"Something is wrong."
"Yeah, no kidding, Master," General Skywalker grunts, eyes never leaving the holomap of this quadrant of the galaxy. "I don't like this. It's too quiet."
Echo can't help but agree. The blockade over Sullust is progressing well—too well. The Separatists haven't even attempted an attack yet, and they've been here for a week already. The men are uneasy, and at this point, so are the Jedi. Around him, the rest of Domino shift their weight uneasily. Captain Rex's frown deepens. Commander Tano folds her arms over her chest.
"The Separatists should have attacked by now," Fives mutters at Echo's side.
"Are they making any moves at all right now?" Cutup asks.
General Kenobi nods. One hand inches up to stroke at his beard. "Master Fisto and his men are currently dealing with a Separatist assault, as is Master Mundi. It isn't that the Separatists have stopped their attacks, but they've certainly slowed down."
"Not suspicious at all," Commander Tano mutters, wrinkling her nose.
"There's other news about the attack on Malastare that Fives and Echo described to us," General Kenobi adds grimly. "A massive Separatist fleet was seen making its way through the Outer Rim. It initially seemed as if it was headed right for Malastare, but it diverted from its course and fled back into Separatist Space before we could even warn the planet, and the Republic scouts lost track of it."
"Wait—wh—Malastare didn't even get attacked?" Fives blurts out. Echo bites his lip. That's not good. Who knows where the fleet intended for Malastare might end up.
"They stopped for some reason," Hevy notes. "They were going to attack, they just decided not to. Something must have happened."
"What made them pull back?" Fives asks incredulously. "That doesn't make any sense! There's no reason for this to be different from what happened last time!"
Echo feels a surge of frustration. Fives is right, and he's starting to get a headache.
"I mean… it's got to be related to something you've changed, right?" Commander Tano says tentatively. "If it didn't happen last time…?"
"You're probably right, sir, but figuring out the cause is the hard part," Droidbait mutters.
"We need to find that fleet," General Skywalker growls. "We can't let the Separatists catch us off guard."
"The men are searching," General Kenobi says. He seems concerned, but despite that, he also seems calm. Echo can't help but admire his resolve. "Until they find anything, there's not much we can do."
General Skywalker's fists ball. He takes a deep breath.
"Yeah. Yeah, I know, Master. It's—fine. What other news do you have, then?"
"Masters Windu and Unduli have reported the successful de-chippings of their battalions. Master Fisto hasn't gotten the opportunity yet. Masters Tapal and Billaba are just beginning the process. Everything seems to be proceeding as planned in that regard."
"Thank the Force, at least one thing is going like we hoped," Cutup says out of the corner of his mouth. Echo snorts.
"I am, unfortunately, in the dark when it comes to what might be happening on Coruscant. Without an inside source, I worry that we might be missing important pieces of the puzzle. Has Senator Amidala been able to contact you again?" General Kenobi continues. Echo sees Hevy wince.
"She's been busy trying to get the Clone Rights bill passed. She hasn't been able to do too much investigating—and she shouldn't, either. It's too dangerous." General Skywalker's voice is firm. General Kenobi raises an eyebrow, but doesn't comment.
"There's—oh," Hevy blurts out suddenly, as if struck by a sudden realization. Heads turn towards him in surprise. Hevy purses his lips. "I just remembered. Not every Guard is on Coruscant right now. There's Commander Stone. I never got a chance to talk to him. He was on an escort assignment the entire time I was gone. I don't know if the orders went out to them or not. If they haven't gone back yet, maybe he could help us figure out what's going on down there."
"If they have gone back, I doubt they still have their own minds," Fives says darkly. Captain Rex straightens.
"I'll comm him. If he's still on assignment, I'll see if he can find out anything about what's going on with the Guard when he returns. If he's already back, I can just say that I'm looking for Fox. That should keep me free of suspicion if he is being controlled."
"Are you sure, sir? You'd have to explain… a lot," Echo says. Rex nods.
"I'll see what I can do without giving away too much. With any luck, he'll be able to help us."
"I hope so," Hevy says. His expression falls slightly. Echo catches a flash of guilt in his eyes that he recognizes all too well by now. He shuffles a little closer to Hevy, nudging his batchmate's shoulder gently in silent reassurance. Hevy looks up at the touch. When he meets Echo's gaze, some of the remorse fades away. Echo offers him a small smile.
"Once we're done here, I'll comm him," the Captain continues. He sends a glance towards Hevy. "Does he already know about the chips?" Hevy shakes his head, and Rex frowns. "Alright. I'll let him know."
"Good idea, Rex. I'll leave that to you, then," General Skywalker says with a nod of approval. "Any other news, Master?"
General Kenobi shakes his head. "Nothing more as of yet. We'll have to wait a little longer." If Echo hears those words many more times, he thinks that he's going to develop some sort of visceral reaction to the word 'wait.' Commander Tano pinches the bridge of her nose with a sigh. General Skywalker huffs.
"Great. Well, if they don't do something soon, I think my men might start to explode."
"And by 'your men,' I think you're referring to yourself as well," General Kenobi says with a hint of amusement. "Use this as a teaching opportunity, Anakin. Downtime is a rare opportunity to train. Your padawan is improving, but she still has much to learn."
General Skywalker's eyes go wide. He glances at Commander Tano, who lights up with excitement.
"Huh. Yeah, you're right. We'll get right on that, Master." He turns to look at Domino squad pensively. "I think some training would do all of us lots of good, actually."
Echo is surprised to realize that he thinks training would help. There's been a constant unease bubbling underneath his skin. They've done nothing but sit around and do menial tasks around the Resolute during their time in the blockade so far, and a bit of exercise could help relieve the tension. From the way his batchmates have suddenly begun to fidget, he assumes that they feel the same way.
"Please," Cutup mutters wistfully. "Anything other than stocking the supply closets again." Fives makes a sound of agreement. General Skywalker motions meaningfully at Rex, who snorts.
"Right. I'll block in some training time for the battalion in the schedule. Not like I have anything else to do."
"Good man," General Skywalker tells him. He grins. "Just don't go too hard, men. We're waiting for now, but something will happen eventually, and I need you to all be in top shape when it does."
General Skywalker's advice goes right out the window the second they enter the training room.
