(TWO WEEKS LATER)
(ONDERON - STORAGE ROOM)
~Clone Wars S5:EP3 - Front Runners~
"No, masters, there is nothing new to report." Padawan Tano's hologram states, from the middle of the Council Chambers, somber and standing at attention. So unlike her.
"Captain Rex?" Mace Windu's hologram asked.
At Ahsoka's side, Rex was also standing at attention, gave a half shrug, "Agent Talla is," He paused, drew his brows together thoughtfully, reflecting on the copious amount of time they've ended up spending together, "A formidable warrior driven to defeat the Separatists, knowledgeable about the history leading up to it and the history being made now, and is fiercely loyal to her squadron - in part that is." He briefly looked down at Ahsoka, "She seems to be walking on eggshells since the fiasco on Coruscant."
"She fears her squadron being court martialed for their rebellious attitude under dire circumstances, yet also agrees it was out of line." Ahsoka tacked on.
Obi-Wan's hologram rolled his eyes at the memory. "It really should not have caught me so off guard, given the track record we've seen in their lively mission reports you procured, Master Shaak Ti." Complete with 'Best Moments Clips' recorded from someone's helmet.
Mace leaned forward, perched his elbows on his knees and folded his hands, very stern and very invested. "Does SAC-1 being ill at ease seem to have more layers, not strictly out of her feeling regretful on behalf of her unrepentant squadron members?"
Shaking his head, Rex sighed, "As far as I wager so far, Generals, she is just like any clone I've ever met, excluding one major factor that is her genetic makeup." He hesitated to bring up the Kaminoans being at fault again, after being shot down last time.
Shaak Ti ended up bringing it into the equation for him. "Has she not mentioned at all the progress of this Clone Agent Project?" She folded her arms into her long robe sleeves. "Or having what you might call her little 'brother here' on Kamino?"
Rex's eyes went round, "She has a brother?"
"SAC-2." Shaak Ti confirmed, while the rest of the room exchanged glances of confusion, uncertainty. "And he is the only other enhanced clone with the four known desirable mutations, like the original he was cloned from."
"Are you certain he's the only one?" Depa Billaba queried considering all the curveballs thrown so far.
"I had to go above Doctor Nala Se's head once again to gain access to the chambers where all these enhanced infants are being cared for." Shaak Ti nodded, "I have seen him myself, and he is a bright-eyed, sharp little thing who has accidentally broken some fingers of his caretakers, has learned which caretakers are the pushovers, and suffers from a highly sensitive nose, eyes, ears, and skin - None of the others have all these side effects combined, only two a piece."
Mind reeling, Ahsoka sharply shook her head. "She's never mentioned anything like this, so Talla must not know, and by extension she must not be involved in anything sinister." She swept the room with almost pleading eyes, "I don't believe we have conclusive evidence to believe Talla or any of these future soldiers are sinister."
"Is this your instincts, or your feelings, that are influencing this line of reasoning?" Obi-Wan asked, with a knowing tilt of his head, and Ahsoka looked down. "Reach out to the force," He said more softly, "Allow it to calm you and clear your mind, young one."
Yes, she was in fact young. And still had a lot to learn. It was beginning to become overwhelming, all the responsibility young Ahsoka Tano was being trusted to shoulder now that she was well within her second year of padawanship. Ahsoka's eyes slid shut, and her shoulders drew up a little as she breathed in and she reached out, begging for the calm that evaded her since receiving this particular assignment.
Hologram Obi-Wan stood and folded his hands behind his back in a stately manner, and addressed the room as a whole. "We would all do well to remind ourselves what our primary objective is - finding the reason for all this secrecy. It could very well be that the Kaminoans got carried away and wanted to bask in the glory of their scientific advances without anyone's scrutiny, but at least these future Clone Agents would be on the side of the Republic." Several nodded with straight faces, and Ahsoka found strength to open her eyes, meeting his reassuring ones, "We are not outright accusing Agent Talla of anything sinister, it is very likely she is a genuine soul, and we simply want to ensure the security of the Republic, as the Jedi are sworn to do."
In that moment, Ahsoka was unable to tell he was telling a slight fib, due to the Council agreeing to withhold Master Plo's dark premonitions from Ahsoka and Rex so as not to influence anymore paranoia. It seemed there was enough pressure coming from monitoring the rebellion.
"About the creation of more Clone Agents, ask her." Yoda suggested with a reassuring smile of his own, "If not sinister, their creation and Agent Talla's are, evade the question, she will not. Informed, if not, then an innocent mistake, this all was."
'An innocent mistake?' For the first time ever, Rex felt a surge of frustration towards the Jedi he admired. He experienced a brief lack of trust, at how ignorant they were of his brothers suffering. When he and Ahsoka were dismissed, he found it hard to nod in respect before they signed off.
Plo Koon felt the ache of his heart going out to Ahsoka and the uncomfortable situation he caused to be laid at her feet.
To which Obi-Wan said, when he noticed Plo's downturned head and tightly folded hands: "We must rely on the force to guide us, as does Ahsoka. All will work out as it should."
(ONDERON - BARRACKS)
First nights spent in a camp off the Havoc Marauder II were always excruciatingly long for Talla. Her senses went haywire from unfamiliar scents, sounds and surroundings and made it impossible to settle down enough and catch some shut eye. At least with making camp outdoors, there was a fire or heat lamp to give her enough light to carve a piece of whatever she could find to pass the time. And it had until recently been a rare occurrence that the Bad Batch worked with other soldiers, only adding to the overwhelming unfamiliarity.
But things had not gotten any better for lone Talla here on Onderon within the rundown, inconspicuous townhouse near the markets of Iziz, with inhabitants consisting of recruited rebel numbers growing by the day. The terminal need to never be more of an issue and a burden than she already was snapped Talla out of the doldrums quite fast on that fateful day she was told this mission would in fact not be quick and easy. The last thing she wanted to do was make her superior officer's job harder, and they were also her friends too... but she was struggling. And she hated she was struggling, when she was supposed to be invincible.
When the rebel-initiated street fights began, the Separatists retaliated with cruel restrictions on ALL Iziz citizens - first the mandatory 0800 curfew, then they put an inhumane cap limit on a household's potable, washing, and bath water supply, depending on the number of registered occupants. That meant in order to keep numbers hidden, there was enough water to consume for all the rebels hoarded here, but proper bathing was obviously off the table. You got a small bowl of water every other day to go along with your basic hygiene kit the Republic sent over, and you made do with whatever clothing they could scrounge up from charity bins. Out on the battlefield, Talla learned to tolerate no continual access to proper hygiene, but trapped in this small-town house in the blasted desert, it was like visiting her squadron's rancid Kamino barracks all over again. She was surrounded by filth and unfamiliarity. She was running on fumes, barely able to grab two hours of sleep a night. She resorted to spending her meal breaks in the barracks when they were empty for a stolen cat nap, and mixed nutrient paste with water to kill two mynocks with one stone, or in this case, a simple chug of a water bottle, and saved gnawing on chalky rations for her guarding shifts to keep herself grounded.
The irritability was real and here to stay, and no one dared to cross Talla now. New recruits were briefed ASAP on the sithspawn instructor when they thought she couldn't hear.
