Dominoes

by Meridianpony

"So. We died." "Yes, we died," Fives confirms. Even though his hands are steady on Echo's shoulders, his voice trembles. "We all… remember?" Everyone nods. Droidbait shudders, and shuffles closer to Cutup. "How is that possible?" he mutters. "We're not Jedi. We can't… see the kriffing future, or whatever it was. We can't—it's not possible. How could we all have had the same dream?"

34. Preparation

Rex doesn't end up getting shot. That's a big relief to Fives. Instead, Droidbait manages to catch a glimpse of the commando droids in the distance and rattles coordinates into his comm—they've all been watching, waiting for the clankers to surface—and once the info is out it takes little time for Cutup and Hardcase to zoom past on their speeder bikes and raze anything that moves.

Fives listens to Hardcase's warcry over the comms and grins. Hardcase's infectious enthusiasm never fails to raise his spirits. Cutup answers the other clone with a triumphant whoop as the droids get cut down, caught off guard by the lightning-quick attack.

"Okay, the commando droids are taken care of. Congrats, Captain. You aren't going to end up in critical condition today," Hardcase says cheerfully upon his return. Rex rolls his eyes at him.

The plan that Beta squad comes up with for Saleucami is simple, and designed so that they aren't taking too many men away from the main force while still keeping watch over the civilians. They mention to General Kenobi that a nearby civilian household located by scouts during the initial sweep of the area could be at risk due to the droids crashing down to the surface in escape pods, and General Kenobi agrees to let them send a three-man squad in order to watch over the homestead. All they know is that eventually the little family will be attacked by commando droids, and that's not a fate Beta squad is willing to leave them to. The farm itself is easy enough to find.

The little kids are adorable.

Droidbait spends his entire shift grinning as he watches the children from his hiding place. It reminds him of the tiny cadets on Kamino, staring at the world with wide eyes and finding a way to make games out of everything (until the Kaminoans put a stop to it, of course).

They've been watching for droids for almost the entire day now, and Droidbait has been on this shift for two hours, watching their surroundings through his scopes and chuckling at the children. They haven't seen anything yet, and the sun is starting to dip below the skyline, casting long shadows as it goes. They've hidden themselves in a field with waist-deep plants all around them, providing an effective cover while not obstructing their view completely. They're far enough away that the civilians don't notice them.

Next to him, Cutup and Nax are playing a rapid-fire two-player version of sabacc, grumbling lightly to themselves as they slap cards into the dirt. A particularly impressive swear makes Droidbait snort, glancing at the farm in the distance again.

The homestead looks cozy and peaceful. The Twi'lek mother is fully competent as she completes tasks around the farm, all while keeping a monitoring eye on her rambunctious children. She's no stranger to this life. It's possible that she's a single mother, too—Droidbait hasn't seen a sign of a father figure yet. It makes his respect for her triple. Children seem to be a handful.

"This is Captain Rex. Droidbait, Cutup, Nax—report in."

Droidbait jerks, reaching for his communicator.

"Sir, Droidbait here. No sign of the droids yet. It's quiet."

Rex sighs.

"That's unfortunate. We thought you'd be the bait we needed, Droidbait."

Nax snickers at the comment. Cutup smirks. Droidbait rolls his eyes fondly.

"Yeah, they aren't biting today, sir. Sorry."

He can't see the Captain, but he can imagine the man's smile.

"Not to worry, DB. You three good to stay there an hour more?"

Droidbait glances at Cutup and Nax, who nod.

"We're okay, sir."

"Good," Rex responds. "We've picked up Grievous' trail and are on the move, but we're only going two clicks out. Stay sharp. It's getting dark."

"Copy that." Droidbait glances towards the homestead, where the little cabin lights illuminate the farm. "We'll be alright. Let us know if you need backup."

Rex hangs up. Droidbait directs his gaze back to his scope and sweeps their surroundings with his gaze, once again failing to catch sight of any clankers. Still nothing. But Fives had been very certain that the civilians would fall under attack. Droidbait doesn't doubt him, he's just… impatient.

The wooden club that smashes into his chest without warning makes him immediately regret that thought. Droidbait yelps as he's flung backwards abruptly, the communicator flying out of his hand. He hears Cutup and Nax shout in alarm as they drop their cards.

He's struggling to pull air into his lungs, but lunges to his feet anyway, reaching frantically for his communicator. Their attacker has a wooden staff with a metal tip and is wielding it with terrifying efficiency. His face is hidden due to the shadows. He's caught them completely off guard. Cutup dodges one blow, but then his feet get swept out from under him before he can get to his gun. Nax draws his DC-15A, but it gets wrenched out of his hand by a well-placed strike from their attacker.

Droidbait seizes his communicator.

"Captain, we're under attack!" he shouts desperately. "It's—!"

Their attacker stops abruptly. He had been a moment away from braining Nax, whose hands are raised in a futile attempt to protect himself.

He turns his head. Droidbait gasps as he finally gets a good glimpse of the man's face.

It's Droidbait's face. And Cutup's and Nax's.

"You're… a clone," Cutup gasps out from his spot on the ground. The new clone is wearing a simple farming outfit. His hair is grown out past regulation length and tied back into a little ponytail. It takes a second, but Droidbait makes the connection fast.

This is the missing father figure.

"Bait, what's going on? Answer me, Bait! Droidbait!"

Droidbait puts the communicator to his lips.

"Captain… you'd better get out here," he says slowly. The farmer clone sighs, something resigned in the sound.

"I see the war has finally made its way out here. Alright, get up," he orders, letting the butt of his staff rest in the dirt. Cutup scrambles to his feet. Droidbait risks stepping closer, and Nax lets his hands drop. For a moment, the four of them stare at each other.

"Who are you?" Nax asks, curiosity and awe mixing in his tone.

"The name's Lawquane. Cut Lawquane." Something in his gaze flickers. "Your Captain is on the way?"

Droidbait blinks. He feels somewhat guilty even though he doesn't know why.

"Yes," he answers. Cut sighs again and shoulders the staff—now that Droidbait looks at it more closely, he realizes that it's some sort of farming tool.

"We'd better be prepared to receive him, then, don't you think? Come on." Cut starts for the farm. Droidbait hesitates for an instant before following.

His name is Cut Lawquane, and he's a deserter. He's also the father of two children, and a loving husband, despite the legal problems preventing him from officially assuming that title. (Cut doesn't have the necessary documents to show the officiates, and he doesn't count as a citizen of the Republic, two vital requirements that impede them on top of the concern that he could be recognized as a deserter).

Droidbait can hardly believe his eyes.

They introduce themselves to the children and the wary Twi'lek, Suu, who isn't necessarily thrilled when her husband brings home a cluster of stunned troopers. She treats them well regardless, allowing them inside and inviting them to store their weapons on a nearby table as they sit down.

The children introduce themselves as Jek and Shaeeah, peering at the clones from behind Suu's legs. At first, they seem slightly confused at the familiar faces, but they emerge eventually. The girl, Shaeeah, pokes Droidbait's leg.

"You look like my daddy," she tells him solemnly. She turns to Nax next. "So do you."

"We're clones, Shaeeah," Cut explains to her gently. "They have my same face. But we're all really different."

"Okay," Shaeeah accepts easily, poking Droidbait again. He's almost jealous of the blind trust she's able to place in her father, regardless of the strange world around her. "Can they play with us?"

"Maybe later, sweetheart," Cut tells her, patting her head fondly. "We need to chat for a minute, just us. Then you can ask them if they want to."

He takes the role of a father so easily. Droidbait hadn't ever considered that—thought about how having a family might be possible after the war. He'd barely even thought of the future. He hadn't thought that his brain was capable of imagining what will happen after they take Palpatine down.

The roar of a speeder outside makes Cut's eyes narrow. He stands from his spot at the table.

"I guess I should go greet our new guests," he says. Droidbait gets to his feet too.

"I'll go with you," he offers. "The Captain will be confused otherwise."

They step outside. Rex is waiting for him there. Hardcase and Fives are on the speeders just behind him, hands on their guns even though they haven't drawn yet.

"Bait…" Fives growls quietly, tone definitely saying just give the word and we shoot. Droidbait raises a hand to calm them. He watches their helmets jerk in surprise when they see Cut's face.

"It's okay, Fives," Droidbait says. "They're friends."

This explains a lot about why Fives and Echo hadn't known more details about this mission. Rex had done it to protect Cut, so that the deserter wouldn't be forced to give up his family. Cut offers the newcomers a smile.

"You're all invited to dinner," he tells them. "I do hope you can spare an hour to join us."

That's so unexpected that even Rex seems momentarily taken aback.

"A few minutes, that's all," he finally says, motioning for Fives and Hardcase to disembark. "You've got a lot of explaining to do, soldier."

Cut breathes out a soft laugh as he leads them to the house once more.