Tup fights dirty. He's all elbows and knees and relentless jabs aimed at tender spots, absolutely merciless. It never fails to make Fives grin. Right now, Tup is squared off against Del in the middle of the mats, face screwed up in concentration as he circles the Sergeant. Little wisps of hair have come free of his bun. The encouraging shouts of both Beta squad and Iota squad, led by Denal, fill the training hall.
"Come on, Tup, give it to him!" Denal cheers. Tup obliges him, ducking low and whirling towards Del with an elbow aimed at his ribs. Del's defense is solid. Tup is doing well against him, but he isn't making a large amount of progress yet.
"Get him, Tup! Go left, his guard's down!" Fives yells, and immediately gets a fist smacked into his unprotected stomach, courtesy of Droidbait. Fives doubles over at the unexpected blow. He makes the movement as exaggerated as possible. It didn't hurt, not really, but Fives has no shame in playing it up as if it had.
"Don't help him, Fives! Who's side are you on, anyway?"
"The kriff, Bait, that hurt! Force, son of a—!"
Droidbait gives him a flat look. "I didn't hit you that hard!"
"—ahh, you've killed me—!"
Droidbait's mouth twitches. "There is no death, there is the Force," he teases in a grave voice. Fives snorts despite his best effort not to.
"Eh, you're fine, Fives," Echo drawls from behind them. Fives narrows his eyes. He doesn't like Echo's tone. It's… too casual, somehow. Fives jerks his head up just in time to seize Echo's hand, preventing him from jabbing straight fingers into Fives' stomach. It would have been an imitation of Droidbait's hit moments ago—except Fives knows that Echo's would have hurt more.
"Whoops," Echo hums, eyes glinting with mischief. He seems unbothered, despite being caught. His other hand darts up. Fives intercepts it, too, before Echo can attack again. He shifts just a little, keeping an eye on Droidbait to make sure his other batchmate doesn't try anything either.
"Why is everyone targeting me?" he complains, tightening his grip over Echo's wrists as Echo half-heartedly tries to twist free. "We're supposed to be working together!"
"Too bad you only have two hands," Echo tells him, and suddenly forces their arms up higher. Fives is too occupied with keeping him pinned and doesn't let go. For a moment his front is exposed. Someone is quick to take advantage of the opening. Clever fingers reach around from behind to dig into his stomach and wriggle. Fives yelps. He leaps away and sends a furious glare behind him.
"Hevy!"
"I didn't do anything!" Except Hevy looks far too smug for that to be true.
The antics are freeing. Fives can't remember the last time he felt such a strong sense of connection and brotherhood with his squadmates. For just a few minutes, he can allow himself to simply enjoy it and forget his concerns about the future. He knows the rest of his batchmates are feeling something similar. Echo chokes out a laugh. Droidbait stifles a grin, attempting to turn his attention back to the fight. Fives is a half-second away from launching himself at Hevy when someone lets out a chuckle.
"So, if Beta squad is too busy fighting themselves, does that mean we win by default?"
Fives whirls, fixing his gaze on a new target. Iota squad had suffered heavy casualties during Torrent Company's last campaign, and a good number of shinies have been folded into their squad. Besides Tup and Dogma, there's Vaughn and Sterling, two more bright-eyed newbies. Denal holds his position as Sergeant, with a gruff brother called Kano as his second. The last three, Mixer, Redeye, and Ridge, have a few battles under their belts already.
"No, we're still going to win," Fives tells Sterling confidently, the playful battle with his batchmates momentarily forgotten.
"We'll see about that," Sterling challenges. On Sterling's other side, Kano snorts.
"Nah, we're done for, kid. They've got way more experience." For a moment Fives raises an eyebrow at the comment, but when Kano glances at Sterling and then towards where Dogma and Vaughn are watching the spar, he realizes that Kano is referring to the shinies, not time travel. Sterling bristles.
"We may be shinies, but that doesn't mean we can't put up a good fight!" he protests. Kano tilts his head, one eyebrow raised.
"Yeah, rookie? I wanna see you prove it."
Sterling sets his jaw.
"I'll show you," he says mulishly. He rushes past Kano to reach Vaughn's side, whispering urgently to the other shinies. Fives turns towards Kano, confused at the harsh-seeming dismissal—except the look on Kano's face is fond. Kano hides it quickly, but not quite fast enough. Fives huffs out a laugh under his breath. Mixer catches the sound and leans towards Fives with a grin on his lips.
"Ha, there he goes again. He pretends to be tough on them, but they pick up that he doesn't mean it pretty fast. He complained for cycles the first time we got shinies, but they always win him over eventually."
"They're good at that," Fives says fondly.
Back on the mats, Tup steps in too close in an attempt to grapple with Del. It's a mistake. Despite Tup's ferocious attacks, Del has far more experience. Del knocks Tup off balance with a quick jab to the ribs. When Tup staggers backward, Del closes the space between them and wrestles Tup to the ground. It's over after that. Tup can't reclaim his advantage. He ends up pinned and taps out a few moments later.
"Tup did well," Echo comments as Del offers his hand to pull Tup back to his feet. "He'll be a force to be reckoned with once he gets a little more practice."
"He was." Fives remembers with pride how lethal Tup had become, especially when they had faced down other sentients. The Umbarans fought differently than droids did. Their strategies were more like the strategies that the clones themselves had come up with. They were far more willing to go into hand-to-hand combat if they got close enough, something that the droids weren't programmed for. There hadn't been any room for mercy. The clones had worked hard to compensate for the change, Torrent Company included.
"Good match," Denal calls out. "Del wins that round for Beta squad. Who's going next?"
"Actually, I was wondering if we could have a turn."
Fives turns to watch as Tipper and Zeer step through the entrance of the training room to join the two squads. They're dressed in their blacks. Excited whispering erupts from the cluster of shinies on the sideline. Ridge raises an eyebrow at the newcomers.
"Sure, but it won't count for points. You're not technically Beta squad anymore, and you're ARCs. Unfair advantage."
"I wouldn't say unfair," Tipper says brightly. His gaze seeks Fives out immediately. Fives grins. It's not hard to see where this is going.
"Echo?"
"Yeah," Echo says without further prompting. His excitement is audible. He rolls his shoulders and steps towards the mats. Fives is barely a step behind him, heartbeat suddenly loud in his ears. He taps his fingers eagerly against his thigh at the prospect of a good fight.