(she did)
Lights out was at 2100, three hours ago. In these crude wooden barracks, Talla twisted for the umpteenth time in her top bunk, dropping dust down on the bottom bunk. Good thing her bunkmate Rex was still on call with the Jedi, Ahsoka too. Talla had been advised to 'sit this one out and get some shut eye' which was code for 'we don't want you badgering the Council over the radio silence from Ronay,' which she did last time, at the week and a half mark, when she finally cracked. With a heavy sigh, there wasn't the comforting sight of Hunter in the bunk across from Talla, just a rebel she didn't bother to remember the name of. Hunter was usually there, holding onto Tech's datapad. And there wasn't Wreckers snoring from the bottom bunk reverberating off the walls, or Crosshair across the way propped up and holding Tech at his side in an iron grip, the brainiac brother wrapped tightly in a blanket so he wouldn't stay up all night scrolling the HoloNet or listening to the Clone Network.
There was just Talla, wrapped in one of the thin blankets from the GAR military grade survival kits, alone with her thoughts. And a deafening whirlpool of overthinking they were.
It would not do.
As quiet as a mouse, she fixed her bunk, climbed down, picked up her boots and weaved out of the barracks. She silently winced when the door creaked open and then closed behind her.
One of her former students, Eli, and another man were on the clock right now for night watch, peeking through the partially opened shudders by the front door. Their heads bobbed with a wave of exhaustion. Their adrenaline had been run dry by the pure boredom from the nonexistent night life since the curfew initiation.
Barefooted Talla silently padded up. "Hit the racks, gentlemen," They jumped up with silent screams, for she spawned out of nowhere! "I'll take over." She was too tired to crack a grin at their spiked adrenaline, or the frightened looks on both sides of her when they obeyed and left.
She took Eli's seat. The dimly green letters of the main room's wall chrono read 2354 for Onderon time, the next shift would be down soon, but the men didn't bat a dreary eye at the time keeping device when they passed it. And Talla was glad, because she didn't plan to actually take a whole shift. Six minutes should be perfect for a measly cigarette. She had bummed one off one of Eli's friends, and saved it for tonight. By midnight, hopefully she'd be relaxed enough to get a full five hours before another day in hell began. Talla had swiped a match from the friend too. She struck it against the rough windowsill, and was breathing in those first throat burning, eye-irritating puffs of the cheap cigarette when the door to the side of her opened.
Out came Rex, who caught sight of the cigarette right before Talla tossed it out between two window shutters. She had yet to ask Rex about the court martialing. Best be on her best behavior.
But he hadn't said anything since the ride to Onderon, or even now when she was killing her lungs. Something like this generally happened with many of his brothers at one point or another, and they were forced to stop because, well, none of them could afford to remain addicted to this vice regularly anyways. He had been curious to see what type of vice Agent Talla would choose, less so about what the horror stories were behind it.
Until now.
"Rothana in the Quiberon Sector has been compromised too." Was his grim icebreaker.
Talla jumped around in her seat, eyes widened in alarm, "That's where all of the Grand Army's weapons and smaller assault craft are manufactured." Talla enunciated, stomach sinking. "The Separatists must have more droids and shipyards we don't know about, to catch us so off guard and to this severity."
Rex nodded, frowning deeply. "They have a seppie dreadnought and enough forces for the mediocre defenses to reluctantly comply with their demands and surrender." Talla's nose wrinkled, "They're all on house arrest so that millions of crew members and their families won't be slaughtered for resistance." Her face softened at not the sign of cowardice, but self sacrifice, "General Skywalker has some... contacts he's cashing in favors for." Rex revealed, with a slight smile at his General's unorthodox but generally effective tactics. "We need all the help we can get to find out how the Separatists did this and fast, both sides are suffering staggering losses." The smile faded, into a haunted look he couldn't stop.
"Right." Talla said, averting her eyes, not pushing because a) they were barely acquainted and b) frankly, her mind was already wandering...
But Talla also needed to keep watch until the next shift, she turned back towards the window, looking out to the deserted city streets. And even with helping start the spark of this rebellion against the Separatists, Talla felt so entirely useless here compared to the colossal bloodbath across the galaxy.
There was five minutes until the next shift arrived, so Rex joined her on the bench. Since she was the one with the enhanced eyesight, he leaned backwards on his elbows atop the windowsill, seeming to watch the wall chrono across the room but really observing her out of the corner of his eyes. Talla must have had washing privileges and changed prior to hitting the racks tonight. She wore an athletic black tank top with blue pants, the same boots and utility belt she brought. The brilliant purple gone due to so much harsh sun exposure, she kept her brittle, murky salt and pepper hair out of her face with the bandana she felt didn't need to conceal her face anymore. The tired thing had rings of purple under her dull, sunken eyes, all her exposed skin clammy already from the humidity... And with her arms, shoulders and face exposed, it was hard to miss the erratic scar tissue across her tanned, toned upper body. A canvas of untold stories Rex was being forced to glean out of her in a way completely opposite to what he had hoped for quite a few times since meeting her.
"You really need to learn how to watch people without them clueing in if they're being watched, Captain." Talla advised him without turning away from the window.
Rex's blood ran cold, but at the same time he felt heat rise up his neck, across his cheeks. He pointedly looked away after that, only adding to the point Talla was making.
She placed an elbow on the windowsill, leaned her cheek against her palm, turned her frowning face towards him. "I could be blind and still feel you burning two holes in the back of my head a mile away."
"Well..." He shifted a little, "This is your first time away from your family, isn't it?" She simply went, 'Mhm.' Rex's brown eyes flitted to her piercing silver ones, "I guess we've had some concerns -"
"I can handle this."
He nodded once, "I'm sure, but we both know how difficult it can be at first -"
"I won't learn by being coddled." Talla figured out right off the bat.
'And you're gonna be out of commission if you don't find a way to stop worrying yourself sick about what you can't control.' Rex wanted to say, but was as always so put off from how different she was than when they first met, "Right, so that's why since we got another shipment coming in, you're coming with me to retrieve the goods and haul them back to the city." He ordered.
Talla was so very exhausted, but one thing she knew was that she needed the exposure to those bugs too, to overcome the effect the buzzing had on her. Just as Hunter taught her. And compared to her racing thoughts, them being drowned out by something, anything, would be better than being trapped with them. She nodded, telling Rex she accepted.
Not that she had a choice, but Rex had orders too.
Ahsoka left the storage room next, looked very tired and bid them both a goodnight. Normally, Talla would have followed to see if she was alright, but her racing thoughts forced her to leave the window for the storage room, to test out the long distance comm, see if she could get through to the Marauder II. Again. Even though Ahsoka and Rex not saying anything must mean that no contact had been made yet.
(RONAY EMERGENCY BUNKER)
Wrecker
"So, there Blair is, liberally applying the green hair dye to this Pantoran butchered hair, right, fighting tears 'cause the girl said to hack all those gorgeous locks off," Skylar's half-body hologram animatedly painted the picture, "When all of a sudden, we get some persistent tapping on the transperisteel of the entrance door from long, ugly fake nails attached to a woman with terrible a-line cut short hair, bangs and chunky highlights. I dunno if this crazy bat thought it was an exclusive place you needed a keycard or something, but we wish we'd said that because as soon as I opened the door here was this middle-class snob with the entitlement and high-pitched demands of a karking empress who wanted us to -"
Wrecker heaved a massive sigh, difficult with the crushing weight of aching chest. Holed up in his dark barracks, wrapped in his massive comforter, the holographic blue projected onto his face half squished into the pillow perfectly accentuating how blue he felt. He missed Skylar somethin' fierce. It had already been a month apart when his squadron returned to Coruscant after Saleucami, and before that it'd been three weeks, and before that TWO MONTHS! He liked something to look forward to after missions, but he wondered if they'd ever get to spend some real time together, without worrying about the call coming in that he had to go. And they had so few memories to live on so far, when apart. He was always wondering, 'Are we stupid?' 'Is she actually happy?'
