A/N:
I would just like to say that I did my best with what was available, but I am not a fluent Twi'leki speaker amd had to fudge around with the words - do not use me as a reference
Also, 'ner burc'ya' is Mando'a for 'my friend'
In between battles Crosshair generally kept to this schedule of enjoying a nice cup of caf around 0630, a little before everyone else woke up. That half hour helped him transition from wanting to murder anyone and anything that so much as looked at him, to tolerating socialization until bedtime.
But this morning, Crosshair was presented the opportunity to act on a semi-murderous urge to jump start the long and agonizing day. And as an added bonus, after patiently waiting for such a time as he could get even with high and mighty Agent Talla after she ruined his mattress all those months ago by flinging a crate of water onto him, well, that moment had arrived too. A two for one deal that was the best gift ever bestowed upon him thus far in life.
Yawning awake, Crosshair slid the silky eye mask off his eyes, the Coruscant morning rays peeking through the curtains making him blink several times to adjust. Lazily turning his head towards his dark room, it actually came as no surprise that his sharp eyes picked out an unmistakable lump laying on his armchair and ottoman pushed together. Partially hidden underneath a throw blanket, previously High as hell and Mightily drunk Agent Talla was right where she'd been deposited last night by her knight in shining plastoid armor, the Sniper of Clone Force 99 himself. 'A true vision of beauty to wake up to in the morning,' He mentally scoffed. 'Frankly, a Hutt would've been a more pleasant sight than this." Talla looked like what the mangy tooka dragged in from the Coruscant Underworld, and she reeked of stale alcohol and smoke. Yet Crosshair adopted a pout of faux compassion. 'I think she needs a little shower.'
He tossed off the covers and got up, stretched his hands high above his head with a happy sigh when his spine cracked in all the right places. There was a cup of water on his nightstand that was grabbed. He flung the icy cold contents onto the smelly blanket lump.
Talla jolted awake with a loud snort, coughed her fair share, which didn't mix well with that hangover dizziness, she ended up toppling off the ottoman with an 'OOF!' Through the haze of brain fog and room spinning she caught sight of someone making a beeline for his bunk curtains. Crosshair leaned across and yanked up the chain pulley. Flashed with blinding light, Talla colorfully cursed and rolled her body in the opposite direction, coiling into a tight ball, but Crosshair wasn't going to let her off so easily, he never did. He plodded back over and gave her a rough nudge with his foot, yet got no verbal response except a pained grunt, her shoulder wound aggravated. "Explain yourself."
Alas, Talla had to accept her uncomfortable fate. She slowly unfolded to be able to sit herself up with as minimal discomfort as possible, but that didn't stop Crosshair from roughly grabbing her arm and hoisting her back up into the chair. He loftily folded his arms and showed remarkable patience when it took an embarrassing amount of time for Talla's squinted, irritated eyes to scan the chair she was hunched in, the starship she somehow ended up safely back on, and put all the jumbled, fuzzy pieces together. 'Convor and I talked.' That much she remembered first, grimacing at the nauseating memory. She massaged her forehead that felt like it was being rammed against a wall spiked with vibros. 'I ran away. I smoked to take the edge off, I calmed down, I partied.' With a weary exhale,Talla swiped back her messy bangs and could barely glance up at Crosshair's triggering presence casting a shadow over her... 'This is what teens who got caught sneaking out by their parents must feel like.' She hunched forward with elbows resting on her knees, and found her sock clad feet much easier to focus on."How -" Hand put to her chest, she harshly cleared her throat, but it was so dry, "How'd I get back here?" Better, but definitely hoarse, and her lungs were sore. Got flashbacks to the cortosis poisoning incident.
"Nik happened to mention a 'brief trip' to 79's, but you were still a no show at midnight." Crosshair was so dramatic as to circle this pitiful life form who sounded like she was coughing up a lung, "Then one o'clock rolled around, two o'clock, and we all know the place is shut down for the night by three," He dramatically whirled the chair around so it faced him and Talla shamefully recoiled, tucking her chin to her chest because he leaned down to say lowly, so exponentially frustrated down into her ear, "But there I found you: in the alleyway, partying with a crowd of chainsmokers, with a kriffing lit cigarette in your mouth."
*crickets*
'... Oh thank the Maker.' Was Talla's first clear thought, because at least he'd safely gotten her home when she couldn't see straight. '... Oh Maker, I'm dead,' Was next because kriff, Crosshair's disappointment was something Talla wished she could've gone her whole life without experiencing it. The female clone knew Nala Se didn't care about her, it was what had influenced the defiance in not coming back to Kamino, among many other bold life choices. But since V'Hiina, Crosshair had gone out of his way to prove he gave a damn about her, and Talla couldn't bear to look him in the eye because she went MIA and he had to go look for her, probably fearing the worst though he never showed that emotion openly since that one time at Kaliida Shoals. And yet, with a fleeting glance upwards Talla threw away the last meager shreds of her dignity by meekly asking, "You're not gonna chuck me under the speeder, are ya?"
You could cut the tension in the room with a vibro. Two holes burned the top of her matted head. Yet when her bloodshot eyes bravely flicked up again, Talla saw Crosshair was... Not angry, actually? Head tilted mere inches above hers, he was looking rather more burning with curiosity than indignance.
Personally, Crosshair figured she wouldn't keep such a big secret from her partner in crime (LITERALLY). It did not sit well with him, especially if she was heading towards that slippery slope of addiction, because the Sniper would need help keeping the Agents nose clean... but then again, berating her would unfortunately make him a hypocrite considering he still longed for the calming effects that came with a cigarette. This was like being caught between a rock and a hard place. To be his terse version of understanding and lenient could still lead to a prolonged issue because she was obviously talented enough to keep things hidden from her own family in their shared, tight quarters. But to help the actual Sergeant by becoming a Drill Sergeant himself, Crosshair knew all too well how frustrating that was, the fights it would cause, and he was not the only one who didn't wish for those to make a reoccurrence.
Sighing hard, Crosshair straightened his posture and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Go hit the showers, but make it snappy, you've only a half-hour before Tech predicted Hunter will wake up from his sedative."
You'd think she'd be concerned about the sedative news. "Thank you." Talla only mumbled in relief, still squinting, and swiped the heel of her palm over her irritated eyes. "I couldn't handle his worrying."
Incredulous, Crosshair gave her a judgy once over. "Oh, you bet your ass you're gonna tell him, cyar'ika." Her woozy head shot up, "The probability of him going completely mental might just decrease if you put yourself together beforehand." And he was speaking from personal experience...
And had to stumble back so his chin wouldn't be bashed when Talla jumped up. "Nothing happened, alright, so there's no need to worry him over nothing!"
Eyes narrowing, Crosshair pushed her unsteady self back down into the chair, and Talla was so weak and tired at the moment that his hand on her shoulder effectively kept her pinned in place. "Give me a play by play of what you did from the hours of 7pm to 3am when you were MIA, and I'll think about it." Oh, how pinched-faced Talla wanted to be defiant, but she did not trust her muddled mind nor her loose mouth enough to sort through the half-truths she could tell that wouldn't give away everything she'd tried to forget. Defeated, she lowered her gaze back down to her lap again. "Tooka got your tongue?" Crosshair mockingly growled as his worst suspicions were seemingly confirmed, and did lightly cuff her upside the head like he did with Tech, "You accepted alcohol and cigarettes from strangers, Talla." He recounted, "Who knows what kind they were, what was in them, considering you can't remember a damn thing - you know how stupid that was, so why did you do it?"
Crosshair was genuinely looking for a satisfactory answer, only to surprisingly be met with a defiant glare from the usually stickler for rules. "You know, I'm starting to wish I had been murdered," Talla snapped, leaving out the grim details that could happen between the kidnapping then actually being murdered - she was moody and unrepentant. "It'd be better than dealing with Helicopter Hunter 2.0."
In the midst of wondering if there was trouble in secret paradise, why the hell she was acting like a bratty teenager, Crosshair's blood boiled. "Oh, you're lucky to have someone like me. I sealed off both exits and made sure to interrogate each and everyone of those tweakers."