"Standard rules?" Zeer clarifies carefully. Fives nods.
"If you really think you can take on two ARCs, be my guest," Denal tells Echo incredulously. Echo huffs out a laugh.
"Remind us to explain a few things to you later," is all he says. Fives snorts and turns his attention back to Tipper and Zeer. Fives knows that he and Echo won't be able to hold their own for long. As hard as they've tried to keep themselves in shape, the muscle mass and reflexes that come with being ARC can only be gained through the brutal training of Alpha-17 and the Rancor battalion on Kamino, and in these bodies, Fives and Echo have yet to reach the same levels of fitness that they had before.
A quick glance at Echo shows that his batchmate is already settling into a loose stance, ready to move at a moment's notice. The match had begun the moment they'd stepped onto the mats, as is custom with ARCs, but Tipper and Zeer haven't attacked yet.
"How long were you two ARC? We know that you were. We just don't know the details." Tipper bounces on his toes as he speaks. Fives considers the question.
"About a year," he finally answers. It's close enough. Echo's expression darkens for a moment.
"A few months less than that," he says quietly. Fives shifts just a little closer to him on instinct.
"You two were made ARCs way earlier than we were," he says. "We didn't get recruited for training until…" The attack on Kamino is the time stamp he usually puts on the end of that statement, but since it hasn't happened yet, Fives has to think about it for a moment. "Two or three months from now."
"Will Alpha-17 still be alive and kicking in a few months, then?" Tipper asks.
"That son of a Hutt," Fives swears immediately. It prompts a knowing smile from Zeer. "Yeah, that old kriff will be there. Force. I thought he was trying to kill us."
"I don't think that'll ever change," Echo mutters. "At least the Rancor Commanders didn't come after us like he did—"
"Commander Havoc came after me all the time!" Fives protests. Echo scoffs.
"Because you mouthed off to him, you idiot."
Tipper lets out a bark of disbelieving laughter, tossing his head back. There. Echo charges. Fives launches himself at Zeer. The new ARCs scramble to defend themselves, but they've been caught off guard. Fives crashes into Zeer, sending him stumbling back. Tipper shouts in pure exhilaration from somewhere behind him.
"Kriffing dirty, but I don't know why I expected anything else," Tipper gasps out. Fives hears a meaty thud as Echo collides with Tipper again, but he can't spare the time to check up on his batchmate's progress.
Zeer has recovered quickly. His fist clips Fives' collarbone. Fives hisses at the sting and whirls as Zeer retaliates, surging towards him. At one point Fives would have had the strength to meet the other ARC head on. Now he's forced to duck below the blow and twist away instead.
They've got to end this quickly. There's not much time to waste with flashy moves. If Fives and Echo want to win, they're going to have to take the fight to the ground as quickly as they can.
Zeer goes on the offensive. Fives ducks again. His adrenaline surges. The world narrows. Zeer is fast. There's no time to think. Fives takes a hit to the jaw and swallows blood. He backs up fast to put some space in between them and wins precious milliseconds of time.
His opponent has a long reach, and he's uncannily aware of all of his limbs. Fives swallows, unclenching his jaw. He stays on the defensive, shifting and turning to avoid Zeer's blows. Every few blows he tries to strike out so that Zeer doesn't get suspicious. They don't gain him any ground, but they don't need to.
It takes several more rounds of blows and dodging, but Fives knows the instant Zeer decides in his head that he'd overestimated Fives' skills. It becomes visible in the sudden loosening of his elbows and the speed of his footwork. He's determined that while Fives is a skilled opponent, he's not an ARC-level opponent, not anymore.
Except he's wrong, and Fives has been waiting for this.
He darts forwards. Zeer is quick to react with a block, but Fives jerks his hands down then up underneath Zeer's guard. It's fast and dirty, but Fives has absolutely no qualms about knocking Zeer's hands away and jabbing the heels of his hands directly into Zeer's diaphragm.
Zeer can't override his instincts fast enough. He gasps for air as the wind is knocked from his lungs. When he takes an unsteady step back, Fives tackles him. They go tumbling to the floor. Fives' spine twinges in protest as he twists to lock his thighs around Zeer's neck.
It's hard to hold him still. Zeer's fingers jab into Fives' kidneys. He snarls out a curse and squeezes harder with his legs. Zeer gasps for air. He rolls in an attempt to fling Fives away, but Fives clings to him stubbornly. He allows Zeer to buck and twist, and even though Zeer knocks him against the mats he refuses to let go.
When Zeer finally starts to choke, he slams a palm against the mat. Fives lets him go and rolls to his feet. There's no time to waste. Zeer is done, but the match isn't over yet. Fives sprints to Echo's side. It only takes a quick glance for them to fall into sync.
Tipper fights until the very end, until his face is pressed into the mats and Fives and Echo are seated triumphantly on top of him. He spits out curses in various languages that get muffled against the floor. Fives chokes on a laugh as he catches his breath.
"You done?" he asks. Tipper taps out, but he doesn't stop talking. Fives and Echo let him sit up and catch the tail end of an insult as he lifts his head.
"—big as a kriffing space slug, and you're mother's a droid!"
"Don't speak about my decanting vat that way," Echo says in mock-offense. Tipper takes a deep breath. His grin comes back full force the second he gets air into his lungs.
"Force. You really were ARC."
"Did you think we were kidding?" Fives says mildly. Tipper laughs again. He accepts Fives' outstretched hand to be pulled to his feet.
"Ha, no. But we wanted to see it for ourselves."
"Ahhh, sithspit. I'm going to have bruises all over." Fives has bruises on his collarbone. By the feel of it there will be a nice one over his kidneys as well. He prods at his side and winces.
"You made me underestimate you. Clever," Zeer says as he makes his way over to Tipper's side. Fives shoots him a grin. On the sidelines, the rest of Beta and Iota are still cheering.
"So…" Tipper drawls slowly, "that was fun. But I think we would win if we did it again."
"So confident," Echo says with a laugh. "You probably would, but we wouldn't make it easy for you."
Zeer smirks. It's an expression that Fives hasn't seen the more-reserved brother make very often. "Best two out of three?"
Fives' adrenaline surges again. He won't be able to keep up for long, but he wants to keep going for as long as he can.