'Am I hurtin' her more than makin' her happy?'
Force, he hoped he wasn't. Skylar had never brought it up again after that hormone induced admission during her period, but Wrecker couldn't stand if he was hurting her like whoever had in the past. But if he was experiencing this longing ache, then she must be too, right? She was as ready to introduce Wrecker to her family after six months of getting used to the idea, two years of blabbering about him to her brother and bestie, just as he had with his brothers and the Lawquanes, so that must mean she was still just as crazy about him as he was with her.
... That realization actually made this WORSE somehow, wait no-
Wrecker threw off his blanket and forced himself to get up. He made sure the datadisk with all these precious pre-recorded holograms was safely tucked away in his bunk display case, easily accessible for when he needed to hear her voice, even if he'd replayed all these stories three times over, unable to access anymore she might've sent with this blasted dust storm.
This cabinet of nicknacks was becoming full of things he found most precious besides Lula:
1) a neon, everglowing wrist bracelet that had a datachip which allowed them access into the concert a few months back, which Skylar later explained was one of the most magical nights she'd ever experienced.
(FLASHBACK)
This concert in itself was KRIFFIN' AWESOME, and Wrecker was so glad his squad hadn't received an assignment yet, so he and Skylar could have a first date do-over - third times a charm, amiright? He'd never been to a concert, obviously, he felt so sophisticated and civilian like. And he felt awesome because this was a local droidpop band Skylar loved, and Wrecker now loved it because he got to dance and with his new lady too! And she loved to dance too!
They danced so hard her feet hurt like a you know what, this was all so last-minute that Skylar didn't have time to change from her work outfit, partly consisting of heeled boots. Fortunately (as ironic as that sounded) they were at the back of the small auditorium. They didn't have any trouble seeing the performers since it was on a raised stage, but she soon got offered the best view in the house... at a price: getting out of her own head.
She blinked down at Wrecker, who knelt down behind her and told her to sit down on his shoulder, and she immediately knew his intention of hoisting her up. Out of ingrained habit, her fluffy arms circled her fluffy midriff, and her fluffy thighs made it hard to close in on herself in general. "Oh, I - I dunno Wrecker!" She had to say loudly enough to be heard over the music, really just wanted the ground to open and consume her away from ingrained, completely unnecessary shame.
"WHAT?" He laughed up at her. "I CAN DANCE AND HOLD MY GIRL UP, DON'T YA TRUST ME?"
He was so clueless. Skylar didn't know whether to be frustrated because he misread her (though darkness and strobe lights made that difficult) or to weep because he misread her... because he actually didn't care? And not weep because he didn't care in a bad way, but like, he didn't care that Skylar didn't look like stereotypical twi'leks like she'd seen many a clone trooper so openly gawk at... it wasn't even a comparison that crossed his mind? A flash of a memory of when they first met came to the forefront, of when he openly gawked at her when they first met. Then when on her period, Wrecker didn't ignore her or make her feel like a hideous creature who disgusted anyone who unfortunately laid eyes on her, or Force-forbid TOUCHED her, he was so gentle and caring... And he wanted to touch her even now, when she was a teeny bit sweaty and still in grubby work clothes.
A whole different force seemed to take over her body, and she carefully did as he asked, unable to stop the intrusive, very light thoughts-
Skylar gasped when he effortlessly hoisted her up, she latched onto the back of Wrecker's shirt, but his arm looped over her thighs was solid as any restraints on a starships jumpseat. And those around them of all shapes and sizes were infected by Wrecker's energy, and copied him by hoisting up their significant others or dates of all shapes and sizes. All of Skylar's insecurities were drowned out by his cheers when the climax of the song was upon them, even jumped and danced yet maintained a steady hold like he'd promised, even when the music repossessed her, and she waved her arms in the air like she didn't care. And she didn't, not anymore, for the rest of the night.
And it just sorta... happened. They were both on a high on the walk back to her apartment, and reached her door in a fit of giggles and ringing ears and breathless grins and perspiration. Without thinking, Skylar through herself up in Wrecker's arms again for a big hug, and he did not push her away. And he didn't push her away when she planted a big kiss on his cheek. And she did not push him away when their face's were inches apart, so he took this as a positive signal and just went for it and closed the distance as he'd wanted to do since he first saw her, and Wrecker didn't know until now that you could experience such a high OFF the battlefield until now.
The kiss was a little sloppy and clumsy but heartfelt and Skylar was honored to be Wrecker's first kiss, because in a lifetime of being made to feel like the most disgusting twi'lek in the galaxy, he made her feel like the most beautiful woman in the galaxy. And when they parted, she cheekily told him with a wink to swing by tomorrow morning, so he could squeeze in some more practice before her work shift.
(END OF FLASHBACK)
2) a dark blue-purple rock Skylar had found in the markets for a mere credit, but the crazy white mineral lines all around it made it look just like a jogan - Wrecker's favorite fruit. And he loved the sentiment. And food.
(FLASHBACK)
The day after the concert, Wrecker had been blessed - yes he considered it blessed now - with NO NEW ASSIGNMENTS! And it was still the weekend for Skylar so they had a day of gathering the most bizarre ingredients they could find from odd little holes-in-the-wall stores they scoured the downtown district for. Then back at her apartment, they spent the evening cooking up a storm, using taste and smell (and pointers from both shop owners and the HoloNet) to turn this mess of ingredients found from Ryloth to Kashyyyk into some excellent culture-fusion dishes.
It was a bundle of fun until the end, when they had to roast guiji fire peppers, to try making a spicy topping for the popped grain they intended to snack on during their holomovie to close the evening. Skylar loved spicy topping for popped grains, Wrecker learned, and he was eager to try it! And Skylar had the foresight to wear gloves and used her biggest fork to hold the peppers over the blue flame of the gas stove, but she did not scrounge up protective eyewear. And not ten seconds in, her eyes were red, teary, and burning hotter than Ryloth's five suns. She outright dropped the pepper, didn't care where it landed and ran to the bathroom in a fit of sniffles and coughs.
"Oh okay, you take your time, mesh'la, don't worry - your man's got this!" Wrecker confidently called after her.
It took lots of crying out the sting, coughing, water splashing, and window opening, before embarrassed, down-on-herself Skylar dared to shuffle back to the kitchen with her head bowed, ready to give a thousand apologies for the stupid mistake.
When she was two feet away from him, she raised her head and... busted out in the loudest of belly laughs, the best kind ever, it was music to Wrecker's ears. Because there he was, handling this like promised. The loud stove fan blaring, and he had a glass pot cover secured over his face by the scrunched drawstrings of his hoodie, and he used a long, two pronged fork they usually saved for marshmallows, to maintain as much distance between him and that red pepper he rotated over the flame, five centimeters in length and DEADLY.
When the fumes cleared up, they changed into fun pj's they also scored for cheap. Settling down between his legs, Skylar leaned back against Wrecker's broad chest, her lekku gently resting up over his left shoulder, and a pillow wedged between the wall and that shoulder. He had his arms around her and held the bowl of popped grain on her lap. Because Skylar knew she'd be stupid and touch her eyes at some point, she used chopsticks to handle the snack, going back and forth between plopping one in her mouth, one in Wrecker's.
"WHOO!" Wrecker sucked in a sharp breath, fanned his tongue with his free hand, "Tha's hotta than a devaronians ass!"