---

Cut's story leaves Droidbait breathless, because he gets it. He understands why Cut left. Once your squadmates are gone, there's not much to fight for. The Republic itself isn't exactly the best motivation sometimes. Cut recounts his tale as he serves them around his dinner table, not taking a bite of his own food until the soldiers and his family already have their plates. It's good food. Some sort of roast, combined with edible roots and a sauce that makes Droidbait's mouth water.

Droidbait can see Cut's story and home life resonating with the other men around him. Even Captain Rex, though he attempts to remain stoic, seems enchanted by the idea of life after the war. Life rich with love and peace and family. Droidbait likes how Cut thinks. He prioritizes his family over everything. He talks about his wife and children as if they mean more to him than anything else in the galaxy. Droidbait glances around, sees some of his batchmates, and can't help but agree. He meets Cutup's gaze and feels the sentiment reflected back at him.

"I wouldn't call it deserting, exactly," Cut explains to them with a wry grin. "But I am exercising my ability to choose. None of us were given a choice about entering this war. I decided that I didn't want to be a killer for a living. Not really my style. So I left."

"Even though you swore an oath to the Republic?" Rex asks, and Cut looks at him.

"Were you given the option to not swear the oath?" he counters. Droidbait winces. They hadn't. He wonders what happens if someone refuses.

"The Kaminoans program us to think and act in a certain way. They try to cover up our forced servitude the best they can, and for the most part, it works," Cut tells them. "Too few clones realize that they could do so much more with their lives."

"You know… you're more right about that statement than you think," Fives contributes darkly. "I take it you never heard of the control chips while you were with the Republic?"

Cut frowns.

"What control chips?"

They explain. They also explain about their Jedi, who are coming up with a plan along with Hevy to push the idea of clone rights to the galaxy. That makes Cut's eyes go very wide, and he turns to look at Suu. His eyes are practically glowing.

"We could get married," he tells her breathlessly. She presses one hand to her mouth and meets his gaze hopefully. On her lap, Jek wriggles, not following the conversation but sensing the sudden emotional shift. It's heartwarmingly sweet. Droidbait has never seen that kind of expression on a clone's face before and it catches him off guard.

Cut turns back to them.

"So… are you going to report me, then? Because I'd like to invite you to my wedding, but that can't happen if I'm in Republic prison."

Suu inhales sharply. Cut doesn't look at her, staring at Rex. The Captain shakes his head.

"We're not going to arrest you, Cut. You're right. This Republic, our entire purpose, they're both flawed. There are bigger forces at play here than we clones can even imagine. You already have what we're fighting for. We're trying to stop this war so that families like yours can have peace."

"I know," Cut says, expression softening. He looks grateful. "Thank you."

Shaeeah destroys the peaceful atmosphere with a whine.

"I want to play!" she insists. Cut fixes her with a sharp look.

"Shaeeah, it's getting late," he says, gentle but firm. She pouts. Droidbait raises a hand.

"Sir, I could watch them for a moment, if you'd like," he offers. Hardcase's head shoots up from where he'd been creating a smiley face with what remains of the sauce on his plate.

"Me too, sir!"

Cut huffs good-naturedly.

"Alright, fine. But keep the house in sight," he warns, and Droidbait is suddenly being herded towards the door by Shaeeah, who bounces up and down with incredible energy. She darts into the front yard with a shout of excitement. Droidbait stumbles after her, shaking his head at her impressive enthusiasm. Hardcase is right behind him, already laughing. Jek is sitting proudly on the heavy gunner's shoulders.

"Okay, then," Hardcase tells them, crouching down so that he can look Shaeeah in the eyes while balancing a giggling Jek on his shoulders. "What are we playing? You'll have to explain the rules to us, we don't know very many games."

Jek squirms and falls. Hardcase lifts his arms, but he's at an awkward angle and can't catch him. Droidbait lurches forwards to snatch the child so that Jek's head doesn't smack the ground. Cut won't be very happy if they accidentally kill his kids.

"We can play hide and seek," Shaeeah instructs. "We hide. And you find us!"

Jek nods enthusiastically, upside-down. Droidbait lets him down gently, and immediately both children streak away, disappearing into the field of crops in front of them.

Droidbait huffs in amusement. Attie would have loved these kids. He turns to look at Hardcase.

"Ready?" he asks. Hardcase answers him with a grin and heads right for the field.

It isn't completely dark, but in the field Droidbait can barely see anything. He grabs Hardcase's shoulder to keep them together as they press through the tall stalks.

This entire situation makes Droidbait feel strange. He's not entirely sure how to describe it, because it isn't longing, not exactly. Droidbait doesn't want an exact replica of Cut's life, but he does want the possibilities that the deserter now enjoys. He wants the chance to make his own decisions. It's more appealing than Droidbait had expected.

Sudden giggles to their left make them turn, heading for the sound. Cutup and Droidbait burst into a section of the field that's clearer than the rest, most of the stalks already torn down. Shaeeah and Jek freeze, staring at the two clones in mock-horror.

"Run!" Shaeeah yelps, darting for cover. Jek falls behind, his little legs struggling to keep up. Hardcase sweeps him off his feet and flings Jek over his shoulder once he catches up. Jek shrieks joyfully. Shaeeah twists around and smacks Hardcase's leg, trying to defend her brother, but Droidbait sidles up to poke her in the stomach and she goes down, her tiny lekku twitching as she laughs.

"No fair!" she gasps. Droidbait grins at her.

"There's no fair during war, kid," he says gravely, and tickles her again. She squeals.

Droidbait is so preoccupied that he doesn't even notice when Hardcase suddenly freezes, letting Jek down to the ground again.

"Bait… do you see what I'm seeing?"

Droidbait lets Shaeeah go when he hears how serious Hardcase's voice is. Hardcase is staring a little further into the field. Droidbait follows his gaze and spots a familiar shape at the end of the clear space that they're in, half hidden by uprooted plants. It's one of the crashed escape pods that the Republic has been searching for.

"Well, this explains the droid attack we're waiting for," he says warily, fingers twitching for a gun—but he'd left it back at the house. Hardcase scowls.

"Wanna check it out?"

"Not with the kids, just in case," Droidbait answers. No droids are rising up to defend the pod, but it's not worth the risk. "And we need to let the Captain know—"

He looks down and nearly has a heart attack. The kids are gone.

"Sithspit!" he swears, whirling around. "Shaeeah, Jek! Get back here!"

"Where did they go?" Hardcase asks frantically. "Holy kriff, there could be droids around here, we've gotta find them—!"

"Boo!" Jek shouts, emerging from the field. Droidbait and Hardcase both jerk back before Hardcase huffs and picks Jek up.

"Okay, you," he says, tapping Jek's nose. "We're headed back to the house. We found something weird, so we need you to stay inside until it's safe."

Jek groans. Droidbait narrows his eyes, watching for Shaeeah. She's far more curious than her younger brother. He wouldn't put it past her to… oh no. He whips around to face the downed escape pod. Sure enough, there she is, pulling the stalks away from the pod's entrance. She hesitates when Droidbait sees her, but then giggles and slips inside, ignoring Droidbait's shout.

She's blissfully innocent, oblivious to the danger. She has no idea that this isn't a game anymore.

"Go, go!" Hardcase yells, but Droidbait is already sprinting, ducking his head to get inside the escape pod just as the lights flicker on. He hasn't touched any buttons.

"Shaeeah!" he calls frantically, and there she is—but her little eyes are wide with fear.

Droidbait looks ahead and freezes when he sees the lines of machinery that are rising up, optics flickering to life.

Commando droids.

He grabs Shaeeah and books it.

"Commandos!" he shouts as he emerges, Shaeeah held tightly against his chest. Hardcase doesn't question him, just starts running as well. They've got to get the kids to safety before they can do anything else.

They make a beeline for Cut's home. Plants whip across Droidbait's face but he ignores the pain. Once they burst out into the front yard, Hardcase shouts for the others.

Cut is the first one out of the door, a terrified expression on his face, but when he sees that his children are safe, the fear fades marginally. Droidbait sets Shaeeah down, breathing hard as the rest of the clones emerge.

"The kriff is wrong?" Cutup asks. Hardcase waves a hand behind him.

"There are commando droids in that field!" he hisses. The men all tense.

"Well… looks like you were our lucky bait after all, DB," Cutup mutters. There's no time to laugh.

"Weapons, men," Captain Rex orders grimly, DC-17's already in hand. "We're about to have company."

---

Cut takes the lead. The clones let him. It's his property, his family that they're defending, and he knows the area best.

Fives is impressed by Cut's efficiency, when it comes down to it. He may be a farmer now, but he hasn't forgotten how to be a soldier, how to defend what he cares about. Cut has a massive hunting rifle that he pulls out of a closet now, letting it rest against his shoulder as he directs the rest of them. He's determined to defend his family, even if it means giving his life. Fives agrees with the sentiment—the family and tranquility Cut has is precious. Fives refuses to let the droids destroy it.

Fives feels stable. It's a massive change compared to how he'd felt at the beginning of this mission. He almost feels like himself again, apart from the fact that he's hyper-aware of Beta squad's eyes on him. That's less of a hindrance than it is a comfort. They're watching out for him, making sure he's recovering for good.

