A/N: Wow. Posting this… feels like a dream… am I dreaming? I'm not, right?
I hope that literally THE LONGEST CHAPTER EVER is enough to make up for my lack of updates haha sorry! Thank you so much for your patience!
*Clone Wars Announcer voice*: Where we last left off, the majority of Domino squad struggled to cope with Umbara's participation in the assault on Kamino, while Droidbait confronted a new reality with one arm! After a long conversation, General Anakin Skywalker offered his own skills in robotics to procure a prosthetic, and Commander Tano's kyber crystal split in two, leaving her eager to complete a second weapon! Now, our heroes regroup to discuss the rebuilding of Tipoca City and other serious repercussions resulting from the death of General Grievous…
Fives steps into the communication deck, Cutup, Echo, and Hevy on his heels. He isn't surprised to find the meeting already in progress. The active holoprojector casts blue shadows all over the walls. General Skywalker turns to greet them. He moves a bit gingerly, still in recovery, but determined to walk on his own, which Fives should have known to expect. It makes him smile just a little as he offers his General a salute.
Captain Rex stands on the other side of the holoprojector, helmet tucked at his side. The translucent forms of several more people stand in the air in the center of the room. General Shaak Ti nods at them. A long bandage is wrapped around one of her lekku. General Kenobi and Commander Cody are opposite her. Only Commander Tano is missing, still in the medbay recovering from her wounds.
General Kenobi's hand pauses on his beard. "It seems congratulations are in order," he says with a smile. "News of Grievous' death has spread through the Republic like a wildfire. Since the official reports give all credit to Anakin, allow me to be the first to commend you, Domino squad."
"Hey!" General Skywalker's voice rises a little in pitch. "I helped!"
"Yes, yes, Anakin, I suppose. But it was your men who landed the final blows, and their victory to claim." Kenobi's eyes glint with mischief.
General Skywalker rolls his eyes. "You're just jealous that you didn't get to take down your favorite nemesis yourself, Master."
Fives glances back at Echo, struggling to hide his grin. Some things never change. "Thank you, sir," he says. "But it's true, General Skywalker did help."
General Shaak Ti speaks over General Skywalker's triumphant exclamation. "How goes your batchmate's recovery?"
"He's doing alright, General," Echo answers. "He'll keep improving with time, we're sure of it."
She nods. "You are very lucky. There aren't very many who have lived to recount a battle with Grievous."
Fives' heart sinks at the reminder. They had lost Nax, and very nearly Droidbait. It's a sobering thought, and one that focuses him. "Good thing no one will have to worry about him ever again."
"Indeed," General Kenobi says. His expression darkens a little. "Though I can't help but wonder how the Separatists will react to this turn of events. It can't be one the Count was expecting."
"Does this mean Dooku himself will take a greater role in upcoming battles?" Commander Cody suggests quietly.
"I doubt it," General Skywalker says with a sneer. "He's too much of a coward to fight on the front lines like that. I'd put more credits on Ventress."
"Or a new apprentice," General Shaak Ti suggests. Fives shudders to think of yet another Sith roaming the galaxy unchecked.
"How have the Separatists reacted to the loss?" Echo asks. "Their entire plan backfired. They attacked Kamino at a pivotal moment in the hopes that it would demoralize us, but instead they lost a key player."
"They've pulled back from a few battles occurring throughout the Outer Rim. Grievous' tactical droids have taken over his command, but the adjustment will take time." General Kenobi frowns. "Some of their forces have retreated back towards Umbara."
Fives grits his teeth. "Will the Republic retaliate?"
General Kenobi meets his gaze, a visible apology there. "I have not heard any word on a counterattack yet."
Fives can't decide if the emotion in his chest is relief or disappointment.
General Shaak Ti sighs. "Until the Separatists act again, there is little we can do but theorize about how Grievous' death will impact their strategy. However, I have another issue to bring up. While the Kaminoans were still evacuated from Tipoca City, I took the liberty of checking their databases for any sign of a list detailing those with access to the clone control chips. My search was unsuccessful."
Hevy swears quietly. Fives grinds his teeth. That had been too much to hope for.
"Whoever it is, they've hidden their trail well," General Kenobi says, sounding vaguely frustrated.
"We need to prioritize finding whoever's responsible," Commander Cody says. "I worry that with so many battalions working on removing the chips, word will get out. We can't keep something like this secret forever, and once whoever it is finds out what we're doing, we can't be sure of how they'll retaliate."
General Shaak Ti turns to look at Domino. "Based on the information Domino squad has given us, it is likely someone on Coruscant with a considerable amount of influence—enough to have direct access to the Coruscant Guard, and completely conceal all records of their communications with Kamino."
"I wish that narrowed things down a bit more," Captain Rex mutters. "That applies to a good number of Senators and Representatives. If that's the only requirement, it could be the kriffing Chancellor himself for all we know."
Fives feels a spike of cold terror. He fights not to react, but it's hard when it feels like all the air has been drained from the room. His batchmates tense behind him. Fives dares to look at the assembled Jedi.
General Kenobi continues to stroke his beard. Shaak Ti hums, looking pensive. Neither of them seem particularly rattled by Rex's statement. General Skywalker is staring at the floor. He doesn't move, but his brow furrows. Fives doesn't know what to make of that.
"We're stuck, then," Cutup finally says. To his credit, he sounds almost completely normal. Fives only senses the waver in his voice from years of training beside him.
General Shaak Ti nods. "Unfortunately. For now, I would ask for your help with rebuilding Tipoca City. As the Force wills it, perhaps we will find more answers as we do."
General Skywalker huffs, fists clenching. "I don't like it, but you're right. There's not much we can do right now."
"Continue your investigations of these topics discreetly," General Kenobi orders. "We'll reconvene if we uncover anything. Until then, focus your efforts on reconstruction."
"Of course, Master," General Skywalker says as the clones all salute.
The holoprojector switches off, and the blue glow fades from the room. Fives sighs, turning in unison with his squadmates to leave.
General Skywalker stops them. "You four are relieved of duty for the next few days, if you want. You've worked hard. You deserve rest."
Fives glances back at his batchmates. Cutup shifts his weight, antsy, and Hevy's jaw is clenched. Echo's arms are folded across his chest. A tangible tension radiates from them that Fives himself can feel buzzing in his skull.
"All due respect, sir," he says slowly, "but I think we'll go crazy if we try."
General Skywalker fixes them with a look. "Now that the fighting has died down, I want to avoid the risk of your squad wandering too close to the Kaminoans. Shiny armor can't hide you forever. Stay here on the ship." He makes an amused sound when Domino squad groans. "That's an order, boys."
"Yes, sir," they reply reluctantly.
Fives drums his fingers across his vambraces. "We may not be able to leave the ship, but at least give us some sort of job to keep us occupied."
"Please, sir," Hevy chimes in. "We want to help in any way we can."
General Skywalker lets out an incredulous chuckle. "Alright, then. I can understand that. Report to Rex. He'll sort you out."
"Yessir. Thank you, sir."
Fives exhales in relief. If they're going to be stuck, he might as well do something that will take his mind off of it until they can act again, and helping rebuild his home is as good of a distraction as any.