In the span of three seconds he was shoved away and Talla stumbled the best she could to the door, hand on her spinning head, "Look, I've had a really rotten night, Cross, but I'm home, I'm fine, so let's just drop it."
Crosshair was able to catch himself on his armor crate. "Are there other times we don't know about?" He pushed back verbally instead of physically.
"No!"
Crosshair watched her barely able to find and press the huge green access button. "I don't believe you." He deadpanned.
"Mind your own business!" Was her parting spat, and she fled the scene.
"If you don't tell him, I will!" Crosshair threatened one last time as the door whooshed shut. His glare intensified. 'So you wanna play it this way?'
Indeed it was. Stumbling to her safe haven room, Talla's mind whirled - How could she say out loud that she would do anything for two kids who aren't even biologically related to her age accepted being called their Aunt... yet she was wanting to refuse taking responsibility for what some might call her biological little brother? Nala Se has created a little brother for Talla to use as a pawn in her little game that was intended to bring the Clone Agent back to the homeworld with her tail between her legs. If she kept refusing, who knows what could be done to the harmless little life form.
Actually, Talla had personal experience as to what could happen. That's why the guilt and anguish and confusion and self-loathing drove her to do anything to forget it all.
It was going to be his busiest day of the week at the shop and Nik just HAD to let Crosshair get him drunk the night before because he was blessed with artistic strengths, not brute strength to fight back with. Not like Skylar's wookie-sized BF who was already at the apartment at 6:30 in the kriffing morning.
Shuffling into the kitchen in his rumpled clothes from yesterday, Nik saw through squinted eyes his bath-robe clad twin sister hoisted up on the counter and Wrecker was already here smothering her happy, giggling self with kisses on the face, neck and ever-so-gently parts of her sensitive lekku. "Really? This early and on the place where we prep food?" Nik deadpanned, even though this was innocent.
Wrecker landed one more big kiss on the apple of Skylar's smiling, rosy cheek. "Hey, I dunno when I'm gonna be shipped out next, right now could be our last precious seconds together!"
"Been saying that since yesterday morning too, and yet still, here you are." Nik sarcastically grumbled, opening a cabinet. Through the hungover haze he took way too long looking over his mug collection.
Around another big Wrecker cheek kiss Skylar shot her twin a dirty look. "Who peed on your pancakes, grumpy?"
"The same guy who got me drunk against my will last night." Nik threw the cabinet door shut and winced, "Who also scared off Blair's new roommate 'cause he breaks in at odd hours of the day or night for food." He smacked his chosen tooka mug under the caf dispenser with another wince. 'Kark you, Crosshair.'
"He's talkin' about Crosshair, right?" Wrecker quietly asked Skylar to make sure he was still in the loop.
"The one and only." Skylar had to sigh, but shook her head and gave a laugh too, because their little trio had contemplated sharing custody of a pet one day that would alternate between their apartments, but looks like they had a mangy, feral tooka named Crosshair who had claimed them as his food and shelter providers and that's how it generally worked with cats, didn't it?
Caf was dispensed, but Nik didn't bother with adding anything and dragged his feet over to the dining table. He harshly plopped down the mug on the glass table, kicked out a chair, meant to fall down into the chair but missed big time and fell to the ground, causing a shockwave through the apartment.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Came from the downstairs neighbor, right on schedule.
Sky and Wrecker heard a loud sigh from the other side of the table. After a couple seconds, they watched a hand peek up over the table's edge, awkwardly feeling around for something. Wrecker put two-and-two together and with exaggerated tip-toeing he crossed the kitchen and small dining area, and nudged the caf mug into Nik's hand. A mumbled 'Thank you' was sounded, and the mug of caf disappeared down below with the hand.
Knowing she should ask further questions about this, Skylar slid off the counter, but when passing by Wrecker she stood on her tip-toes and framed his slack face, turning it back towards her so she could give Wrecker one final kiss without being reprimanded, and she asked her moon-eyed boyfriend to go grab some breakfast from the bakery across the street.
A pair of fuzzy slippers appeared in Nik's line of sight. His sister was soon lounging by his head with a hand on the ground to help keep herself upright. His own head was propped up by one of the legs of the table so he could still sip from his mug. It looked exceedingly uncomfortable, he'd definitely have a crick in his neck later, but the last thing Skylar wanted to do was make him more agitated.
She just reached down and placed a hand on his feverish forehead, lightly stroking with her thumb, and she spoke softly to him in the language of their parents homeworld. "Kass." (Hey.) "Eyi'luuk ultuka?" (You two fight?)
"Koa." (No.) Nik took another small sip, grimaced at the taste of the bitter caf and the memories of being in Crosshair's warpath. "Ssanti'ril kei chir..." (But I'm so dead.)
"Qato?" (Why?)
Nik had a very difficult time meeting her inquisitive, compassionate gaze. "... Ish kich'ee tuklii - HuntLa." (Hunter and Talla - He knows now.) With fear-ridden guilt, Skylar's arm was fastened onto. "Narsu ma'alem, numa!" (Please protect me, sister!) He pleaded in vain.
'Ah, so blabbermouths's kriffed up again and he's afraid Talla's gonna hand him his lekku on a beskar platter.' Skylar did not give off an air of sympathy nor frustration. Rather, she somberly put a hand over his frantically beating heart. "Ryma'allesh." She leaned down, kissed his forehead."Vatak'ultuka ael eyi, nerra." And simply left behind pouting Nik to go get dressed.
'Mother give you safety - good luck to you, brother.' You know, this phrase was generally used for reassurance but it oddly didn't make him feel any better. Instead, he stumbled to the sink and threw up.
Talla didn't put it past Crosshair the Instigator to go and tell Hunter everything regardless of her protests, so she definitely intended 'put herself together' as he put it, hoping there was some truth behind his odd advice. Ever intriguing and ominous as always, that man was.
The results weren't promising. In the refresher, Talla fell over peeling off her dress, and puked back up inside the shower everything that she drank last night. Afterwards, she could only manage to slip on shorts and a tank top. There was no brushing or drying of the hair. Somehow Talla managed to rummage through her medicine cabinet and sloppily applied a medpatch at the base of her neck for the headache and on the front of her aching shoulder.
'Kark you, Crosshair.' With a groan, Talla flopped face first down onto her sofa which irritated her newly pierced nose, but she was too sick to trudge up the three extra steps to her bed. 'I always say I'm never gonna get drunk again... Why do I never listen? And why did I have to smoke too? You're better than this, soldier!'
... Actually, was she? Talla didn't want to drop everything to save this infant clone of hers, she was withholding information from Hunter, she took out her anger on Crosshair who, in his boorish way, was merely expressing concern. 'No I'm not a saint at all, that's why I got drunk AND high.' Whirling thoughts definitely never helped with any ailments. How quickly the urge came back to wanna be numb and forget.
Talla flinched when her door whooshed open. It was just her luck that someone came to check on her, and it just so happened to be said Sergeant who'd awakened from his sedative as predicted.
Oddly, the man didn't even knock. Bad thing was, she had no idea if Crosshair had blabbed, but then why else would Hunter come check on her? It would be the only believable excuse he could procure to come into her room without raising too much suspicion. His footsteps sounded unsteady - maybe he was half-awake? Without a word, the clumsy man tugged up her ottoman closer to the couch.
Talla flopped her aching head in the opposite direction as if it'd postpone the unpleasantries. Yes, she admitted it, it was a stupid gamble with her life to accept drinks or cigarettes from strangers, especially after that first bad experience... Whether or not Talla regretted those hours of sweet, tipsy bliss, she couldn't exactly decide.
The Sarge went into her refresher and came back. Sitting down on the ottoman he quietly asked her, "Don't punch me, I'm just tryin' to help out." Halfway chuckling though, kinda running his words together - maybe that was a good sign he wasn't mad?
'Wouldn't mind a shot of whatever Tech gave him.' Talla dryly remarked to herself.
She felt him take the liberty of gathering up her wet mat of purple tangles, squeezing out the excess water into a towel he brought. Hunter took the liberty of brushing out her hair, but she had to wince when he'd tackle a knot too forcefully and he'd mumble a sorry... and patted her head. A twinge of guilt was experienced by Talla, who already felt bad for keeping a secret from him, and yet how quickly she'd forgotten that guilt, and wanted to do it all over again. When Hunter so gently cared about her and for her and only wanted her to feel okay.
