Hevy takes a deep breath as he steps out of the hospital, resisting the urge to beam.

Freedom at last.

Next to him, Flak lets out a pleased laugh, ignoring the glares he's receiving from several civilians also out in the hospital's small courtyard. The pilot stares up into the sky and grins as a speeder roars over their heads, and Hevy smiles, happy for him. He'll be able to fly again soon.

Senator Amidala is waiting for them, an armored clone at her side. Hevy can't wait to get his own armor back on. He feels practically naked in the red cotton outfit the hospital had supplied him with. He misses his HUD and the beautiful blue flames that had taken so much time to paint.

His back and legs ache, but they don't hurt. Not enough to impede him from fleeing the hospital as soon as possible.

"Senator," Hevy greets respectfully, then blinks when he notices that the clone standing next to her has a pauldron around his chest and a kama swinging by his legs. Kriff, it's a commander. Hevy doesn't recognize the armor—it isn't Fox, that much he knows. He offers a wary salute. "Sir."

Senator Amidala laughs at Hevy's expression.

"Hevy, Flak, this is Commander Thorn, my escort for today." Commander Thorn offers his hand in a friendly gesture, so Hevy shakes it, feeling a bit awkward. He senses that Thorn is smiling at him under his helmet.

"So you're Hevy," Thorn says. "I've heard a bit about you."

Hevy winces. "Good things, or bad things?" That makes Thorn chuckle.

"Both, trooper. But I wouldn't worry. Rex is a good storyteller."

"You know Rex?" Flak asks curiously. Thorn turns to look at him.

"When General Skywalker comes to visit, Rex and I often end up chatting for a few hours. He's a good man."

"That's for sure," Flak agrees, and eyes Commander Thorn in approval. Hevy agrees with his silent assessment—he likes this one.

"Shall we be on our way, Commander?" Senator Amidala asks suddenly, voice tight. Hevy looks at her in surprise, but her fierce gaze is fixed elsewhere—on a gaggle of nurses and doctors that have just emerged and aren't even bothering to hide their dirty looks from the three clones. Hevy scowls back at them. Commander Thorn doesn't seem bothered.

"Of course, Ma'am," he answers smoothly. "Flak, Hevy—ready to go?"

"More than ready," Hevy replies, a sour taste in his mouth as he stares at the hospital with new realization. They'd only accepted them because of General Skywalker, nothing more. "Let's get out of here."

He follows Commander Thorn towards a speeder parked on the edge of the platform and gestures for Flak to take the front seat. Flak blinks at him, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"You want me to drive, sir?"

"You're a pilot, aren't you?" Commander Thorn says, tilting his head. Flak is suddenly vibrating with energy.

"Yessir," he says eagerly, and slides into the pilot seat without further prompting, gripping the controls. Senator Amidala laughs from the passenger's seat.

"I don't think I have to remind you about the speed limits, trooper," she comments as Fives sits down in the back with Thorn, obviously amused by Flak's excitement. Flak scoffs.

"Of course, of course, sir. No need to worry."

"Hm. Anakin told me the same thing," she mutters, and Commander Thorn chuckles.

The speeder lifts off smoothly from the ground and rises, merging into the Coruscant traffic effortlessly. Flak keeps it perfectly in control, and there's not a single bit of turbulence in the ascent. Riding in an open-cockpit speeder makes Hevy grin—the wind cuts across his face. It's liberating.

Senator Amidala is giving directions to Flak as they fly, and Hevy frowns as they soar above the Republic Senate Building, bustling with other vehicles that Flak swerves to avoid.

That's where the source of all this trouble is. Hevy stares at it in determination. Palpatine won't know what's hit him. He remembers General Skywalker's voice, thick with emotion as he'd told Hevy of his past as a slave. The General had sworn to do everything in his power to help the clones gain their rights as sentient beings, as civilians of the Republic. Here on Coruscant, Senator Amidala has the power to become a voice for them. To change things for the better. But that's only if they play their cards right.

Passing the Senate Building, suddenly Flak starts a small descent, dropping several stories of Coruscant's layers before evening out again. Hevy hangs his arms out of the speeder and stares at awe as they pass several bustling clubs, a large market, and what seems like an endless stream of neon signs. He's never seen anything like this before, and he's vaguely aware of Thorn laughing at him on his other side but he doesn't really care. This is completely unfamiliar to Hevy, a different style of life, and the crowds in the streets below them fascinate him. He's never seen such diversity before. It's almost shocking.

He wonders what the rest of Domino would say. Fives and Echo have seen it before, but he thinks Cutup would be bouncing up and down in excitement, and that Droidbait would be vaguely alarmed by everything but intrigued as well. That makes him smile. He misses them. He's never been apart from his squadmates before.

They head for another building that's long and flat, with the Republic's sigil stamped across the door and Coruscant guards guarding the perimeter. Flak sets them down just in front of the doors, and the guards raise their rifles, instantly on alert, until Thorn and Senator Amidala rise. Only then do they relax, and it makes something in Hevy sit up and pay attention.