He glances over his shoulder as they leave. General Skywalker braces himself against the dim holoprojector with one hand, the other pinching the bridge of his nose. His expression is grim, yet thoughtful.
Fives' insides twist with nerves. He faces forwards and deliberately evens his breathing as they head for Rex.
Cutup spends three entire days loading up gunships to fly from the Defender to Tipoca City and back again. He would much rather have spent the time helping rebuild, but the risk of being identified is too great for Domino squad to take part in the work on the surface, so they distract themselves with prepping materials to be transported and taking inventory instead. There's so much to do that Cutup can't justify taking a break until Del catches him, puts him in a firm arm-bar, and marches him back to the barracks to rest.
When he wakes up, he makes a pass by the medbay, but is turned away by an exhausted Kix who informs him that Droidbait is sleeping. Dejected, Cutup mechanically sucks down a meal in the mess hall and heads right back down to the hangar.
He finds most of his squadmates assembled together, working alongside the 91st to load supplies onto outgoing gunships. Outside, the rain falls in thick sheets, and thick dark clouds writhe angrily. Each gunship brings in a spray of water that makes the hangar floor treacherous, and a few poor brothers make mop runs every few minutes to battle the slippery metal. Thunder rumbles in the distance.
Cutup spots Hevy and Echo lugging a heavy crate between them and hurries over, carefully watching his footing. "Need help?"
"We're fine. Go help Fives with the next one, though," Echo says. "We're loading a new shipment, a bunch of supplies just came in from nearby systems and we need to get it down to the city as soon as possible."
Cutup heads for the crate pile and catches Fives just as the ARC bends down to lift a large crate by himself. "Not that I doubt you can do it, but let me help," he says quickly.
Fives shifts to one side, allowing Cutup to move opposite him. "Good to have you back. Did you rest okay?"
"Yeah, I did. On three?"
"Copy that."
"One, two, three—" They lift and shuffle towards the waiting gunship. "What about you guys, did you get any rest at all?"
"Since Del carted you off, we've been avoiding him so he can't force us," Fives says, grin audible. "Hevy and I crashed for a few hours in some of the empty bunks. Echo hasn't, though." He raises his voice so that Hevy and Echo, dropping their own crate, can hear. "We're gonna knock him out if he doesn't take a break soon."
"You know I can hear you," Echo grumbles.
"You were supposed to!"
Fives and Cutup deposit the crate. The four of them head back for more. On the other side of the hangar, a new gunship swoops in, accompanied by a crack of thunder. The 91st mobilize to begin loading it immediately.
Echo's helmet tilts in what Cutup knows is an eye roll as he and Hevy grab another crate. "Yeah, yeah, I hear you. Let's finish the inventory, then I'll go. The rest of Beta should be back soon to help us anyway."
"Where'd they go?" Cutup asks.
"They went down to the city to help Ninety-nine with something," Hevy says. "They should come back soon."
They lapse into silence for a few minutes. Cutup falls into the monotony of transporting supplies.
"Did you hear anything from DB?" Echo asks as they pick up the last two boxes.
"Sort of. I tried to stop by the medbay on my way back down here, but Kix wouldn't let me see him. Said DB was resting." Cutup huffs. "He seemed a bit stressed, so I didn't argue."
"I'll go and see him on my way up," Echo says. "Only if he's awake, though. I don't want to risk waking him up if he's sleeping, just in case he's… you know." He drops the last crate. Cutup and Hevy cluster around him while Fives picks up his datapad, scrolling through the inventory to ensure that everything has been loaded.
"Dreaming again?" Fives says as he scrolls.
"Yeah. Or whatever it was. Dream, vision…"
Cutup frowns. "Do you really think it'll happen again? He told us this is the first time he's ever seen the green-haired woman."
"I don't know," Echo says. "But it could have been situational. He did almost die."
"If it only happens when he almost dies, then I'll make sure it doesn't happen again," Fives growls under his breath.
"But the Jedi—or the vision, or whatever she was—might have answers for us. If he could talk to her, we might be able to ask our questions." Cutup tugs his helmet off. "It's not worth Droidbait almost dying again, but that might not be a condition. We still have no idea."
Hevy sighs. "I hate not knowing what's going on."
"Yeah, that makes two of us," Fives says.
Another gunship swoops into the hangar as Fives finishes inventory, water sloshing off of its wings. Domino squad stands, prepared to unload if necessary, but when the door slides open Beta squad steps off accompanied by Ninety-nine and Captain Rex.
"Captain on deck!" one of the 91st men shouts from across the hangar. Rex waves them to ease. Ninety-nine is half-hidden between the tall forms of Beta squad. Jesse keeps careful hands hovering near the old clone's back in case he loses his step on the slick floor, but Ninety-nine walks with as much confidence as any of the rest of them. Domino squad offers salutes to Rex.
"Got the job done just fine without us, I see!" Hardcase says cheerfully. He thumps Cutup on the back. Cutup rocks forwards with the blow. He reaches out to elbow Hardcase in the ribcage as retribution, but the gunner dodges away, grinning from ear to ear. Cutup chases him around Jesse, but then Hardcase hides behind Del, and Cutup stops short. Coward.
"Don't get excited. Another shipment is undoubtedly headed our way," Echo says. "There's still plenty left to do here."
Fives raises an eyebrow. "Hang on a minute, Echo. I seem to remember you saying something along the lines of, 'I'll finish this inventory and then I'll go', right guys?"
"Sounds familiar," Cutup says, grinning at Echo's death glare.
"Don't leave just yet, Echo," Rex says. "We've actually come on business. Ninety-nine was kind enough to give us a little gift."
Domino squad straightens, directing their gazes over to the recently landed gunship where Tipper and Zeer exit, pushing two hovercarts piled with crates.
"Why don't we get to use those?" Cutup mumbles under his breath.
Hevy huffs in quiet agreement. "High demand, I guess."
"Or some sort of ARC special treatment. What about us regular troops, huh?"
Tipper grins at them as the two ARCs approach, offering a wave. "Good to see you boys alive and kicking!"
"Likewise," Fives says with a smile. "How are things planetside?"
Some of the cheer fades from Tipper's face, but he bounces back quickly, exchanging a look with Zeer. "It's going as well as it could be. The men are working hard. We've been temporarily assigned small units of cadets to help with jobs around the city, and it's kept us occupied for the most part." Zeer's smile is more than a little fond.
Rex tugs his bucket off. Dark circles cling underneath his eyes, but he lays a gentle hand on Ninety-nine's shoulder. "Ninety-nine here went on a search through some of Kamino's giant supply warehouses and came up with something I think you boys especially will appreciate."
Ninety-nine smiles. "I just thought… with having to use shiny armor recently… you might want this." He hobbles over and pulls the lid off one of the crates.
Cutup whoops in delight. The crate is completely filled with buckets on buckets of paint, each with a dab of 501st blue on the lid to identify the color. Hevy cheers. Echo sighs in relief, glancing down his scratched greaves.
"Ninety-nine, you old rascal!" Fives crows, hooking an arm around Ninety-nine's shoulders. "This is perfect!"
"There's enough for the entire battalion!" Tipper says with a grin. "My armor could probably use a touch up here and there, now that I think about it…"
Hevy curses suddenly. When the rest of the men look at him, he sighs. "I just thought… it might be best to change my armor design, right? I mean… we're supposed to be dead. Our armor is a dead giveaway, especially mine."