After Hunter was done with the masterpiece braid he created, Talla slowly flipped her head to brave a peek up at him.
His pupils were blown, and he was all smiley. Bandana-less and stress-less Hunter actually brushed a knuckle against her flushed cheek. "There's that pretty face."
"I'd laugh if that wouldn't make me puke again." Mildy flustered Talla retorted, heat rising to her face. She'd never seen a drunk or high Hunter until now. Definitely a lot different from the foot-in-mouth sufferer that was her hopelessly awkward boyfriend when he was sober.
Hunter gave a few blank blinks. There was not even a crack or a smile from Talla at his compliment, and that is what he focused on. His brows furrowed, a flash of seriousness breaking through the tingling euphoria. "You feel sick?"
Those years of evasive interrogation tactics took over. "I went out for a drink last night, but somehow one always turns into more." Talla instinctively baited him with, testing the waters of whatever knowledge he possessed. She grimaced when the man chose to awkwardly pat her bad shoulder sympathetically. 'God, why did no one bother to mention getting a badass scar is such a kriffin' painful process?'
"T'kaan'ii, what's wrong?" Clueless Hunter asked with exaggerated worry. Talla probably could've found it cute under different circumstances, maybe could've felt giddy at the new, unique pet name that translated to 'wolfy.' Hunter actually slid off the ottoman to his knees, shuffling closer and folding his hands over the one she had laying near her head, and he perched his chin atop them. "You've been acting off since yesterday." He somehow did remember, which tugged at that stupid guilt. "Tell me what's wrong, I wanna help."
Such innocent concern made that self-loathing rush back 'bout as fast as a ship going into hyperspace. "Are you even capable of that?" Talla immediately deflected. She also finally noticed the braid he created because he reached out to mess with the end, and the entire thing was very sloppily done. He didn't even divide her hair into three sections, only two. "I think you're still woozy from the sedative."
"Jus' a tad, but I can still listen." Hunter promised, though his nose scrunched. He was very fixated on the braid end for some reason, he picked it up and let it drop, repeated this over and over again. It took a couple of gentle verbal prods for his attention to be recaptured. When it was, Hunter was again adamant that Talla tell him everything, head back to its perch and tilted to the side curiously.
"Okay, I think you need to go back to bed." Talla declared. Without puking she managed to heave herself up, then him.
But Hunter wasn't steady either, and with a grunt of effort Talla had to catch him so he wouldn't tumble over. She let out a sharp breath in frustration when he made himself at home in her arms, for some reason thinking this was an open invitation to entrap her in a clumsy hug. "Can I sleep in yur bed?" He mumbled into her shoulder - good one thank the Force. "You got all the soft animal pillows 'n blankets 'n I spilled water on my bed."
Did Talla want to risk it? No. Did she have the coordination to practically carry him to his own room? Also, unfortunately, no. Force, her headache hadn't gotten any better yet despite the med patch.
Talla's eyes slid shut in defeat, "Alright," She sighed. Hunter was peeled off so Talla could swing his arm around her neck. "C'mon." While Hunter wasn't going to pass out like the initial injection did, a second wave of drowsiness was quickly taking effect and Talla did have to strain her abused body to drag the dead weight up the three stairs to her bed.
"Do ya like my tattoo?" Hunter slurred, and the tattooed arm/hand she was gripping was unhelpfully held out into her line of sight, his free hand pulling at the neckline of his tunic to partially expose his freshly tattooed chest.
She had to hold him up by the waist now. "Yes, it's a very nice-looking tattoo now that it's done." Talla replied through gritted teeth with as much patience and dignity as she could muster.
The stoic man actually came close to giving an actual giggle. "Good, because I feel very nice-looking with this tattoo." With a grunt of effort, he was unceremoniously dumped onto her bed. Yet Hunter pushed himself back up to lean on his hands, for there was one more thing he needed to say before he succumbed to sleep. "Yur pretty, you know that?" He remarked with a lovestruck grin as he gazed up at his rumpled, frowning, hungover girlfriend.
Talla's only reply was reaching down so she could grab and swing his legs up onto her bed. But it was a mistake to try pushing Hunter down against her growing mountain of animal pillows - he locked his arms and legs around her and pulled Talla down with him, who gave a squeak of surprise, and had mixture of nervous laughter and half-hearted protests at this turn of events that brought back the red tint to her face.
It had started out as another typical day off from the war front for Techie.
He woke up in a strange place inside the ship that was not his room. This time it was underneath the security cam console that had been successfully repaired sometime last night - there was an unfortunate BONK! on the back of his head which alerted Tech of his cramped whereabouts, but other than that the brainiac didn't suspect anything except just another normal day off duty.
Standing up, he gave a big yawn, and fixed his crooked goggles. With his free hand, Tech flicked up all the toggles on the cam console for all the screens available throughout the Marauder. Each room had one or two installed - one for each ramp, one for the cockpit, one for the medbay, one for the storage closet, two for the common area, two for the cargo hold. The monitors bore no glitches or significant auditory problems, just as he knew they would. Tech bent down and scooped up his datapad from the floor and intended for the kitchen to be his next destination, he was feeling rather peckish and wanted something to do while listening into the clone network, to receive intel and not be so wholly in the dark about the progress of the war they seemed to be shut out of at the moment.
From the console being left behind, loud, altered female laughter mixed with altered deeper laughter recaptured Tech's attention. You bet he backed his transport up and was about to utilize the communication feature each cam was updated with, fully attending to announce his annoyance to Wrecker through the shipwide speaker system by once again telling him to take his and Skylar Tiima's canoodling off his starship-
'... What a curious sight.' Tech said to himself, pondering the screen which streamed the feed from the common area, specifically the one cam halfway facing the line of barrack doors. And Talla's was wide open. Speaking of Talla, she had the Sergeant of their squadron wrapped around her, both of them lying on her bed. It seemed Talla tried to half-heartedly push him away, but Hunter held fast and settled himself more comfortably against the pillow mountain on her bed, and he... pressed a big ol' kiss to the top of her head? 'How bold for him, and rather impertinent.' Tech observed to himself, brows furrowing. 'Perhaps their friendship is on much more affectionate terms than I had previously known or thought him capable of.'
Talla mumbled something against Hunter's chest but unfortunately her words were inaudible to Tech. Hunter's gasp of excitement was rather disturbing, it just looked oh so wrong coming from the stoic Sergeant but Tech had been given him a powerful sedative, and Hunter had a history of becoming 'lovey dovey' when under any mentally impairing substance - Wrecker absolutely took advantage of that, it was the only time he could get a real hug from the guy. This time around under the influence, the stoic Sergeant immediately loosened his arms which allowed Talla to prop herself up with her hands, on either side of Hunter's brightly shining face below hers, which she leaned down closer and closer to his. In fact, if the Agent wasn't hungover and Hunter wasn't drugged and passed out two seconds after their lips connected, going completely limp and lifeless, this sweet kiss they shared would've been quite a romantic spectacle. 'That is peculiar,' Naive Tech thought, 'According to those silly fairy tales Shaeeah and Jek indulge in, I thought a kiss was supposed to bring someone back from the deep, dark dreamland, not send them there -'
*record scratch*
'WAIT A KARKING, KRIFFING MINUTE -'
Tech rushed the console and palms splayed on either side of it, his face as close as possible to the screen without distorting the scandalous scene playing before him.
When Tech thought Talla was pregnant with twins, the sensation of drawing the wrong conclusion, with thought to be clear cut evidence he discovered, was hard to bear. It still ate away at him nearly two weeks later.
And here Tech was again now, brain dead and dead wrong. How the mighty have fallen.
Tech replayed this snippet of recorded data once over again with the result being the same every time: undeniable evidence that he was wrong. There was no mistaking it, because Hunter was not choking thus forcing Talla to use her mouth to suck out the lodged object in his throat, even though that would not have been as effective as the heimlich maneuver.
Talla kissed Hunter. Hunter kissed Talla. They smushed their lips together, exchanged saliva, performed an action that Tech once heard was more sanitary by exchanging less germs than a simple handshake.