"They're… on edge," he comments dryly as they disembark. Commander Thorn lets out a laugh. It's dry and humorless this time.

"Yes," he confirms, and doesn't expand on it any more. Hevy doesn't push either, just follows him and the Senator into the building. Once they enter, Hevy feels like he's in familiar territory—it seems to be a mix between a Command center and a barracks. There are clones everywhere in red armor, seated at desks, taking comm calls, reloading weapons, prepping squads for an outing. It's busy everywhere Hevy looks.

A couple clones yell out greetings when Commander Thorn enters, but they don't stop to salute. It doesn't appear like there's time. Hevy actually has to halt and step to the side as a squad goes thundering past him. The Sergeant of the squad is barking frantically into his comm as they go, and Thorn watches them sprint out for a moment, tension visible in his shoulders until he purposefully smooths it over and continues walking. A few men also shout out little greetings to Senator Amidala, who waves with a gentle, graceful smile.

"Holy kriff," Flak breathes out. "This is insane."

"There's never not six different problems at the same time on Coruscant," Thorn responds. "Down time is a very treasured gift."

"Force," Hevy murmurs, looking around in awe. The main room is full of clones, but Thorn guides them through the chaos and up a flight of stairs. Here it suddenly calms down. There's only a few scattered men in the hallways, and they're passing office rooms. Hevy catches sight of a mailbox in front of a door, stuffed to the brim of memos and paperwork. The plaque on the door says, 'Commander Fox' in dimmed gold letters, and Fives winces, feeling sorry for the other clone. He steps over a few of the slips of paper that had fallen to the floor, but Thorn just treads right over them. Fox's door is closed, and the lights are dimmed—he isn't there right now, it seems.

A little further down is Thorn's own office. His mailbox is still occupied, though not to the extent that Fox's is. Thorn pushes the door open and the lights flicker on, revealing a desk covered in empty caf cups and more paperwork. Thorn sighs and pushes the cups aside to clear a little more space. There's a paperweight in the corner—a miniature Jedi temple. Someone's drawn a little clone trooper on the side of it, pointing upwards like a sightseer. It's cute.

There's a couple of chairs off to the side, so Hevy takes a seat, wincing at how hard it is underneath him. Flak sits down, too, but before Senator Amidala can, Thorn tosses her something—a small, flattened pillow. Senator Amidala smiles at him gratefully and puts it underneath her as she sits.

"Thank you, Commander," she says quietly. Thorn sighs and pulls his helmet off, setting it to the side on his desk. Hevy admires the wings painted on the sides for a moment before looking at the Commander's face.

Thorn looks exhausted. There are bags under his eyes, but despite that he smiles at them.

"Welcome to the Coruscant Guard, men. As you can see, we've got our hands full. A fourth of the planet falls under this base's jurisdiction, and we're a little short-staffed—but we're happy to have you here, until you can get back out to the outer rim."

"Thank you, sir," Hevy says, and Flak echoes him. The Guard isn't what he'd expected at all. Far more chaotic. The Guards have a reputation among the rest of the GAR of being uptight and prideful, but now Hevy's not so sure it's true. They just seem… stressed. "We're happy to help where we're needed."

"Within reason," Senator Amidala chimes in sternly. "Commander, they are both recovering from severe injuries. They shouldn't be allowed out on patrol until they've healed more."

Hevy makes a face, but she's right. He's not in any state to be running around the unfamiliar Coruscant streets yet. Thorn nods at the Senator respectfully.

"They'll stay here for a little longer before I or anyone else from Command sends them out, ma'am. I'll make sure of that."

"Thank you, Commander," she says. "On that note, actually… I was wondering if you could give me an estimated time when yourself, Commander Fox, Commander Thire, and perhaps Commander Stone will be here again."

Thorn frowns.

"Thire should return tonight," he answers. "Stone is off-planet on an assignment. He won't be back for another month. But… I can't give you an answer about Fox. I haven't heard from him yet. He was called up by the Chancellor."

Hevy blanches. That… doesn't sound good at all. Senator Amidala frowns.

"I was hoping to speak to the four of you, with Hevy and Flak as well," she requests. Hevy glances at her and grins when he sees a determined look in her eyes. "It's of the utmost importance, Commander. It's the reason why these clones are here on Coruscant instead of in a standard medical facility."

She intends to tell them about the chips. Hevy heartily approves. It's time.

"You can't just tell me now, sir? I really have no clue when Fox will return, and Stone will be a while. It's nearly impossible to get us all together," Thorn says warily, looking between the three of them. Hevy sighs.

"We could, but we'll have to explain it all over again to the other two, and that will take a long kriffing time. It's no trivial matter, sir. It's very important, and not for all ears," he explains.

Thorn stares at them, disbelief visible on his face, but then he glances at Senator Amidala and sees that it's not a joke. He inhales slowly. Lets it go again.

"Okay. I'll wait. Now, what was… ah, yes." He opens the drawer of his desk and pulls out a datapad, powering it up. "That's right. I needed to check this." He glances through a document that Hevy can't see and then sets it down, standing from his chair.