"I wouldn't worry about that too much," Rex says with a knowing smile.
"The rest of our brothers… many of them look up to you, Hevy," Ninety-nine chimes in. "There are hundreds of them, who want to remember you and all you've sacrificed for us. So they've copied you." Hevy stares at him, speechless.
"Hevy I understand, but what about the rest of us?" Fives asks.
"There are a few, just less of them. Your armor isn't quite as distinct and well known as Hevy's," Rex confirms. "You should all be fine."
Hevy slumps in relief.
"Captain?" Cutup says quickly, glancing up at Rex. "How are we doing this?" He's antsy, suddenly, desperate for the streaks of blue that give him purpose just as much as they do identity.
"We'll send men here in shifts for touch ups, or full paint jobs if they were shinies," Rex says. "However… I won't have too much of a problem if Beta squad is among some of the first to go."
Fives hooks his fingers into a vambrace and pops the armor piece loose, grin widening. "That's a 'go ahead' if I've ever heard one!"
Rex sighs, but he can't hide a smile. He nods.
Beta squad erupts into motion. Cutup strips his armor off quickly, setting it out neatly in an unused corner of the hanger kept dry by persistent moppers and distance from the usual gunship routes. By the time he reaches for a paintbrush, Echo is already well into his design, hand steady and eyes glazed as he traces the blue lines he's used for more than a lifetime. Cutup can't quite zone out like that as he paints, not yet, so he focuses on remembering Commander Tano's markings instead.
The process brings back old memories, too, Naboo, tendrils of the blue shadow virus swirling around his body like deadly mist, meeting Tipper, Fives stepping through the door, the Commander's lightsaber flaring bright in the muted lighting. He smiles.
He's come a long way.
Hardcase sets up next to him, thickening the bold lines on his helmet and running over faded patches on his chestplate. Somewhere behind them, he can hear Hevy cursing a stray drop of paint.
Movement out of the corner of his eye catches his attention. Ninety-nine steps closer, a fond look on his face. The old clone's eyes seem suspiciously wet.
Cutup's eyes sting. He blinks the sensation away before it can overwhelm him and sets his paintbrush down, standing to join Ninety-nine and place a hand on his older brother's shoulder.
"Thank you, Ninety-nine," he says quietly.
Ninety-nine's face crinkles as he smiles. "I'm proud of you all."
Cutup squeezes Ninety-nine's shoulder, heart bursting in his chest.
Droidbait gets plenty of visitors while he waits in the medbay. Coric and Kix stop by frequently, as expected. His own batchmates pass by a few times a day if he isn't sleeping when they stop by. Ninety-nine does too, which always makes Droidbait smile. Iota squad come as well, eager to speak with him. He entertains them more than they do him, which is fine—it makes him happy to watch Tup, Dogma, Vaughn, and Sterling's eyes go wide when he tells them stories. They're still young enough that they haven't seen much of the galaxy besides Kamino. It's flattering to receive their rapt attention, especially since Droidbait has never been on this side of the interactions before—he's always been the star-struck one until now, gawking at Commander Cody or Captain Rex.
Commander Tano visits, too, bringing with her a deck of worn sabacc cards that she refuses to divulge the origins of. The scars across her midriff from Grievous' talons are mostly healed now, but they stand out against her skin, jagged slashes tinged darker orange across her stomach. When Droidbait struggles to manage his cards with only one hand, she hovers them in place in front of him with the Force instead.
"Any luck on your new lightsaber, Commander?" he asks as she studies her cards carefully, perched on the end of his cot. He asks just as much to distract her from the game as he does to hear her progress.
She sighs. "Not too much yet. Master Skywalker helped me gather the parts, but there hasn't been time to work on assembly yet. There's so much to do."
Droidbait frowns. "You don't have to be here, sir. I'm sure you're needed elsewhere. I can entertain myself—"
"No, no! Master Shaak Ti banished me here. I, um," she shifts her weight, "overextended myself a little. I'm not allowed to help for another few hours. But I'm not physically tired, just mentally, honest!"
He shakes his head, unable to resist a grin. "If you say so, sir."
She glances back at her cards, then discards and draws a new one. Droidbait watches her eyes carefully, but she remains stoic.
"Ready?" he asks.
"Of course."
They reveal their cards. "Negative twenty," he says, flicking a finger to tell her to lay his hovering cards down. He feels fairly confident. It's not a bad hand.
Her expression doesn't change. Then the tiniest smile appears, and slowly begins to spread.
"Ah, kriff, I know that look, don't say it—"
"Twenty-one!" She smacks her cards down onto the pile. Droidbait peers at them with narrowed eyes, because in sabacc, no one is above suspicion when it comes to cheating, not even a Jedi—but she's won fair and square. She throws her hands into the air in victory. Droidbait laughs. His nonexistent arm throbs with phantom pain as his body shakes from the sound, but he can't bring himself to care.
General Skywalker stops by later that day once the Commander has left, dark circles under his eyes the sizes of a womp rats. He waves a hand in distracted dismissal when Droidbait cautiously mentions his visible exhaustion. "Don't worry, Droidbait. I'm a Jedi. The Force sustains me." He holds a measuring rod up to Droidbait's stump, checking and double checking fitting requirements.
Droidbait narrows his eyes. "Sir."
General Skywalker grins. "It can't be helped. The men need me right now."
"You can't help them if you're dead on your feet," Droidbait mutters, and then bites the inside of his cheek in sudden realization. Force, this isn't one of his batchmates, this is his General. He backtracks fast. "Sorry, sir. I'm just—concerned, that's all—"
"It's alright," the General says. "You're right, I need rest. But so does everyone else. We're making good progress, and Tipoca City is recovering slowly thanks to the hard work of the men."
Droidbait feels a pang of frustration. He wants to be side by side with his brothers helping to rebuild his home, not stuck up here sitting around like a lazy Hutt.
General Skywalker pulls back, a knowing look on his face as he stows the measuring rod. "Easy, Droidbait. You'll be in one piece soon, just give me a little longer."
"Yes, sir," Droidbait says, swallowing down the ache of his longing. When the General leaves, he reaches over, probing his mangled limb. His stomach rolls at the sensation, at feeling nothing but air where there should be solid flesh. He takes a deep breath and reminds himself that he's allowed to mourn, that it's okay to be happy one moment and grieving in the next. It comes and goes in waves still. Fives says it's normal, and offered Droidbait permission to call him if he ever becomes overwhelmed. Droidbait hadn't doubted him, but some days it's worse than others. The emotions give him whiplash. Today he doesn't hesitate to reach down and thumb at his comm.
Fives picks up immediately. "Hey, DB. You doing alright?"
Droidbait sighs. "Could be better." But it does help, especially when the rest of his batchmates and the the rest of Beta squad cluster around the comm to offer a cacophony of greetings and well-wishes.
The next day, the General returns with a long object wrapped in a thin microfiber cloth. He doesn't say anything when he enters, just hefts it up and meets Droidbait's gaze dead-on.
Droidbait's stomach swoops. He sits up slowly, pushing himself up with his one arm. "That's…"
"Yeah, it is. You ready?"
He has to sit for a moment before he can answer. "Yes, General."
