Moff Wilhuff Tarkin stood on the bridge of the Executrix , his Imperial Star Destroyer, and watched the construction vehicles buzzing around a spherical metal skeleton hanging over the planet Geonosis. The sight of it filled him with a mixture of anticipation and pride. It had taken years for all of the pieces to fall in place on this project, and now it was finally underway.
With one last look at the most powerful weapon the Empire would ever build, Tarkin turned to the captain.
"Proceed to lightspeed when ready," he commanded.
"Yes, sir."
The orders went out and a second later, the ship entered the swirling vortex of hyperspace.
Tarkin made his way down the winding hallways and labyrinth of lifts to his office, where an RA-7 military protocol droid was waiting for him with a datapad in hand, which it passed to the moff as he strode in.
As he picked up the mug of steaming caf, Tarkin glanced through the report. But then his gaze fell upon the analysis highlighted at the bottom of the report. He froze, the mug centimeters from his lips, his eyes now glued to the datapad. Slowly, he set the mug down.
"You're sure these numbers are accurate?" Tarkin asked the droid, his face a stiff, controlled mask over his rising fury.
"Yes, sir. I verified them with three separate alternate external sources. That data is accurate."
"You're telling me that fully one third of the funding for Project Necromancer is still unaccounted for?"
"Indeed. I took it upon myself to look for it, but I could not find an excess of funding of that magnitude anywhere in the Empire."
Tarkin looked at the slowly spinning holographic model of the nascent space station he'd just left behind. Project Stardust was already the most expensive undertaking the Empire had ever attempted, and Tarkin was under no delusion that its financing troubles would ease over the course of its construction. If he could find the excess funds that Hemlock had stashed away, that would go a long way to easing his money problems.
Tarkin tapped his long fingers thoughtfully on the desk's smooth surface. What had Hemlock been up to, and why had he hidden a significant portion of his funds? Tarkin was only aware of Tantiss Base on Wayland and Hemlock's indoctrinated clones. He'd long suspected that Project Necromancer was more than just a handful of brainwashed clones, but every attempt to inquire had been rebuffed by the secretive doctor.
Tarkin briefly considered asking the emperor, but immediately recoiled from that thought. If the emperor suspected Tarkin was having difficulties with Project Stardust, even one as reasonable as funding issues for a massive project, Tarkin might not live to see the next day.
No, whatever Project Necromancer was, Tarkin would have to find the wayward funds on his own, and quietly.
To the patiently waiting droid, Tarkin said, "Search the database for any facilities owned by the Empire that do not have a clear purpose stated. Also see if any of them bear any connection to Dr. Hemlock."
The droid cocked its head and whirred gently. Tarkin only had to wait a few minutes, which he spent siping his caf. Finally, the droid emitted a subtle beep.
"The only record I could find matching those parameters is of a laboratory on Cathulia where Hemlock conducted his experiments before he moved his operations to Wayland. According to the file, a specimen escaped containment and destroyed the lab. Subsequently, all funds appear to have been diverted from Cathulia to Wayland as per regulations."
"It is as good a place to start as any," Tarkin said, leaning back in his chair. "Transfer Vulture Squad to Executrix . I believe it is time to make use of Hemlock's clone. He may remember more than he realizes once he gets back into familiar territory."
"There is no record of CX-2 ever having been on Cathulia, sir. Clone Trooper 9902 was still believed to be alive when Hemlock moved to Wayland."
"Yes, but the equipment surely was similar." Tarkin stood and faced the viewport, hands clasped at the small of his back. "With Tantiss Base reduced to rubble, the base on Cathulia may be the only other place that might jog his memories. And CX-2's memories may be the key to finding those lost funds."
As Vulture Squad disembarked from the shuttle, CX-2 gave the hangar a cursory glance, but it was the same as every other Imperial hangar he'd been in: sparse, cold, gray. Even the thunder of spacecraft taking off reminded him of the thunderstorms–
CX-2 nearly stopped in his tracks in shock. Thunderstorms?