"Sorry, Senator. You accompanied us for nothing, if you were searching for the others as well."

Senator Amidala smiles. "Don't worry, Commander. You had no way of knowing. But please notify me when they return. And get these men their armor, and datapads as soon as possible."

"Of course, sir," Thorn acknowledges. "Do you want an escort to take you back to the—never mind, that isn't a question. An escort will escort you to your next meeting, if there's nothing more to do here," he tells her. It makes Senator Amidala laugh.

"Thank you, Commander. Your help is appreciated." She turns to Hevy and Flak. "Please, rest up. I'll be in contact with you, and we can plan our next move later. Until then, I want you here, healing. Understood?"

Hevy straightens automatically. Her tone had left no room for argument.

"Yessir!" he snaps out. She smiles fondly.

"Good. I'll see myself, in that case. Commander, take care of them, please."

"I'll try, Senator. Be careful out there."

She leaves them. Thorn takes a brief moment to comm a squad and assign them to seeing her safely to her next location. He motions at Hevy and Flak to follow and steps out into the hallway.

"I had to double check where the supply team put your armor," he tells them conversationally as they walk further back into the command center. The office buildings end, and true barracks begin. They pass a clone in a towel, who stares at them through bleary eyes, half asleep as he makes himself to his room.

Thorn keeps going a little further, watching the room numbers until he finally pauses in front of them. The door opens with a hiss, but there's no one inside. There are two bunk beds in one of the tiniest rooms Hevy's ever seen. Two of them seem occupied, the ones on the left, though the inhabitants aren't there. On the right side, the bunk bed is devoid of bedding, but Hevy's armor has been respectfully placed there. The sight of it makes him grin. Flak's pilot armor has been similarly placed on the upper bunk.

"Make yourself as comfortable as you can," Thorn laughs. "It's not much, but it isn't an anti-clone hospital, so you'll be better off here."

Hevy exchanges a startled look with Flak. He hadn't felt like the hospital had been anti-clone—until that last little bit as they'd left, that is. General Skywalker must have pulled some strings. Or Senator Amidala.

"Really, sir, thank you," Hevy says, turning to the Commander. "You're helping us more than you understand."

Thorn raises an eyebrow. "More than I understand, for now," he revises. "You're explaining everything to me later, hear?" He reaches into his belt and hands them each a small datapad. "Try not to get too bored. Once you're feeling better, we'll see about sending you out on patrol."

Hevy balls his fists in excitement. Excellent. He's ready.

A thought crosses his mind. Commander Thorn is about to leave, already appearing to be worried about something else (what had he sacrificed, to accompany the Senator and give them a tour today? What work could he have done but didn't in favor of helping a brother out?), but Hevy has one more favor to ask.

"Sir… is there a long-range holoprojector I could use here?"

He wants to let Ninety-nine know what's going on.

Echo is tired of being angry.

He's spent the past two days upset—at Fives, at Fox, at Palpatine, at their whole stupid situation, and he's finally tired himself out.

The siege on Ord Mantell had ended quickly. After the initial attack, the droids had continued retreating until they'd abandoned the planet, and the Republic had been quick to place guards and get the combined 501st and 212th out of there. But there's no rest, because they're being sent to Saleucami after General Grievous already even though the men are tired. There's never rest for the weary.

The travel time is their only saving grace. Saleucami isn't exactly close. They have three days in hyperspace to calm down, and Echo is grateful for it. It gives him more time to think, to come to terms with the information Fives had revealed to them earlier.

It makes Echo's blood boil with rage. He'd barely been able to believe it.

Fives had been killed by a brother.

And not just any brother, either, but a commanding kriffing officer. By Fox.

("Maybe I asked for it," Fives recounts slowly, voice hoarse, not looking any of them in the eyes. "But I couldn't think, couldn't process anything more than the fact that I needed to tell them what was happening—so I went for the gun."

There is silence. Fives closes his eyes and tries, tries with every fiber of his being to not shake.

"And Fox shot me."

Echo lets out a strangled sound. Jesse and Hardcase look like they're struggling to keep up—Hardcase had practically zoned out once he'd heard of his own death, shock visible on his face. Droidbait has one hand clasped tightly over his mouth. Cutup is frozen, eyes partially glazed over. Captain Rex's face is twisted into a savage scowl.

"Rex… the other Rex, held me until I died," Fives breathes out, and this seems to be too much. Echo bursts to his feet with a wordless shout, breath coming in horrified, helpless pants. Captain Rex flinches and closes his eyes. The deep lines on his face indicate failure even though it hasn't even happened yet.

Fives had been killed by a brother.)

Echo wants to strangle Fox, brother or not. Commanding officer or not. Now, suddenly, a lot of things make more sense. Like Fives' initial mistrust of General Skywalker. Like the strange, bitter sound to his voice when he mentions the Coruscant Guard that Echo had never paid attention to before.