When General Skywalker pulls the cloth away, Droidbait's breath catches in his throat. The prosthetic is silver, not quite reflective, but brand new and shiny enough that he feels a bit intimidated. It seems a bit broader than the General's, bulkier around the upper arm.
"I gave it some adjustments that should be useful," the General says. He pulls off his glove, revealing his own gold prosthetic. "There are a few differences between these two models, primarily in the elbow and near the shoulder. In yours, I prioritized strength over dexterity, though I can change that if you want. I needed speed in my own prosthetic for lightsaber combat, but I assume you won't need to worry about that as much."
"I'm sure it will be just fine, sir." He shuffles over as the General gestures him closer. Cool metal presses against his stump arm. He makes a face, shivering at the cold. "I won't need some sort of… port, for it to attach to, sir?"
"That's one way to do it. I prefer this, though. It's more of a sheath. Once it's in place over what remains of your arm, nerve tech connects with the ends of the nerves still remaining. It's less invasive." The General's brow furrows as he fiddles with the arm, pulling a micro-probe from somewhere in his pocket.
A faint pressure tugs at Droidbait's shoulder before disappearing. Part of Droidbait wants to watch the General work. The other part of him wants to look away.
"There we go. It shouldn't take long now," General Skywalker says. He eases the micro-probe into the joint of the limp prosthetic limb. "I just need to find the—there it is."
An electric jolt zips through Droidbait's shoulder, strong enough that he jerks with a hiss of pain and fists the thin blanket below him with his flesh hand. His stump arm tingles in the aftermath, like something is buzzing just underneath his skin.
The General winces. "Sorry. It gets better after the first time."
"Is it connected?" Droidbait asks, glancing down at the silver metal plating. He flexes his shoulder and huffs in frustration when nothing changes.
The General pulls the micro-probe free. "Just give it a minute. Your nerves need to adjust."
Droidbait's impatience only serves to make the time pass by slower. The tingling of his shoulder begins to fade, and with it comes a strange sense of weight. A ghost of sensation trickles into his awareness, not at all like he'd expected. He doesn't feel any sort of tangible pressure—it's more like he slept in an odd position and is starting to cramp. He holds his breath and gives a tiny, experimental twitch.
The prosthetic pinky finger jerks.
"Force," Droidbait whispers. He tries again, tenses his shoulder, and feels a rush of emotion as the prosthetic limb obeys. He raises the arm up slowly. The light of the medbay glints off of the silver plating as he moves each finger one by one, and he tries to pretend that the glare is what makes his eyes sting.
When he looks up, General Skywalker is watching him. Droidbait wants to thank him and can't get the words out. His mouth hangs open uselessly. The General doesn't say anything, just offers a grin, and reaches out to rest his own mechanical hand on Droidbait's, gold plating against silver, tragedy to tragedy, hope to hope.
It barely takes fifteen minutes for the rest of Domino squad to appear once news gets out that his arm is in place. Cutup is first, flinging himself through the doorway, closely followed by Echo, then Fives and Hevy.
Droidbait smiles at them from where he sits on the side of his bed. He raises his prosthetic and waves, a bit clumsily, but still a successful motion. "Hi, guys—oof—!"
Cutup crashes into him, nearly sending Droidbait sprawling. He thumps Droidbait on the back, mouth already moving. "Holy kriff, look at you! Check it out, boys, we're looking at one of the most expensive clones in the galaxy right now! Let me see!" He yanks Droidbait's silver arm close.
Fives' grin spans from ear to ear. He musses up Droidbait's hair with a mischievous swipe of his hand. "Looking good, DB."
"How does it feel?" Echo asks as Hevy joins Cutup in inspecting the joint of Droidbait's wrist.
"It feels… good. It's satisfying when I want it to move and then it does. Like scratching an itch. I don't know how to describe it, but… it's a relief."
Echo nods, a knowing look on his face.
Cutup begins to wriggle Droidbait's pinky finger back and forth. Droidbait twitches at the strange sensation that shoots upwards through his shoulder. It tickles a little, somehow. He tugs his hand free.
"You can feel that?" Hevy asks.
"Enough to know that you're messing with it."
Cutup and Hevy's expressions turn a little devious. Droidbait glares at them, tilting his body so they don't have as easy access.
Echo glances around the room. "Where's the General?"
"He left pretty soon after he was certain the attachment was a success. He said there are others waiting for similar procedures."
Fives' eyes widen. "How many?"
"I'm… not sure. But he looks tired. I hope the Captain is keeping an eye on him."
"Force," Fives breathes. He shakes his head. "He's changed. This wouldn't have happened last time. It might actually be enough…"
Droidbait thinks of the way General Skywalker had attached his arm, careful and meticulous, encouraging and confident. He has no other memories of the General to compare it to, but he hopes silently that Fives is right.
"What do you know about when you'll be cleared for active duty again?" Echo says.
"I'm not sure yet. I need to wait for Kix to come back and run a few—Cutup, Hevy, you know I can see you, right?"
Cutup grins, entirely unrepentant as he shifts enough to get back into range of Droidbait's new arm. Hevy, behind him, raises an eyebrow, expression neutral.
Droidbait makes the first move. He throws his prosthetic arm towards them. Hevy jerks out of reach, but Cutup is too slow. Droidbait's metal fingers close around his wrist.
"Holy kriff, that's strong!" Cutup tugs his arm to no avail. He jerks his wrist towards where Droidbait's fingers touch, hoping to break the grip, but Droidbait can barely feel his effort, and his fingers stay locked in place.
Hevy's face lights up. "You know what this means, right? You'll actually be a challenge during arm wrestling now!"
Droidbait gasps in feigned outrage. "Are you calling me weak? You pile of bantha fodder, I'll show you who's weak, come on, put your arm up—"
Echo shoots his hand in between them. "Oh, no you don't, not while Droidbait's still getting used to the prosthetic!"
Hevy begins to complain loudly while Cutup eggs him on. Droidbait cackles. While Echo is busy reprimanding the others, Fives sidles up to Droidbait and props his arm up on the bed. He smirks. "If Hevy isn't going to challenge you…"
Echo whirls, expression murderous. "Fives, I swear—"
Droidbait doesn't know what Echo says next, because he, Hevy, and Cutup are laughing too hard to hear.
Unfortunately, learning to use his new arm isn't quite as easy as turning it on had been. Nerve replication technology is impressive, but can't quite capture the instinctive nature of the real nervous system. Droidbait crushes the first two flimsi-cups of water he's handed, unable to control how much pressure he's exerting. Echo laughs at him from his chair next to the bed. Droidbait scowls.
"It'll take a few days for you to figure it out," Echo says, tugging the soggy remains of the latest mangled cup from Droidbait's metal hand. "Just be patient. I'll practice with you until it's second nature."
Droidbait watches droplets of water sparkle as they trickle down metal plating. "The water won't damage it, right?"
"No, it won't. Here."
Droidbait glances up and barely catches the ration bar tossed towards him in his good hand. The packaging crinkles. He hesitates.
"Gentle. Go slow."