Fives really does think he's going to be okay. It had been kriffing humiliating, having to hunch down and grieve like he hasn't done since Echo died, but he's grateful for it now. He needs to concentrate so that this mission goes well.

Droidbait and Cutup get sent upstairs as a last line of defense for Suu and the kids. Suu takes Cut's old DC-17 in a familiar grip as she makes her way upstairs, expression twisted into a fierce scowl. Fives thinks that he really doesn't want to face her down in a fight, especially not when her children are in danger. Suu is no pushover.

The peaceful atmosphere of Cut's home is shattered as it becomes a tactical defense point. Rex flips a table onto its side for cover and stations himself just inside the front door of the house with Nax. Cut sets up with his rifle at the window. He sends Fives and Hardcase, who'd brought his Z-6 because why not (that reminds Fives of Hevy and makes him smile) outside to hide in the doorway of the barn.

Their plan is to catch the droids in a crossfire before they can enter the house. They've got a significant amount of firepower on their side, as well as the element of surprise. The droids won't be expecting so much resistance.

In short, the clones are more than ready for them. Fives pops the head off of the first droid that steps onto the front lawn, and from there, it honestly isn't that hard. The clones catch the clankers in a rain of blasterfire from every direction. Droidbait and Nax even help from the upstairs window. Fives suspects that Suu does as well.

The droids put up a fight, firing back, but they get destroyed quickly. There are seven clones and one protective mother, so there's not much the droids can do to resist. Hardcase and Fives actually step out of their cover near the end to get in more accurate shots. The droids are distracted by the clones inside the house and don't see them until it's too late.

Except.

One clanker manages to cling to life even once it's been crippled by blaster fire, its upper half twitching. It raises a gun. Fives notices a moment too late as it takes aim at the nearest clone—Hardcase, out in the open. Everything slows. Fives is suddenly thrust into memories. He remembers Hardcase's easy smile as he'd ordered them to leave, the deafening explosion behind them and heartache at the thought of another brother gone—

("Live to fight another day, boys. Live to fight another day.")

He throws himself in between Hardcase and the droid without a second thought, firing as he dives. The droid's blaster bolt burns into Fives' shoulder instead of Hardcase, while Fives' bolt shears the droid's processor wide open. It goes limp as Fives crashes to the ground. Fives feels a surge of satisfaction that dims the shock of his injury.

He's not letting Hardcase die on him again.

The firing from the other clones dies away. It's over.

"Fives, what—what happened, what did you do?" Hardcase demands, stooping to offer Fives his free hand. Fives lets out a chuckle, wincing at the pain in his shoulder as he rises. His armor had protected him well enough, but it still hurts now that his adrenaline is fading.

"I'm fine, Hardcase," he says. "That clanker was gonna shoot you in the back."

"I—you—" Hardcase stutters out. Suddenly he steps into Fives' personal space. Fives blinks and follows the lines of Hardcase's helmet design with his eyes, smiling at the deja vu it gives him.

"This is because I died last time, isn't it!" Hardcase exclaims unexpectedly. Fives winces.

"So what if it is?" he mutters defensively. Okay, yes, it is. He refuses to let Hardcase die again. That had been a painful enough failure the first time.

Hardcase tilts his head.

"Look… I'm just getting the gist of this whole… time-travel thing," he says, looking Fives up and down, "but from what I understood… we were good friends in your other life, right?"

Fives stiffens in shock. He swallows down the lump in his throat and balls his fists. He remembers Hardcase, knows all his tells and quirks and facial expressions, but the other clone barely knows Fives at all. They're still practically strangers in this life. They know each other, but the connection isn't there. Fives has been too distracted lately with their mission and the Force and his own kriffing past to really bond with Hardcase as an individual. He'd forgotten that he needed to, that Hardcase doesn't remember.

"The best of friends," he replies softly, remembering. Jesse and Hardcase and Kix and Tup (Force, poor Tup) had become his lifelines after Echo's death. "We saved each other's lives more times than I can count. We, uh… committed treason, hijacked alien starfighters, and blew up a command cruiser together, too."

Hardcase freezes for half a second, hands gripping his Z-6 involuntarily. Fives can see the cogs turning in his brain. It's like he's taking a moment to comprehend everything. Finally, Hardcase straightens.

"Well then, this should be pretty normal for you, shouldn't it?" Hardcase asks, playfulness creeping back into his tone. "The saving lives part, not committing treason. But we're gonna do that later too, right?"

Fives laughs, remembering again. This is Hardcase's way of coping when he doesn't understand—he jokes around, looks on the bright side, smiles. Fives has seen it before.

"Probably," he admits. Fives takes a deep breath, elbowing Hardcase in the ribs. It doesn't hurt, because they're in armor, and the motion brings a sense of familiarity and friendship. "But please try not to go out blowing yourself up this time around, if it's not too much to ask." It doesn't pain him to joke about it this time. Having a living, breathing Hardcase in front of him helps with that.

Hardcase grins.

"I'll have to think of something better. The first time apparently wasn't memorable enough if it didn't stick with me," he answers slyly. Fives laughs again. This is normal. This is right, more how it was before. Hardcase slings an arm around Fives' uninjured shoulder casually.

"We're gonna get along great, again," the heavy gunner says gleefully, "I can feel it!"

Fives can feel it too.

Besides Fives' scorched shoulder, no one is injured. Fives has to sit down for a minute while Cut fusses over him (Cut isn't a medic, but he's a father now and that's translated over a bit). In all it's an easy win. This is one battle that Fives feels proud of, because they've succeeded in making things better.

Cut offers to let them stay the night, but Rex turns him down, refusing to impose on Cut's home for any longer than they need to. They've taken care of the commando droids earlier than expected, and there's still time to head back and help General Kenobi tackle Grievous' forces if they hurry.

"Are you sure?" Cut asks them all, and then his expression changes. "Any of you are even… welcome to stay, if you'd like."

Fives blinks. Cut's offer is kind, but Fives doesn't have to think about it to know that he won't accept. There's too much to be done for Fives to consider staying, and even if it weren't for the looming threat of the Chancellor, he'd still turn it down. His family is Beta squad, and Torrent Company. He won't leave them. Peace would be nice, but without his brothers it isn't appealing.

That seems to be the unanimous consensus between all the men, because Rex just smiles, placing a hand on Cut's shoulder.

"Not this time, brother," he says. "But once this ends and if we're still kicking… we'll see."

Cut nods, satisfied with the answer for now.

They say goodbye. It's tearful on Shaeeah and Jek's end, who have only barely grown accustomed to the idea of more playmates and are horrified to learn that they're leaving so soon.

"We never even finished our game!" Shaeeah protests, stomping her foot and staring Droidbait and Hardcase down. The two of them shuffle guiltily.

"We'll be back, squirt," Hardcase promises her. Droidbait nods in agreement. He meets Fives' gaze. Fives sees a fondness in Droidbait's eyes that he ordinarily only sees when Beta squad is alone on the Resolute. He offers Droidbait a smile and chuckles when Droidbait slugs him lightly in the chest.

Cut sends them off with his comm number and a bag of fresh fruit as thanks. The fruit gets passed around (and occasionally fought over) the whole journey back as they return to the GAR, doubled up on speeders. When they arrive in the dead of the night, General Kenobi is standing alongside a walker waiting for them.

"Where have you been?" he asks them. "Rex told me one of his squads was under attack, but he didn't elaborate. Care to explain? We're closing in on Grievous' position, I was minutes away from calling."

Fives glances at Rex. Rex looks back at him, and they silently settle on an agreement. The General is helping them with the chips and supporting General Skywalker's plan to confront the Senate over the treatment of the clones—Fives wants to put his faith in the General and believe that things are different now, that they don't have to keep this kind of secret.

They snap out a sincere apology and tell General Kenobi about Cut. General Kenobi is surprised at first, but then he turns thoughtful.

"I suppose I should have imagined this happening at some point," he says, stroking his beard. "It would be naive to think that there haven't been deserters before. You told him about the chips?"

"Yessir," Fives confirms, chewing on his lip nervously. General Kenobi frowns.

"Should we send a medic back to remove his chip before we leave then, just in case?" he asks. The quiet acceptance of Cut's situation makes Fives sag in relief. He's not sure how the General would have reacted during their first life, but it doesn't matter now. Whether it's respect for the recent plans to establish clone rights or simply the good of the General's heart remains a mystery that Fives will gratefully let go unanswered.

If only every mission went so smoothly.

"If they can get the equipment out that far, that would be a good idea, sir," Rex responds. General Kenobi nods.

"We can send a gunship to sort everything out once we've captured Grievous. Have your men prepare themselves, Captain. I doubt the good General will come quietly."

At the end of the night, Grievous still gets away. Fives and Echo don't remember enough details to know how to trap the mechanical monster, so there's not much they can do to help. The invasion of Saleucami ends as quickly as it had begun.