"Let's do it," he agrees. "We've got plenty of time to kill." He receives three enthusiastic grins in response.
Rex wanders in sometime during the ARCs' second round. He sits down with the younger troops and points out interesting details and helpful tips from the fight, analyzing the spar with more efficiency than Cutup could ever hope to attain. General Skywalker and Commander Tano enter during the fourth spar, because Zeer's original "best two out of three" idea had quickly been forgotten. Denal had already resigned himself to the ARCs taking up the center mat, ordering the other matches to resume in the surrounding sparring areas.
"Who's winning?" Commander Tano asks Cutup cheerfully as she and General Skywalker come closer.
"Echo and Fives won the first one. Then Tipper and Zeer won, then Echo and Fives again, but they're getting tired. I think this will be the last match," Cutup answers, shifting to the side so that she can see better. At one point, having General Skywalker and Commander Tano watching them would have made Cutup feel tense with the knowledge that his superiors were nearby, but now they seem to fit in with the clones as easily as one of Cutup's brothers. He's not entirely sure what changed, but Cutup likes it. It feels right.
On the other side of the room, Sterling and Vaughn successfully win against Dogma and Ridge, immediately turning towards Kano with identical smug looks. The tiniest of grins spreads across Kano's face. He rewards them with an approving nod. On the center mat, Zeer finally gains the upper hand and uses his superior strength to fling Echo to the floor. Echo goes down hard and doesn't come back up. After that, it doesn't take long for Tipper and Zeer to crowd Fives into a corner. They wear him down until Tipper finally catches him off guard with a cleverly timed kick to the ribs. Fives goes down with a strangled yelp. Tipper and Zeer pounce, and the spar dissolves into a frantic wrestling match.
While Fives struggles, Echo drags himself over to the sidelines to sprawl out on the floor near Cutup's feet. Commander Tano giggles.
"I'm done," Echo says in between gasping breaths. "Ahh, Force. I'm gonna be sore tomorrow."
"Didn't I tell you to go easy?" General Skywalker teases. Echo just lets his head flop back against the floor.
"What are you doing here, General? Weren't you and Commander Tano going to do some Jedi stuff or something?"
"Snips here seems to have taken an interest in jar'kai, but it's not something you can learn without application. We thought we could come join you and get some training done here."
Echo's expression, exhausted as it is, shifts into something smug. "Ah." Cutup doesn't even know what jar'kai is, but Echo seems to understand. Commander Tano jolts.
"Wait, wait, what was that look? You know something, don't you!"
"Commander—"
"Do I get a second lightsaber? Do I become a jar'kai master in the future? How do you even know what jar'kai is? Tell me!" She bounces on the balls of her feet in excitement.
"Jar'kai isn't restricted to just lightsabers. The form can be taken with other melee weapons as well," Fives says wearily as he joins them. He flops down on the floor next to Echo, disheveled. Tipper and Zeer are leaning on each other, battered but still grinning at their victory behind him. "They teach you about it during ARC training. And I think it would be cheating if we said anything more than that, sir."
"Oh, come on!" Commander Tano groans. Cutup stifles a laugh.
"Think of it this way, sir. If we tell you, it'll ruin the experience of learning for you. It won't be nearly as fun," Echo offers. She squints at him, unconvinced, but then huffs.
"Fine, fine. Actually, that reminds me of something. Rex?"
At the sound of his name, Captain Rex turns from where he had been watching the other matches. "Commander?"
"I just thought of something. You always say that experience outranks everything, right?"
"Of course." Rex nods, solemn. Commander Tano grins mischievously.
"Doesn't that mean Fives and Echo outrank you, then?"
Rex freezes. Echo bursts into laughter. Fives jerks.
"Wait a second—holy kriff. You're right!" The look on Fives' face can only be described as unholy glee. He turns to Rex, who seems completely caught off guard. Commander Tano doubles over from the force of her giggles. General Skywalker guffaws. "Experience does outrank everything, after all! Maybe you're the one who should be calling me sir, Rex—"
"That's it. On the mat, Fives." Rex gets to his feet and cracks his knuckles. Fives blanches, bravado disappearing in an instant.
"I—hang on, I was kidding! I didn't—"
Rex is immovable. He grins. "Let me remind you just how much experience I have. It looks like you've forgotten."
"But—sir, I just went four rounds against Tipper and Zeer!"
"Oh, now I'm sir again?" Rex seems more amused than anything. "Too little, too late. On the mat, Fives. Don't make me make it an order."
Fives groans and rolls clumsily to his feet. He sends a desperate look towards General Skywalker, who only raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching as he tries to keep from laughing.
"Kriff me," Fives mutters. He stumbles after Rex. Beta and Iota cluster around the mats, howling with laughter, and eager to watch the inevitable smackdown.
There's a wild look in Commander Stone's eyes, visible despite the blue glow of the hologram. It makes something in Hevy's gut clench uncomfortably, because he recognizes that expression. He's pretty sure he's even worn it before. He stands in the corner as Captain Rex waits for Commander Stone to speak. They can't risk any brother knowing that Hevy's alive, so Hevy is silent. Rex had only allowed him to be present during Stone's report because Hevy had begged him until Rex had grown sick of it.
"We got back this morning," Commander Stone whispers nervously, glancing over his shoulder. "Someone's been comming me. Repeatedly. I haven't answered it, but I won't be able to ignore it forever."
"Why ignore it?" Captain Rex asks sharply. Commander Stone swallows and squeezes his eyes shut.
"I think… I think the Guards are under, Rex. All of them."
It feels like the ground has been pulled out from underneath Hevy's feet. He nearly stumbles. Rex shoots him a warning look, but Hevy can't find it in himself to care. His mouth goes dry.
"What do you mean, Stone?"
"W-when you explained it to me before, you said the chips were supposed to be only temporarily triggered, right? That it would release them eventually? But—it didn't. It hasn't. My men are walking around acting like droids and I don't know how to help them—" he breaks off suddenly and takes a shuddering breath. "I think that's why they're comming me. To trigger the chip. The men I brought back with me… they're already gone, too."
No, no, no. That can't be right. Hevy thinks of Rhys and Thire and Thorn and Grease and Byte and Fox and—his stomach roils in horror. Force. Force, they're still mindless. He grits his teeth so hard that his jaw aches from the effort to stay silent. Why haven't they been released yet? The Guard Commanders said that it was just for small periods of time, nothing—nothing like this—
"What will you do?" Rex asks in a low voice. Commander Stone's shoulders slump. He drags a hand over his face slowly, expression twisted.