"I know!" All the same, he redoubles his concentration as he reaches to open it. It's hard to tell if he's being gentle when he only gets the vaguest of sensations from his prosthetic fingers. He pulls slowly at the wrapper, conscious of every tiny movement his new hand makes. The plastic tears apart so easily that he starts in surprise. A few crumbs scatter across the floor, but other than that it's a successful endeavor. He takes a bite, unsurprised by the bland taste.
"Nice job," Echo says. "Open mine too, will you?"
Droidbait huffs around his mouthful.
Echo raises an eyebrow at him. "If you want me to trust you with a datapad or a blaster ever again, you've gotta start with these."
"Fine, fine."
Echo has him riffle through a pile of various nuts and bolts for dexterity practice, sorting them into different piles and scattering them over again. The more Droidbait practices, the easier it is to move without having to think about how much force he's using.
His control isn't perfect, but Kix clears him to return to the barracks the next day regardless. The Defender's barracks are strange to him, impersonal despite being designed exactly the same on the Resolute. He sits down on a bunk when he arrives and glances around the room that hovers in between familiar and unfamiliar. Jesse, on break, snoring quietly from the top bunk, wakes up with a muffled grunt.
"It's just me," Droidbait says, unable to contain his smile.
"DB?" Jesse twists so that his head can hang off the edge. "Holy kriff, you're back!"
Droidbait waves at him with his prosthetic. Jesse whoops in excitement, throwing himself off the bunk to inspect it. Once the other clone has poked and prodded to his heart's content, they settle back into their bunks.
"You doing alright, then?" Jesse asks.
"Yeah." Droidbait surprises himself with how honest the answer feels. "It feels more natural than I thought it would."
"That's great! General Skywalker knows what he's doing, that's for sure."
Droidbait hums. "The barracks feel strange, though. Empty."
"Ah. Yeah, I know. It felt uncomfortable the first few days for me, too."
Droidbait flexes his prosthetic hand a few times, just testing the feeling as he speaks. "I know it's the same. But at the same time…"
"It's not home," Jesse murmurs.
"Yeah." There's no scuff mark by the door where Hardcase nearly tripped and brained himself after a hard training session. There's no glob of dried paint by the lockers where Droidbait had gotten careless while adding tally marks. The sabacc cards on the table are pristine and new instead of bent and grayed. They almost look too perfect, like a hologram.
"It's less noticeable when the entire squad is in here," Jesse says. "It feels more complete. And it gets better, I promise."
"I believe you." All the same, suddenly he doesn't want to stay. He pushes himself to his feet. "Do you think Kix and Coric will come after me if I go find something to do?"
Jesse snorts. "I won't tell them. Go, Bait. You've been cooped up long enough. Your batchmates are going crazy being restricted to the ship, I don't know how you've survived one room. If they aren't in a debriefing, they're in the hangar. They can't just can't seem to sit still."
Droidbait laughs. He curls each of his new fingers one by one, then stands. "Thanks, Jesse. I'll be back."
His batchmates greet him with cheers when he steps out into the hangar. He can't hide his grin as he joins them. It's not like he hasn't been spending time with them, but standing among the rest of his brothers with four capable limbs eases some of the stress he hasn't ever been able to put into words.
"How are you feeling?" Hevy asks, placing a hand on Droidbait's shoulder.
He smiles. "Happy to be mostly back to normal."
Cutup prods his arm a couple times. "So, does this mean you're good to try arm-wrestling, then?"
Hevy's eyes gleam. "We can use one of these crates—"
"Oh, no you don't," Echo says, eyebrows raised. He gestures at the shipment of crates spread out all around them. "His arm is fine now, so I don't care if you do, but as fun as it would be, you're not getting out of inventory."
Cutup and Hevy let out twin groans of complaint, but when Fives turns to face them, datapad in hand and face a mirror of Echo's stern expression, they wilt.
"Are you back with us permanently, DB?" Echo asks.
"Coric released me to the barracks. Whether or not that includes active duty with you guys, I'm not sure." He shrugs. "I'd say yes."
Echo laughs. "Of course you would." He reaches out to ruffle Droidbait's hair, running gentle fingers over where Droidbait knows the crosshair sits on the side of his head.
"What are you going to do about your armor?" Cutup asks. "Do you, uh, remember where every tally mark went?"
Droidbait frowns. "I don't… know… I need to think about it a bit." He doesn't remember. He didn't ever care to total them, just painted them in after each battle and then cast any concept of a number from his mind. The number was never the point.
Does he start over fresh, now? That feels wrong. But he isn't sure what he could possibly put as a new design, either.
Behind them, Fives lets out an incredulous sound. Droidbait whips around to look at him at the same time as the rest of his brothers. "Fives?"
Fives' finger hovers the datapad. "Hold on."
"Something wrong with the inventory?" Echo asks.
"No, nothing's wrong. This is an express delivery from Ryloth. It came on the fastest shuttle the Republic could spare." His lips curl up into a smile. "Looks like someone called ahead and had them add an extra crate. Does anyone see 37-B29?"
They root around for a moment, turning crates to check the numbers. Hevy finds the crate and, at Fives' nod of approval, cracks it open. His eyes go wide upon seeing the contents. Droidbait narrows his eyes in suspicion when Hevy flings his arms wide, preventing the rest of them from seeing what's inside.
"Scoot over." He tries to force his way past, but Hevy swivels, keeping him away. Droidbait exchanges a look with Cutup, and both of them ram into Hevy at the same time, sending him stumbling with an exaggerated cry of dismay.
"You almost took my eye out, Cutup, you kriffing—"
Droidbait ignores him and peers inside the crate. A heap of brightly-colored packets glitter in the hangar lights. Droidbait is unfamiliar with most of them, but on one side is a massive pile of candies that he would recognize anywhere.
Cutup reaches inside the crate, removing a piece of flimsi that Droidbait hadn't originally noticed. He takes a moment to skim over the message inscribed there. "To our brave soldiers, with the hope that this will grant them some happiness in such a dark time. Signed, Senator Amidala," he reads aloud. "They're candies!"
"Dibs on the green ones!" Hevy shouts, diving in. Fives intercepts him, and the two wrestle for a moment until Echo pries them apart.
"Guys. There's plenty, come on." Echo shakes his head, holding back a laugh. He dishes out a few pieces judiciously. Droidbait warily bites the tip of something long, thin, and wobbly, covered in a sugary yellow concoction. A sour taste explodes across his tongue. He recoils for a moment, face contorting. Fives laughs at him. Droidbait swats at him half-heartedly, sighing in relief when the sour flavor slowly melts into a delicious sweetness. He can't quite decide if he likes it or not.
"You try it, then!" he says. He takes another bite, this time properly braced, and hands the last tidbit to his batchmate. Fives pops it into his mouth without a second thought and goes cross-eyed as the sourness hits. Droidbait laughs at him this time, enjoying the transition from sour to sweet.
"The kriff is that? I've never tasted anything like it!" Fives says.
"Don't know, but I like it," Droidbait says, already grabbing for another one.
Hevy, across from him, takes a bite of a round brown candy about the size of a wrist comlink. He hums, extending the other half to Cutup. "It's squishy inside. Like a pillow. But sweet."
"A pillow?" Cutup eyes the candy dubiously. Hevy shoves it into his mouth before he can say anything else. Cutup flails for a moment before his expression slackens, and he chews frantically with a groan of appreciation. "Force, you're right. That's amazing."