They do end up sending Coric back to Cut's home in a gunship with the equipment he needs so that the farmer's chip can be removed. It's a small victory, but a victory nonetheless. Once they've returned and settled down on the Resolute they call Hevy to let him know that they're finished on Saleucami.

"Fives, the kriff happened to your shoulder?" Hevy says immediately as his hologram flickers to life. Fives is in his blacks. There's a visible lump under the material on his shoulder that Hevy probably identifies correctly as a bacta patch. Fives breathes out a sigh of relief when he realizes that Hevy is standing. He's going to be alright.

"Eh," Fives says with an easy wave of his hand. "It's nothing—"

"He got shot, the idiot!" Echo exclaims from behind him. Fives scowls.

"Yeah, well. It's not bad at all, I've had worse almost every other time I've been shot. But Kix was insistent, so…"

The medic had cornered him upon their return to the clone forces. Fives knows better than to resist him.

"How'd you get shot?" Hevy asks.

"Commando droid," Fives answers, unwilling to get into details—he doubts Hevy would be too pleased to hear that Fives had tried to sacrifice himself so that Hardcase didn't take the hit. Considering Hevy's past death, Fives thinks it isn't likely to sit well with him. "But forget that, how are your legs? You said in the message that you were recovering…?"

Hevy grins triumphantly. He lifts one leg smoothly, drawing a cheerful whoop from Droidbait and a grin from Fives.

"Recovering well!" he reassures. "Only hurts when I'm too tense, and even that should fade with a little more time. The Guard should give me normal jobs soon. Then once General Skywalker's plan is finished, it'll be back to the 501st for me!"

Cutup grins brightly at Fives' side.

"It'll be good to have you back, brother," Echo says happily. "It's not the same without you."

Fives is excited to get Hevy back too, but at the same time, something Hevy had said is nagging at him.

"The Guards are giving you jobs?" he asks suspiciously. Hevy's face falls. He settles down instantly, a serious expression replacing his smile.

"Yeah… about that. I've got some interesting news," he admits. Fives notes that he seems tenser than usual. He purses his lips and wonders if the Guards have tried anything shady.

"Tell us about it," Cutup prompts, and Hevy obeys. His descriptions of the abuse towards the Guards makes all of Domino grind their teeth in anger.

Fives… isn't a friend of the Coruscant Guard, but he feels sorry for them. No one deserves such treatment.

Telling Beta squad about his death has helped him in some regards. He no longer feels the visceral animosity towards the Guard that he had felt beforehand, nor does he feel the burning fury he had felt when Fox's name had come up in conversations.

It had been good to let it out. He still feels wronged, because his death had been unjust and he could have done so much good with the information he'd uncovered and why the kriff hadn't Fox just stunned him and—

He sighs heavily and tries to let that train of thought go before it winds him up again. There's nothing to be done about it now. He's already mourned once, there's no reason to do so again.

He'd still been wronged, but the frustration is bearable now. He's not over it, not yet. He doesn't trust the Guards. He hates that Hevy is alone with them. But at some point during his ragged (embarrassing, utterly ridiculous but disgustingly helpful) breakdown, he'd managed to find a sliver of acceptance in his heart. It helps him turn what remains of his frustration into strength instead of weakness.

"There's more to it than the abuse, though," Hevy tells them. He hesitates for a moment and drops his voice abruptly. "I think the Chancellor is messing with the Guards. I overheard Fox and Thorn talking about how they've been experiencing blackouts in their memories yesterday. There are whole days that they don't remember. It seems an awful lot like what Fives described about his friend killing the Jedi. I'd guess that they're getting dragged around by their chips."

Fives clenches his jaw, remembering how Tup had shuddered and stammered in disbelief when they'd told him that he'd murdered a Jedi. He hadn't remembered, either. Cutup gasps beside him.

"Already? What is he making them do?"

"I don't know," Hevy admits. "That's all I heard, and… they didn't sound too good. They didn't know that I was eavesdropping, and it was… rough. Commander Fox isn't doing too well." Hevy drops his gaze sorrowfully for a moment. Fives tries to school his expression into something neutral, but he doesn't do a good job. Droidbait shoots Fives a concerned look. "Actually, I was thinking that if we could get our hands on solid evidence of this it'll be a good starting ground for accusing the Chancellor as the traitor."

Droidbait blinks, expression hopeful. Echo makes a small noise of surprise.

"That… is kriffing infuriating about the Guards, but… if we can get dirt on Palpatine, it'll end," Echo says in an excited whisper.

Hevy nods.

"I know. It won't be easy, but I'll keep my eyes open for evidence."

Fives breathes out long and steady through his nose. It's horrifically believable, that the Guard is being used by Palpatine even in this stage of the war, and it puts everything into a new perspective. Maybe Fox hadn't wanted to kill Fives. Perhaps he'd been forced to.

It makes a coil of guilt settle low in Fives' stomach. It shifts to anger a moment later. There's always one more layer of deceit.

And, if he's being honest, seeing the Guards as equal victims makes Fives feel a lot better.

"Fives? You okay?" Hevy asks, sounding concerned.

Fives heaves out a sigh and drags his gaze back to Hevy.

"It's a good idea to look for that evidence," Fives says. "Just… be careful. The Chancellor is dangerous."

He's tempted to hide this from Hevy, if only because the heavy gunner is going to be interacting with Commander Fox soon, but Hevy is already fixated on him and must see that something else is wrong.

"Fives…?" he presses. Fives grits his teeth.

"We've got some things to tell you, too," Fives says slowly. Hevy frowns. Echo puts a comforting hand on Fives' shoulder, already seeing where Fives is going.

"To start with… Fox is the one who killed me, during my last life."

Hevy freezes. Fives watches shock, denial, and anger flash across his face.

"What are you talking about?" he questions loudly. "How—?"

"When I found out about the chips, I ended up on Coruscant, and they sent the Guard after me," Fives says wearily. It feels like he's told this story so many times lately. "Fox shot me when I tried to defend myself. He shot to kill, not stun. I never knew why."

There's a beat of silence. Fives is expecting Hevy to explode, but he's surprised when Hevy closes his eyes for a long moment and nods. Echo smiles softly, and Fives turns to catch his gaze. Echo looks proud.

Their little brothers are growing up.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Hevy asks in a low voice. Fives winces.

"I didn't tell anyone, until recently," he replies. Hevy swallows.

"Okay," he says. "That's… I wasn't expecting that." The thought of one brother killing another is horrific in any context, as Fives well knows. "It could have been the chips."

Fives inclines his head in agreement, not bothering to respond. It could have been. Hevy frowns deeply.

"I want to tell them about the chips," he announces. The news seems to have ignited a new determination in him, and that lifts Fives' spirit. "So does Senator Amidala. The Guard deserves to know. They're hurting."

"I don't disagree with you. They do deserve to know, but this may not be the right time," Echo warns. "They're right under the Chancellor's nose. If they get de-chipped, he's bound to notice the next time he tries to order them around and it doesn't work."

Hevy's brow furrows.

"So we can't remove their chips yet, but they still deserve to know. At least the Commanders. So that they understand that it isn't their fault."

"I kind of agree with Hevy on this one," Cutup mutters. "To me it's scarier for memory blanks to not have an explanation."

"Will they be more frustrated if they know but can't do anything about it?" Droidbait asks grimly. Fives doesn't know the answer.

"I want to try this," Hevy tells them. "We might need their support when we can finally make a move against Palpatine, and it'll be easier if they already know some of the details."

That is a good point. Fives glances at Echo. The other ARC is chewing on his lip thoughtfully. Cutup nods. Droidbait seems hesitant, but after a moment, he sighs and waves a hand.

"Tell them," Fives says. "Just the Commanders. Let them know what's going on, but keep it quiet."

Hevy grins.

"You got it. What else did you have to tell me?"

"Saleucami went well," Echo answers, taking over while Fives processes. He tells Hevy about Cut, and then backtracks to tell him about their theories of the Living and Cosmic Force.

"General Kenobi hasn't said anything yet, but I'm sure he's looking into it," Cutup comments from behind Echo."We just haven't had much free time lately." Droidbait winces in silent agreement and continues, describing the meditation lessons from Commander Tano.

"Is that… something I should do?" Hevy wonders. Echo shrugs.

"You could try, I guess," he says. "It's just meditation, after all."

The rest of the conversation gets spent trying to explain meditation to Hevy amid jokes and banter. Fives leans back, content to listen, and reminds himself of how grateful he is to still be alive.

---

There's a clone in the Republic Judiciary Central Detention Center.

Hevy doesn't know who it is, but he's seen him several times during his rounds around the prison block on the hover platform. Thorn has finally allowed him to do something to help—even if it is a quiet guard duty, Hevy is more than happy to pitch in and pull his own weight.

His back feels better. Not completely, even now, but it only aches if he's tense.

He's made friends here. The Guards assigned full time to the detention center are bored and crack lots of jokes. Hevy hasn't met all of them yet, but he gets along just fine with almost all of them, and it really is a quiet job.