"There's… nothing I can do," he admits. "The longer I don't answer, the more suspicious they'll be. I—I can't help you."
"Stone… I'm so sorry. I promise you we'll find a way to fix this." Rex's fingers grip the edge of the holoprojector so hard that Hevy worries part of it will snap off. Stone shivers.
"It's not your fault. I… I do have something that might interest you, though. Before I… answer the comm."
Before he gives up his own free will, he means. A lump forms in Hevy's throat.
"One of the first things I did was head to the detention block because the signal's bad inside, and I thought I could use it as an excuse to not answer for longer. Mostly everything is the same. The Guards are still doing their jobs well, they're just… mindless about it. There's no small talk. No personality—" Stone's voice cracks. "...But there are prisoners missing. And no record of where they were transferred to, or if they were let out intentionally—"
"What?" Hevy blurts out before he can stop himself. Stone doesn't seem to notice.
"That Duros is gone. The bounty hunter, the one that always wears the hat. And… the clone is gone, too. Slick, I think, was his name. Disappeared. And when I asked about it, all I got were blank stares. Completely blank, like they couldn't even hear me—"
Fear blazes through Hevy like a wildfire. "Kriff, kriff, Rex, ask him about Krell—!"
"There was a Jedi arrested for mistreatment of his troops a few weeks ago," Rex relays, much more composed than Hevy would have been. "Is he still in custody?"
Stone blinks. "The… Besalisk, right? That one's still here. He's harder to get to. You need the highest clearance possible to even get to that section of the facility. It would take a lot for him to disappear without anyone noticing."
The detail was probably meant to be comforting. Instead, the blood in Hevy's veins turns to ice.
The Chancellor definitely has that clearance. And he could probably give it to anyone he wanted, too. Sithspit.
"There were a few other mercenaries missing as well, but they were no-names, mostly, picked up on the streets of Coruscant, so they're lower priority—" Stone's comm goes off. He tenses, blood draining from his face.
"I'm—I need to answer," he whispers, voice thick with dread. "I can't put it off much longer. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I can't do more—"
"Don't apologize. You've done all you could," Rex tells him. "I'm sorry, Stone. We're coming for you. Just hold out a little longer, alright?"
Stone looks up and locks his gaze on the Captain.
"Get my men out of this, Rex," he says. "Please." Rex opens his mouth to reassure him, but before he can say anything else, Stone slams his palm down on his holoprojector and disappears. The hologram dissolves. For a long moment, neither Hevy nor Rex move, eyes fixed helplessly on the spot where Stone's hologram had stood. Finally, Hevy scrubs at his face with both hands, ignoring the way his fingers tremble.
"Captain…"
"They'll be alright, Hevy," Rex reassures him, even as the lines in his face deepen.
"They're still—"
"I know."
"If I had stayed, I could have—"
"You would have been killed," Rex interrupts gently. He grips both of Hevy's shoulders. "There was nothing you could have done to stop this. It will take time, but we will find a way to help them."
Something in Hevy's chest splinters at his words. How long will it take? They've been stuck above Sullust for too long already. At this rate, they won't go back to Coruscant in months—
"I know," he whispers. "I know that, sir. I just—they don't deserve this."
Rex doesn't move away. He just keeps both hands on Hevy's shoulders, grounding him. "No, they don't." He waits until Hevy is no longer unsteady on his feet to pull away. Hevy takes a deep breath.
"Thank you."
"I'm worried, too, but there's nothing we can do to help yet. As we make progress here among the Outer Rim battalions, our chances at freeing the Guard will increase. What you do here will help, understand?" Rex's eyes flash with determination. Hevy swallows.
"Yes, sir." His voice nearly cracks, and he hesitates for a moment. "Do you… have any orange paint, by any chance?" Rex squints at him, then looks pointedly at the Guard symbol on Hevy's pauldron.
"Adding a third battalion to your resume?" The joke is weary, hindered by the weight of Stone's report, but it's genuine enough. He doesn't wait for Hevy to answer, either. "Yes, I do. Commander Cody is here often enough that I keep some for him just in case."
"Could I… could I borrow it, sir?" Hevy asks, a bit desperate. He needs something. Anything to take his mind off of Stone, who is likely succumbing to the chip as they speak—
He has a boot to repaint. He owes it to the nameless brother from Felucia. He doesn't care that it's technically against regulations to have another battalion's paint on his armor. He already has the crest of the Guard, and it's not like Hevy is going to drench his entire leg in orange. Rex nods at him, expression softening.
"Come with me."
Droidbait is halfway to the mess hall when Tup and Dogma come rounding the corner at top speed, nearly colliding with him. Tup's eyes go wide with excitement.
"Droidbait! Bait, DB—"
"Whoa, where are you two going in such a hurry?" Droidbait asks. "Did something happen?"
"No, no, nothing happened," Tup says cheerfully. "We just got some good news, that's all. Apparently someone in Wave Company broke out a tattoo gun, and, uh—"
"I want one," Dogma cuts in earnestly. "I've been thinking about it for weeks."
"And he's convinced me that I should get one too, so we're headed over there to see if he's busy right now."
Droidbait's eyebrows shoot up. He considers them both for a long moment. Droidbait has never felt the desire to ink himself up, not like Fives or Hevy, but suddenly he's curious. He tilts his head.
"Can I come?"
"Of kriffing course!" Tup says. "You don't have any ink, right?"
"Uh—no, not yet. I've never really thought about it too much before now."
"Well, no time like the present!" Tup crows. Droidbait blinks as he finds himself being herded down the hallway by the two excited brothers.
"Unless you don't want to," Dogma tells him seriously. "Don't get one just because we are."
Droidbait honestly considers it for a long moment. He's definitely not opposed to the idea, he just isn't sure what kind of tattoo he would get.
"I'll think about it," he promises. Tup and Dogma grin at him in unison.
They make their way deeper into the ship past Torrent Company's barracks and into Wave Company's. Tup and Dogma apparently already know where to go. They make a beeline for a certain door, but before Dogma can touch the control panel, it slides open by itself. The brother that steps into the hallway is familiar—Droidbait grins.
