Order 66, they'd offered him a chance to join them. He'd been hurt that they hadn't chosen to join him. In his wrong perspective. Cody was right though. Questioning set them apart from the droids. And now they had to live with their choices.

He had the right perspective now. Omega had forgiven him even before he told her about Mayday. Tech, broken and helpless and connected to a computer, had forgiven him. He'd said the others would welcome him back. It was ironic. Wrecker was boisterous, Hunter confidant and strategic. He'd understood them. Before Order 66, he'd respected them, respected Hunter's leadership. Tech was too cerebral, almost robotic at times. He could fight as well as the others, but he was the technology specialist. It was very useful, but it wasn't a fighting skill really. Not like his, Wrecker's and Hunter's special abilities. He was perhaps smart enough to lead them, but he seemed content to stay under Hunter, to follow his choices. He was a supporting member of the squad. But now, he was the only thing that Crosshair could look to for any hope in this hellhole of a lab he'd ended up in. Tech would have to be a leader, to orchestrate everything, if there was to be any hope.

Hunter stood right behind him while Wrecker paced the deck. Echo tried to ignore the distraction and focus on parsing through the communications logs he'd copied. There were requisition requests, trooper placement orders, registration of chain codes, detention orders, and thousands of other communications going back and forth from the data center. Echo knew the date the Empire had appeared on Ord Mantel. Cid had perhaps made a miscalculation in her betrayal. As she'd said before, the Empire coming to Ord Mantel would mean she was out of business. Hemlock had come for Omega, but the Empire had come to occupy the planet. The problem was that the data center was built after that date. The only way it would have any record of Cid's communication to the Empire would have to mean the ships in orbit had transferred data to the center.

So he started sorting by date. Tech would probably have built an algorithm to sift the data and find exactly what they were looking for. But Echo was a reg, a soldier. He was cybernetic now but his training had been in as a soldier specifically. He didn't know how to build a program or crack any encryption. The Techno Union had used his brain in more passive manner. He was not conscious of what he was providing their armies. He could now access anything an astromech droid could, but he couldn't build an algorithm. He had to sort the way a soldier would sort, and examine each communication to see if it fit the bill.

The data center had its first transmission five rotations after they'd left Ord Mantel. But there were communications before that. So some records had been transferred. He searched back to the date the Empire had appeared in the sky. Cid had to called before that. The Imperial ships would have needed time to reach Ord Mantel. It would've taken about two rotations at hyperspace from Coruscant. But these ships could have been stationed closer. But he also knew that they'd been at Cid's for nearly two rotations as Omega was healing after Eriadu. It had to be between those two dates.

And that's where he found it. Cid had made the call almost as soon as they'd arrived. "Found it," Echo said. Wrecker stopped pacing and sat down.

"Let's hear it," Hunter said.

Echo started the recording. "State your business." A male voice.

"I have information," Cid's stated, using a much lower pitch in her voice than Echo had heard before, "on the location of Clone Force 99. What's that worth to you?"

"A moment, please." The male voice again. They waited three full minutes before he spoke again. "Do they have a female child with them?"

"Yes, and they're injured and down a man," Cid told him. "Can't put up as much of a fight."

"Please transmit the location,"

"You don't listen very well, do you? What's it worth?"

"Please wait." This time, it five minutes. "Five thousand credits."

"And clean transport off this planet."

"Do you have a chain code?"

"Do I sound like I have—or want—a chain code?"

"Checking." Two minutes. "Deal."

"Ord Mantel. Cid's Parlor. Better hurry. Gotta feeling they'll take off once the kid wakes up. Do you want to know which clones are here?"

"Not important," the functionary stated. "Primary target is the girl. The Empire thanks you for your service."

The transmission ended. Echo figured he knew why there were minutes while the functionary checked. They were checking if anyone in particular wanted the squad. They found Hemlock. Then they had to check with Hemlock on the details. And he also knew why they didn't need to know which clones were there. They knew Tech was not. So it had to be Hunter and Wrecker. Echo hadn't left the ship. So Cid didn't know he was there.

Wrecker punched a crate. "Tech saved her from Millegi. She didn't care."