Yet his girlfriend was nonplussed, shrugged because,"Meh, not as spicy as I usually like it, that shop owner grossly exaggerated its potential but oh well." She leaned forward to grab his glass of blue milk and hand it to him.
Wrecker chugged it all in one go. "AH! Hit me again!"
And a whole gallon later, he managed to tough it out for three more morsels.
(END OF FLASHBACK)
3) the hololocket with Skylar's picture, which he acquired two months ago.
(FLASHBACK)
"WrEcKeRrRr," Skylar whined dramatically, and with much reluctance she pushed back his outstretched hands, "I don't wanna take your money."
"It's not my money, mesh'la, it's Crosshairs!" He clarified, as if that made it better - news flash, it didn't - so Wrecker added, "He won it off some bishwag at 79's last night, and then he lost a bet with me during the Malastare Pod Racing Championships they were broadcasting!" *cue maniacal cackling*
His laugh was infectious, Skylar couldn't help but crack a smile and shake her head. "You should invest in things more important, like clothes or food or drink, you know?"
His heart twinged, but he gasped dramatically, "But you're important to me!" Wrecker assured her lightheartedly, making her melt "And look, I know we moan 'n groan about not havin' some luxuries o' life, but we get food and water and shelter and I mean the Republic ain't goin' anywhere anytime soon, right?" He laughed, and reached out a hand to cup her blushing cheek, causing Skylar to feel weak at the knees, "I saw ya eyein' that new jumpsuit you guys brought in for the shop, and I know ya already blew through your monthly freebie credits with that silk scarf!" Wrecker held the credits up again, pressed them into her palms, "So let me buy my pretty girl a pretty outfit, because I can always count on my baby brother winnin' bets with bishwags, and then losin' bets with me!"
(END OF FLASHBACK)
His eyes landed on the silky, sky-blue geometric patterned scarf Skylar had given him, when he left Coruscant this last time. He knew she partly wanted to even the score by 'gifting' this scarf she blew her allowance on because she was so weirded out by him buying her something, but he didn't mind it for one specific reason - She had washed and dried it with drops of oils that she liked to diffuse when at home, homemade from the spices that Nik the plant dad grew himself.
(FLASHBACK)
Talla was out at 79's, Crosshair said he was gonna visit Nik, Tech was who knows where doing who knows what but he wasn't gonna bother them, and Hunter was sleeping off a sedative. Wrecker felt compelled to host his lady for a change, at his place. The Bad Batch always had a habit of docking the ship on the farthest landing pad of the clone section of the Coruscant Military base, and Wrecker wasn't the first clone trooper to successfully sneak in a woman, an challenging but plausible feat on such a big base with countless Jedi, Politicians, and nat-born doctors and medics (a new division the Republic deemed necessary early on, since there wasn't enough Kaminoans to go around)
They settled down on the Marauder II's couch, with his massive freshly laundered comforter wrapped around them in a warm cocoon. This was Wrecker's absolute favorite part of having a girlfriend - ENDLESS CUDDLES!
Skylar curled up against Wrecker's chest again, and pulled the blanket up to her chin with a dazed expression, "Sweet mother of moons, I feel like a criminal."
"Oh, sorry, is this too much for ya?" Wrecker fussed, completely ready to scoop her up and sneak her back out.
"Hell no," Skyalr declared, a wicked grin thrown up at him, "Just don't mention this to my mother, the Underworld Police Officer."
His blood ran cold again, but Wrecker reconciled this and that by engulfing Skylar with his arms too, gently lifting her a little so her cheek was in range for a big smooch. He smiled into her cheek at her giggling.
But now that they were in a place away from her apartment, or the shop, he couldn't help but notice that-
*sniff sniff* He did near her neck.
Skylar flinched. "Wrecker -" She warned, her sensitive skin tingling. She jumped with a short squeal when his nose touched her neck - *sniiifffff* - "Wrecker, I'm gonna end up punching you!"
'Oh, she's ticklish.' Against her neck, Skylar felt him grin wickedly like she had, but it was too late, his hands found her side. The trigger was pulled, Skylar busted out laughing, out of reflex did end up taking a backhanded swipe at Wrecker, which he caught, and kept tickling her.
And Hunter was too drugged up in his barracks that he didn't stir.
Tech wasn't though, he was working on the security cam console, and completely misread the situation - "KEEP YOUR CANOODLING OFF MY SHIP!" Blared over the ship's intercom.
(END OF FLASHBACK)
Turns out Nik had tried his hand at making his own soaps with the oils he made, and made Skylar some with the blend she preferred. So the warm, cozy notes found at places she now forever lingered on her skin, and she did everything in her power to make sure this scarf smelled like her. And Wrecker took a moment to inhale her scent now, faded but just enough to give him strength to throw on his armor and leave the bunk and face another boring day.
This cabinet was the only thing Wrecker kept somewhat organized, meanwhile to get out of his room he bulldozed through a minefield of rotting fruit cores and snacky snack wrappers he snatched from the bunkers kitchens, smelly laundry, dented exercise equipment, his disarmed bomb collection, 'Oh hey, that's where I put my good knife!'
"Hey, Wreck." Hunter greeted Wrecker from the couch when his brother exited his hidey hole.
"Hey." Wrecker more or less grunted, didn't spare him a glance, trudged out the ship to try walking off his nervous energy, maybe use some of the heavier barn animals they kept in the stables as heavy weights.
The tables had turned - instead of say Hunter or Crosshair a wee bit envious with Wrecker's success at landing a girl, Wrecker felt it so unfair that Hunter would have 24/7 access to cuddles, kisses and all that jazz with his lady, 'cause it's not like this separate mission thing was gonna become a regular thing, obviously.
Crosshair
Underneath the cargo hold Marauder, Crosshair sat criss-cross-applesauce atop a crate on a repulsorlift. He stared down the practically heart-eyed convor perched on the handlebar across from him.
"TurwoOoOo." She cooed, and flitted her wings a little, rippling her shiny feathers, and her tail gently swooshing back and forth. Even though she clearly had a beak, Crosshair swore he could see the blasted bird smiling, her eyes slanting with how broad it was. Her black pupils wider than he thought naturally possible flicked downward, at the small dead rodent she had so graciously procured for him!
It twitched - half dead.
Crosshair's lip curled in distaste. "Ugh."
The hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up.
Eyes had zeroed on him.
Without even looking Crosshair knew they were ones he'd frequently encountered over the last couple of weeks - the dark sapphire blues belonging to the one and only Lady Thea-Elouise Depon.
He didn't jump to action quite yet. In fact, he gave her credit for changing her shoes, for there was no distinct click clack of her heels against the sturdy duracrete. Yet there was one variable of her wardrobe that she hadn't changed which still gave him the upper hand - her perfume. A fruity, citrusy, floral concoction that packed one hell of a zestful punch for Hunter's nose. 'A real strong spice, a sweet melon, maybe a blossom flower, and a type of citrus...' Hunter had identified after a severe coughing fit when Thea-Elouise sauntered by their ship that first morning Vivi went out of her way to find Crosshair, who only asked about perfume specifics because it gave him a headache too... Lady Thea-Elouise Depon as a prissy person gave him a headache.
And it was morning again, so his nostrils were flooded by the wisps of her freshly spritzed perfume a mere four seconds before confrontation. Enough time to slip on his helmet, just as she finished circling the repulsorlift and would have finally gotten a glimpse of the blasted clone's face.