"Flak!"
"Droidbait!" Flak says in surprise. It doesn't take long to figure out why Flak is here. There's a tiny silhouette of a bird on his cheek, just below his right eye. The tattoo still looks slightly sticky with bacta residue, but it's already mostly healed. "How are you?"
"Good, all things considered," Droidbait responds. "A little hungry, since I was accosted on the way to the mess hall…" Tup and Dogma look entirely unrepentant. "You got inked up!"
"It's hardly my first," Flak says easily. He strips off a glove to flash aurebesh characters written across his knuckles: free. It's fitting. He pulls off the other glove to reveal the word bird on his opposite hand.
"Ah. So that explains…" Tup begins, looking from free bird to the little bird inked into Flak's cheek. Flak shuffles his feet.
"Ah, yeah, sort of. It… reminds me of a Guard I met on Coruscant, while I was there. A brother named Grease." His expression falters suddenly. "I was gonna teach him to fly. Never really got the chance, though. We… had to leave before I could."
Droidbait winces. He puts a hand on the pilot's shoulder.
"You will," he promises. "It might take a bit, but you'll get the chance."
"I hope so," Flak says in a low voice. Tup and Dogma seem much more entertained by the tattooes than the conversation. Tup draws closer, reaching out as if he wants to touch.
"It looks good," Dogma compliments. Tup nods in agreement. The excitement in their eyes is suddenly achingly familiar to Droidbait. Their enthusiasm isn't quite unlike the bouts of cheerful happiness that Attie was sometimes prone to, and that thought sends a pang of sorrow through Droidbait's chest.
It's been so many months since Ryloth. The jagged pain of loss has smoothed over so that it no longer cuts into Droidbait's soul, but it still weighs heavy on his heart some days. It's easier to bear, but that doesn't make it any less present.
"You picked a good time to come, there's no one else in there," Flak tells Tup and Dogma, mouth curling in amusement. They fidget in excitement, so Droidbait chuckles and motions for them to go in.
"Want to join us, or are you busy?" he asks Flak. The pilot smiles.
"I appreciate the offer. We're running some flight drills in a few minutes, though, so I need to get going."
"Good luck," Droidbait says. "You're always welcome in our barracks, by the way. We play lots of sabacc, if you're interested." Flak smirks.
"Comm me next time and I'll take you up on that offer." He throws Droidbait a little two-fingered salute as Droidbait nods and follows Dogma and Tup into the room.
The Wave Company brother with the laser-tattoo gun is covered in tattoos. It looks like he just didn't know where to stop. The designs bleed together, spiralling across his skin in endless patterns that Droidbait's eyes have a hard time following. It's beautiful. The clone is quick to sit Dogma down in a nearby chair and wastes no time at getting started once Dogma explains what he wants. A tattoo on the face is bold, but not exactly uncommon. Droidbait sits in a chair and allows his mind to wander as a stylized chevron comes into existence, bisecting one of Dogma's eyes.
The new sparring schedules and other practices scheduled have been good for the men, but it's only a temporary fix. Everyone is trying to find ways to distract themselves from the fact that nothing has happened yet. No one knows for how much longer the blockade will be in place. It's torture of the best kind, to not have anything to do.
Droidbait knows it won't last forever. Either the Separatists or the Republic will make a move eventually, but until then, they're trapped in a state of limbo, helpless to do anything but wait—
Helpless. He shudders and remembers the sensation of straps holding him in place, the crippling fear that their plans would be discovered, the blank faces of the mindless clones as they'd scanned him for the chip. He has to shake his head to clear it, and earns a strange look from Tup in the process.
"You alright?" Tup asks, leaning in. Droidbait takes a deep breath, staring into the eyes of the brother who had kidnapped him. For a moment his heart jackhammers in his chest. He grits his teeth and wills himself to calm down. It's not Tup's fault.
"I'm okay," he says. "What are you going to get?"
Tup studies him for a moment longer before pursing his lips to answer the question.
"A teardrop on my cheek. Sort of where Flak had his bird. I liked it."
"A teardrop?"
"Yeah." Tup shifts his weight restlessly. "It's to remember a squadmate we lost on Kamino. I think I might do something similar with my armor, too."
Droidbait's mouth goes dry. In theory he knew that it's fully possible to lose a squadmate during training, because accidents happen, but to hear that it happened to Tup's squad is another thing entirely. He winces, inexplicably grateful that he and his batchmates hadn't experienced anything like that.
The hum of the laser-tattoo gun dies down as the artist sets it aside and smoothes a layer of bacta over Dogma's face, encouraging him in a low voice to keep his eye shut.
"How does it look, Tup?" Dogma mumbles, dutifully keeping one eye closed. Tup huffs out a laugh.
"Like a glob of bacta, right now. I can't see it yet." He turns to Droidbait again. "Thinking of getting one, or no?"
Droidbait frowns. If he does get one, he wants it to be meaningful. He glances down at his greaves and hums thoughtfully. The tally marks he paints onto his armor have always been important to him, but he feels like the effect would be lost if he put them into his skin. Cutup has the domino pattern on his pauldrons, which has become meaningful, but the design doesn't call to Droidbait like it did Cutup.
He does have two little targets sketched on each side of his helmet. They're more like two little crosshairs than anything, a circle split by a cross. He had painted them there as an outward representation of his name more than anything, but he'd never given them too much thought besides that. He picks up his helmet to look over the marks and is suddenly struck by inspiration.
Now there's an idea. It's more of a representation of who he is, who he's willing to be for his brothers. He'd rather himself be a target, get hurt, be in danger, than let another one of his brothers die.
Dogma gets out of the chair, face still tilted up towards the ceiling so that the bacta on his face can continue to heal the tattoo. Tup reaches out to guide him to a chair and then settles himself down to be the next canvas, tapping at his cheek as he describes the teardrop. The artist nods before flicking a dial on the side of the gun and placing the tip to Tup's skin. Tup flinches at the initial touch, but settles down a moment later.
"You know, I heard it used to hurt more before they started using laser tech to do this," Dogma says quietly, prodding one finger up near his face. "I'm kind of glad. This would have been a lot worse with a real needle, even with bacta afterwards."