Ferrus half-turned to the clone. "Problem, Reboot?"
"No," CX-2 said quickly. He fell into step beside her, thinking. Clones were born on Kamino, a world flooded and tormented by storms. He'd remembered the ever-present storms of his youth…What did that mean?
Out of the corner of his eye, CX-2 caught Ferrus looking at him. "What is it?"
"You've been on edge since we got our reassignment to Executrix ," she said. "What's bothering you?"
CX-2 shook his head. "I assure you, nothing is bothering me."
Ferrus's sigh emerged from her helmet's speaker as a staticky sound. "You fidgeted the entire trip here. You nearly tripped on your way down the gangway. And you're posture is terrible right now."
CX-2 straightened up. She was right on that account. He was too distracted to even mind his posture. Ferrus chuckled.
Ahead of them, Kirgard and Dahl stopped.
"I've got a meeting with Moff Tarkin," Kirgard said. "I'll meet up with the rest of you later."
As he left, Dahl said, "I'm going to catch up with a friend. I'll see you at the briefing, whenever that happens."
That left CX-2 with Ferrus. She checked her weapon. "I need to make a stop at the armory and get a new rifle. The safety keeps sticking. Care to join me?"
CX-2 fell into step beside Ferrus. Ever since their last mission, her newfound respect for the clone had brushed aside her earlier dislike of CX-2, and allowed them to begin an awkward, tentative friendship.
"You're a clone that was reprogrammed by Hemlock, right? Or conditioned, I guess."
"That is correct. Reprogrammed is as good a term as any."
"It makes you sound like a droid."
"Dahl thought the same of my designation, CX-2."
"It does seem dehumanizing."
"You are TK-3476. It is an efficient identification system that can quickly and accurately identify a large number of individuals, particularly when utilizing an alphanumeric designation rather than the usual numeric system."
"You mean using letters and numbers like your designation."
"That is what I just said."
"TK-3476 is just my number. I don't go by that to people who know me. I have a name: Kaida Ferrus. Even clones rebelled against that system and took names and used tattoos to distinguish themselves from each other. One of the instructors at the Academy was a clone with a tattoo of a gundark on his neck."
"An aspect of clone psychology that I seem to have escaped."
"You didn't have a name before Hemlock reprogrammed you?"
CX-2 went silent. The cyborg had called him, "Tech." Had…had that been his name? He felt no connection to the name whatsoever. No flashbacks pulled him into the past, no yearning, no familiarity. If that had been his name, it wasn't now.
"I do not know," he said quietly. "I do not remember anything before stepping out of the cryotube in Hemlock's lab. I do not even remember the reconditioning."
"You don't remember anything from before? Nothing about growing up, your friends?"
CX-2 shook his head. "My past history is inconsequential."
But as they stepped into the armory, CX-2 couldn't help but be reminded of the image of the gaunt clone, Crosshair.
CX-2's thoughts were interrupted by the droid armorer.
"Credentials," it said in a bored voice.
The two troopers produced their pips and handed them to the droid, which checked their credentials and replaced Ferrus's blaster.
A few of the lights on the droids face winked on and off. "Would you like to see a list of equipment you are authorized to use?"
CX-2 exchanged a look with Ferrus.
"I'd like to see the list," she said.
The droid brought up the list on a datapad and showed it to the two stormtroopers.
CX-2 and Ferrus both pulled off their helmets. Ferrus's jaw dropped.
"This isn't the same list as the last time I visited an armory," she said in awe.
"This looks like a list for a commando," CX-2 said. "Droid, I think there's been a mix-up–"
"There is no 'mix-up'," it said in a huff. "Vulture Squad has been redesignated a commando squad as of yesterday, signed off on by Moff Tarkin himself."