Well… quiet, as in there's not a lot of action. The odds of a prison break are extremely unlikely. It's not quiet sound-wise, because the prisoners are loud and like to jeer all sorts of insults at the clones as they soar by. It gets on Hevy's nerves quickly, but the Guards are used to it—just like they're used to almost every other type of abuse the galaxy has to offer. It makes Hevy sick with anger.

The detention center is one giant cylinder, with cells lining the walls and extending twelve stories up. Almost every cell is full. Cad Bane is in one of them—Hevy has the misfortune of meeting his gaze once and shudders as the bounty hunter offers him a lazy salute that offers death despite the casualness of the motion.

Hevy tries to not patrol that section again if he can help it.

On the other side of the facility, six stories up from Bane, is the clone. He piques Hevy's interest. It's practically unheard of that a clone is detained in these types of facilities. Normally they're simply silenced, or sent back to Kamino if there's a problem. To see one here is very odd.

He asks around a little on his next patrol, and finds out a few things. One, the clone's name is Slick. Two, he was 501st, a long time ago.

Three, he's a traitor, and he's responsible for dozens of clone deaths.

Hevy can't believe it when he hears. It's unfathomable to him. Slick had, apparently, betrayed the Jedi to the Separatists. When Hevy asks for more details, none of the Guards can tell him why.

"We don't… really talk to him," one Guard tells Hevy in a low voice as they're on their rounds, a hand around his rifle. "He's a cynical little kriffer. Makes you feel like something a space slug's chewed on. We steer clear when we can."

That only makes Hevy more curious.

He tries to do some research on his own too, but he doesn't get very far. Slick's data has been simplified to the extreme in official Republic documents, so there's not much Hevy gets from them that he doesn't already know. He gets fed up with it eventually, and decides to do something that he thinks Fives would definitely approve of.

He's not technically on duty, but the Guards don't say anything when he hangs around after one of his shifts. Hevy doesn't go to the detention center's control room as protocol dictates. What he's about to ask for is something ordinarily prohibited—under normal circumstances, that is. Hevy is curious, and on top of that… he wonders if Slick's story could help him. There are hardly any records of clones standing up to their Commanding Officers, whether their motives were correct or not.

He finds two Guards on duty on the ground floor level of the cell block and hails them quietly. The Guards observe Hevy's armor, the 501st blue and the flames climbing his greaves, and then share a meaningful look. Hevy's never seen them before, but they act like they know him.

"You're… Hevy," one of them says hesitantly. Hevy's eyes widen in surprise.

"Yeah," he answers, unsure of himself suddenly. He feels a sudden wave of nerves, but shuts it down. "I… want to talk to a prisoner. It's a clone, by the name of Slick. I don't know if you could help me get into contact with him?"

The Guards exchange another significant look. Hevy raises an eyebrow, but eventually the Guards nod.

"We'll… take you to him, but keep it quiet," the first one mutters. "This isn't… we're off the books."

"Understood," Hevy tells him, feeling a surge of adrenaline at his words. "Thank you, trooper."

"Thank you, sir," the Guard tells him softly. Hevy tilts his head—the title is unnecessary. They're the same rank, but the clone still says it with deep respect. "We heard rumors that you're the brother trying to get us our rights. We'll help with what we can."

Hevy feels a sudden onslaught of emotions—gratitude mixed with relief and a sense of camaraderie. He's not alone. Hevy doesn't feel like he's done enough to merit the way the Guards are treating him, but he appreciates it all the same.

The rumors of Hevy's purpose in the Coruscant Guard have certainly spread fast. Hevy hasn't been hiding it, because it's not technically a secret, but he hasn't been broadcasting it to the entire barracks either—their plans could still backfire, after all, and not result in anything. But the mere suggestion of rights has struck a chord in these particular Guards, and Hevy is grateful.

The Guards motion to a little hover platform, and they start to ascend. The shouts and jeers of various prisoners follow them up, and Hevy scowls. The Guards ignore them, and it isn't long before they're pulling in close to one of the cells. The shield powers down with a soft whine, and the hover platform connects.

The clone turns to look at them and raises an eyebrow when Hevy steps into his cell. He's dressed in prison garb, and his hair is a little longer than regulation describes—they probably don't let him cut it too often.

"Well… if it isn't the strange 501st Guard," he sneers, crossing his arms and giving Hevy an unamused look. He eyes the blue flames running up Hevy's armor with contempt. "I've been expecting you."

"You're Slick," Hevy says, frowning at his words. Slick smiles at him, something feral and angry in the expression. That's the only confirmation Hevy gets.

"How's General Skywalker, brother?" he asks. "Still up and kicking? Rumor has it he's got a little trainee. Hope he hasn't gotten her killed yet."

Hevy scowls at him. Slick has no right to speak of the Commander like that, but anger won't help him right now. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, trying to contain his automatic frustration. They aren't off to a good start. He doesn't feel at all safe here, but Hevy reaches up and removes his helmet regardless. The action makes Slick's eyes widen minutely.

"Listen," Hevy says to Slick. "The name's Hevy. I'm not here to fight with you. I want your help. The 501st isn't here. It's just me."

There's a heartbeat of silence. Then Slick throws his head back and laughs.

"Not much I can do from here to help a slave," he says accusingly, the words dripping from his lips like poison. "But this is much more interesting than anything else I've seen recently, and I've got all the time in the world." He waves a hand at his accommodations dismissively.

Hevy takes that as an invitation and sits down on the hard cell floor. Slick does as well with a strange twist of his lips.

"What brings you to my humble cell, kid?" Slick asks Hevy with a raised eyebrow. "I have to admit, it was surprising to see someone from such a high-end battalion associating with the CG. I didn't think any of you would stoop to such a low level."

His tone is demeaning, but the Guards don't react. They're used to comments like that, Hevy knows. Hevy, on the other hand, feels righteous fury rise up in his chest before he can contain it.

"I think there's plenty of things that you don't understand about the Guards," he defends. He's seen too much mistreatment of the Guards in the past few days. "And I'm on Coruscant under General Skywalker's orders. He wants me to help fix his old mistakes."

Slick chuckles darkly.

"Oh, so he decided to start with me? I wish I could say I'm surprised that he didn't show personally, but…"

Okay. This isn't going anywhere. Maybe it was a mistake to come. Hevy sighs.

"I don't want to fight," he repeats. "I really do need your help."

Slick narrows his eyes at Hevy.

"Alright," he drawls. "Talk, then."

Finally. Hevy takes a moment to swallow and gather his thoughts.

"I'm working with a few Senators to obtain legal rights for our brothers," he explains. "I want your insight. And I want to know why you did what you did."

Slick laughs.

"So you've recognized our enslavement, at least," he says, seemingly delighted. "But if you think the Senate is going to do anything about it, you're hopelessly lost already. They don't give a flying kriff about us clones."

"What, so it's better to go to the Separatists for help and get dozens of brothers killed in the process?" Hevy counters bluntly. Slick snarls at his words. Something flashes across his face—a sliver of regret. He masks it quickly, but Hevy knows what he's seen. The traitor doesn't attempt to defend himself, either, which is… interesting.

"Was it worth their deaths, in the end?" Hevy presses quietly. Slick avoids Hevy's gaze.

"A dozen lives lost, to give millions more their freedom. It was a sacrifice I was willing to make."

"Why did you do it in the first place?" Hevy asks. Slick shifts his weight, and there's a long, heavy pause. When Slick doesn't answer, Hevy refines his question. "Why turn against the Jedi?"

"I was transferred into the 501st, kid, and that kriffing battalion doesn't have any idea how good they have it," Slick growls. "Brothers suffer all over the galaxy. The Jedi are all for peace until it comes down to having a functional army. They know that we aren't treated well, and don't do a thing about it. They're hypocrites, every single one of them."

Hevy remembers General Skywalker's outburst of guilt and fury upon his realization of the clones' disguised enslavement. He frowns.

"Blind, maybe. Fooled by the war. But not all are hypocrites."

Slick guffaws.

"Spoken like a true Republic dog," he says bitterly. "I made a decision, Hevy. I saw how the Jedi used us as pawns, how our entire existence is nothing more than a political move for power in the end. I saw my men needlessly dying, and I saw myself unable to say anything for fear of getting sent back to Kamino. I was tired, and sick of the farce." A hint of pride slides into his voice as he continues. "So I acted on my own. It was a little freedom, to me. There were no orders. There was nothing stopping me. Ventress offered to help. I took her up on it."

"You didn't think she was planning on double-crossing you?" Hevy questions dryly. Slick glares at him.

"Desperate times, desperate measures," he defends. "Something had to change. The enslaved ranks of clones are powder kegs waiting to explode. They'll recognize their enslavement sooner or later, and then it'll mean a full-scale rebellion. I was going to free them all from the Republic's oppression early, soften the blow, and I saw no other options. Your failure of a Senate is too slow and inefficient, and they would never listen to their own property." He lets out a short laugh. "But none of that matters, now. I'm here. This is as free as I'm gonna get."