"Yeah, you're right. I don't think I would be nearly as considerate if it were still like that. Hey, don't touch it yet," Droidbait advises with a fond snort. Dogma tears his hand away from his face and makes an expression that's supposed to be annoyed, but with one eye scrunched closed it's more endearing than anything. Droidbait stifles a laugh. Warmth swells in his chest.
It doesn't take too long for Tup to be finished. By the time he has bacta dabbed onto the new ink, the artist motions that Dogma can remove the bacta from his own face. He exhales gratefully as he wipes himself clean, and suddenly all three of them are staring at Droidbait. He hesitates for a moment longer before getting to his feet and replacing Tup in the chair. The artist brother is patient, watching as Droidbait bites his lip in uncertainty.
He thinks of Attie, of Tup and Dogma, of his batchmates, of Beta squad.
"Could you… what about a crosshair. Like one you'd see in a scope. Here," Droidbait says, tapping the side of his head. "Not too big, but not invisible, either."
The artist nods at him. Something in his gaze softens a little as he stares at Droidbait. He's a soft-spoken brother, but his eyes are full of heaviness that means he's already been fighting for a while.
"I can do that, but we'd need to get rid of this," he says, brushing his fingers through the hair where Droidbait had pointed to.
"Not… all of it, though, right?"
"Just the sides. Well, technically one side, but I assume you'd want both to even it out."
"Ohoho," Tup says in excitement. "A mohawk, really?"
"More like an undercut," Droidbait corrects. He only hesitates for a second longer. If he's going to do this, he might as well fully commit.
"Yeah, that's fine," he acquiesces. Tup punches the air in excitement. Dogma grins. Droidbait closes his eyes. The sound of the razor near his ear sends little tingles down his spine.
He's had the same hairstyle for ages, and it's about time that someone in Domino squad branches out from the standard cut…
Fives does a double take when Tup and Dogma take off their helmets to reveal their new ink. Droidbait had wondered if their tattoos were the same as in their last lives, and from the look on Fives' face, they are. It looks like Fives wants to hug them, but he restrains the urge, instead reaching over to hook an arm around each of their shoulders. The rest of Beta squad crowds closer to offer their congratulations.
Droidbait sighs in anticipation, slipping his own helmet off while everyone's attention is on the younger clones. He likes the change—he honestly does, he's just not looking forward to the teasing that's bound to come from it.
Echo is first to notice. His eyes go wide, and he grabs both of Droidbait's shoulders with a startled gasp. Droidbait offers him a sheepish grin.
"What do you think?"
"It looks good!" Echo compliments, seizing Droidbait's face in his hands to turn his head and run his fingers over the tattoo on the side of Droidbait's skull. His breath catches. "Like your helmet…?"
"A tattoo? Holy kriff, Bait, I didn't know you had it in you!" Cutup calls excitedly. Droidbait aims a half-hearted punch at his arm and rolls his eyes when Cutup skirts away from the blow.
"You don't have one yet, so you don't have any room to talk!"
Hevy reaches out to ruffle his hand through Droidbait's hair.
"Alright, not bad! We must have altered the timeline a lot if Droidbait is changing his hair!" he jokes. Droidbait snorts.
"At least one of us needs a more interesting cut than the standard," he defends. On the other side of the room, Jesse and Hardcase are gleefully comparing their own tattoos with Dogma's while Kix shakes his head—
"On the face, really? At least I put mine on the side of my head, for pity's sake—"
"Why the target?" Del asks Droidbait curiously. Droidbait shuffles his feet. He knows that his batchmates won't like his answer. He tries to think of an excuse, but Hevy makes his way closer and frowns when Droidbait hesitates for too long.
"Bait…" he begins slowly, eyes narrowing in suspicion. Droidbait winces.
"It's—I… thought about my name a lot. How it was a joke, at first, but… now I'd be willing to live up to it, I guess."
"Wait—" Cutup starts, brow furrowed. Droidbait straightens. Something fierce and determined wells up inside of him.
"I would rather be the target and lose my life than see any of my squadmates get killed. So, the target. They can aim here, but not at you." He stares at his batchmates, then shifts his gaze to meet the gaze of the other members of Beta squad, and Dogma and Tup as well. He couldn't do anything to save Attie, or to stop Coric from getting injured, but he'll do everything within his power to keep the rest of his squadmates safe. For the longest moment, his squadmates just stare at him.
"That's… oh," Cutup says in a small voice. "Droidbait…"
Droidbait knows that in some ways, he's being selfish. If he were to sacrifice himself for any of his brothers, even if they survived, they would never recover from the guilt. He also knows that his claim isn't anything special, because every single one of their squadmates would be willing to die for another. That isn't something unique to Droidbait. But it feels different, this vow that he has inked into his skin. It feels like a declaration of loyalty and trust and love all wrapped into one. It's become a part of him.
He's not sure how he's expecting his squadmates to react, but Fives immediately pulls Droidbait into a crushing hug.
"Bait. You know I love you. I'm glad you care enough to sacrifice yourself if it came down to it, but—let's try not to get into any more situations where that's even an option, okay?" He speaks in barely more than a whisper. "We need you, too, remember?" Droidbait's throat tightens suddenly. He closes his eyes.
"Yeah, okay," he says, muffled into Fives' shoulder. Their other three batchmates press closer, followed by the other Beta squad members. Droidbait reminds himself to breathe.
He'll be a target if he needs to be. He'll protect his brothers even if it costs him—but he's not planning on dying, not yet. They still have a war to win, after all.
Hevy's brothers are trying to teach him how to meditate when Commander Tano comes skidding into the barracks, panting as if she's just run across the entire Resolute. Hevy tenses automatically as she comes barrelling into the room, arms practically flailing.
"Guys, guys—kriff—!" She nearly trips over Hevy's Z-6.
"Language," Fives grunts half-heartedly, but she ignores him, undeterred.
"Master Skywalker just commed me and told me to come back up—" she takes a heaving breath, "—up to the bridge, and he asked me to bring Beta squad too—"
Her rapid words make the hairs on the back of Hevy's neck prickle with worry. Echo shoves himself to his feet from where he'd been seated on the floor.
"What's wrong? Is something happening?"
"Master said that someone contacted the Resolute on a scrambled frequency so we don't know who it is, but they know that Hevy isn't dead and they're demanding to speak with him," Commander Tano says in a rush. Hevy's jaw drops. Beta squad is scrambling for the door a second later.