He did hear an audible a falter of steps behind him, but she had to keep striding into his line of sight to save face. Her jaw was set, lush lips pressed together in a firm frustrated line, hands tightly held behind her back as she failed to appear casual when passing him by. With a click of her tongue, Vivi returned to her mistress's shoulder. Thea-Elouise did not say a word, she never bothered to casually interact with the help, even if her pet was fascinated by him. Even if that was a monumental occurrence, for Vivi only liked four people in total, two of which were herself and Alessander.
Until this clone came along. Who definitely would not look like the others she's gotten a glimpse of here and there.
Crosshair smirked underneath his protective barrier because it held power. He had an epiphany with that staredown Thea-Elouise gave him before her cousin handled things the fun way with the bickering leaders. She wanted to know what he looked like, and Crosshair simply had to keep his helmet on to withhold that privilege from her. He had the power to withhold a privilege from someone who must have never, ever been deprived a minute in her life. The leverage was tiny, but it was mighty, and he savored it every time he caught Lady Thea-Elouise trying to sneak a peek. He squashed his opponents before they had a chance to find a way to take him out. She was one of the richest women in the galaxy, but Crosshair the humble clone commando felt like the kriffin' Emperor of the entire Galaxy with this measly shred of power.
This game of cat-and-mouse had provided him with all the entertainment and satisfaction needed to patiently survive the last two weeks.
And so did this: Not ten minutes later, Crosshair decided to take a turn about the throne rooms border hallways. See, he decided to seek her out this time, for shits 'n giggles because he desired an extra boost of feel-good today. Wrecker was extra depresso, Hunter was extra grumpy, and Tech rarely was on the ship anymore, exploring every nook and cranny of the bunker.
Ah, there Miss Prissy Pants was now, right on schedule, sauntering down the middle of the same small hallway he was. Crosshair was delighted to have successfully pinned down her daily schedule down here 'in the pits,' as she so ruefully described, because force-forbid this woman was deprived of... NOTHING! This 'bunker' was grossfully mislabeled, there was a kriffing holoprojector for each bedroom quarters, where they couldn't access live broadcasts but there was a digital ledger to scroll through and watch prerecorded stuff imported each day. Gourmet meals three times a day, plus snacks. Showers and baths. Fresh laundry. Real latrines.
Of course Crosshair noticed how every single servant and security guard always stepped out of the way of Lady Thea-Elouise and bowed when they happened to be in her ladyship's path. In fact, she probably expected it of his humble clone self now. Thea-Elouise's eyes locked in on his visor, she lifted her chin and did not slow down her purposeful pace.
Well, neither did Crosshair.
But he was the one with the plastoid-alloy armor, and she was the one who refused to jolt away before impact.
And Crosshair's only regret was that it was with his right shoulder pauldron, not his right, and if he was zipping by on a repulsorlift maybe coulda decapitated her and her blasted bird... Alas, she would only walk away with a mild bruise to her collar bone.
But the blasted bird decided to follow his path up in the air -!
Hunter
Being locked up in this underground bunker made Hunter feel like a caged animal. Resting up after a mission, sure, that was recommended, but he'd already caught up on all the sleep he'd missed since being deployed at the beginning of the Clone War, he'd watched more holovids these last two weeks than he had in all his short life, and his useless punching dummy only ended up being a hacked up mess in the corner halfway through his first attempt at a training session this morning because of his agitation hitting it's peak. An idle dummy was not the same as the feel of his blade cutting through a real droid, or the rush of engaging in a real hand to hand combat situation, predicting and dodging the enemies blows, inflicting his own. And yeah, he also had not managed to get a hold of Talla in two kriffing weeks. She's been a constant in his life for more than six months now. For her to be suddenly ripped away like this, and for so long, and zero contact to be kept, Hunter keenly felt that void.
In the cargo hold, Crosshair and Tech wore some padded protective training gear, no helmets, because they weren't wimps. They were the scrawnier twins of the Bad Batch but they were fast and agile and Hunter wanted the challenge to blow off some steam. Hunter was actually the one to order them to wear some gear instead of armor though, because he knew the damage he could possibly inflict when he finally got some sort of release for his pent up frustrations. They were at a brief standstill, Crosshair and Tech a few feet apart a few feet away, tense, showing the starting signs of exhaustion, but kept battle ready. In his full armor, sweaty Hunter was hunched and heaving from giving this his all, and while his bandana did keep most of the hair from his face, a few more stragglers had been pulled loose when he and Crosshair rolled around a bit during the last scuffle.
Oh, but Hunter was far from done, he was amped and ready for more action.
Crosshair lunged, Hunter had a right hook incoming. He jumped left, caught the arm, swiftly twisted himself underneath and with a sharp yank he heaved Crosshair over his shoulder. Crosshair landed on the ground with a grunt, shoulder socket screaming.
Tech tried to jump Hunter, but he anticipated it with a back roundhouse kick to his chest, sending Tech to the floor too. Crosshair took the chance to swipe at Hunter's ankles, he landed on his back with an 'oomph!' Crosshair moved to lock his legs around Hunter's neck, but Hunter rolled out far out of his reach, back onto his feet. Tech rushed him, hit him with a few jabs that Hunter blocked with ease, he caught Tech's fist, kicked the side of his knee, broke his root and Tech face planted.
Hunter threw an elbow back and then his fist, it struck Crosshair's windpipe and his jaw, he staggered backwards. Hunter leapt, twisted in midair and kicked Crosshair in the stomach with enough angry force it sent him flying this time, he collided with a crate stack, they clanged to the ground while he fell to his ass.
Hunter backflipped in enough time to dodge a kick from Tech. Tech swung at Hunter, Hunter dropped to his haunches, and bull rushed Tech's exposed abdomen. Using his momentum Tech rolled him off, with all his might kicked him off and away, Hunter staggered and fell over one of the fallen crates, the wind knocked out of him.
Tech rushed him, but his momentum proved to be his downfall, a recovered Hunter rolled onto his back and latched onto the crate, he delivered the final blow with both of his booted feet, Tech loudly grunted and fell into Crosshair just as he got his feet under him, they fell into a bruising, coughing heap.
And they tapped out, much to Hunter's high levels of chagrin because he still had tons left in him.
With his entire body screaming, Tech managed to roll off of Crosshair, who sat up with a pained hiss, opened and closed his jaw a few times to make sure it worked right, tasting blood from his busted lip, "Cripes, why do we have to suffer just 'cause you can't do cardio with your girlfriend?" He jabbed, crude as ever.
"Oh stow it, Crosshair!" Hunter snapped, and he stalked off, rolling his neck, shaking his hands out.
"It is as if he is going through pubescence all over again." Dazed Tech with crooked goggles remarked up at the ceiling.
"Not that it did half-pint any good the first time around." Crosshair mumbled, was squinting because his head was aching and the lights in the cargo hold were too bright now, but he would rather die on this no helmet hill than admit his big brother was right.
Tech
Tech was a simpler creature than his girlfriend yearning brethren - give him some technology, and he'd be set for days. As such, he had been completely oblivious to the mood swings until this morning. Hm, he actually hadn't really conversed with any of them much lately, save for that sparring session... Here in this bunker with the best technology in the galaxy, he was set for a lifetime, he never wanted to leave!
(all the staff sure did)
There was a problem at the security console. He overheard the spats the technicians were having about the system glitching, saying an escape pod had ejected, and he already drew up five possibilities on what the issue would be. So the issue would be resolved if he fixed it himself, like always.
He climbed the steps of the Marauders main entry ramp, making a brief reappearance to nab his toolbox. He passed the staticking comm console-
'Static?'That was an interesting development. Tech's eyebrows drew together, and he closed in and typed a few sequences to boost the signal that had miraculously just reconnected.