A wide, feral grin spread over Ferrus's face. "I'm a rifleman, but look at this list…grenade launcher attachment, thermal detonators–That's not even for the heavy. That's Dahl." She chuckled. "He gets to haul around an E-Web. I'm sure he'll love that. You're the sniper, Reboot."
She handed the datapad to the clone and began ordering the droid about, collecting her gear.
CX-2 ran his finger down the list, making note of the various items. His finger stopped on one particular item, though he didn't exactly know why. All he knew was that this was one item he needed.
He gestured for the droid to come over, and told it what to bring him. One by one, the new gear piled up.
But then came that one special item: a long combat vibroblade tucked into a specially designed forearm armor piece. CX-2 removed his own armor and replaced it with the sheath, then pulled out the vibroblade, admiring its golden surface. He flicked it on, watched it blur, listened to its soft, lethal hum. It wasn't a lightsaber, but it could cut nearly as well.
CX-2 flicked the switch to turn it off, then slid it into its sheath with a satisfying shh-chck .
By the time they left, CX-2 and Ferrus were both lugging stiff packs loaded down with enough gear for them to comfortably survive and defend a deserted planet without atmosphere for a week against a small army. CX-2 had a long sniper rifle tucked against one shoulder.
Both of their comlinks beeped.
"Report for the briefing," Kirgard's voice said.
"That was fast," Ferrus replied.
Kirgard grunted. "Tarkin seems most anxious for us to be on our way."
When the two stormtroopers arrived at the new briefing room, Dahl's eyes narrowed, taking in CX-2 and Ferrus's new packs.
"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you two morphed into commandos in the last hour."
"So did you, genius," Ferrus said.
Dahl looked to Kirgard, whose own face split into a grin.
"Just like that?" Dahl asked in amazement.
Kirgard nodded. "Each of us has had ample training and experience in special operations, except for Ferris, who's never gotten her feet wet. But even she's had the additional intensive training course at the Academy."
"Since you were all regular stormtroopers until yesterday–" Ferris grunted as she set her pack down, "-what did you guys do to get kicked out?"
Dahl winced. "Slept with the commander's daughter. I'm lucky he didn't gut me."
"Maybe he ought to have," Kirgard said with a snort. "I asked for a quieter post." He looked around at them with a wry smile. "Worked for a little while."
"You're too amazing to fool them for long." Dahl smirked at CX-2. "And you died."
The clone held out his hands helplessly and shrugged. "I did not have much say in the matter."
"Don't worry." Dahl smacked Ferrus on the back. "You'll pick it up fast enough. Where're we going, boss?"
Kirgard waited a moment for them all to take their seats, then flicked on the holoprojector. "A mid-rim world called Cathulia. Apparently Hemlock—" he nodded to CX-2 "—had a base there. Our mission is to reconnoiter and pick up any intel Hemlock might have left behind. In particular, we're looking for anything related to Project Necromancer or anything else that might hint at what Hemlock was up to there."
The captain eyed CX-2, but the clone wasn't sure why. CX-2 still didn't remember much from his time spent with Hemlock.
CX-2 felt his knee start to bounce nervously. There was another factor to consider. What would happen if he had a flashback at the wrong moment again? What if Kirgard or the others saw it this time?
"Sir," CX-2 said, "what kind of hostiles should we expect?"
"Not much, really. The planet is relatively poor in resources and not on any major hyperspace routes." Kirgard clicked a button. The image of Cathulia was replaced by an image of a dead sarlacc. "As for native wildlife, near as Intel can figure, this sarlacc was the apex predator of the region up until recently, when it was killed. It decimated the local fauna, so there's not much to bother us."
He clicked off the hologram.
"Should be an easy in-and-out. Any questions?"
Dahl raised a hand. "If all we're doing is retrieving data, why send a newly-minted commando team? Why not send a tech team?"
"This data is extremely sensitive," Kirgard replied. "We're to protect it at all costs, and destroy it rather than allow it to fall into enemy hands."