Hevy feels cold. The scary thing is… he agrees with Slick, on some level. Something needs to change. They aren't free, that much is true, and if Domino squad had been less rational about all of this, without the guidance of Echo and Fives as their resident ARCs… Hevy could see them striking out in their anger, as Slick had.

The Jedi are far from perfect. They make mistakes. They send men to their deaths. They struggle, they are blinded by their own ideas and the war that the clones were made for. But Hevy knows them. Knows Commander Tano's bright eyes and cheerful smile, her grief as her men die. He knows General Kenobi's steady hands and friendly voice and his bloodstained face as he desperately defends them. He knows General Skywalker's cocky confidence, his exhilarated laugh—and he knows the General's terrible, heart-wrenching despair when he recognizes his own hypocrisy.

The clones may be enslaved, but Hevy doesn't think the Jedi are responsible. Sometimes the Jedi seem to be just as enslaved as the clones.

Despite that, General Skywalker is determined to change things. Thanks to him, Hevy is here, on Coruscant.

Slick knows as well as Hevy does that they're slaves, but after that, there's not much that they have in common. Hevy sees far more details in the grand scheme of things than Slick ever could. Slick had worked alone, lashing out in desperation, but Hevy has his brothers beside him, and they're fighting together. The unwavering support that they've developed as a squad makes these kinds of challenges possible to bear. Slick's isolation, both back then and now, makes Hevy pity him.

"What are you trying to get out of your precious Senate?" Slick asks him. "Paid labor? The chance to leave the war? They won't give you either of those, no matter what you say."

Hevy shakes his head.

"We just want the reassurance that we'll have something after this war. The Republic cause is a good one, and they need us badly—there's no chance they'll release us from it. The galaxy would be thrown into chaos if we tried. But what we're fighting for is justice now, and a chance at real life afterwards. The opportunity to be real people. When the war ends, we want the shot at peace that every civilian talks about."

Slick huffs.

"If the war ends," he says. "I'm not so sure that it will."

There's a look in his eyes that Hevy doesn't like. Hevy leans forward.

"What are you talking about?"

Slick shrugs.

"It's just a gut feeling, Hevy. I don't think this war will end with Dooku's death. It'll continue until everyone in the galaxy is dead."

His words are sharp with the bite of truth. Hevy shudders and reaches for his helmet. Slick grins at him, expression grimly satisfied.

"Had enough?" he says smugly. "I'd rethink your plan if I were you. The Senate won't listen to a clone. Force, I'll be surprised if they even allow you in the building."

"Good thing I've got help, then," Hevy mutters, shoving his helmet on as he rises to his feet. "And they aren't clones."

He understands why Slick had acted out, why he had betrayed the Republic, but that doesn't change the fact that he's a traitor. He'd killed brothers to try and fix an impossible situation. He'd betrayed his entire battalion. Hevy can't find it in himself to forgive the other man.

"Goodbye, Slick," he says as he steps out of the cell. Slick doesn't bother with a response, sprawling out and putting his hands lazily behind his head as the shield to his confinement reactivates.

Hevy takes a deep breath as the hover platform starts to descend. One of the Guards taps his shoulder.

"Did you get what you needed?" he asks. Hevy thinks of Slick's desperate decisions and frowns.

"I think so," he answers, and then straightens. Slick's actions had been wrong. Hevy's going to make sure they do things right this time, and he's not planning on failing.

---

He needs to clear his head after the conversation with Slick, so he convinces Byte to accompany him on a detour to the streets of Coruscant in order to find some food. Hevy is done with his shifts for the day, and Byte has a break and is easily convinced to leave under the promise of food. Hevy isn't really feeling picky, so he almost automatically heads for the first diner he sees when they step out into the street. He barely even hears Byte's sound of protest.

"Hey, hey. Hevy, we can't go in there."

Hevy shoots Byte a confused look, pausing for a split second in the walkway.

"Why the kriff not? We've got money." They have an hour off, and Byte had managed to score a handful of credits from the Command Center to be spent on lunch. Hevy starts to cross the street, dodging around a hovering speeder and striding towards the restaurant. Byte makes an odd sputtering noise behind him.

"W-wait, Hevy, you can't just—Hevy!"

Hevy ignores him, listens as the Guard's boots clatter on the pavement as he hurries to catch up. By the time Byte rejoins him, Hevy is pushing the door of the diner open.

It's not an upscale establishment by any means, but it's quaint, and warm. The lights are dimmed, and a hologram is playing a muted newsreel in the corner. A pair of Whipids are seated at a bar near the back, sharing a bottle of what looks like Corellian whiskey. An assortment of humans, Rodians, and Bothans are seated at the tables. A large Trandoshan is lounging near the front door, gulping down a slab of meat that Hevy tries not to think about too hard. Wisps of smoke curl through the air, carrying a burnt scent through the room. The tables are actually wood. Hevy lets out a hum of surprise.

"Whoa, vintage," he mutters. The Trandoshan turns at the sound of his voice and bares its teeth at him with a hiss. Hevy blinks at him, but presses his way towards the bartender. Byte enters behind him, suddenly silent as a ghost.

"Two standard lunches, sir," Hevy requests, eyes up and scanning the menu. The hubbub in the diner suddenly dies down as Hevy speaks. A moment later, he realizes that the whole restaurant has frozen.

The bartender raises his head. He's a big man, not quite human from the extra set of eyes in his forehead. He glowers at Hevy.

"I don't serve your kind," he grunts out dismissively. Hevy tenses.

Okay, he should have expected something like this.

"We have credits," he says, taking his helmet off and tucking it under his arm. He's hoping to appeal to the bartender's humanity, but it doesn't change anything. The bartender snorts.

"I get enough business that losing your credits won't hurt me," he says, turning to shake a pot simmering on his stove. It smells good. That only angers Hevy further. This kind of discrimination is utterly ridiculous. He balls his fists.

"Listen, you little—!"

The Trandoshan in the front growls. Hevy moves to step forward, fully prepared to—fight someone, yell, call Senator Amidala, he's not entirely sure, but he's kriffing ready—

"Hevy," Byte hisses in his ear, voice strained. Hevy glances back at him and deflates when he sees that Byte is shrinking in on himself, chin lowered and shoulders hunched. The eyes of every patron in the diner are on them. "Come on. Please. Let's go, okay? It's not worth it. I know a better place where we won't get any trouble…"

Hevy briefly entertains the idea of pushing his luck, staying, but the Trandoshan looks annoyed and the bartender's hands have strayed below the bar. He's undoubtedly packing heat, and this isn't worth a shootout.

Hevy pushes his helmet back on with a growl and spins on his heel, marching to the front door. Byte trails after him. Once they're both out, Hevy slams the door with so much force that something splinters. Hevy doesn't care.

Rambunctious laughter follows them out. Hevy's blood is boiling. He looks at Byte, and all the anger dissipates when he sees the other clone's defeated posture.

"Hey, I'm… sorry," Hevy apologizes, placing a careful hand on the Guard's shoulders. "I know it's normal for you, but… I can't stand it. It makes me want to punch someone."

Byte huffs out a weak laugh.

"I know, Hevy," he says. "That's why you're changing things, and we aren't."

Hevy sighs.

"Well, looks like we're finding lunch in a different location," he mutters. "You'd better not have been referring to 79's as your 'better place.' I doubt they serve full meals, and even if they do I don't trust the quality."

Byte snorts.

"You're welcome to go to the clone bar on your night off, but you'll be going without me. Not really my scene. No, I've got someplace even better, with good food and an owner who likes us."

Hevy raises an eyebrow.

"Oh?"

Byte turns out to be right. Dexter's Diner is full of hungry clones and citizens alike, ignoring each other but not saying a word of protest due to Dexter's loud conversations with the troopers—he jokes with them from across the diner as he cooks with all four arms, poking fun at the Kaminoans and swapping stories. Hevy is full of instant respect for the Besalisk. The food is good, too. Greasy, filling, and perfect for a clone's rapid metabolism. Dexter doesn't overcharge them, either.

Hevy leaves, stomach content and a smile on his lips. Byte is more relaxed as well.

It's almost enough to make Hevy forget the frustrating encounter beforehand, but not quite.

---

Senator Amidala arrives at the barracks just as the sun is starting to disappear from the sky and the streetlights are flickering on around them. She steps down from the speeder with a graceful wave to the waiting clones, a cloak billowing at her waist. Flak gets out of the pilot seat, and the two of them approach the barracks.

"Gentlemen," Senator Amidala says warmly. "It's good to see you all here."

Thorn, Thire, and Fox greet her with professional nods. They'd made an attempt to reach out to Stone, who is somewhere in the NaJedha system escorting several Senators, but he'd been busy, caught between the volatile native species that the Republic was attempting to make peace with and a violent electric storm that was threatening their base. He hadn't been in any position to sit down and chat, nor a good state of mind to receive news of the chips. They'll have to fill him in at a later date.

Hevy is half a step behind the line of Commanders, and he offers the Senator a loose salute. She smiles at him.