Crosshair was right.
Tech was wrong.
'... CROSSHAIR WAS RIGHT!'
Without a second thought, he bolted off the Marauder.
The memories from last night tortured Talla upon exiting her darkened room away from what was supposed to be her distraction from the chaos. She tossed one last longing glance over her shoulder at peacefully snoozing Hunter sprawled out on her fluffy bed, completely engulfed by her growing collection of squishy animal pillows. How Talla wished she could go back to being oblivious like him.
With a grim face, Talla sealed shut her door so no one would bother Hunter, this strange realization hitting her: Back on Kamino there was really only one stressor, Nala Se and the threats to SAC-1 if she did not meet her expectations, but since deployment now there was that, and a family to protect, and friendships to maintain, relationships to hide, missions to compete, etc, etc... 'Now I think I understand the expression 'cold feet.'' Talla said to herself, bitterly hating herself for it afterwards for the intrusive thought. How quickly the whirlwind thoughts came to berate her for indulging herself and creating these unnecessary complications to her situation in life, yet how even more miserable they made her feel out of guilt because how awful it was to think about her family and friends and new boyfriend in this way - almost as if she regretted all this. And after they'd sacrificed so much for her! What a repulsive creature Talla was. At least SAC-1 didn't pretend to be the Makers gift to the universe, she already knew she was a disappointment.
Another memory from last night popped up and couldn't be denied either: Cigarettes had worked much faster than alcohol to numb this all. A craving so powerful hit Talla, like never experienced before. It was stronger than the pull of the adrenaline of the battlefield, stronger than the pull of alcohol, stronger than the desire to be accepted into the family and friend circle, stronger than the need to be with Hunter. These distractions all took so much time and effort but smoking hadn't. Talla felt sick right now, but from what she heard that goes away after a few times.
With the med patch working its magic, something else took over control of Talla's body. She swept her messy hair up in a ponytail and at the work desk strapped on her pair of goggles to her head; Hunter's room was infiltrated to find actual pants and a belt holster to wear; her pair of regular combat boots were found by the couches and laced on; and since Crosshair still owed her a couple hundred creds anyways from their sabacc playing on the way to Coruscant, Talla breached his locked up room and pulled some from his stash he didn't know she was aware about. She didn't know how much they cost but Talla would have most definitely run away and found some way or some where to purchase cigarettes of her own... had not on the off ramp been intercepted by the very Clone Medic who she immaturely wanted to blame for all this.
Halting several steps above him, Talla's eyes became ablaze. "Get the kriff outta here."
"Woah, don't shoot the messenger," Convor held up his hands mockingly, one holding a familiar missing black sweater, "A messenger who had more to say last night, but thank you for disappearing into the night, I've always wanted to participate in a scavenger hunt." He dryly said, and the sweater was held out, "Found this on a puddle in the alley just as Crosshair was carrying you out, so I decided to have it cleaned up for you."
Talla blinked. With slow movements the sweater was accepted. "Thank you?" But... Talla's brows flicked up questionably at Convor to silently ask, 'What's going on?' Because he didn't have to go out of his way to wash this if Crosshair was right there. Also, 'Where's my jacket?' Because wouldn't the jacket have also been in the alley? It wasn't in Crosshairs room and she'd not gone anywhere else besides these two places.
"You're welcome." Convor only retorted, giving a dismissive wave, "I don't have much time, my transport leaves soon, so good day, good life actually, I never want to see you again, and I want it to stick this time around." When he turned on his heel and left, Talla caught sight of an earpiece lodged in his right ear that he had never worn in all the times she'd interacted with him, not even now, when he was fully decked out in his medic uniform.
"... Third times a charm." Talla muttered, basically to herself at this point, with a very suspicious squint at his retreating back. Since Convor had maintained an impressive facade of impassiveness from the moment he walked in to the moment he plodded back down the steps and left, Talla was glad that she was the one facing away from the Marauders boarding ramps security cam, and she was high enough on the steps that her suspicion-ridden face was blocked from the military bases security cams by the large hatch she was partway up in.
Without much of a choice, Talla shrugged on the sweater and continued on her way, trying to go about her business as if nothing happened and they'd just had a casual catch up. Her nose wrinkled at the artificially pungent scent of flowers engulfing her - Convor must have gone to a regular laundromat, and didn't think to use unscented detergent. She smoothed down the fabric over her arms anyways, even if it did irritate her skin. After buttoning up one tingly hand brushed over her front to smooth it out too and... there was a crinkling of paper against her collarbone.
It probably looked odd and awkward for Talla to reach down and fish inside the front of her sweater smack dab in plain sight for any and all to see. She tried to look as nonchalant as possible, no one was looking, at least that's what Talla kept telling her flustered self. 'Nobody's looking, nobody's looking, do da do da do -' A folded piece of paper was pinned to the sweater's inner lining. Talla was quick to let it loose and slip her hands into the pockets of her borrowed cargo pants. She made to exit the military base double time, through one of the smaller exits so there'd be less people to gawk at her non-reg-clone self in her non-regulation uniform. 'Forgot they shipped in a bunch of new regs recently.' She mentally rolled her eyes.
Outside the gates, even this polluted sunshine was irritating, and Talla quickly snapped on her work goggles to halfway protect her sensitive eyes.
She took evasive measures by immersing herself into the bustling streets outside the stronghold. In one swift movement the piece of paper was retrieved, unraveled, and revealed to be... a paper ticket of some sort? 'RAFA'S LAUNDRY,' Was in a bold, ugly green print at the very top of this wrinkled ticket, and right underneath its address down in the Underworld, at Level 1313. A chart was filled out with Talla's name. Well, sort of. 'Ria Talla, No. 99.' There was a column of various garments available for what she guessed was dry cleaning, and wouldn't ya know, 'Jacket' was stamped, with the words 'Black' and 'Leather' added in the description box.
Guess 'Ria Talla' needed to pay a visit to the Lower Levels? What in the world's was the sneaky Convor up to? Her instincts suspected trouble, but... She really wanted that jacket back. And a long walk could get out her anxious energy if cigarettes weren't in her near future anymore.
Dex's Diner was an establishment that Crosshair and Talla had frequented a handful of times over the last couple of months, under the ruse that they were married, expecting twins, with a slew of other background tidbits added over time to the layers of outright lies. Besides the fact that Crosshair, the hubby, was a bad driver, before the pregnancy he was an aspiring artist working for recognition until Talla, the wifey, requested he get a real job for the sake of financial security. Now he worked a swing shift at a power plant in the industrial district and was saving up booku bucks for the littles on the way. The wifey suffered from insatiable cravings of the delicious food served here at this fine establishment, and since they could only spend mornings together before she would take off for her afternoon shifts working retail at a clothing store, what a perfect way to kill two mynocks with one stone! Keeping the spark alive with date 'night,' and making sure she was fed and happy.
And boy, did the waitresses and owner make sure she was. They were surprised to see the hubby alone this morning, however he ordered their usual so they figured the wifey was too ill to make it this time around. But perhaps there was trouble in paradise? He was hunched on a stool at the breakfast bar, trying to look intimidating yet as small as possible with his arms folded on the countertop and head down, glaring down at his reflection in the shiny white surface, smoldering with indignation.
'Course, when a goggled man burst into the vicinity and skidded to a stop (man wasn't even wearing boots) he splayed onto the counter with a loud SMACK! that definitely kept the fake hubby inconspicuous.
"The kriff is wrong with you?!" Jumpy Crosshair demanded of breathless, sweaty Tech.
Who shoved off the counter and shoved his datapad to Crosshair's face. "Hunter and Talla are screwing around behind our backs!"
With his interest piqued, Crosshair's hostile glare faded, though one fleeting look at the footage replaying on the datapad told him that this required a more private venue. The waitresses looked absolutely HORRIFIED that there was yet another crazy family member to visit their humble establishment that was never intended to be a place of respite for the chronically insane. Without a second thought Crosshair latched a hand around Tech's wrist and hauled both their butts to the favorite corner booth. It was occupied by a couple of rodians, but all it took was a tall, angry, scary-lookin' man sneering down at them... plus him having a blaster at his hip and a vibro on his boot... then Crosshair scooping up their plates and plopping on another table... Well, they got the message and scrammed.