Echo kept looking. He wanted the transmission between Hemlock and the functionary. But it wasn't at the data center. Why had Cid's communication been transferred there but not that one?

"He was checking with someone," Hunter stated. "They found Hemlock."

"I can't find that transmission. It could have been routed to a clerk on Coruscant, who then contacted Hemlock from Coruscant."

Hunter sighed. "Get that meta data to Rex. Maybe his people can find it, knowing the exact date and time of the transmission."

Echo sent it using his encrypted channel. Then he sat back. They were still no closer to finding Cid or Hemlock. And now they had nowhere else to look.

Even splitting his time between paragraphs of Kaminoan cloning data and exploring the base through the computer networks, he was now halfway through the data. He'd noted that someone had checked the logs each rotation. He knew the time and the date. He slept several times throughout each rotation, but he was now not unmoored in time as he had been before. He knew when they had gone to Eriadu. So he knew it was now twelve rotations since his fall.

He had a good grasp of the size of the base, the number of troopers and officers on the base, as well as how many prisoners had been brought to the base. He had more than that. He had the complete list of prisoners transferred here and their present status. Two hundred fifty-three had been transferred. Forty were held in cells like Crosshair. Four were assigned to the lab, and twelve were in the infirmary. That left nearly two hundred marked as deceased. Three quarters of the base's contingent of guards were clones. The percentage had decreased from nearly one hundred when the base was first established. He could also see the transfer orders for forty more TK soldiers. During that time, he found no transfers of clone troopers out, and yet the base's total contingent of five hundred troopers rarely changed. He noted two clone troopers had been transferred to cells after questioning Hemlock's methods. He couldn't count on the base's clone troopers as allies.

He checked the cameras in the lab. Hemlock had been in with Nala Se for hours. He'd seen another clone vivisected. It was very disturbing but he'd been unable to have any physical reaction to it. He checked the other cameras until he found Hemlock. He was in his office, communicating to Tarkin. So Saw Gererra's bombs had not met their objective. He was justifying his requisition requests, while Tarkin was warning him to curtail his spending lest the Senate become suspicious.

Tech returned to Nala Se. There were troopers in the room with her, but they kept their distance from the tables in the lab where CT-5685 now lay dead. They wouldn't be able to see the screen.

Nala Se was finishing the report Hemlock had insisted upon after CT-5685's demise. She noticed a small blinking light in the corner of her screen. Maybe he was trying to tell her to hurry. She clicked it.

Nala Se, she read. Are you enjoying your work?

Of course not, she typed back. You have our data. There is no need to torture these clones to death.

Good to hear, was the reply. This is CT-9902. I require your assistance.

CT-9902. Tech. Was Clone Force 99 here for Omega? I will gladly assist. What would you have me do?

Nothing yet. I am still formulating a plan.

A plan? He wasn't the leader of the squad. Where is Hunter?

Hopefully somewhere safe.

Then you are not with your squad. Why would Tech come alone?

No, I'm in Mount Tantiss with you, Crosshair, and Omega.

That was not welcome news. She had hoped Clone Force 99 was about to storm the base. But if Tech were captured, they would not allow him access to a computer. If you are prisoner, how is it you have access to this network?

Do you remember what was done to CT-1409 on Skako Minor?

She did. It had appalled her then. But she'd been proud of CT-1409's resilience and his desire to get back in the fight. And now she knew who the new 'player,' was. She knew exactly how intelligent Tech was. He was an anomaly of sorts. She'd sensed his mental potential and enhanced it, but it had come as a detriment to his eye sight. He was the only clone out of millions to require corrective lenses. But he was also the most intelligent clone to come of our Tipoca City. It was quite likely he was the smartest person—clone or otherwise—alive. It stood to reason that Hemlock would want to capitalize on that.

I remember, she typed back. Hemlock does not know what he has done. I stand ready to assist you.

The messages then disappeared from her screen entirely. She smiled lightly. She felt a new resolve to slow even more the transfer of her knowledge. She would have to be wily about it so as not to put Omega in danger.

"We cannot send you any more support staff without risking the secrecy of your operation," Tarkin told him. "Civilians have families. You have prisoners, put one of them to work."