Fives could have saved everything, and Fox had killed him. Echo doesn't know what was going on in the Commander's head, but he can't think of very many things that make killing a seemingly-crazed brother like that justifiable, even if Fives had gone for his pistol as he'd explained. It takes half a second for a gun to be switched from kill to stun. It just doesn't make sense.

He hopes that he doesn't see Fox anytime soon. He thinks he's very likely to punch the other clone in the face, nevermind that it happened in another life.

The others had been shocked about it, too, but not nearly to the extent that Echo had been. They only know Commander Fox as a name, but Echo had met him. Remembers that he had been a little cold-shouldered, but accommodating, remembers that he'd sent their battalion well wishes when they had shipped out after visiting Coruscant for a week.

Fives was downplaying how much the revealed information had affected him. Echo knows him better than he knows himself, remembers how Fives' unmatchable sense of brotherhood had driven him, how his endless inspirational speeches about one heart and one mind had filled them all with a sense of duty and comradery. After revealing the details of his death, he'd spent several long moments recollecting himself, and Echo had reached out to offer comfort, but Fives had flinched away.

He'd never reacted like that before. Not even in the beginning.

A moment later Fives had glanced up and no doubt seen the hurt and surprise all over Echo's face. He'd reached out himself a moment later, allowing Echo to comfort him, and after a few minutes, he'd calmed down and was back to normal.

Echo wonders how much of it had been an act. He sighs.

It's not going to happen this time, so there's no need to dwell on it so much. The people that Fives had described as he'd spoken of his final moments don't even exist yet, mentally.

"Are you done stewing?" a quiet voice asks, drawing Echo out of his spiralling thoughts. He glances up. Fives himself is standing in front of him, hands on his hips. "You know, I told you about my death so that you'd be aware, not so that you'd spend all day moping in your bunk." He speaks so casually about something that had crippled him hours ago. Repression.

"'M not moping," Echo growls at him, shoving Fives away with one hand and earning an amused grunt from the other ARC. "I'm just thinking."

"Doesn't seem like it," Fives tells him, flicking his chest. "Come on. It doesn't matter." That's a lie. "Just let it go. It's not going to happen that way, anyway." Now that part is true. Echo sighs and sits up, wincing when the movement spurns a headache from laying down for so long.

They're in the barracks, trying to get some rest. Beta squad, minus Coric, are sprawled out in various positions around the barracks. Most are in their beds, but Hardcase is sprawled out on the floor, and Nax is sitting at the table, fidgeting with his datapad.

"Yeah, yeah, okay," Echo grumbles when Fives prods him again. "I'm done, promise."

Captain Rex had taken the news surprisingly well after his initial reaction, calm despite the vocal protests of the others. That had comforted Echo a little, to be honest—if there's anyone determined to prevent it from happening, it's Rex.

Jesse and Hardcase, upon finding out that a chunk of their squad are time-travellers, had still been confused. Hardcase had struggled to comprehend that he'd died, that it hadn't been a dream or hallucination, but that he'd actually died, but then it had started over. Jesse had caught on quicker, frowning so deep the whole time that Echo had worried for his face.

"Fives, can I ask a question?" Hardcase mutters from the floor. Fives raises an eyebrow at him.

"Sure, Hardcase. Shoot."

"When I died, it was awesome, right?"

Echo chokes, not sure if he should laugh or punch him. Fives, for a brief moment, looks like he's been struck—and then he seems to shake it off, transforming the horror in his face to an easy smile. It's not going to happen, and of course Hardcase would be one to joke about it. Fives hadn't explained every detail of Hardcase's death, just that he had died on Umbara, sacrificing himself on an unauthorized mission.

"Yeah, it was, 'Case," he reassures. "You went out blowing a kriff-ton of clankers sky high. You would have impressed yourself."

Hardcase hums.

"That's the way to go," he mumbles sleepily, lips pursed. Jesse throws a boot at him from his bunk.

"Don't kriffing bother him about that, Force," he hisses. "You have zero tact. Honestly, Hardcase."

Jesse is smart. Smarter than Echo had ever realized. Echo had been impressed by his questions and thoughtful comments upon being told the time-travel story.

"Just wondering," Hardcase says, and goes quiet. Fives huffs out a soft laugh.

"I really don't mind," he whispers to Echo quietly. His tone is honest, he's not lying. "He just caught me off guard. But… it's exactly the question I would have expected from him."

Beta settles back into a comfortable silence. Echo brushes his shoulder against Fives' and allows himself to relax for a few minutes, enjoying the silent company of his closest brothers.

The silence is short-lived.

The door slides open. At first, Echo glares at the intruder until he realizes that it's General Skywalker, with Commander Tano close on his heels.

"Kriff me," Echo swears under his breath—the whole squad scrambles to organize themselves, stumbling out of bed. The comfortable atmosphere fades.

"Sorry to interrupt your rest, men," General Skywalker says apologetically. "But this is the only free time we'll probably have for a few weeks, and… we need to talk."

Echo sucks in a sharp breath and feels Fives tense next to him. They move to stand, but before they can, General Skywalker sits down in the middle of the floor. Commander Tano follows suit. The General stares up at the clones, gesturing for them to stay seated. His face is kind but his eyes are serious. Echo swallows nervously.