Clones scatter to the sides of the hallway as Commander Tano and Beta squad thunder past them, startled at their speed. Several men call out in concern, but Hevy and the rest of Beta squad can't spare anything more than a wave of a hand towards them. Hevy's heart is pounding. Who could possibly know that he isn't dead? It should be impossible. He, Flak, and General Plo Koon had been so careful as they'd made their escape—
When the doors to the Communication deck slide open, they are greeted by the now-familiar sight of General Skywalker pacing in front of the holoprojector. The device is activated, but there's nothing projected.
"...no right to make that kind of demand. Who are you?" General Skywalker is demanding. When Beta squad hurry to approach him, he motions for them to remain silent.
"I'll speak to Hevy, and Hevy only," a voice states, heavily distorted. General Skywalker scowls.
"Hevy is dead." Hevy flinches. It's strange to hear it stated so bluntly. Out of the corner of his eyes he notices how his batchmates all cringe as well, heads whipping around to find Hevy as if reassuring themselves that it isn't true. "And what's stopping me from bringing any of my men in here and telling you that it's him back from the grave?"
"Oh, I'll know," the voice drawls slowly. Hevy frowns. The mystery caller is way too confident. It doesn't make any sense that they would know how to identify a specific clone through voice alone, unless—wait. Sithspit.
"Slick," he hisses out, forgetting the fact that he is indeed supposed to be dead. It's the only thing that makes sense. The subtle speech variations among the brothers are easily heard by other clones, but can be difficult for others to identify. For a moment, the name stuns Beta squad into silence. Slick lets out a bitter laugh. The voice modifier fades away, and a hologram finally hums to life.
Slick is seated at a desk. His hands are folded in front of him, and there's an odd look in his eyes. Hevy moves closer so that he can appear in the hologram. Slick is far less composed than he had been the first time Hevy had met with him, and it makes Hevy's stomach clench in unease even though he's not entirely sure why.
"How did you know I wasn't dead?" Hevy asks suspiciously. Slick smirks.
"I didn't. Lucky guess. I just thought you were so frustratingly determined, there's no way you died in such a stupid way. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone."
"How did you get out of prison?"
"I walked. Wasn't hard."
"Slick…" Hevy grits out from between his teeth. Slick huffs.
"I was let out by a couple of blank-faced Guards who didn't even care that there was a Separatist-manned shuttle outside waiting to hustle me away. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"
Cutup swears in quiet Huttese behind him. Hevy balls his fists.
"Yes," he admits. "They're being controlled."
"I gathered that," Slick growls, teeth practically bared."Looks like I wasn't too far off the mark after all, was I."
"Slick, it's not—"
"Anyway, you're looking for your missing Seppie fleet, right? I know where it is."
Slick's words draw sharp inhales from the group surrounding the holoprojector. General Skywalker, who has been still since Slick's name was mentioned, looks up so sharply that Hevy imagines he could have given himself whiplash.
"Where?" Hevy asks carefully. He's almost certain that Slick is going to dodge the question, and he's proven right immediately. Slick tips his head back a little, eyes narrowed.
"I've been catching up with some current events. I watched your speech in the Senate."
Hevy frowns at him, uncertain of how to respond. Slick had acted hostile enough towards the idea when Hevy had spoken to him earlier, but he seems almost casual about it now.
"It worked," he says. "It's working. Slowly, but with more time..."
Slick nods at him. The gesture is the closest thing to approval that Hevy thinks he's going to get. Slick's pride won't allow him to do anything else. The older clone holds Hevy's gaze, and for an instant, respect is visible on his face. Hevy feels a wash of surprise rise in his chest.
Slick had called for Hevy, specifically. He had watched Hevy's Senate address. He was talking to Hevy now, ignoring the others around him. Hevy can't decide what to make of it yet.
"From what I've seen, morale among our brothers is at an all time high because of what you've done. They're fighting harder. They're lasting longer in the field. The Separatists want to destroy that spirit before it gets any worse. If they can manage it, everything you've done will be for nothing."
"How do you know this? What are they planning?" Hevy breathes out. Slick's smile doesn't reach his eyes.
"Because they told me. I'm on your missing fleet right now, Hevy. And we're headed straight for Kamino."
"No," Hevy says. It's a knee-jerk reaction to something so seemingly impossible that he can barely imagine it. "No—" It's too soon. That invasion should be months away. Someone behind him lets out a choked sound of disbelief.
"They wanted me to tell them everything I could remember about the way things work down there," Slick continues, nose wrinkling in disgust. "And I may be a traitor, but I love my brothers. I told them some things so that they would be convinced of my loyalty, but I didn't tell them everything. You don't have much time—"
From somewhere behind Slick, they hear a door opening. Hevy's breath catches in his throat as a lithe woman steps into view—oh Force. Asajj Ventress sneers at Slick. Her gaze sharpens as it lands on the holoprojector in front of him, and then her lips part in outrage.
"Traitor!" she howls, igniting a lightsaber. Slick doesn't even look back at her.
"Triple-crosser," he corrects steadily. He holds his head high, and Ventress runs him through with the blade.
The transmission cuts out.
A/N: We're off to Kamino...
My brothers do this weird "jab the other in the stomach randomly without any reason" thing all the time. I participated when I was little jdl;askdja;f now they know I'll kill them if they try. Anyway, that's kind of what that one scene was based off of lollllll
Did y'all see tup fight during the umbara arc? Tup is adorable but also tup would murder someone without hesitation probably
Ridge is the Teth survivor that I DIDNT KNOW ABOUT until season 7 came out rippp, it's too late to add him in here as a Teth survivor but he can be in Denal's squad at least! Mixer and Redeye are two clones that technically get killed by the spider assassin droid thingy when it gets loose on Satine's ship, but I like them so they're fine now and I've claimed them for Iota squad :D
Also, I know that the needle is part of the novelty of tattoos I guess but this is star wars, you can't tell me they wouldn't have a more efficient way to give tattoos! There's no way they're still using needles! hence I made something up, ha!
Thank you THANK YOU for your patience. it means so much to me that you guys are willing to wait to read more, and I'm really grateful for your support and love while I die from college classes ripppp ha! Hopefully this chapter met your expectations! meridiansdominoes on tumblr for more, love you guys!