*KSSSHHH* " -vOc-" *kshhhh* "-iveEeEeEeeeEEEEEE -" Tech flicked another toggle, "-MarAAAuoOoORrRrRrrrrr" Tech inserted a power calibrating spike into the droid socket, the data came through on his datapad, and he fixed a few minor disconnections, "HavOoocccssshhh..." *glitchy gibberesh* "- to Marauder, please come in, Havoc 5 to Marauder -"
Tech's eyes lit up, he pressed the answer key, "Top of the morning, Havoc 5!"
"Havoc 2!" Her voice was quivery, "It's been a fortnight, what's your status?!"
Tech blinked. "It has been a fortnight?"
"... yeah."
"Oh." Blast it, he did it again, got too caught up and forgot the galaxy around him, "Progress has remained stagnant due to the dust storm, and we have been cut off from outside communication, but if you are able to get through now, I assume the storm is letting up and things are about to change dramatically - I estimate a couple of minutes before the Separatists begin monitoring the less secured comm channels, so let us be hasty." Unlike KDY's.
"Oh kark, okay, Tech listen, and I mean put your datapad down and listen-"
... Tech didn't acknowledge, just silently hooked his datapad on his belt loop, not wanting to admit he was an open book to Talla.
"Inform your Jedi that the connection is back online, and that the Separatists have kept control over Kuat's the main continent and the northern hemisphere, closest to your position, but we're keeping them at bay at the shipyards. It's a full fledged war zone, they cut down a third of our troops just as they reached the highlands so not all citizens made it out and are being held captive in the capitals city hall. Rothana Heavy Engineering in the Quiberon Sector has just been invaded too, and is on a planet-wide lock down..." He tilted his head at Talla's pause, because was that all? "Tech, I need you to do something for me, the communications codes we pulled from the V'Hiina mines, you made copies and put them in your Separatist Data Bank." She hesitated to say.
He blinked in surprise at the randomness of that. "I did." Tech unhooked his datapad, and with a few thumb taps pulled them up right then, met with the mess of instructions that may as well have come from a different galaxy, "The cryptics were unlike anything I have ever come across with Separatist codes, and then General Skywalkers protocol droid stated that they were not any of the six million forms of sentient communication in its databank." He scrolled through the mess, "I could not procure a label for these figures, nothing really encapsulated this phenomenal level of this encryption's ingenuity." His flabbers were indeed gasted.
"Tech, give them a second look, I understand the task was handed off to another special forces team to crack the codes and I don't intend to undermine them or our CO's, but I figure it's worth a second glance." Talla entreated. "There's not a Separatist code you've not been able to crack, and I know you'd do it much faster."
"You are right," Tech simpered, "And I did intend to exercise my brain with them, but what does this have to do with the KDY crisis?"
"I know it seems like I'm grasping at straws, but my instincts are telling me that perhaps there's something in these codes that could shift the tides a little." Talla insisted, "The Separatists must have more droids and shipyards we don't know about, and we need to find them, that is why this data was so pertinent to get our hands on. If it makes you feel any better, it's not just me who has a hunch, but General Skywalker is doing some digging of his own."
"You got it, Agent." Tech said, trusting her instincts, and tucked his datapad away, placed his free hands on the console.
Talla took a couple of seconds to respond, "Is Hunter nearby?"
"Oh not presently, he should be getting some much-needed shut eye in his bunk, but now we have our mission objective to complete, and you have yours, so we shall reconvene when they are systematically completed."
He was so painfully oblivious, and so confused at the desperation in Talla's voice, "... Exactly, but Tech I won't be back home for a long while, so please just go get him, I need to hear his voice -"
She was cut off by the resonating sound of systems whirring, clanking, fizzling into a bunker wide shut down that could be heard even over the comm channel, and shut up even before Tech uttered the words, "The fourth sun is setting - Plan Double Zero."
"Copy that." Talla answered, mouselike and dejected, amidst the thousands of collective screams and shouts echoing through the auditoriums of pitch-black bunker, heard through the opened hatch of the cockpit where Tech sprang into action, having to navigate through a cloud of dust when the first wave of bombs hit.
(ONDERON)
It was happening again.
Deep within the hot, humid, darkened jungle, Rex dragged his sleeved arm over his face dotted with sweat droplets, and tapped a few keys on his wrist computer that's light only made his face shinier. "We're closing in on the drop zone, only two clicks more northeast."
"Mhm." Sweaty Talla could only muster a few seconds too late once it processed through her pulsating head, both from the mind-numbing chorus of screeching nocturnal bugs built up into a crescendo once again and the abrupt cut off from her boys. Whatever happened on their end didn't sound good. She was staggering a few steps behind Rex, breathing was more hyperventilating, she was ridden with tremors. It was too much, it was too much, it was too much-
But Rex finally noticed, stopped and turned, was immediately alarmed at the terrible state she was in, even evident in patchy moonlight, "Woahhh," He breathed, reaching out a hand, "Take a knee, soldier."
Talla weakly brushed past him slurring, "Jus'keepgoing -" The world finally spun too fast for her, her head was being pierced with a thousand vibros,and her eyes rolled to the back of her head when as dangerously swayed-
Rex had to run to reach her in time, caught her by the forearms, "Woah, hey, hey!" Remaining level-headed he held Talla up by her elbows, and led her to the nearest tree, "Easy, easyyy..." He coaxed her to gently fall down against the slippery trunk. Yet his alarm only spiked up when Talla locked her arms over her ears. Her face was scrunched so bad, and she rocked back and forth as if she was in a world of excruciating pain! "Talk to me, Talla, what's going on?" He demanded, not knowing what to do, not knowing he was making it worse, Rex had never seen something like this, when was she injured?!
The buzzing, her clingy clothes against her damp skin, Rex breathing, Rex's talking, Rex's sweat, her sweat, her own breathing, her uncontrollable movements, the smell of the wet dirt and bark and leaves and whatever animals padded through here. Talla's head began jerking side to side, her teeth were gnashing, it was all too much! Tears poured down in rivers on her red blotchy cheeks.
Without warning, Talla tore an arm away from her head and clawed out her blaster.
Rex jumped back, on instinct his hand snapped to his own strapped at his side, "Hey, put that away, soldier," But when she put the barrel to her head stupid desperation made him jump back towards her, "NO DON'T DO IT -!"
The bug shrieking ceased.
Rex and Talla froze, for that eerie, heavy blanket of silence returned.
And it saved Talla's life. Slowly blinking, she slowly regained control of her body and mind and senses. Slowly raising her head, Talla became fully grounded within the present moment, and that the end of a blaster barrel was against her temple. By her own hand. She met Rex's wide-eyes with her own, blurred with unfallen tears, and both were struggling to catch their breaths.
The hum of a starship was heard in the distance. Something was incoming, their blood ran cold and the trained soldiers scrambled to their feet, Rex pulled out his dual blasters and Talla her vibrosword to fight off the danger-
No wait... it was actually the Republic gunship they were meeting to be exact. It zipped by just above the treeline, nearly cutting off the tip tops of the trees in it's frantic flight path. The repulsors stirred up dirt, fallen leaves and Talla and Rex in its wake. They both tucked their weapons away to get ready to run, one unable to meet the other's penetrative eye.
(RONAY EMERGENCY BUNKER)
For fifteen consecutive minutes, the bunker was engulfed in darkness.
When that first wave hit, the many variations of livestock in the stables blared and honked and whinnied and reared and weaved.