They'd known this was coming.

"I do have some good news," General Skywalker says as they all settle down. "Generals Secura and Plo Koon tell me their men are being taken through the de-chipping process. Their battalions should be chip-free within a few days."

That is good news. It lightens the mood for a moment. Then General Skywalker sighs.

"Do any of you know what, exactly, Obi-wan was talking about the other day?" he asks, straight-forward and leaving no room for dodging. He stares at them all, and Echo had planned for this, thought through what his answers would be but in the moment he can't think of anything to say at all.

"Sir… I don't know anything about the… Force," Droidbait says, breaking the silence, and Echo could hug him. "I really… don't know what he was talking about. All I know is that it's a Jedi's source of power." It's perfect. Keeping the General away from the time-travel aspect, but also telling the truth. They really don't know what General Kenobi had been saying.

General Skywalker frowns. Commander Tano lifts a hand slowly.

"The Force is more than just a power," she explains, casting a look at her master and continuing when he nods in approval. "It's an energy. It exists in all living things and binds the galaxy together."

Echo tilts his head, curious. Even in his past life he'd never gotten the chance to learn more about the mystical Force.

"All due respect, Commander… what does that even mean?" Cutup asks, brow furrowed. Commander Tano huffs.

"It's… I…" She turns to General Skywalker. "Master, I don't know how to—how could you explain this?"

"It's something real, something tangible," General Skywalker says, taking over. "Something you can't see, but can feel, if you pay close attention. If you know how to look."

Echo lifts an eyebrow. That makes less sense.

"It's what's responsible for the creation of the galaxy," General Skywalker tries again. "It's a… mental energy source that can be tapped into and converted into power." There, that's better. Echo nods, finally following somewhat. "Usually, it can only be utilized as a power by Jedi… or Sith. But the potential to access it always exists, just… most people can't. They're blocked from it."

"Even clones, sir?" Hardcase asks, suddenly looking way too excited. General Skywalker offers him a half-smile.

"Even clones have the Force inside of them," he answers. "Anything living. Theoretically, if you could access it, you could control it."

Echo's eyes widen. Use the Force? It's something so impossible that he'd never even considered it.

"Are you serious, sir?" Fives asks. General Skywalker chuckles.

"No one had explained that to you before? Why would we say, 'May the Force be with you' so much if it wasn't important?"

He has a good point. Echo had just never thought to look into it.

"Obi-wan asked me to try something," General Skywalker continues. "There wasn't time to do this with him. It's just a test, but… it would help us understand what's going on a little better. Up for it?"

Echo exchanges a hesitant glance with Cutup.

"That depends on what you're going to do, sir," Droidbait mutters nervously. General Skywalker waves a hand.

"Nothing scary, I promise. I wanted to… look at your minds. With the Force. It's kind of like what I did before, but this time… with permission. Sorry about that, by the way."

Echo remembers a phantom touch along his thoughts and frowns. That's what the General had been doing?

Sithspit. If he looks at their minds he'll see their memories of the past life.

General Skywalker is, honestly, one of the last people Echo thinks they should tell about the time-travel. He's just… too spontaneous. Echo trusts him, but the General is reckless and thinks with his lightsaber more often than not. If the General learns of some of the more delicate information they have, who knows what he'll do.

"Sir, I don't—" he attempts to say, but General Skywalker has his eyes closed. Echo hisses as he feels something pass over him—not prodding, not even entering his mind yet, because the General won't do that without permission again—but watching him. Sensing him.

Commander Tano gasps.

"It's not even all of them," she exclaims in surprise. "It's just… them." Her gaze lands on Domino squad. Echo's eyes widen. Oh no.

"Odd," General Skywalker mutters. His gaze lands on Echo, who's the closest to him (bad luck), and he reaches out a hand hesitantly.

"Echo, could I…?"

Echo knows what he wants. Fear coils low in his gut, but he can't refuse. If the General finds out right now, they'll just have to play damage control, because if Echo refuses it will make things worse. He nods slowly and braces himself. General Skywalker closes his eyes again, and Echo—

He feels. Something presses in on his thoughts, gently, but unwelcome. Echo recoils from it, ignores the creeping memory of Tambor digging into his brain, shoves it away so General Skywalker won't see. Fortunately the General isn't prodding through his mind yet, waiting for Echo to calm down.

Won't hurt you, the General murmurs in his mind. He's waiting for Echo to stop feeling afraid. He could enter, but he doesn't. Echo takes a deep breath. He knows the General won't hurt him.

Okay, he thinks quietly, and General Skywalker slips into his head. It makes Echo gasp. He's afraid that General Skywalker is going to start digging, sorting through his memories and thoughts like a book, but he… doesn't. He just waits. Feels. Stays on the edge of Echo's brain without doing anything.

Interesting.

Echo shudders, resisting the urge to panic again. He's not sure what the General is doing.