Tech was thrown down on one end and Crosshair sat on the other. He sent one last, secretly insecure glance around the rest of the restaurant. "Show me." Crosshair finally consented, when he saw everyone went back to their own business, and waitresses flex to the kitchen. The contents of the downloaded security footage were thankfully not explicit in its contents but at the same time COMPLETE EXPLICIT PROOF OF THE SCANDAL! Inside, Crosshair wanted to jump up and scream in Tech's face 'I TOLD YOU SO!' Instead, he flicked his sharp eyes up away from the datapad to simply say with forced calmness, "Told you so, di'kut." To which Tech did not reply, for Crosshair did indeed tell him so... that didn't mean he wanted to admit it out loud. But that was fine, because for once Crosshair didn't have to interrupt the man to say his piece - he pushed the datapad face down onto the table and leaned closer. "I know you can't help flapping your gums, but this time try to -"
"What are you planning?" Tech was the one to interrupt, now wearing a suspicious frown, squinting behind his crooked, slightly fogged up goggles.
Crosshair kept his composure, reaching out to flick the goggles back into place, making Tech flinch. "Nothing that concerns you."
"When it involves our family, it concerns me." Tech stated firmly, reaching up to massage the sore bridge of his nose, taking off his goggles entirely. "Oftentimes I cannot read people accurately, but your 'I am about to open the Gates of Hell' demeanor is rather unmistakable after so many years." He paused. Those unobscured piercing light brown eyes bore into Crosshair, trying to analyze him, one of the few things that could make the youngest of the brothers want to squirm even if Tech was wrong half the time. "From the noticeable lack of screaming matches, I have drawn the conclusion that you and Talla seem to have buried whatever hatchets you wanted to impale the others skull with, and I will not idly stand by and watch you destroy all the progress."
Crosshair rolled his eyes to break the stare down, "It won't 'destroy' anything, just going to be some righteous payback." Fueled by petty spite and the re-awakening of intense cravings for cigarettes.
At the confirmation he was right, Tech rolled his eyes too instead of celebrating, and he brushed a hand over his forehead beginning to ache. "Payback for what, Crosshair?" He asked tiredly. "They simply kept their relationship of indiscernible time a secret."
"How you, he who must know everything, say that without feeling peeved is remarkable." Crosshair deadpanned. When Tech returned his goggles to his face and his signature pointer finger rose, Crosshair braced himself for that inevitable long winded explanation, pulling out a toothpick from his belt pouch and wishing it was a cigarette when placing it between his teeth.
Tech was peeved alright, but not at the couple, not exactly. The last thing he wanted was to go back to the way things were a few months ago, when their home-sweet-home was their private war zone away from the actual war zone. It would do no good to snap at Crosshair, unfortunately, nor did Tech like to provoke anyone, so as usual facts were spouted out to negate the paranoia and hopefully calm the crazy before it got too out of hand. "Through extensive, unsolicited observation with Wrecker and Skylar, and then beforehand with Cut and Suu, it has been definitively proven that these common aspects of everyday civilian lifestyles are daunting, baffling and stressful for all clones, and in extension their romantic partners, to figure out." Tech said, and frowning, Tech pushed his slacked goggles back onto his nose bridge and picked back up his datapad, which beheld the ending screencap of the pre-recorded scandalous snippet he showed Crosshair, the exact moment when the Sarge and the Agent kissed. "Clones are not taught anything outside military protocol, and unfortunately have to suffer many embarrassing situations in order to learn what are acceptable social conventions and what are not acceptable social conventions." Illuminated eyes briefly flicking away from his screen, Tech found a scuff mark on the table much easier to focus on than the image of the stolen kiss. His lips pinched together because yes, he did feel some niggling annoyance at being kept out of the loop. But then, he forced himself to let out a sigh that softened his facial features, for began the more logical pattern of thinking to rationalize all this out of his control, "Hunter and Talla went down this path to a romantic relationship differently than Wrecker and Skylar did in their beginning, this is true, but Hunter has always been a very reserved person. And from what Talla informed us after 99's death and what we needed to be reminded of is that Hunter is not always our Sergeant, and like the rest of us, when our military ranks and birth numbers are set aside, we all face the difficulty that is figuring out how to face these common aspects of the civilian lifestyle. This unknown often produces copious amounts of anxiety and confusion and frustration." Jaw clenched Crosshair hunched in his booth with his arms folded was pinned with another serious stare, "It is highly unlikely that they kept this secret to purposely wound us or break our trust, it is not in Talla or Hunter's nature," Tech concluded with, hopefully judging correctly from the data he gathered that this is what resorted to Crosshair's snap judgment for revenge, "It is more likely that they wanted to minimize the stress during the delicate first stages of a relationship already can bring in our desolate and strict situation in life." Tech gave a contemplative pause, running through more data he'd collected over the years to reach this next conclusion too, "As their family, we have to respect their decision to pursue a relationship, and should offer our support, not wreak havoc."
Crosshair defiantly huffed, nostrils flaring, for wasn't their ship named after their destructive tendencies?
Tech sighed again, fighting to keep the lid on his frustration this time around. "I am not saying that your feeling a sting from the secret-keeping is invalid, it triggered a trauma response for you and that is unfortunate, but we cannot control their actions, only our reactions, and there are better ways to handle a confrontation of these secrets than so-called 'righteous payback.' There is no reason to waste our borrowed time with such childish, petty acts that will only cause more problems then solve them." Tech bluntly ended with, going back to his datapad, zoning out from the diner's old-timey music and the patrons' loud conversations around him. The screencap was backed out of and he decided to look up the menu for this place for he was rather parched from his laborious journey here and he needed sustenance to face the music back home. "Photon Fizzle,' why that sounds absolutely fascinating!' He thought about a beverage he came across.
As belligerent as Crosshair wanted to continue being, he began to deflate. The first time he and Talla visited Dex's Diner, he made a promise to himself to better receive Tech's rambles, at the very least not make him feel worse for this enhancement side effect he couldn't control. It was not in Crosshair's comfort zone to do much more than this. And now here Tech was, rambling about how going forth with his revenge plan to deceive Talla... Was that not what Crosshair himself accused her of? Was he not so incensed at the idea of her leading them on, only to tear them to shreds when the opportunity arose? Would he himself stoop so low as to hypocrisy again, for mere pettiness this time instead of protecting his family? At the very least that was a noble cause to throw away yet another piece of his humanity and sanity... but it had caused a violent outburst, and Talla warned him that when pushed it could happen again, and she couldn't live with the guilt.
Maker above, Crosshair of course hated his destructive defense mechanisms, yet he also hated it when people staged an intervention and threw them in his face to prevent him from acting out because of them... 'Why did things have to get so damn complicated?' Crosshair used to gamble with these two no-win situations more than he did with sabacc, and faced the consequences with a toothpick or a cigarette between his surly smirking lips and one special finger on each hand flipped in the air like he just didn't care. Any self-loathing or regrets was numbed away by the choice of poison available at the time of the offense, real or imagined - getting drunk every chance he got, cigarettes once upon a time, until Tech all went mental hospital on them to maintain the high standards of what was expected of them, especially after Wrecker's accident that scarred half of his face.
A to-go bag plopped on the table flinched Crosshair and Tech out of their own little worlds. "Here's your wife's usual," Flo the Waitress Droid announced with too much chipperness, shaking like a leaf, probably hoping with every circuit that everything was perfect, "With a complimentary side of fritzle fries, on the house!" She sped off.
Now, Tech's eyes bore into Crosshair again, who stared blankly at what was supposed to be the first step in his master plan for righteous payback.
Skylar and Nik had lots of horror stories to tell about where they'd grown up - "Coruscant's Underworld toughens the strong and consumes the weak," even Blair had said once, also a former native, though she never really discussed her past.