People stumbled around with their hands feeling around for any obstacles yet still ran into each other.
Some fell off elevated walkways where bones were shattered.
Children were crying out for their equally distraught parents.
That second wave knocked down light fixtures, wall decorations, and suspended furniture, which crushed some unfortunate souls. The entire, 'impenetrable' infrastructure creaked, and was ridden with earthquake-like tremors long after the strikes abated. Tiles cracked, pipes burst, arches sagged.
The bunker's backup generators were top of the line... like a millennium ago. They were effective, but slow as molasses, even after Tech shoved away panicked technicians, clicked on his goggles work lamp and took matters into his own hands.
But no matter what it would have been too late. The Separatists had been watching, and waiting, for the storm to pass just enough, to be the fine line between their blind spot and the bunkers, because droids were a cred a dozen, and it didn't matter if the ship crashed as long as it struck in one general area. By having the Republic forces tangled up and spread thin in both space and land, they had found the stronghold's weakness and exploited it: the majestic river and waterfall, and the shields lining them.
How all systems shut down simultaneously, had yet to be determined. Tech had a ghastly theory though, but without a code cylinder he had no access to the data that could prove it. Everything here, save for doors and starships, needed a code cylinder to access.
When the dust from the storm cleared, the comms were back online, and security cams had full visibility of the black wall of smoke. They didn't need that to clear up, it became crystal clear what had happened when the Bad Batch pushed through the chaos and scoped out the perimeter. The blue fairy dusted magnificent waterfall dwindled, dwindled, dwindled until the last drop fell onto Hunter's outstretched palm. Forty miles away, the river met the beginnings of a mountain range, where the Separatists had used enough explosives to cause avalanches from both sides, creating a dam that cut off their main source of power for everything, from electricity to potable water to the shields. And backups always had less in their reserve than the main source.
His brothers stood on the ledge before the big-ass door that now seemed a small spec at the end of this canyon.
Wrecker cheered, "WHOO, I guess we're back in business, baby -" He pumped a fist, "YEAHAHAH -!" Because it was not like them to worry though. The Bad Batch liked a challenge.
Not everyone shared that sentiment.
A blood-curdling scream blared from inside, ending their elation for some good thrills heading their way. Shooting each other glances, they bolted through the massive doors, and Hunter barked at the scowling doormen to seal them up.
Among bustling, limping, shell-shocked crowds filing into the Hangar Bay to gawk at their doom, they found one of the The Ten mothers collapsed on a repulsorlift.
Highly disheveled, she was wailing into the dirty, torn skirts of someone who was remarkably calm given the circumstances. The-Elouise was patting the back of the woman's lekku with such contrasting selfless, gentleness and compassion that made Crosshair instantly suspicious. "It will be alright, Mama, I am sure this is all a terrible misunderstanding." Thea-Elouise promised her apparent mother.
Nearby, Commander Narami's ears were folded down as she frowned down at a datapad held up by a wary security guard, so Hunter jogged up, his brothers right behind him. "What's going on?"
Maiv reached up to twist her earring, and Hunter could sense her heart pounding in her chest. "That is Duke Depon's wife, Duchess Alessandra Depon, and they just finished the head count for their immediate and extended family." Maiv took the datapad and gave it to Hunter, twisting her earring again after her hand was free, "Duke Elaeis's second born son, Elea, is missing, as is one of the escape pods." Very clearly, you could see the back of a baby-blue pigmented tog no more than eighteen years old darting through corridors, dodging servants, and pointedly keeping his face away from security cams even though it was pointless because everyone here would be able to distinguish him by his lekku and montral markings.
Even more intrigued, but for a different reason, Crosshair spared a second glance at Thea-Elouise and the one she called 'Mama.' Duchess Alessandra looked nothing like her AND was a pure blooded tog, like her husband Elaeis Depon. Like their son Alessander who was the spitting image of his father. Like their other son Eleas who seemed to be the spitting image of his mother. Like that couple standing by with their, CRIPES, like fifteen kids, the mother was extremely alike to Elaies - must be his sister. But how could Alessander's mother be his cousin, Thea-Elouise's mother? What kind of weird family dynamic was going on here and... 'And why do you care?' Crosshair immediately focused back on his brothers.
Looking over Hunter's shoulder, Tech's eyes widened just a tad seeing the incriminating evidence play before his eyes, 'I suppose it was not a glitch after all.' Elea must have been keeping just as a watchful eye on the storm as the Separatists, waiting for the fine line between the bunkers blind spot and the escape pods, and had the insight to know that with the complex grid work of the shields, there would be a split-second opening upon ejection for his pod to soar through. Still, he definitely had the lack of foresight tendencies common in teenagers, because the escape pod's flight path was set for Kuat, the main continent, on the outskirts of the capital city and right in the middle of newly established enemy territory.
Tech grabbed Hunter's full attention, they both stepped aside, "I should inform you that comm connections were briefly back online before the first bomb wave, and I was contacted by Talla."
Hunter was glad his helmet was on, and the rest of his armor concealed his entire body seizing.
"And who is Talla?" Maiv queried, inserting herself into the conversation, tugged at her earring again, then folded her hands behind her back expectantly, glancing between the two.
With a straight face, Tech adjusted his specs, "Our squadron's clone operative, who is currently aiding Onderon civilians in rebelling against the Separatist occupation, alongside Clone Captain Rex from the 501st Legion and Jedi Commander Ahsoka Tano."
"I am glad to hear that Onderon, according to all the urban legends that scour the youngling classrooms, is in the most capable hands, but how does this help us here? In the Kuat System?" Maiv asked incredulously, and the tips of ears drooped a teeny bit, because felt it a slight on her part that he did not inform his Jedi CO first that the comms were back on. That was how it was supposed to work, wasn't it? Young, inexperienced Maiv was so unsure about so very many things, and had not interacted with the Bad Batch much since they were trapped here.
Tech pried the datapad out of Hunter's locked hand, stepped up to Maiv's side and since this datapad was unlocked, he had access to lots of data, "It helps because according to this and Agent Talla, Elea is flying straight into -"
"When discussing matters that involve my family or my business," Duke Depon broke through the circle between Crosshair and Hunter, steely-eyed and his voice strong with offended connotations focused on the Zygerrian hybrid, "I will be included, from start to finish, is that quite understood, Master Jedi?" Again, it seemed to take a lot for him to say it.
When the man rolled his eyes at his wife's increased crying volume, Maiv's compassionate Jedi heart burned. She quickly willed the force to quell her ire and keep her calm. Her ears flicked back and she only bowed her head meekly as always, "Of course, your grace, forgive me, we were simply wanting to present a swift solution instead of adding to Duchess Alessandra's distress by discussing the grim details in front of her."
"Especially given that the Separatists have gained control over your homeworld's main continent and the northern hemisphere, coincidentally where your wayward son's escape pod is set to land." Tech stated factually, tact not a virtue of his, and his brothers helmeted heads slowly turned towards him.
Duke Elaeis visibly bristled at the perceived insinuation. His skin prickled bystanders gasped, whispered, glared.
Maiv quickly moved to Tech's side. "Soldier, tact is the art of making a point without making an enemy, or enemies for our allies." She said low enough for Duke Elaeis to miss out on, but not his brothers.
His brothers scoffed.