Echo chews something crunchy, expression pleased. He fiddles with a purple wrapper as he speaks. "Alright, that's enough. These aren't just meant for us, you know."
"They'll be gone in ten seconds once the rest of the battalion knows they're here!" Hevy complains, but he backs off all the same with one last look of longing at the crate.
As Fives lowers the lid, Droidbait stops him for a moment. He reverently fishes out a handful of tiny round candies, the ones Attie had favored, and holds them in his hand as they secure the crate. He opens one quietly and pops it into his mouth with a sad smile. Cutup puts a hand on his shoulder.
"Thank the Force for Senator Amidala," Droidbait says. The rest of the squad let out a cacophony of agreements.
"Call the rest of Beta," Echo says with a grin. "They won't want to miss this."
Beta squad arrive quickly alongside Tipper and Zeer, which doesn't surprise Droidbait at all. He makes a beeline for Del. The Sergeant blinks in surprise when Droidbait holds out his hand, and he tenses when he recognizes the candies. He accepts them, hand clutching around the round treats a little harder than necessary.
"No death," Droidbait reminds him, chest aching in empathy.
Coric comes up behind Del and nudges him with a hand—his bad hand, and it shakes as he moves it, but he doesn't seem to care. Del relaxes. His expression smoothes into something gentle instead of sorrowful. "No death," he agrees. "Only the Force." He offers a candy to Coric, who smiles. Zeer heaves a sigh and reaches to take one as well, nodding his gratitude.
Hardcase sets up camp behind the crate of candies, tossing them out to clones as they eagerly enter the hangar. He beans Kix in the face, who has to be restrained by Jesse to prevent a fistfight. He takes a couple potshots at Iota squad, too, just entering the hanger, and knocks a few red and white hard candies off of their helmets before they can figure out what's happening. Vaughn, Sterling, Tup, and Dogma are quick to charge him, and the four of them quickly overwhelm Hardcase to take over the candy-distributing business. Denal hangs back with Redeye and Ridge while Kano rolls his eyes at the younger clones' shenanigans—but Droidbait spots the tiny smile on Kano's face that he can't quite hide fast enough.
The news seems to have spread quickly through the ranks. Clones stream through the hangar doors in an endless tide. Once the excitement of the candy has died down and the arriving clones are herded into a more orderly line to receive their portions, a small crowd forms around Droidbait. Brothers of all ranks are curious about his prosthetic, watching him move it in fascination.
"Now you know how I felt," Hevy says in Droidbait's ear as Droidbait gives a shiny an awkward metallic thumbs up. "I still think your arm would have been better if it had included a flamethrower attachment."
Droidbait snorts. "I'll let General Skywalker know that he needs to update the model for the next clone, then."
Later that night, Droidbait lies in his bunk, listening to the deep breaths of his sleeping squadmates around him and staring up into the darkness. He flexes the fingers of his prosthetic arm. They move silently, with only the faintest of clicks as his fingers tap against his palm revealing the motion.
He lets out a sigh that blends perfectly with Jesse's sudden snore. Now that he has full mobility again, previous concerns have returned to the forefront of his mind. With Grievous dead, they have no clue what will change, and they still don't have a way to incriminate Palpatine for his crimes. He wants answers, but he knows of very few people who could give them.
Only one, actually, but he has no idea if it's even possible to contact her.
He stretches his limbs and frowns into the darkness. It certainly wouldn't hurt to try.
Hello, green-haired lady? he thinks, as loudly as possible. Then he cringes—kriff, that might be offensive, somehow, or too informal. Um. Ma'am? Can you hear me?
He waits, holding his breath. He jumps when Jesse snores, louder than before, and shoots his sleeping squadmate a glare.
Nothing happens. He rolls over onto his stomach, maneuvering his prosthetic arm into a comfortable position. He's not sure what he'd expected, though, so he can't even be that disappointed. He closes his eyes, welcoming sleep.
The cot disappears underneath him. Droidbait's stomach lurches sickeningly as he drops into empty air. He shouts, flailing wildly in the darkness. He flings his arm wide, but there is nothing to slow his fall. Panic clogs his throat, fills his brain, curdles in his gut, he can't die, not like this—
It stops as suddenly as it began. His body curls up instinctively as lingering adrenaline and fear roar through his veins. When his mind finally catches up with the fact that he isn't still falling, he risks opening his eyes.
Stars spiral in endless patterns above him. His jaw drops.
That's impossible.
Frantic to understand, he clambers to his feet. Just like before, the ground beneath him ripples as he moves, reflective like a gentle pool of water. He puts one foot down over the reflection of a cluster of stars and watches a ripple from the motion expand outwards, larger and larger until it disappears from sight.
The ripples seem to continue endlessly. Droidbait shivers, turning in a circle. He can't see anything around him, and the stars above are unfamiliar. He has no idea where he is in the galaxy, or if it even is his galaxy.
Last time, he awoke to see the beautiful woman above him. This time, he is alone. He walks for a few minutes, but nothing moves save the ripples on the ground with each step.
"Hello? Anyone there?" he calls. His voice echoes around him, accompanied by a strange hissing, like distant whispers. Somehow, the sound doesn't scare him. His chest fills with the warm sensation of the Force.
He pauses for a moment, glancing down at his own reflection on the ground. With a start, he realizes that his prosthetic arm is absent—his own arm, flesh and blood and bone, is back. He grips his wrist, swallowing tightly at the feeling of his own heartbeat there.
"...llo?"
The faintest sound in the distance makes him look up.
"Hello?"
Droidbait whirls, struggling to pinpoint the origin. "Can you hear me? Hey! Over here!"
A figure moves at the edge of his vision, partially obscured as if by mist. Droidbait hurries towards them. The mist dissipates as he moves closer, revealing familiar white armor, a bit of scruff—
"Cutup!" Droidbait cries.
Cutup turns, expression crumpling in relief. "Thank the Force. Droidbait, where the kriff are we? What is this?" He stomps his foot a few times, creating massive ripples. "This… this doesn't make any sense! Am I dreaming?"
Droidbait smiles. "I think I am."
"Huh?"
"I've been here before. It's where I saw the woman. I'm trying to find her again."
Cutup gapes at him for a moment. "Wait, your arm—"
"Yeah, I know." He's trying not to think about it too much. He's accepted the prosthetic. "Are you real?"
"What do you mean, real?"
"I mean… am I dreaming that you're here, or are we having the same dream?"
Cutup frowns. "I fell asleep. Now I'm here."
"So we're both dreaming, then."
"I think so… but wait, you're the one that has weird dreams, not me!"
"I don't know what's going on." Droidbait turns to look around them again, disheartened when he still can't see anything besides the unfamiliar stars above. "I'm not actually sure what to do. I didn't expect this at all."
"We thought maybe you were only able to see her because you almost died." Cutup peers at him suspiciously. "You aren't dying, right?"
"You're here, too." Cutup blanches. Droidbait sighs. "I think that was part of it, but this is different. Can't you feel it?"
Cutup is silent for a moment. Then he nods, one hand moving slowly up to his chest. "Yeah. I feel it here. The Force."
"...anyone out there?"
Droidbait and Cutup whip around at the same time.