It took many years for the Tiima parents to work up the levels of poverty and eventually be able to live Topside, a rarity for those who ended up in or were born in the Underworld. They didn't get involved with the gangs which promised instant 'prominence' with secret strings and rules attached, rather they tirelessly worked their way up the ladder by hand. Their father was a happy homemaker who proved to be better at earning money doing the odd, profitable freelance work than having a rigid day-to-day schedule. Their mother took the big risk of joining the Underworld Police Force and being the one who took down the bad guys who took advantage of the poor like them. Too few wanted this dangerous job that paid well enough and came with a pension after twenty years, if you lasted that long and frankly too many didn't, the very reason they always had a job opening. Mrs. Tiima tested fate time and time again, but quickly climbed the ranks and was one of the lucky ones. She was so valued, in fact, that when she fell pregnant with her twins seven years into her service she even got a generous maternity leave, though did have to work her way up the ladder all over again to prove herself capable emotionally and physically. And she was and she did. And right after retiring, it was a combination of savings, the pension and Mr. Tiima being discovered as a great chef by an up and coming popular restaurant that landed them up there on topside when the twins were twelve.
It was a very heartwarming, humbling story. But Talla had never been down this low in the underworld, and to be perfectly honest she never wanted to EVER again. The multiple and frightening lift rides down, down, down to Level 1313 had built up pressure in her already pulsating head and had Talla's ears wanting to pop, yet that was not even the beginning of the misery. Everytime she couldn't help but look out the grimy, yellowed-stained glass cover of the lifts, there was only misery to see. And everywhere she stepped or had to touch there was grime. The farther down she traveled the air was muggy and horrendously polluted and smelled like a garbage bin and she wished she'd brought a mask. At least there was no blinding sun or lights down here, but she'd never seen such poverty, and thought everyone in the Capital of the Republic lived much, much better than this. But down here, a lowly clone like her actually had more than them - a job and a clean starship for a home that came along with it as long as their job performance was acceptable, and they had food, rations, clean civvies, and friends and family to count on.
Not only was she in poverty territory, Talla was also in criminal territory, that much was evident when she stepped off the crummy, rickety tram she took and immediately picked up on the overt Anti-Republic and Anti-Jedi graffiti and propaganda in the form of spray paint and posters and holos littering nearly every building. Everyone and their uncle had some sort of weapon on them, but instead of acting casual like they did topside, they looked eager or fearful for a real confrontation, no in between. A kiosk map right off the tram said to turn a couple of corners and BAM there'd finally be the Laundromat, but before the last turn Talla had to duck her head and pass a man standing on a crate with a megaphone disk and trying to recruit people to join his cause to 'END THE JEDI, END THE CLONES, END THE WAR.' Thank the Force she brought her own blaster, because equally filthy people infested this place, it seemed to the conditioned-to-be-compliant clone - 'So why did Convor want me here?!'
Rafa's Laundry was of less than stellar quality and had a certain air of dishonesty and irony, just like the so-called ticket it produced. Lights flickered and a third of them were outright burnt out or broken, Talla's boots stuck to the floor in some areas, this place screamed being so run down and dingy that she wanted to scoff at their boasting advertisements for their recipes to squeaky clean laundry, when the owners clearly couldn't figure out how to keep the building itself clean and up to code, couldn't even provide affordable business for these dirty people who lived in this seedy neighborhood. If it wasn't for a few machines running and the pungent odors of fragrant laundry detergent and dryer sheets mixed together that permeated the humid air, irritating her sensitive nostrils and lungs and eyes and skin, Talla would have theorized that this was only a store front facade of a legitimate business. A ticket that just so happened to have a 99 conveniently as the order number was too much of a coincidence though.
Curiosity and hypervigilance nagged at her. Almost as soon as Talla entered the establishment, the back door to the place whooshed open, and out came a rich skin-toned human who had shaved most of her head but left a mop of long, dark brown wavy tendrils atop, and she wore enough fur to be mistakened for a wookie. "How can I help you, my friend?" She greeted with obviously rehearsed hospitality, and pointedly left out her name.
With rehearsed kindness right back, Ria Talla took out her dry cleaner ticket from a pants pocket and smoothed out the wrinkles, "I'm just here to pick up my jacket." She replied simply, not giving up or fishing for any information. In, the out was her plan, unless this lady started talking first to explain whatever the hell this whole situation was.
The woman just happily accepted the ticket. "Ah, right on time! I just finished your order." She motioned for the customer to follow, and they approached a locker.
"It's barely mid-morning and you've already gotten 99 orders?" Antsy Ria Talla decided to bait her with, fishing for some, any sort of information.
"I know she doesn't look like much, but this place keeps me busy!" This strange woman only said, typing the rather long access code in.
'I'll bet.' Talla wryly said to herself. The locker opened and she was super thankful to see her nice jacket again, surprisingly clean enough.
She automatically reached for it but the lady stopped her with an arm. "Nah uh, this isn't my first sky rodeo, missy!" Talla's eyes sharpened, but the lady pointed to herself and continued, "I showed YOU the completed product, now YOU pay ME, THEN get your goods, and everyone walks away happy." Her other hand was outstretched expectantly.
"There was no price on the ticket." Ria Talla said obtusely, pointedly not pulling out her stash.
"That's fine." The lady said with a greedy smile and tilted her head knowingly, "Just gimme whatever you got, I'm sure it'll cover all the labor fees."
'So not only did you drag me down into this filth, you couldn't even find a way to pay for it?' Talla snarked at Convor, and briefly stared down whoever this Rafa Martez was, who might not even just be a shady haggler. She might not look so much on the outside just like her shop, but she could very well be a gang member or have some very violent allies hanging around considering this neighborhood.
Talla decided to not test her boundaries the first and hopefully last time around these parts. She pulled out the stack of creds meant for cigarettes.
Rafa's smile grew and she was more than willing to accept this amount in exchange for the jacket, if that was all she had after all. "Pleasure doing business with you, Ria Talla," Rafa said, letting the small stack of creds plink down into her other hand, adding up to two hundred and fifty in value, "If you're ever in need of a middle-man to help close a profitable business deal again, you can always count on Rafa Martez to rise to the occasion." She riskily pitched forth, to the woman she'd just cleaned out, though was so kind as to give her back ten in value.
She got all her cigarette and transport money, but hey, at least Ria Talla had a jacket to help keep her somewhat warm. With a parting tight-lipped smile, she stalked out of the store.
Once zipped up, her hands automatically slipped into her pockets... and brushed against something. Talla's steps faltered, her brows furrowed, her head turned left and right, searching for privacy. She was quick to find the nearest walk-in holo-booth and sealed herself in. The second item to be found in her pockets that wasn't her own gum wrappers or money turned out to be a leather-bound case. It was spread out on the jutted holo-console and revealed five full medical vials and a stimpack nestled inside. There was also a one time paper prescription receipt for her new alter ego 'Ria Talla,' approved and stamped with the official seal for the Grand Republic Medical Facility, plus an ID with that exact name. There was one pocket that looked empty but it turned out it wasn't, there was a data chip inside carved with a peculiar sun symbol.
Talla's first instinct was to believe Convor had somehow gotten her involved with the Black Sun, a notorious Underworld gang that the Tiima's also mentioned once, and she wanted to puke because... What if this was illicit drugs she held?! 'I JUST WANTED CIGARETTES, NOT TO BE RECRUITED IN A GANG!' In two seconds flat Talla went from trusting this clone medic with her life to questioning everything.
There turned out to be an identical earpiece to the one she caught Convor wearing, found in that same pocket, and it had a blue light blinking, indicating an oncoming communication, and you can bet that Talla was quick to put it on and answer the call.
"I see you solved my little puzzle." That blasted reg medic nonchalantly greeted her.
"What have you gotten me into?" Rigid Talla cut to the chase, assuming this was a secure communication channel. "What have you done?"
"After this comm, I'll be unreachable, but there's someone else you can contact by solving this puzzle, and if you want, you can help them solve another puzzle we've been trying to crack at together." Convor unhelpfully supplied, "Spend this time wisely, ner burc'ya, my transport leaves in fifteen, and I don't want to waste it with someone who doesn't want to help after all."
'This is gonna be worse than I thought isn't it?' Talla let out a sharp breath, reaching down to grip on the edges booth's holo-console. "I thought you said you never wanted to see me again?" She pointed out first, "I'm getting mixed messages here, do you always leave behind contact information to those whom you never want to see again?"
"Only to the special ones."