Baffled Tech blinked down at Maiv, "I was not intending to make any enemies, Commander, I was simply stating that according to our clone operative, Cosiima is an active war zone, and citizens who were not able to make it to the highlands before the droids staked their claim are being held captive at City Hall." Tech informed her, and Maiv took a step back, her heart rate spiking again, "And the Separatists have just landed at Rothana Heavy Engineering in the Quiberon Sector, and it is on a planet-wide lock down to preserve citizens from execution." That last bit caught Elaeis's attention, his face paled dangerously because that was his family's subsidiary division. "And the power for a bunker of this magnanimous scale does not simply switch off, even more suspiciously, before any bomb was detonated, which is why -" He turned the security guards datapad back towards her, and by extension Duke Elaeis, "I find this time stamp of Lord Elea's departure is rather incriminating - approximately ten minutes before the main power source was cut, which is a rough estimate of how long it takes for the cut off sequence to be process through all the systems."
Duke Elaeis did not move, did not speak, he was a statue with his impassive gaze glued on the spectacled clone's innocent face, and behind him his wife's sobs only growing worse. This clone was suggesting, in front of his entire social circle, that his own son was responsible for all of this?
Maiv held her breath, even Hunter did, because to lose the carefully earned compliance of these rich snobs over Tech 'stating facts' was a real threat. For a moment, Maiv and Hunter feared the man was going to have a heart attack.
"My son needs to be retrieved." Duke Elaeis only said diplomatically, and held his head high when returning to his wife's side just as she seemed to have cried out all her tears. He addressed Maiv Narami and all the Bad Batch as the motley crew the Republic had sent them, finally had to accept that they were his only hope that everything he built wouldn't be destroyed, "I want him returned unharmed and unquestioned." He turned his head to the right, talked down to the young woman comforting his wife, "Elouise, if you would be so kind as to escort her ladyship back to her chambers, and Alessander," His faithful firstborn came to his side, and his father laid a heavy hand on his shoulder, "It is you who must accompany the team chosen to infiltrate Cosiima after all," He squeezed Alessander, "And bring your brother back."
"No!" Duchess Alessandra cried out, "Send Elouise!" She shoved away the young woman's hands, got up on her own, and with a swish of her skirts she exited the holodrama with this kick to the gut: "I cannot bear to lose any more of my children, so send her with the clones, and bring my baby back!"
At least, it was a kick to the gut for the one who just affectionately called her 'Mama.'
With such an overt rejection of the familiarity that the self-proclaimed daughter expressed, Crosshair watched Lady Thea-Elouise's face flash with an emotion other than pompous degradation or suspiciously calm - wounded, even as her bird affectionately draped her long tail around her mistress's waist with a low warble.
(ONDERON)
On a dalgo pulled repulsorlift cart, Rex and Talla rode back to Iziz, all the supplies hidden underneath copious amounts of organic matter, just like the ruse used the first time to get into the city. They intended to use a different entrance to play it safe. Talla claimed the right to control the reigns without room for argument. She wanted to keep herself from yanking chunks of hair out.
The repulsors of the cart kept the bugs at bay, and they were riding in silence until Rex broke it, with a wistful look about him at mentioning a fallen brother. "I remember Echo asking you a lotta questions about your enhancements but, that kind of science stuff is lost on me." Rex turned his face towards Talla, whose eyes remained locked forward. "Perhaps you could dumb it down, and explain what happened back there."
They passed under a moon beam, revealing the dried patches of tears Talla had weakly let fall when she was so weak as to let a little buzzing drive her to insanity. "I have all of my squadron mates' enhancements combined: eyesight, senses, mind, and strength." Talla monotonously, recited data from her file, "They had preexisting anomalies in their DNA upon creation, and the Kaminoans found a way to enhance them, and that's how my Bad Batch boys came about. And then, the Kaminoans took it a step further by finding another doner so they wouldn't waste the Jango Fett samples, and they worked hard to alter these new strands to then have these enhancements, to create the ultimate weapon." Rex's nose scrunched, "There were fifty-eight failed attempts before me, the first batch popped outta the tube not making it past infancy; the next not able to handle the acute cognitive training, becoming unhinged as soon as pressure was added and were rendered absolutely useless; the second to last were unable to withstand the intense strength training regime because of the same issue; and the last bunch could handle it all, but once the endurance tests began, they did a complete 180 and became unstable."
'Endurance training?' Rex had never heard that term before, but felt if he interrupted Talla would clam up.
Talla's reddened eyes narrowed at nothing in the distance. "I was part of the last batch but as you saw, I am not without defects, there have been some definite flaws that have made themselves known since I left my sheltered facility on Kamino."
She said nothing more after that, "Stress?" Rex guessed, and draped his left arm over the seat's back to appear casual. Non-threatening. Approachable.
"And that damn buzzing." Talla cursed, "I wanted to try some exposure, it's the only way I've learned how to properly manage explosions, blaster fire, starship repulsors, the works of war."
"That's to be commended, but you should have warned me." Rex mildly censured her, "Communication is what keeps a team alive, it's what we've been trying to teach these rebels - we need to practice what we preach."
Talla's jaw set, but she wasn't annoyed at Rex. "I remember, Captain." She was annoyed at herself. Furious at herself. "It won't happen again."
"Mm-hm." Rex looked away for a second, shut his eyes and prayed for the strength to do this, for the Council to be wrong, for the ability to lie out of a paper sack if he got trapped in one, "You said there were fifty-eight failed specimens before you." He remarked conversationally, though there was some pitch. Talla hummed in acknowledgement, "Batches of clones are generally made in groups of five so," He counted off with his fingers, "Six batches didn't make it out of the tubes, number seven not past infancy and snowballed until your batch, number twelve." He waved his hand in her direction, "You would have been fifty-nine, so there's one more, sixty, who survived, if my math is correct?"
Years of training came rushing back. Agent Talla's senses tingled, heart leapt in her throat, but she remained stony-faced, lightly flicking the reins to disguise the need to fidget. "What do you mean?"
"The Kaminoans and their decision to use Kaminoan governmental funds to sponsor this Clone Agent Project." Rex outright baited her with. "Does that mean we'll be seeing another one of you running around soon?"
In the hot and humid jungle, Agent Talla felt cold to her core. To give her time to formulate a response she drew her eyebrows together, and tilted her head, as if not comprehending the absurdity of his statement.
"It's not every day we hear of new faces on the block." Rex rambled, hooking the fidgety fingers of his right hand in his belt loop, trying way too hard to seem causal, "Word travels fast amongst the brotherhood by means of the Clone Network," He chuckled, "And some of the new shiny's on Coruscant were blabbering about a lot of new faces on Kamino."
He was a terrible liar, Agent Talla first processed. Whenever she spawned into these GAR warfronts with her team, every single mistrustful, judgemental once-over was permanently etched into Agent Talla's brain, and it was painfully obvious one of them had chosen kind Captain Rex to be the information fisherman. Whether or not he was on their side, she didn't have enough prior interactions with him to compare it too. That was to remain inconclusive for now.
Agent Talla played it safe, hung her head and breathed out a loud exhale, gathered her thoughts together, and looked dodgy-eyed Rex in the eye with a slack-jawed expression, "I'm sorry, I'm just in shock." She lied, but at the same time told the truth, "I had never bothered to think about the number discrepancy," Until Convor told me, "I've wanted to do anything possible to forget Kamino since I was deployed." Played the sympathy card, and Rex did adopt a puppy-eyed look, "Do you know anything else? Do - do I have a little brother or sister? Are you able to send me whatever data that has been circulating? I need to know, I need to see this with my own eyes -" SAC-1 rambled, like what was to be normally expected of Talla when she was agitated or excited.
How fooled Rex was, to think that they were off the hook, and he had the potential to reach a new level of familiarity with Talla of the Bad Batch.