Hemlock sighed. But Tarkin's suggestion was a mistake. "That would not be in the best interests of security. We need a food worker. The prisoners here are not loyal to the Empire."

"Then post a guard to watch them," Tarkin stated. "Besides they'd have to have access to poisons or chemicals to tamper with food. Allow them to eat the food and they'll fall in line."

"Sir," Hemlock tried again. "I need the prisoners for my work."

"No civilians, Hemlock. That's final." The communication winked out.

His last food worker had asked for a transfer due to the death of a relative. He could not be convinced to stay and had become hysterical in his grief. He refused to work. Hemlock could not allow a breach in secrecy a transfer would create. Transfers came in to this base, they did not go out.

He pulled up the roster of fifty-six prisoners and did not like the only conclusion that made sense. He needed the prisoners for his experiments. He'd asked for more to be sent in fact. But there was one he could not use for his experiments. He was sure it would not have the best interests of the crew in mind. CT-9904 had been loyal to the Empire, until it shot its commanding officer. But it did not want to help Hemlock find its old squad, and it had killed eight troopers while trying to escape.

He would have to try incentives like better food. And he would absolutely post a guard. Or four.

Crosshair was surprised to see Hemlock at his cell. He didn't bother getting up.

"I'm here to offer you a reprieve of sorts," Hemlock stated. "Better food, the ability to walk more than two meters in any direction."

Crosshair narrowed his eyes at him. "In exchange for what?"

"Work," Hemlock stated. "I need you alive and healthy to prevent CT-9902 from doing something rash. You're wasting away in that cell. At least this way we can get some use out of you."

Crosshair thought about this. Better food was tempting. "What would you have me do? Need someone shot?"

"We're not going to give you a weapon," Hemlock shot back. "We require a food worker. You will assist in food preparation, and you will deliver food to the various galleys for base personnel as well as to the infirmary and these cells."

Crosshair considered this. He'd be able to see Omega. Omega had contact with Tech. That could be beneficial. He wasn't of use in this cell. But if he were out, he could maybe do something to assist whatever scheme Tech was working out.

"You'd trust me with your food?" he asked Hemlock.

"Certainly not. You'll be under guard at all times," Hemlock told him. "And no access to knives. Anything needing cutting will be handled by other workers."

"You're trying to take all the fun out of it," Crosshair teased. "But I like the thought of better food. Anything is better than the tasteless garbage you feed us."

"You will report to the kitchen at 0500 tomorrow," Hemlock stated. "Step out of line, and I'll make sure CT-9902 never finds out what happened to you. I'll still have Omega."

Oh, Tech would find out, Crosshair was sure of that. The same way he knew that Omega had her datapad when she was in this cell.

Phee Genoa strolled into the cantina with her head held high. She approached the bartender. "I'm looking for a friend. She's a broker and I've got info on a score. Name's Ciddarin Scaleback."

"Scaleback you say?" A tall Dowutin with ugly thugs met her at the bar. "You should keep better friends."

"So you know her!" Phee responded, smiling. "She used to have a nice setup on Ord Mantel, but now it's under Imperial management."

"I tried to warn them," he said. "She had to have a reason to bring the Empire down on all Ord Mantel."

"Warn who?" Phee asked. "I need to arrange a pickup on Sista Four, and she knows how to get around pesky regulations."

"I do as well," he offered. He poured a drink from the bar and handed it to her. "Grini Millegi, at your service."

Phee took a sip. It was strong stuff. She wasn't about to get tipsy. "You know her. Have you seen her?"

"I saw her awhile back as we had a friendly wager," Millegi told her. "Didn't go my way in the end. But I have heard that her speeder is on market. Tech was only a stand-in driver."

She felt a twinge at the sound of his name. She so wanted to ask about that day and Tech's exploits, but that wasn't why she was here. "On the market, you say. Maybe I'll make her an offer."

Millegi eyed her deeply for a moment. "If it's payback you want, I'll make the offer. Make it worth my while, and I'll let you know when she contacts me."

"How much is your while worth?" Phee asked.

"Two hundred," Millegi stated. "I'd just like to see her go down."

"I just want to find my friend," Phee said. "Three hundred if you can lead me directly to her."