"The hands of an enemy who is theoretically not going to be there?" CX-2 said, one eyebrow raised.
Ferrus snickered beside him.
Kirgard nodded. "Prepare for the worst, but don't be surprised if it's not any more exciting than taking grandma for a walk."
He checked his chrono. "Dahl and I have to swing by the armory to pick up our new gear. We'll meet you in the hangar in fifteen."
Cathulia smelled like someone had been stewing boots in mud for a millennium. Even the filters in CX-2's helmet couldn't quite scrub the smell away. CX-2's undersuit was clinging to him in all the wrong places and chaffing, and the white plastoid armor held the humidity against his body so that within moments of stepping out of the shuttle, CX-2 felt as though he'd been dunked in a lake of hot water. Every breath he took felt heavy and damp. The decay made his boots squish into the ground, and if he touched a rotten log or root, the wood immediately crumbled away into the muck.
"When you said there was a sarlacc here, I should have known it would be miserably hot," Dahl grumbled. He had his E-web heavy repeating blaster lashed to his pack.
"Sarlaccs are capable of adapting to a wide variety of environments," CX-2 said, "not just hot ones."
That comment elicited a glare from Dahl.
"Let me whine," the stormtrooper said. "It's how I cope with lugging heavy objects in uncomfortable circumstances."
Ferrus shoved her way past them both to take point. "He's not the only one who doesn't wanna hear it."
"My intention was not to criticize," CX-2 protested. "Only to correct."
"Same thing," Dahl grumbled.
CX-2 sighed as he fell into place in line behind Dahl. Kirgard brought up the rear, alert and tense.
"We're all hot and uncomfortable," Kirgard said. "It'd be a shame if we killed each other on such an easy mission."
Dahl grunted and fell silent. They trudged through the jungle, led by Ferrus and her tracking equipment. As they neared the ruin, CX-2 noticed that the entire jungle was swathed in thick vines. No—not vines—tentacles. He gave one of the larger tentacles a swift hard kick.
"Whoa!" Kirgard yelled, yanking CX-2 back. The others jumped, blasters up and ready.
"Intel reported that the sarlacc is dead," CX-2 said matter-of-factly, shrugging out of the captain's grip. "I was merely confirming the validity of the intel."
"And if it had been wrong?" Dahl said.
"Then we would currently be fighting for our lives. But we are not."
Kirgard lowered his blaster with an exasperated sigh. "Just…next time check with me before poking a monster, dead or alive, alright?"
CX-2 nodded. "Very well."
Ahead of them, Ferrus had gone rigid. She held up a fist to silence them. The three men went silent and settled into a defensive stance, scanning the jungle.
CX-2 could feel the tension between the squad members rocket up. His own hands felt slick under his gloves, his breathing just a little faster. He scanned the jungle. Nothing.
The figure in the brush didn't dare breathe. The four stormtroopers were less than two meters from its hiding spot beneath a knot of roots, and if they veered from their path at all, one of them was bound to notice the figure.
"What is it?" a stormtrooper asked.
"I heard footsteps," another replied.
The figure pressed its twisted body further into the hollow and shut its eyes. Its lungs burned, but it dared not breathe.
"Keep moving forward, but stay wary," one of the stormtroopers said. "We may not be the only sentient on this planet after all."
The figure in the brush watched the stormtroopers' backs, then finally drew a shaky breath.
Stormtroopers? Here? the misshapen creature wondered with no small amount of spite.
It peeked out of its hiding place. The sight of the troopers, little more than white smears against the mottled green of the jungle, still made the being cower, memories of searing pain and hatred flooding it.
Maybe kill them, it thought to itself. If I kill them, they learn to stay away for good.
It crawled out of the hollow and limped after the stormtroopers, sticking to the shadows. They were heading to the old ruins.
Dangerous, it remembered. Must kill them, but must also be careful. Must be sneaky.
As it followed them, a plan began to form in the wretched creature's mind.