"Senator, we were informed that you wanted to speak with us," Fox says, voice betraying his curiosity. "I was told that it's urgent."

Senator Amidala sighs.

"Yes, Commander," she confirms, and pulls her cloak around her—Coruscant gets cold at night. "It… isn't necessarily a pleasant subject, but it's an important one. Could we find a place to sit down for a few minutes?"

"Of course, ma'am," Thire tells her, and turns towards the barracks. "Follow us, please."

They get a couple odd looks as they enter the barracks, if only because it's rare to see three Commanders at the same time. They're always busy, after all. Thire leads them to hallway of the offices and pauses.

"Mine," Fox says without being prompted. "It's bigger. We can bring in more chairs."

Commander Fox has settled back into the Guard barracks like he'd never even been gone, relieving Thorn and Thire of a large portion of the workload. Hevy is consistently impressed by his composure. The Commander isn't one to sit back and let his men do all the work. He cares for his men with a fierce loyalty—if he isn't at his desk dealing with mountains of paperwork, he's out with a squad in the thick of things, leading from the front. Hevy wonders if he ever sleeps.

That perspective of Fox that he's been permitted to see makes it a little easier to swallow the news he'd received from Fives. Hevy had spent a good amount of time trying to understand instead of casting the blame. He feels like that's something that Senator Amidala would do.

He doesn't blame Fives for being angry, but ultimately, Hevy thinks neither Fives nor Fox is to blame for what happened. They were both being dragged around like puppets on strings, and Fives had just been caught in the crossfire.

Fox may have killed Fives once, but Hevy isn't planning on letting that happen again.

There's a minute of awkward silence while Flak and Thorn bring in a few chairs. Hevy takes a moment to peer around Fox's office. It's impressively clean, though there are two trash cans to the side of his desk that are almost completely full of crumpled flimsi. There are six different writing utensils on the desk. Pinned up to the side wall is a poster that makes Hevy grin—it's clone war propaganda at its finest, depicting a row of white-armored shinies against a red background. There are Y-wings soaring above them, and below the clones a slogan cries, 'Support the boys in white'. It's not something typically seen on the Separatist-controlled planets Hevy usually visits.

And, he thinks grimly, it's not a slogan that the people of Coruscant have taken to heart, either. The edges of the poster are ripped and frayed. It's an old one, probably from the beginning of the war. Hevy can't imagine it's still being printed.

Finally, everyone is settled. Fox is at his desk, and the others are all scattered around his office, waiting. Senator Amidala looks at Hevy and nods.

"We wanted to get as many Commanders together so that we could inform you about something critical to our existence as clones, sirs," he starts, partly unsure of how to begin. "The 501st battalion has…" He pauses, and decides that it's better to just be blunt about it. "...discovered a organic chip in the brain of every clone. When the chip is activated, it forces a clone to obey the orders listed inside."

"Wait, what?" Commander Thire says immediately, blinking. "You'd better not be messing with us, trooper."

Fox goes terrifyingly still, face expressionless. Thorn looks confused.

"Say that again?" he says. Hevy swallows, glancing at Senator Amidala.

"It's no joke, Commander," she defends, saving him. "The evidence of this chip was, as Hevy said, found by the 501st, and on his datapad he has a complete record of this biochip and it's terrible function."

She gestures to Hevy, who wordlessly passes his datapad to Thire. Thorn scoots in to read over his shoulder, and they scroll for two long minutes. Hevy can see horrific realization settling over both of them.

After a moment, Thorn puts his face in his hands and leans back. Thire exhales a handful of swear words and passes the datapad into Fox's waiting palms.

Fox reads more thoroughly, catching subtle nuances and wording with a practiced eye. Hevy can see every time he finds something he doesn't like, because Fox's whole body does a tiny little flinch like he can't contain it. Next to Hevy, Flak bows his head grimly.

"Kriff me. Kriff me," Thorn mutters quietly. Fox tears his gaze away from the datapad, obviously fighting the urge to read more. His gaze rests on Hevy.

"This is inside every clone," he rasps.

"Yes," Hevy confirms.

"And it can make us do anything on this list."

"Unfortunately," Hevy admits. Fox swallows audibly and sets the datapad down.

"Force. Is this… what's been happening?" Thire asks in a quiet voice. "Is this why…" he trails off. Senator Amidala frowns.

"Why what, Commander?" she asks. Thire clenches his jaw.

"Why we can't remember some things," he admits in barely more than a whisper. Senator Amidala's eyes widen.

"What do you mean, Commander?"

"There are missions that we can't remember," Fox answers dully. His eyes are staring sightlessly at the far wall, fingers clenched around the edge of his desk. "Days that are blank. Sometimes I get a call, and two days later I'm in front of the barracks again without any recollection of how or why I'm there."

Hevy's stomach drops. The ugly feeling in his chest screams wrong, wrong, wrong.

"Almost the entire battalion's experienced it at one point or another," Fox continues in that same dull voice. "But no one knows why it happens or how to make it stop."

It's achingly painful to hear the admittance on Fox's lips, and even more startling to realize that the entire battalion is affected. Senator Amidala appears stunned. She knows as well as he does what this implies—corruption on a very high level. Hevy can see her thinking, storing the information away for later use.

"We've got to get them out," Thorn says determinedly. "Hevy, you removed yours?"

"The medics of the 501st did," Hevy answers.

"Then we'll do the same."

"How?" Thire asks incredulously. "We don't have unlimited access to medical operations. Someone will notice if the entire Guard is suddenly taken in for brain surgery."

"I'm sure we can do something," Senator Amidala says before Hevy can open his mouth to protest. Her brow is furrowed, searching for a solution. "If someone in the Senate vouched for you, the hospitals would have to take the men in, and we could get it done quietly—"

"No," Hevy finally forces out guiltily. "It could work, but… we can't. There's no way to safely remove the chips from the Guards. If we do, someone will call to give an order, and when it doesn't work they'll be onto us."

There's a moment of thick, helpless silence.

Eventually, Thire lets out a frustrated sound.

"Who's behind this? Someone is controlling us. If it's the Separatists, this is the biggest security breach we've ever seen. If it's someone in the Republic, they could be using us for anything, and I want answers," he growls. "I'm tired of this. We can get an investigation squad ready—"

"Don't," Fox interrupts. The one word displays a level of exhaustion that Hevy can't even begin to understand. "Not… not right now, Thire. Force."

Thorn frowns.

"Fox, we can't just sit here and let someone—"

"Kriff, I know, it's just—I don't even know how to start dealing with this. Can we process this for five minutes before we start planning?" Fox snarls, banging his fist on the table. Everyone jumps. Fox drags in an audible breath and takes a second to calm himself before continuing. "This is dangerous. There are too many unknowns, and we can't kriffing rush in, or we'll all be mindless before we can blink."

Thire and Thorn exchange a glance that Hevy can't read exactly—some mixture of concern and stress and fear, not just for the Guard, but for Fox as well.

"Okay," Thorn says, voice gentle in an obvious attempt to pacify. Fox offers him a glare that indicates he isn't oblivious to what Thorn is trying to do. "You're right."

Thire shifts unhappily but holds his tongue. Hevy feels awkward again. Flak is staring at the floor, expression pinched.

"I know it's not the news you wanted to hear," Hevy explains gruffly, "but I thought you would want to know. It's not your fault. Someone else is pulling the strings."

"Thank you," Thorn says. He sounds honest, although no less stressed. They have an explanation, but not a solution. Thire exhales and nods at him. The crease lines on Fox's face soften for a brief moment before hardening again.

"So we have to wait," Fox announces darkly. "It's the only thing we can do, until we can find a way to proceed without being found out."

Thorn clenches his fists, and Thire sighs bitterly. Hevy exchanges a worried look with Flak.

This is one problem that they won't be able to solve quite yet.

---

General Skywalker looks annoyed. Hevy can't really blame him. The Jedi's hologram is pacing back and forth on the holoprojector, tension visible in every glowing line of his form. It's the morning of the day after they'd revealed the chips to the commanders, and they're going over their ideas for the upcoming Senate meeting.

"It's a good game plan," General Skywalker says loudly, "but I wish it was something more… impactful. It feels like we're stalling."

Senator Amidala nods. "We are," she says. "Because the Republic will brush us away faster than we can blink if we try for anything more. You know how this works, Anakin."

Hevy is sitting in Senator Amidala's office, mind whirling as he makes sense of Senator Amidala's proposed plan. It's not a bad one. It's a good place to start, to get the necessary thought processes rolling in the minds of the Senate. But it doesn't fix much. Not yet.

"It's the best we're going to be able to do while the war is still on," he contributes quietly. General Skywalker huffs. "But it's a good way to kick things off. Our target right now should stay small, and if everything goes according to plan, when it's all over the Republic will be more prepared to handle the real problem."

"Kriffing politics," General Skywalker mutters half-heartedly, earning an eye roll from Senator Amidala, and another look from her that's fond and almost…

Erm. Hevy coughs awkwardly. He's trying not to think too hard about that.