"Clone voice, but it's too far away for me to tell who yet," Cutup says. "Do you think it's…"
"I would bet credits on it," Droidbait says, and jogs towards the new sounds. Just like before, within a few moments, two more figures appear out of the strange haze—Hevy and Fives. They both look a bit shell shocked.
"Droidbait? Cutup?" Fives peers at them as if unsure if he's hallucinating. "What's going on?"
"We're dreaming," Droidbait says. He glances up into the stars. They wink back at him, silent and unhelpful. "All of us, the same thing. But I don't know what we're supposed to do."
"Where's Echo?" Hevy says.
A huge rumble emanates from somewhere behind them. The ground beneath them shakes faintly. Droidbait drops into a crouch as the rest of his batchmates form up around him automatically, years of training kicking in. They hold position, staring in the direction of the sound.
"Thunder?" Hevy says quietly.
"How close was it?" Fives mutters. "The echoes make it too hard to tell…"
Droidbait squints. On the horizon, a haze of darker clouds hovers in the sky. As he watches, a flash of red lightning flickers through it, and thunder booms out, louder this time. The reflective ground vibrates, blurring their reflections.
"What is that?" Cutup asks.
They all turn to Droidbait.
Droidbait sighs. "Don't look at me. I don't know any more than you do."
"I think that's where we need to go," Hevy says, voice regretful.
"Towards the creepy lightning storm?" Cutup laughs, just a little hysterical. "Alright, fine. Sure, why not. This is already weird enough, we might as well go right towards the one dangerous looking thing around."
Fives tenses his jaw. "Let's move."
They set out at a quick pace. Droidbait watches their reflections in awe. It looks like they're running through a starlit sky, like ships soaring through clusters of systems. A comet comes into view next to Fives' head and disappears by Hevy's left foot.
The storm approaches far faster than the earlier distance had made seem possible. Stormclouds gather into an enormous black tower hovering above their heads. For the first time, Droidbait feels a hint of nervousness. The sight brings a hint of icy cold into his chest, but the Force overpowers it before Droidbait can falter, urging him forwards.
By the time they've made it below the dark clouds, a significantly strong wind has picked up around them. It increases in strength the further they go. Droidbait stumbles at a particularly strong gust, steadied by Cutup's hand on his back. With the clouds above them, he can't see the stars anymore. Their reflections press onwards in darkness. Droidbait swallows his doubts away.
Red lightning crackles in front of them, bright enough to leave a streak of white across Droidbait's vision that he has to blink away. The air fills with the scent of ozone, buzzes with power. An armored figure appears in front of them.
Droidbait exhales in relief as Echo turns. "Echo—"
Echo throws a finger in front of his lips, eyes wide. Droidbait and the others freeze.
What is it? Droidbait signs instead.
People ahead, Echo signs. Fighting.
Fighting? Droidbait frowns.
More lighting flashes directly above them. Thunder cracks mercilessly against Droidbait's ears. He winces, and signs for his batchmates to follow as he creeps forwards as quietly as possible.
The wind whips around him as he moves. He shifts, dropping his weight. A blur of motion in front of him makes him halt again, throwing up a warning signal to his batchmates.
The woman with green hair hangs suspended in the air, dress billowing around her in a swirl of gold-white. Opposite her is a man in a dark tunic with skin white as death and red streaks descending from his eyes like bloody tears. His eyes blaze crimson. They circle each other, oblivious to the clones below. Even as Droidbait watches, the dark man thrusts out his hands, fingers hooked into claws. Jagged red lightning shoots from his fingertips. The woman bats it away with a graceful sweep of her arm. It careens to the side and disappears into the clouds.
The air vibrates with impossible power. Each burst of lighting illuminates the dark clouds and reflective ground with crimson light. The woman flows like water, palms outstretched as she redirects each attack. The man grows more frustrated with each failure. His hands jab at the air. His lightning attacks intensify.
"What do we do?" Hevy whispers in Droidbait's ear, barely audible over a crack of thunder. "That's her, right? Can we help? Who is the other one?"
Droidbait can only shake his head, heart in his throat.
The dark man lets out a roar, firing a bolt of lightning. The woman catches it in a palm and holds it, spitting angry sparks between her fingers. She pauses for a moment, a shadow crossing over her face. Droidbait inhales sharply, torn by the mournful expression he sees. Then her eyes harden, and she throws the lightning back.
It hits the man square in the chest. He howls, tumbling backwards head over heels as red tendrils of electricity rove across his body. He disappears into one of the surrounding clouds.
The woman heaves a great sigh. Her shoulders slump. She looks down and meets Droidbait's gaze. "I have called you here to witness, and to receive a warning. I can no longer delay his plans."
Her voice booms in Droidbait's head even though her lips do not move. By the way his batchmates flinch around him, he assumes they hear the same.
"Witness what?" Droidbait whispers.
She turns away from them as the dark man emerges from the clouds, fury distorting his face. "A tragedy."
"Sister!" The man screams the title, venom-filled. "You cannot delay me any longer! You know as well as I do that there must be balance!"
"You have lost yourself, Brother. You no longer seek balance. You seek victory." Her voice carries over the rushing wind, gentle as a soothing balm.
The Brother bares his teeth. "And I would have had it, were it not for your interference! You always stand in my way! All this talk of balance. You chose your champions long ago, but where is the balance in delaying me from choosing mine?" He smiles, shadows stretching on his face. "Why you chose such pitiful, weak champions is beyond me, however…"
The Sister doesn't dignify the Brother with a response, head held high. He launches another attack. When the Sister deflects this burst of lightning, it careens far too close to Droidbait and his batchmates for comfort. They flinch away as it strikes the ground a few meters to their left. Droidbait's heart pounds in his chest. He feels tiny and insignificant in front of beings of such power.
The Brother finally lands a good hit. The Sister cries out as lightning knocks her from the air. Droidbait lurches, tempted to rush towards her, but an unseen force stops him before he can try.
"I have hidden you from his view. Do not tempt his attention, for he will kill you with great pleasure." She pulls herself to her feet.
The Brother cackles. "You see? You are too weak to stop me alone. You always have been! You cannot change what has already been written! I will emerge victorious!"
"Your fear betrays your confidence," the Sister says, rising from the ground on invisible wings. Her dress billows around her. "If your victory is certain, why fight so hard?"
With a roar of rage, the Brother throws his arms out. A wave of power explodes from his body. The Sister flies backwards. Droidbait grabs the arm of his nearest batchmate, Echo, but it isn't enough—all five of them tumble several feet backwards. The ground tilts and rocks under their feet, massive ripples deforming the glass-like surface.
Droidbait pants for breath as he lifts his head to watch. The Sister pulls herself to her feet once more, but she moves more slowly this time. The Brother laughs. He descends to the ground, then closes his eyes and heaves a deep breath.
A dark shadow forms at the dark man's feet. It oozes and bubbles, growing larger and larger. Then it rises from the ground. The viscous substance coagulates, forming the shape of a massive figure that dwarfs even the Brother.
The Sister watches in grim silence. "I can do nothing to stop him once he has begun the process," her voice says in their heads. "He will choose a champion, and your task as vanguard of the Chosen One will become far more difficult."
The shadowy figure sharpens suddenly, definition appearing across its surface. Arms spurt from broad shoulders—one pair, then two. Droidbait's stomach clenches in awful realization.