General Skywalker finally takes hold of a memory. It's a small one, of Echo and Droidbait chortling over something stupid that Nax and Cutup had done during a spar, and the General's not inspecting it too closely, but Echo panics anyway and shoves a different memory forwards instead—a memory of pain and frantic battle haze, of terror and feeling unsafe in one's own armor and everything else that Felucia was. A moment where he was too distracted to think of anything more than survival.

It makes General Skywalker jerk back, more in surprise than anything. He waits a moment longer, avoiding Echo's memory, and then pulls out completely.

Echo gasps as the tendrils of… Force leave his mind. He comes back to the real world with a shiver, and is suddenly aware of Fives grabbing his arm.

"General!" Fives yelps accusingly. "You said you wouldn't hurt him!"

"I'm not hurt," Echo tells him breathlessly, before Fives can get fired up. "Not hurt at all, it was just… strange."

General Skywalker hadn't been hunting for odd memories. He'd just been testing something. Echo isn't sure what, but that realization is a relief. The secret of their past lives remains hidden, because the General respects them too much to dig through Echo's brain unrestrained.

"What did you see, General?" he asks warily, and General Skywalker shakes his head.

"Something that I don't know how to explain," he admits. "You… aren't Force-sensitive. Your mind would have reacted differently had that been the case. It didn't fight me, or react to the Force-touch."

Echo shakes his head. So they aren't Jedi. Great. Question answered, right?

"But there is something… strange about it," the General continues. Echo sighs. Of course there is. "Normally it's the Living Force that fills most standard lifeforms, but with you four… it feels more like Cosmic Force."

Echo's going to get a headache.

"And…?" Fives grits out, sounding just as confused as Echo feels. "That means…?"

General Skywalker laughs. "Zero clue. Maybe nothing. Maybe something. Here's the part I don't know how to explain. This isn't exactly my area of expertise. It feels like… you aren't Force-sensitive, at least not in the way that Jedi are. You can't use the Force. But you can feel it."

Oh. Well, that's nothing new. The warm feeling of comfort and security that Echo had started associating with the Force isn't anything too exciting. But General Skywalker seems pensive, and that leaves Echo confused.

"I'll have to speak with Obi-wan about this," the General mutters to himself. "Thank you, Echo."

"No problem, General," Echo replies carefully. His mind is whirling with new vocabulary. Living Force. Cosmic Force. He'll be doing some research later.

"You wouldn't happen to know anything about this, would you?" General Skywalker asks them all. "The rest of your minds are the same. They carry the same energy as Echo's does on the outside. It's… unusual." Echo frowns. Now is when they'll have to lie.

"No clue, sir," Cutup answers, brilliantly innocent. "Is… something wrong with us?"

Time-travel, Echo thinks, and snorts inwardly.

"No, nothing's wrong," General Skywalker answers. "It's not bad. I think. It's just strange. Obi-wan will be studying this, for sure."

Echo resists the urge to flop down onto his back. General Skywalker is flippant about the oddity, but General Kenobi won't let it go so easily. Hopefully the 212th will be deployed for a while, so that their General will be too busy to look into… this. Whatever it is, Echo is sure that it has to do with their first lives, even though he doesn't understand how.

The time-travel secret is safe, but this new development is something that Echo doesn't quite know how to handle yet.

Hevy is resting, ignoring the uncomfortable twinges running up his back, when Flak lets out an observant hum on the bunk above him.

"Hevy. Check your datapad. It's flashing."

Hevy sits up slowly and reaches for the device, concerned by the pilot's serious tone. When he powers it on, a host of messages start filing in, one by one, and Hevy's eyes go wide as he reads the titles of a few of them.

"Holy kriff," he mutters. Across the room, their roommates perk up at the exclamation. Jek and Rys are friendly men who've seen action but are casual enough to joke about it. Hevy likes them.

"What's goin' on?" Rys asks, lifting his head. Hevy smiles.

"Senator Amidala has received a few submissions in answer to her request for evidence of clone mistreatment," he answers triumphantly. "They look solid."

There's a good number of them. Hevy opens one curiously and sees that it's a video file. He taps it once and the video begins. It's a shot of a command bridge, the camera held by shaky fingers, but still very much recognizable. A voice booms through the speakers.

"Sir, you can't do this!" A clone's voice, loud in indignation and disbelief.

"You are not one to tell me what I can and cannot do, Captain." A man, voice cold and indifferent. The camera shifts so that the viewers can see who's talking. It's a Republic commander with blond hair, fitted in the grey uniform, facing down with a clone captain with black paint designs across his armor. The clone is helmetless, face twisted in anger, while the Commander is merely observing him.

"Wait, what are you watching?" Jek says, coming around Hevy's shoulder to see better. Hevy shushes him.

"Sir, the failure is no fault of the men's," the Captain grits out from between clenched teeth. "The droids ambushed them, there was nothing they could have done—"

"There is always something, Captain," the Commander replies curtly. "Their failure to arrive at the checkpoint has cost us this mission. If they had been more aware perhaps we would be in possession of the planet by now."

The Captain balls his fists.