"I'm not though." Talla insisted, getting a pit in her stomach at his weird tone.
"That's the thing, ner burc'ya, you are." Convor reiterated with surprising invigoration never before heard from him. "You are the answer to everything. You have power you don't even realize yet. If you wake up and see you are more powerful than her," Talla's skin prickled at the mention of Nala Se, "The things you could do, the things you could change, everything needed to get the Republic to make the motion for change is within your powerful grasp."
Dear Force, it sounded like Convor was gonna ask a favor, a fatal one by the looks of all these illegal factors. "And what are you in all this, sir?" Talla shrewdly interrogated. "Last I checked, you only got sneaky below the radar, to help make your patients comfortable - sounds like you're trying to recruit me for karking mutiny." This was NOT how her first undercover job was supposed to go.
Convor took a contemplative pause. "I am part of the incriminating trail she has created trying to erase her mistakes."
The nausea kicked in, for Talla discovered she'd been asking the wrong questions. "What did she do?" She asked, sweat bullets forming on her body from dread. If Convor was willing to risk so much for what seemed like mutiny... Was there actually a good reason? Like with Cut's deserting? Was this yet another gray area? How many of those could life have?
"Ner burc'ya, she tried to assassinate you." Convor finally satisfied her morbid curiosity, and Talla's face went pale - it was a good thing she was gripping the console. "She sent me a very thoughtful care package to deliver to you, containing vials of an extremely strong concoction of anti-inflammatories, muscle relaxers and vitamin additives to help with your enhanced 'issues.' But, I discovered some questionable, unnecessary additives into the mix that I didn't entirely trust because I didn't entirely know what they were."
'Do not make us regret it. Think carefully the next time you feel indignant, and make the wise decision to stay in line.' That is what Nala Se had warned SAC-1 all those months ago. And what had SAC-1 been actively doing all these months? The exact opposite. How real the consequences of her defiant decisions became.
Convor filled the silence with more facts. "The package you received isn't the original. I had an associate confiscate that to look into it and they've recreated it without the foreign, suspicious additives, and it should work just as well, actually a common and effective treatment for severe menstrual pain, and you can get more prescribed when you run out. We've done every test we can think of on the original, but came up empty so it's most likely not something used in the mainstream medical field, so we didn't want to risk it."
Ah, that explained the actual prescription, and he must have paid for it... Though, what strings had to be pulled for this associate to knowingly allow a fake ID? "What gave you the idea to check them over in the first place?" Talla stupidly asked, her mind jumbled.
"Well, a long-neck sending medical supplies to a soldier doesn't look so incriminating on paper, but to a sneaky little bird like me..." He paused and Talla imagined him shrugging, "It ruffled my feathers a bit. On the outside, it just seemed that she figured if you won't come get treatment, you and by extension your entire team might as well still be able to complete missions and not be uselessly incapacitated for whole weeks on end, but you and I know there's always an ulterior motive."
Those all too familiar ice cold fingers gripped her palpitating heart. And her breath rate picking up too. Why did she have to become so prone to panic?! "She wouldn't go this far." Talla immediately back pedaled in denial.
The odds must not have been in her favor, she heard Convor huff like this was a cruel joke. "You were supposed to train these younglings I showed you when they came into existence, yes? It was your sole purpose in being allowed to go out into the field. But where are you? Not there, I couldn't help but notice your absence."
... He knew. How he found out, Talla wasn't sure she wanted to know. Nala Se wouldn't give that up voluntarily, not unless - oh. The promotion. Clone Medics weren't promoted, they were plucked from their batchmates when showing more than usual levels of ingenuity in that area of flash training, then trained for their specific post according to their performance level as they matured, and that was that.
Now, Talla put one puzzle together - there was no promotion at all. It might seem monumental and look innocent, a Kaminoan Doctor acknowledging that a humble clone had remarkable ability that deserved applause and accolades, but this was a cover up. Kaliida Shoals was Nala Se's version of a vacation home. And Convor was on her radar now, that is why he looked so fearful when Talla met up with him first, at the tattoo Parlor and then 79's. Nala Se would have the power to execute him once she got what she needed from him.
'I haven't been summoned,' He was right about that.
'I won't be summoned,' That hit Talla harder than a punch to the gut by Wrecker.
"You should've just given me the poison." Talla chastised him with remarkable coldness instead of gratitude. "I didn't ask you to do this, I didn't ask for a life debt to repay, you saw how I acted when my ex-nemesis did it."
"There's no doubt in my mind that I will meet my Maker soon after I reach my new post, regardless if she finds out beforehand that I didn't deliver the poison when you don't drop dead in the near future." Convor patiently corrected her, "I know I risked a lot only for the mere hope that'd you help by using your power to make things better. I know the risk of everything you've gained since deployment would be a very heavy thing for me to ask of you... But here I am. That's all I am - hopeful. I didn't expect anything, I am just hopeful, and begging for help."
Talla had no idea yet what he was talking about, but, "No, no don't -" It was getting very stuffy in this booth, the walls seemed to be closing in, symptoms of hyperventilating showed when she blurted our pieces of sentences, "I don't - not on my conscience - I don't want to be responsible for anything like this -!" The death of someone on her head, life-giving blood on her hands, Agent Talla realized now she never wanted, even if it was voluntary.
"Keep your head about you, soldier." Convor admonished, "This was my decision to risk so much on mere hope. Not yours. Try to find some comfort in that, I suppose."
It took a few choked breaths for Talla to find her next question. So much for all that training, Nala Se really did waste too many credits on a mistake like her. "Why did you do this?" She practically whispered, "You don't know me, we don't even share the same DNA, you had no obligation to save me from the consequences of my own stupidity."
It was here that Convor went to another extreme on the emotional spectrum - dark and angry. "We might not share the same DNA, but you and I and all the others are in the same boat - no one's gonna look out for us except us. No one's gonna look after this baby brother of yours except us." Another punch to the gut for Talla, but in guilt, "These politicians and Jedi fighting in their committee meetings will never be able to provide what they promise, and even if by some miracle they do, most of us will be dead by then. We're not expected to survive the war anyway so why rush, am I right?"
"I know all that -"
"I chose to sacrifice myself," Convor reiterated to try getting through to her, "You can't change that, not now. But this is war, ner burc'ya, and we will always get the short end of it. You're gonna have to get used to this sort of thing, it happens all the time out there - all I am hoping and asking of you is to not waste my sacrifice and help."
That was about as comforting as Rafa's reassurance that she ran a reputable business. Talla's heart continued to feel like it was going to explode right out of her chest. "What... Would this 'help' entail?" She did finally, bravely ask. 'Please not an assassination -'
Convor went back to his old self, though there was a certain intonation revealing traces of relief and excitement. "For starters, I'm having my associate continue to research and run tests on the original stimpack -"
"How many of you are there?" Talla demanded because Holy Banthas there were already far too many deserters and mutineers in her life, "And where are you finding them?"
"Well this particular one you just met, I treated a brother of mine who witnessed an accident earlier this year down there where you're at, and felt the Jedi in charge didn't offer sufficient condolences when this gal's family were killed in the explosion. I met him not too long ago and we realized we had a lot in common when it came to our pessimistic views on the Jedi, Senate, Republic as a whole. I've only used her so far as a middleman with my associate from Topside, nothing more."
Guilt was quickly swept away by indignation again, and Talla glared at the screen of the console and pretended Convor's face was displayed. "That sounds like even more bogus lies, Doc, because the Jedi Code puts an emphasis on compassion, according to a reliable and loyal friend of mine who's never let me down, as opposed to your shady traitor."
"Not all of them practice this." Convor said flatly, "You're still new, but they aren't all so holy. There's arrogance and ignorance I've witnessed by some you couldn't even fathom yet."
"There is a Jedi who watches over all of our... Family, you know." Talla countered, and Shaak Ti had been very helpful to her, saving her own family's life! This was like debating with Cut Lawquane all over again. But at least he didn't outright seem to ask they become treason buddies.