"No," Hevy whispers.
Droidbait dares to look over his shoulder at Fives. He expects hatred or fear, but Fives' expression is grim with acceptance.
Echo takes a slow breath. "Is that…"
"Krell," Fives says.
The shadow stabilizes. A Besalisk stands next to the Brother, dripping in darkness. He doesn't move, seemingly frozen in time with a snarl on his lips.
"I wanted to be wrong," Fives whispers. "But the Force told me otherwise."
The Brother circles the motionless Besalisk for a moment. He claps his hands once. "Yes, yes, you'll do. If nothing else, you will be the perfect foil for my Sister's so-called champions."
The Sister floats down closer to him. It seems as if the Brother's victory has ended their combat for the time being. "You have not won yet, Brother. Your champion is strong of body, but weak of mind."
The Brother snarls at her. "He is a strategist, a war general! His mind is anything but weak!"
She does not reply.
The Brother waves his hand. The shadow of Krell melts back into a viscous liquid, staining the reflective floor. The dark man leaps back into the air. "If you'll excuse me, Sister. My champion awaits instruction." His body twists, limbs tangling, and suddenly an enormous creature beats its wings in his place. It roars as it climbs higher until it disappears from sight.
The Sister gazes after him for a moment. Then she turns and approaches Domino squad. The dark clouds hanging above shrink with the absence of the Brother, dissolving into little wisps and revealing the plethora of stars.
Droidbait slowly climbs to his feet as she comes to a stop in front of them. Just as before, warmth seems to emanate from her, resonating through his body. He finds his tongue. "Are you alright?"
She gives him a sad smile. "It is a terrible thing to fight with family. I'm sure you are well aware." She speaks with her mouth this time, unafraid to interact with them directly now that they are alone.
"What does it mean that Krell is that guy's champion?" Hevy asks.
"My Brother and I do not have the ability to influence the galaxy in the ways we desire. We choose advocates to carry out our wishes and represent us."
"And you chose us?" Cutup asks.
She smiles again. "I did."
Cutup gapes at her. "Wha—why? You could have chosen anyone, right? Why not choose someone powerful? Why not someone strong, like General Skywalker, or General Kenobi, or kriff, even Commander Tano would have been able to do more than us!"
"My Brother believes that strength is something measurable by achievements and power. I, however, believe differently. It is by the small and simple that great things are brought to pass." Her gaze lands on Hevy. "I believe this is a lesson you have already witnessed."
Hevy shuffles his feet, averting his eyes. His cheeks flush a little.
"Since your resurrection, I have fought to keep my Brother from selecting his champion too early. You would not have survived. This limited me in my abilities to guide you. For that, I apologize. But despite his hatred, my Brother is correct—there must be balance. I could not delay him forever. However, you have grown much in the time it took him to finally overwhelm me. You will not be so easily defeated."
"We'll be alright, sir." Fives' expression hardens. "We defeated him once. We'll do it again, champion or not. I swear it."
"You said something else," Droidbait remembers. "Something about the vanguard of the Chosen One…"
She nods. "This is the purpose I have entrusted to you as my champions. The Chosen One is easily impressionable. He requires support. A team of individuals who can steer him towards the right path."
"Who is the Chosen One?" Echo repeats.
"You know him as Skywalker. He is destined to restore balance to the Force. Too much dark or light is the undoing of all life as you know it," the Sister says. "In our first lives, my Father and I sacrificed ourselves to contain my Brother's physical form, but it was not enough to stop the lingering influence of the dark side from falling over Skywalker. He fell to the dark side, and countless lives were lost."
Droidbait gasps. He doesn't want to believe it, but her words ring with truth.
Fives swears under his breath. "I think… I think I was alive for part of that. The General got angrier. He didn't trust anyone. He was more like…" he trails off, eyes darting up towards where the Brother had disappeared.
The Sister nods. Though she holds her head high, something in her eyes speaks of immeasurable sadness. "The fall of one so powerful brought indescribable suffering to the galaxy. It was an unacceptable loss. Through the grace of the Cosmic Force, we were given another chance to restore balance. It is not a battle we can afford to lose."
"Was your Father resurrected as well? Where is he now?" Droidbait asks.
She pauses for a moment. She's responded so quickly to all of their comments up until now that it makes Droidbait uneasy, concerned by her silence. Finally, she sighs. "With the aid of my first champion, I made a decision that I knew would give the galaxy a second chance. Our choice did not come without consequences."
"So… he's dead?" Fives says carefully.
"Perhaps to your understanding of the word," she says quietly. "It would be more accurate to say that he is unreachable. He is no longer capable of maintaining balance between my Brother and I. Now only the Chosen One can do that."
Droidbait's vision swims. He staggers in confusion, reaching out for support, only to find the rest of his batchmates in similar disarray.
Through blurry eyesight, he watches the Sister frown. "This world is not meant for you," she says. "Your mortal bodies strain to sustain you in this plane. I must send you back."
"Wait," Echo says, sounding strained. "We have more questions!"
Droidbait presses a hand to his head, struggling to keep his balance through the sudden bout of lightheadedness.
"Do not assume that because you cannot see me, I am not with you," the Sister says. Her voice brings a flood of heat rushing through Droidbait's body, a promise enhanced by the Force. "The Force will be with you, Domino squad. Trust it. Listen to its guidance. You will have the answers you seek."
The world tilts with a rush of color and sound. Droidbait feels the ground slip from beneath his feet, feels his stomach drop again as he descends into darkness. Limbs outstretched, it feels more like floating, especially with the Sister's warmth still burning against his heart. He takes a deep breath and lets his eyes close.
Droidbait wakes to the darkness of the barracks. Jesse continues to snore above him. His prosthetic arm is cool against his shoulder. For a moment, he lies still, mind whirling.
Cloth rustles in another bunk. Feet slap quietly against the floor. Droidbait slowly sits up, already knowing what he'll see as he peers into the room.
Domino squad stare back at him, the outlines of their forms barely visible in the dark. Hevy peers down from a top bunk. Echo and Cutup are sitting up in bottom bunks, while Fives stands in the center of the room, shoulders tense.
"We all had the same dream, right?" Droidbait whispers, and is hit by a twisted sense of deja vu—it's so close to the question he asked all those months ago, when they had first awakened to their second lives.
His batchmates nod.
Fives lifts his head. "Wake them up," he orders, nodding his chin at the rest of Beta. "We need to report to the Generals. There's a battle coming."
A/N: I chose to use the proper nouns 'Brother' and 'Sister' because that's what those two call each other and what Domino squad hears, so they wouldn't know to call them 'daughter' or 'son'. Hopefully that made sense.
I've had about half of this chapter written for so freaking long, it's such a relief to finally let it see the light of day. I hope you've all enjoyed, and thank you all for sticking with me for so long! If it wasn't obvious, there's lots of *fun* things coming up, so stay tuned for more!
I will still be updating this story on this website, but I am no longer checking private messaging here as just an FYI, I apologize if that inconveniences anyone! I also once again ask that people remain respectful in the comments. This is, after all, just a story that I write for fun, not a canonical star wars novel, although with the critique I occasionally get sometimes I almost feel like it is hahaha... anyway! Love you all, thank you so much for the support! See you in the next update!