"I'm aware, sir." The title of respect seems forced. "But that doesn't justify your orders! If we want to succeed this time the men need to be well-rested and strong enough to—!"

"My decision to cut the rations is one based on motivation and honor, Captain," the Commander interrupts. "In the moment of the planet's recapture, the ration portions will be returned to their normal size."

Hevy inhales sharply. He feels Jek, Rys, and Flak recoil behind him. The kriffing Commander is cutting his battalion's rations because they didn't win.

"Sleemo," Rys curses vehemently. He gets shushed again.

"The men won't be able to function without the full rations, sir," the Captain protests desperately. The Commander glares at him and sends a sweeping glance across the bridge. The clone recording the confrontation swings the camera away to hide it, and for a moment the only thing on the screen is a blur.

"They'll just have to make due," the Commander says dismissively. "If they want their rations, they ought to fight like they deserve them."

"Sir, please. Reconsider this," the Captain forces out, dropping his voice until it's just audible. "The men are barely surviving as it is—"

"Do not question my orders, clone," the Commander hisses, words falling like a whip-crack. There's a long, heavy silence. The camera panes up again slowly, so that the viewers can see the clone Captain standing ridgid, nostrils flared, body language screaming that he wants nothing more than to fight, to throw a punch, to yell and take back control. To defend his brothers.

But he can't. That's the point.

"...yes, sir."

The Captain's weary acceptance indicates that this isn't the first time something like this is happening. His eyes drop, his shoulders slump, and everything about him says beaten down, broken, defeated. Meanwhile, the Republic Commander remains impartial, a sneer dancing around his lips.

"Good. See to it that my orders are carried out, Captain." It's a warning just as much as it is a reminder, and the video ends there.

Hevy doesn't realize that he's clenching the datapad between his fingers until Flak taps him on the shoulder in warning. He exhales slowly and listens to the muttered curses from the other three clones around him.

It's cruel, an abuse of power and authority. The clones aren't allowed to protest, and if they were to try, they'd be immediately silenced or court-marshalled. Even though the punishment isn't justifiable, by Senator or moral law.

It makes Hevy's blood boil with rage.

Tense, he taps on the next message and frowns when it isn't a video—it's a written report, and Hevy skims it quickly with his eyes, scrolling and ignoring when Flak lets out a muffled protest.

"Hevy! I can't read that fast!"

"You can read it later," Hevy tells him, too intrigued to slow down. It's a Sergeant of a company of troops serving on the edge of the inner rim, describing how the clones in their battalion are constantly being pulled away from their duties in maintaining the planet they're stationed over because their chain of command (none of them clones, and none of them Jedi) is always sending them away for meaningless tasks, treating them as personal servants instead of soldiers. He explains that they aren't allowed to paint their armor, or call each other by names. Expression and opinion are barely permitted.

It's a well-written accusation. Hevy makes a mental note to come back to it and clicks on the next. It's a second report, from another battalion, from a clone who's the last living member of his squad. He describes how his Republic Commander had been throwing them into battle like cannon fodder, uncaring of casualty rates or protests, and when a group of clones had confronted him about it, angry at the unnecessary loss of their brothers, he'd had them all court-martialed and sent back to Kamino.

There's another video after that. This time, it's recorded from a clone's helmet—he appears to be a scout trooper, if he has a camera attached to his HUD like that. They're walking through a town on an unfamiliar planet that seems to already be Republic-controlled. The townsmen aren't looking at them with much compassion, despite that. The clones seem uneasy.

"I don't like this, Tower."

"I know, Deadline, shut up," the clone recording hisses at him quietly. Neither of them say anything more, watching as the villagers, most of them human, glare and turn away from them. A few make muttered comments that the recording device picks up:

"Meat-droids."

"Plastic drones!"

"...not welcome here…"

The accusations worsen the further the clones walk. Without warning, the clones are suddenly being pelted by a combination of fruit and rocks. A rotten something smashes into the chestplate of the first clone, and a moment later the clone recording lets out a yelp as a rock connects with his helmet. Instinctively, they raise their weapons, only to lower them a moment later—their attackers are civilians, not Separatists.

"Stop! We're Republic soldiers, stand down!" one of the clones tries to yell. It only makes things worse. The villagers grow more aggressive, shouting now. A few of them are picking up branches and farming tools, wielding them like weapons.

"Filthy clones…"

"This stupid war is your fault!"

"Faulty lab-rats—!"

"Please, stand down!" the clone tries to repeat, backing up, holding his hand out in a futile attempt to pacify them, but it's no use. They're already riled up to the point of no return. It doesn't take long for the two scout troopers to turn tail and flee, leaving the angry civilians behind them. The clones run for a minute, HUD camera bouncing dizzyingly, until they finally stop. Both are breathing hard.

"Well, kriff!" the clone who isn't recording swears, wiping a fruit-smear from his armor. "What do we do now? Report them?"

The brother recording shakes his head.

"Command isn't going to care," he mutters darkly. "They'll just tell us to stop complaining, probably. Maybe they'll even tell us the villagers are right. We can't do anything."