"Yeah, she's right there, on the planet, in the middle of all the racket and yet nothing." Convor was struggling to maintain hold over his emotions again on the never-ending heartache he faced every day, "Thousands of my brothers have gone MIA out there on the fronts of battle yet were not considered valuable enough for an extraction team unless there was a ranking officer or Jedi, and in my line of duty, I've had to watch many intended to be discarded because they were not worth the amount of bacta and surgeries needed to fix them up, all because the long-necks are too good at covering up their tracks. Veiled threats of termination and isolation tanks for bouts of temper are not enough for the stupid politics it would require to approve for an investigation, so why bother rocking the boat to the people who've given the Republic so much to work with in regards to this stupid war?" Stony-faced Talla heard him sigh heavily in regret, "I... Couldn't help but start trying to help those I could, and get them to a safe place where they could continue living, but I'm only making a small scratch on the surface, even with the very few reliable helpers I've found."
The revelation that Convor did so much more than just bend the rules so his injured brothers could be as comfortable as possible... Talla experienced the great shock that it wasn't disgust, but admiration bloomed. But she felt a chill. "... How many are we talking about? Just gimme a ballpark number on how many have been discarded?"
"Let's just say becoming 'maintenance' is a lot less common than we are made to believe."
And just like that, righteous anger sparked to life because that blasted long-neck must have lied to Talla when saying her family was going to be decommissioned for 'maintenance work.' And backing that up, all the pent-up anger about the experiments, and her broken mind, and every single cruel gift that Nala Se had given her, it trumped the guilt felt for the defiance for the very first time. Talla received all these gifts just for being a disappointment, but all these soldiers were discarded after their courageous and bloody service to the Republic, all because the Republic didn't know! At least, Convor seemed angry with them too but Talla was given to understand that you needed straight up facts to make a case... wait a sec-
"What would you want me to do?" She asked uneasily.
"Use your power and skills to prove to the galaxy what they are doing."
With extreme paranoia Talla peered around her small booth and even outside, as if expecting to be met with lurking officers or even Nala Sithspawn herself. "Are you really asking me what I think you're asking of me?"
"Are you on board, or are you not?" Convor evaded, "If not, then we can end the conversation here, because I've already wasted enough time if you're not on board after all."
"I didn't ask to be signed up for some sort of splinter group wanting revenge against the Jedi and the Republic."
"We don't want revenge, we want justice, and they can't give it unless we have undeniable, physical proof. This is a covert job, not a demo job. My people have been trying to gather intel to take these long-neck bastards out and save an entire race of people born into slavery, but we don't have the power and skills you have to stop this."
Skills, Agent Talla definitely had, but, "What power? I don't have any power, what power are you seeing, because I'm not a Queen or a Senator or have any position in the Senate or society." Talla interrogated.
"She tried to assassinate you, and she's already created your altered replacement, who would be used as collateral to keep you in line until you used that stuff and it killed you - she wouldn't do this if you weren't a threat to her." Talla looked down, eyebrows furrowing, "You've got the Chancellors stamp of approval and trust, and are getting buddy buddy with Jedi on the Council. Break free from control, play your cards right, you could put her out of business."
That sounded so good. That sounded really good. To see that monster behind a ray-shield was something Talla thought would only be a daydream she'd indulge in when things got rough and she wanted to pin the blame on her. The dam of resilience was snaking with fissures under the pressure of wanting to help her comrades in need. "I... I do have a family to think of..."
"So have I." Convor stated firmly, "And both have a higher chance of being destroyed if we don't do anything about it, same with the little guy."
"Emotional blackmail." Talla huffed, "Nice."
"It's okay to hesitate." Convor reassured her, "It's only human to hesitate over something this drastic. What matters is that you push past it and think of others, not just yourself. I've been thinking of it as, fulfilling our purpose on a whole 'nother level."
Gray areas in life had been tearing up Talla's mental state as of late. So, she broke this conversation down into straightforward facts for review:
Nala Se regularly executed clone troopers under the radar.
Convor had made it his personal mission to help those he could desert and get to safety... the bad part was, this was illegal.
The first chance she got, Nala Se would've definitely executed these defiant Batch of Clone Commandos Talla called her family.
Nala Se attempted to execute her.
Agent Talla was more powerful than Nala Se could ever hope to be.
That was a strange thing to realize. A moment during her cadet years flashed through Talla's mind, fuzzy and sending vibros through her skull but Convors words brought up another weird daydream, like her scars did.
(FLASHBACK)
Young SAC-1 had discovered that crawling through the ventilation shafts or hiding underneath floor grates she was able to pry from the ground throughout the underwater residence, they offered the perfect perches and hideouts to eavesdrop on private conversations. With a mop of curly blonde hair underneath her chin, SAC-1 and the little blonde girl were both on their hands and knees and sneakily watching Nala Se below this air vent, while she was on a private call with the Prime Minister.
"The specimen's abilities growing after every session pose a significant risk with the creative thinking also authorized. Defiance is a common side effect when specimens feel invincible, as proven by Experimental Unit: Clone Force 99." Nala Se informed him.
"Then begin reminding her who has the realm of authority." Lama Su advised menacingly.
When the little blonde girl couldn't hold in a gasp, SAC-1 clamped a hand over her mouth even though it was too late. They both held their breath. But the Kaminoans seemed none the wiser.
It was here that SAC-1 was found ready for the experiments with various torture mediums, to prepare her for the unfortunate event of being held captive by enemy forces. And it was here SAC-1 started to plot for their escape-
(END OF FLASHBACK)
And it was here that Talla began to suspect she wasn't all alone down there in the lab. She still couldn't recall the face of the little girl, but this little girl had to be real. To have two types of weird daydreams about her was not normal unless she was beginning to hallucinate like a mad woman... Regardless of that... maybe Convor was right? Nala Se created and trained up a skilled specimen such as SAC-1, who had proved to still be formidable despite the experiments to tame her. But all she had ended up accomplishing was creating her own greatest enemy.
The experiments, the executions, if Agent Talla played her cards right, maybe she COULD infiltrate Kamino, gather the evidence and exploit the scientists' cruel secrets. It wouldn't end the war, but clones could be given what they rightfully deserved as brave soldiers fighting this war for the Republic - some basic necessities and joys in life! It could greatly boost morale, guarantee a greater percentage surviving the war. Perhaps the new Clone Agents could be treated more humanely than she ever had. Perhaps she could even find some way to make sure Convor would be fine after all.
Most of all, he did sacrifice himself for her, and Talla was able to foresee a never-ending weight to her shoulders, the death of a comrade on her behalf that she did completely waste.
Her decision was not made lightly. "... Do I tell my family about this?" Talla finally spoke.
And it was the confirmation that Convor had desperately hoped for. "I leave that up to you, ner burc'ya, but when you make contact with my associate you'll have to let 'em know who else is in on this - definitely wouldn't mind more the help with their level of skill."
"How do I contact 'them?'" Talla wanted to know, "How will I know who 'they' are?"
"All the pieces to that puzzle are right there in your hands." Convor answered mysteriously, and she glanced down at the stimpak, prescription receipt and datachip with a sun symbol. "And thank you... I think I'm finally experiencing that strange Jedi concept known as peace, but for knowing you'll finish what I started."
Against her will, Talla's lip trembled. An unbearable ache in her chest made it hard to breathe. She didn't trust her voice, wouldn't have known what to say to a dying man... so only a feeble 'You're welcome' came out and she tore away the ear comm.
Pain was the only thing that Talla could feel and think about for a long while, eyes glazed over despite being focused on the puzzle spread out before her on the console.
Until someone pounded on the door to the booth and snapped her back down to reality - Talla was stranded down here in the Underworld because all of her funds were swiped in the deal she made to finish what Convor started. Everything was put back together and pocketed, and she slipped three credits into the slot to make a call to who regular civilians might label as an 'emergency contact' and was pretty sure there was no tracker activated in here.
The Sniper of The Bad Batch answered the call with a very derogatory comment if this was a prank caller. "Hey." Talla only greeted back with, "Can you come pick me up? Kinda got scammed and stranded."
"... Where?"
"... Level 1313."
And he of course knew the Tiima's description of that shady place. "... What the actual kriff, Talla -"
When Crosshair had arrived, he just yanked Talla up on the speeder behind him and sped them back the way he came. The ride back to the Marauder was silent and tense.
TY for ya'lls continued patience with my extremely slow updates
- Ella