"I know you don't like it, but it's the best route to take," Senator Amidala tells General Skywalker. "And both of you are absolutely vital in making sure everything goes well. I've already assembled the usable evidence into a file. With a few more hours of work I'll have the video ready for presentation, too."

"I'll get to work on my bit," General Skywalker says immediately. "It shouldn't take me too long. I just have to talk."

"Good," Senator Amidala says firmly. She looks at Hevy and hands him the file. "You need to read this, and think about how you want to present yourself."

Hevy takes a deep breath.

"Why can't someone else do it? You're far better at this than I am. Maybe General Skywalker could do it, or another friendly Senator—"

"The clones need a voice, Hevy," she tells him wisely, a small smile on her face. Hevy shakes his head.

"Good thing there are lots of us, Senator. You've got plenty of better men to choose from. Commander Fox or Thorn or… I don't know, Cody or Rex or—"

"It has to be you," Senator Amidala interrupts kindly. "Perhaps Captain Rex or Commander Cody could help us, but they won't be able to arrive in time for the meeting."

"Someone from the Guard, then," Hevy groans. "I'm nothing special."

She smiles at him.

"You may not think you're anyone special, but that's all the more reason why you're the man for the job," she explains. "You may not be well-known, or an officer, but you're a clone. The humblest man is often the one best-suited to represent his people. He knows their struggles, yet is unbiased by rank or power."

"I'm not an officer yet," Hevy corrects half-heartedly. Someday he could get there, if he doesn't die first and if the position doesn't take him away from his brothers. "So what you're saying is that I'm not special, so I'm perfect for the job." He's not offended—it makes sense. He sighs in resignment. Looks like he's going to be giving a speech.

She laughs.

"Not special according to GAR standards, but special according to mine. You're a good man, Hevy. I trust you."

"Force knows why," Hevy jokes weakly. Her confidence in him is flattering, but he can't shake away his doubt. Hevy isn't exactly known for being well-spoken among the 501st.

"You'll do just fine, Hevy," General Skywalker contributes, crossing his arms over his chest and offering Hevy a proud nod. "You're one of the finest men in the 501st. I have no doubt you'll get it done right."

Hevy straightens under General Skywalker's praise. It makes him feel a little better, but it doesn't erase his unease.

"I'll do my best, sir," he says honestly. If they're determined to see him involved, Hevy's not going to let them down. General Skywalker smiles.

"It's settled, then," Senator Amidala says. She hands Hevy a datapad. "We'll be waiting for your contribution, Anakin."

General Skywalker nods. He reaches over for something unseen by the hologram, about to deactivate it and vanish, but before he can do so, Hevy holds up a hand.

"Sir… there's something else that you should know. The Coruscant Guards… we think someone is activating their chips."

General Skywalker tenses.

"What makes you say that?" he asks. Hevy frowns as he recalls the details.

"They're experiencing blackouts in their memories. They don't remember things and men will disappear for days on end, including their Commanders. It's highly suspicious, sir. Seems like… someone high-up is involved."

Hevy can't push his luck any further by suggesting that they suspect Palpatine but maybe this could start steering the General in the right direction to realize it himself.

General Skywalker scowls.

"I don't like the sound of that. The Chancellor mentioned that the Guard has been replacing police services recently, and if someone is controlling them, he might be at risk. We need to get them de-chipped as soon as possible. Be careful, Hevy, Padme. I don't want you two taking any risks, understand? Be ready for anything."

"We'll be careful, sir." Hevy affirms, offering a salute even as a flicker of disappointment flashes through him. The General is painfully loyal to the Chancellor, and that's going to make things difficult.

"We can't de-chip them yet, Anakin," Senator Amidala says. "They'll be found out too quickly. It'll take time."

General Skywalker scowls, brow furrowed in worry as he looks at her.

"I don't like it, but you're right," he admits. "Just… stay on your guard. I'm too far away for a daring rescue, remember?"

Hevy nearly chokes on a laugh that he's barely able to suppress. General Skywalker isn't subtle, not even with this. Not that Hevy's going to tell anyone.

Senator Amidala laughs.

"We shouldn't need one, Anakin. We'll be careful. Don't worry about us."

General Skywalker smiles at her softly.

"I always do," he says as his hologram wavers and disappears, leaving Hevy and Senator Amidala to continue their planning in peace.

---

Hevy calls Ninety-nine later that day once he's returned to the barracks and talks with the old clone for a while as he's waiting for his batchmates to become available. Ninety-nine is excited to hear from him as always, and listens to his ranting with good humor, offering words of comfort. It makes Hevy feel a lot better, and he thinks that he could stay there forever, but an incoming call cuts their conversation short.

"Oh," Hevy says, glancing down at the holoprojector. "I'm sorry, Ninety-nine. My brothers are finally checking in. Took them long enough."

"That's alright," Ninety-nine says with that lopsided little grin that never fails to make Hevy grin as well. "Don't leave them waiting. We can catch up more later."

"You got it," Hevy affirms. "Take care of yourself, Ninety-nine."

"Be safe, Hevy!"

Hevy reaches over and accepts the call originating from the 501st. Fives and Cutup appear first, heads close together as they try to be in the same hologram at once. Hevy catches a glimpse of flailing in the back and can imagine Echo and Droidbait behind them, jockeying for a better position.

"Hey, Hevy. What's the news from Coruscant?" Cutup greets with a grin. Hevy smiles.

"Nothing too exciting," he says. "But I bet it's better than what you four have."

Fives makes an offended sound.

"Restocking for a campaign is an important part of our job, Hevy. Please. The Kaminoans taught you better than that."

Hevy snorts, and launches into his update. His encounter with Slick inspires a couple pensive looks, and the reveal of the chips to the Guards makes Fives nod in approval. The interesting parts are his meetings with Senator Amidala.

"The meeting with the Senate is tomorrow," he says. "I'll be assisting Senator Amidala with the presentation. It's… unprecedented, I'm pretty sure. But with any luck, it'll shock people enough that they'll listen."

"So… what you're saying is that you're gonna be famous," Droidbait jokes. Hevy snorts.

"I guess," he replies. "Though I can't exactly say I'm looking forward to it. Senator Amidala and General Skywalker can be very persuasive."

"Speaking of the General," Fives says. "We wanted to propose something to you, Hevy. We wanted to know what you think about telling the Jedi about our… time excursion. All of Beta knows, as well as Rex… but we were thinking maybe it would help to have Jedi insight."

Hevy considers it. They've guarded the secret for so long. But something in him is excited about the prospect of additional help. Things get more complicated by the day, and they could use a Jedi's insight.

"Yeah," he says. "I think it's time. But who?"

"General Shaak Ti?" Droidbait suggests. Echo hums.

"Not a bad idea, but she's pretty far away, and tied to Kamino. It would be difficult for her to help us here."

"One of the Generals that knows about the chips, then," Hevy contributes. "General Plo Koon, or Secura. General Kenobi, even."

"We can think about it for a little bit, too," Echo proposes. "We need to consider every option. But we're going to do it."

Hevy nods in approval. It's time.

"It's settled, then," Fives says. "That's… all, from us. If there's nothing more to add?"

"Nothing on my end, either," Hevy says. "I hate to cut this short, but… I want to go over our notes. For the meeting tomorrow."

"No problem, brother," Cutup tells him, poking his head into the hologram with a slight smirk on his lips. "We have a sabacc game planned, anyway. We'll be watching you on the holonet tomorrow. Try to look pretty—I know that's hard for you, but—"

"You kriffing bantha, we share the same face," Hevy grumbles, failing to stifle a smile. "I'll call you when I get a chance, okay? Don't die."

"Don't die either," Fives says fondly. "Good luck."

Hevy ends the call and reaches for his datapad.

He's got a lot to do before tomorrow's meeting.

---

A/N: Have this chapter while we're all still reeling from the incredible episode today haha

I'm pretty sure this is the longest chapter I've ever written for dominoes. That's mostly because I hated the first draft, so I added like 6 pages on accident, and then lancerfate (who saved my butt ONCE AGAIN) and I were editing it for 3 days because it was kind of rough... BUT here it is, finally! I debated splitting it in half but decided not to.

Not as much action in this one, but lots of little scenes that are necessary for setting up the craziness that's coming very soon. Brace yourselves.

The 'Support the boys in white' poster really exists on Wookieepedia, you can look it up! It's really cool, I want one for my room heh

Like I said earlier, the biggest thanks to lancerfate for saving my life and editing the heck out of this chapter. Also thanks to secretlypansexualmango on tumblr for giving me ideas for Slick's scene! YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST.

Also, just a little unfortunate reminder-if you don't like the direction I'm taking this story, you don't need to be here. I'm getting tired of people harassing me over something as foolish as a fanfiction... Please calm down. If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all. There's no need to be mean. I do this for fun. It isn't my job, and I'm not perfect. So, enough, please!

For you wonderful reviewers that aren't causing problems, thanks a million! Until the next chapter! :)

-meridianpony 3