The video ends there. It isn't nearly as bad as the first one, but it's still jarring. They can't even defend themselves, legally or physically. They aren't allowed to, nor does anyone care enough to help. Hevy pinches the bridge of his nose. He'd never realized how lucky he is to be serving under General Skywalker. Things could have been so much worse.

There are more videos, even more written submissions. The clones of the GAR are opening up, one at a time, coming forth with their evidence. They're tired of the mistreatment. They're ready for justice. It makes Hevy feel responsibility weigh down on his shoulders. This is what they're trying to fix. This is why they need Senator Amidala's help.

Hevy's almost scared to look at the rest of the videos. Flak, Rys, and Jek seem similarly stunned into silence.

Senator Amidala has sent him a message, at the end of all the clone submissions. Hevy taps it, curious.

It reads, "We've got a good start."

Coric and Kix are standing in front of them, heads lowered, not meeting their eyes, and Cutup is nervous.

"I've just… been thinking," Coric says in a small voice. It's his first day out of medical surveillance, and he's pale but there, alive. Del had pulled him into a fierce embrace, and Nax had thumped him on the back enthusiastically when they'd first seen him. It had been a happy reunion, dulled only by the sight of Coric's left hand hanging wherever it was flung, occasionally twitching as he moved but otherwise motionless.

"About what?" Jesse asks him. Coric sighs.

"About the squad," he says. "And what I would do now, if one of you was injured."

Cutup narrows his eyes. Where is the medic going with this?

"If one of you fell to blaster fire in the middle of a battle, right now, while I'm stuck with… this," Coric continues, waving his crippled hand into the air, "I wouldn't be able to save you. Maybe, with luck, but the odds are against you. A medic without his hands is nothing, and I only have one."

"Coric, that's not true," Nax protests. Coric raises an eyebrow.

"Yes, it is," he says sharply. "Don't sugarcoat it. It isn't worth the risk. I won't have one of you die because my fingers aren't moving as they should."

Everyone starts protesting at the same time. Cutup adds his own voice to the mix, and it's chaos for a few moments until Del takes a step forwards and says, voice low and pained:

"What, exactly, are you saying?"

Everyone goes silent.

Coric bites his lip.

"I know you aren't going to like it," he admits. "But it's a better option. A way for me to still be useful, but you not be in danger. Kix and I are going to trade places. I'll stay in the medical bay—a controlled environment, where if my hand doesn't cooperate someone else can take over—and Kix will be with you, as a field medic."

The proposition makes everyone flinch. Del grits his teeth. Nax jerks back, nostrils flaring. Fives shakes his head, Hardcase slumps.

As distasteful as it is, Cutup automatically knows that Coric's decision is final. Kix is here already, a grim look on his face. That can only mean that it's already approved by Captain Rex.

Coric has always been so self-sacrificial. This time is no different.

They know it's no use to argue. Instead, Del lunges, pressing his forehead to Coric's gently, but as if the world depends on the motion. For a moment, they stand there, united in old, firm trust, and then Del lets the medic go.

"Just do your best," the sergeant mutters, but it's easy to see that he's struggling to accept it. The Teth survivors are slowly leaving him. Coric smiles weakly.

"I'm not disappearing," he says. "I'll just be in the medical bay. We can visit anytime we want."

It's not fixing the situation, but Coric's comment does help. It makes everything a little lighter. They aren't losing him completely. He just won't be with the squad.

Coric turns to face Kix once Del lets him go, expression pained.

"Take good care of them, brother. I'm counting on you."

Kix nods solemnly. He'd recently (finally) had his chip removed, and the relief of being done with that, of the 501st being free of its influence, makes him look younger, more energized.

"They're safe with me. Promise."

It's a dangerous statement, from one medic to another. Kix can't promise that, but he says it firmly anyway. Coric closes his eyes for a brief moment before opening them again.

"I'll be in touch," he tells Nax and Del calmly. "I'll come to visit when I have time—oof!"

Nax sweeps him into a crushing hug before he can get any further. Kix shuffles out of the way, turning to stand at Jesse's side and offering the other clone a weak smile. Conflict flashes across Jesse's face for a moment, torn between happiness that he's with his friend again, and sadness at the loss of another squadmate. Cutup doesn't blame him.

They're losing Coric, and gaining Kix. It's not the end of the world, but it hurts anyway.

A/N: thank corona virus for the fast updates heheh

Is Padme sir or ma'am? My answer: Either one. She answers to both, and the clones call her both.

Headcanon that Hardcase doesn't like chairs. He'd much rather take the floor, he's much more comfortable there. He can fling his limbs in any direction unrestrained that way.

Cosmic Force and Living Force are canon concepts, I'm not making this up I promise! Stay with me on that note, I promise there'll be more explanations. Domino squad wants answers too and I'm not about to leave them in the dark. There is a cool post about it that I wanted to share but FF doesn't allow links so... google search cosmic force and you'll probably find something about it.

Next chapter we'll get more on how Fives is doing with the reveal of his own death, and Hevy makes a startling discovery about the Coruscant Guard...