Chapter 53 The Mirror Image
"I'd never met a man like him, but when I looked at him, I saw the man I wanted to be."
Ken Clarke's Memoirs of Operation Market Garden as told to this author
CT-7567 liked CT-5869.
Liked him very much.
He almost felt guilty about the fact that he was about to take him out to the proverbial woodshed and teach him—and his squad—a lesson.
But guilt could not sit long on 7567's shoulders before it slipped off and drifted away forgotten. In his mind, defeat was not reserved only for your enemies; it was reserved for any adversary. In war, certainly, but also in sports, shooting competitions, obstacle courses, academics . . .
Victory equaled coming out on top, and CT-7567 was bound and determined to be the best at every undertaking; and if it meant burying friends—or would-be friends—beneath a pile of amiable ambition, then he could always tell himself it was meant in good fun. He never did anything in poor spirit, and the idea of holding a grudge was unknown to him.
Now, as he peered around the smelter furnace behind which he was hiding, he waited patiently for the enemy to step into the clear.
"Come on . . . get out there just long enough for me to squeeze off one shot," he said silently. "One shot is all I need."
Echo Squad had made it to this point without any losses, which came as no surprise. The cadre were going to get their firefight one way or another, and at least one of the competing squads was content to give it to them. CT-7567 imagined that Alpha Squad was also at full strength. He'd only seen the two front men, one of which was the squad leader, CT-5869. But it stood to reason that the rest of the squad was in the vicinity.
"That's it, step right into my sites—damn! Damn it! Get back out here!" he grumbled internally as CT-5869 made a series of lightening hops out of and back into the shadowy crevices between machinery.
Nearly two minutes now passed without any sign of the enemy, and CT-7567 was getting worried that something was about to go down.
He spoke into his helmet comm. "This is CT-7567. I've lost sight of them. Anyone have anything?"
"CT-1550. I'm tracking three—maybe four—over by the conveyer belt for the sheet metal stamp," came the reply.
"Copy that," CT-2025 acknowledged. "Who's with you?"
"1448 and 5576," 1550 replied.
"Sounds like they're past our front line," 2025 surmised. "We'll double back and catch them from behind. Open fire when they're within range, but watch out for us coming up."
"Copy."
The order went out for the rest of Echo Squad to double-back.
No sooner had CT-7567 turned than he was face-to-face with the barrel of a blaster, the dark black opening staring him in the eye.
Holding the weapon was none other than CT-5869.
"What the—how—how the hell did you get behind me? I just saw you up there," 7567 exclaimed.
"Drop your weapons and take your helmet off, Lieutenant," 5869 replied. "No secret communications going out to your squad."
CT-7567 set down his pistols and removed his helmet. He was smiling. "I'm damned impressed. How did you get the jump on me?"
"We'll have plenty of time for that later," 5869 said. "Right now, you're my leverage; so don't do anything stupid."
"Leverage? You mean . . . I'm your hostage? Oh, well, now I'm not so impressed anymore," 7567 needled. "There's no hostage negotiations in wartime. They won't stand down just because you've captured me."
"What do you want to bet they will?" came the challenge.
"Huh, then you must know something I don't," 7567 scoffed lightly. "We've all had the same training not to react to hostage- or prisoner-taking. We're trained not to give into torture and not to buckle when we see someone else being tortured. There's no way my squad is going to negotiate anything to get me back."
"Just keep talking," 5869 said with surety. "You don't notice anything, do you? So busy talking that you aren't listening. So busy looking that you don't see."
CT-7567 found the situation very humorous. "What happened to the quiet, laid-back soldier up on the observation ring?"
"He's still here," 5869 replied. "And he's about to lead his squad to victory over yours. Hands over your head. Turn around and start walking."
CT-2025 drew in an audible gasp. "Impossible. Fekking impossible," followed quickly by an order to "Hold your fire!" He could not believe his eyes as he watched CT-7567 emerge from the steam billowing from the cooling vats, his hands resting on top of his un-helmeted head, CT-5869 directly behind him with a blaster pressed into his back.
CT-5869 was flanked by two more of his squad mates. They came forward and stopped at the v-shaped intersection of two conveyor belts.
CT-5869 was not surprised by the cessation of blaster fire. Not at all. He'd expected it. He put his helmet comm on loudspeaker. "Echo Squad leader! Order your men to put their weapons down and to come out into the open with their hands over their heads."
CT-2025 activated his own speaker function. "You know we can't do that."
"But you can negotiate," 5869 insisted. "I can kill him, but I'd rather negotiate."
"What is there to negotiate?"
"We can let each other pass, and then it's just a race to see which team gets to its objective first," 5869 replied. "There's no need for us to battle each other."
At this, CT-7567 spoke back over his shoulder. "That's the most ridiculous—"
CT-2025's magnified voice drowned him out. "If we do that, you can be assured the controllers will put plenty of obstacles in both teams' ways."
"We've both made it past obstacles in our first scenarios. We stand a better chance of prevailing against manufactured enemies than each other."
"Why should I believe you?" 2025 asked.
"Because I have the upper hand, and I'm still willing to negotiate."
"You don't have the upper hand," 2025 protested.
"Then you don't care if I blow his brains out," 5869 tested. "You'd rather see that than make a deal with me?"
"I think I'd rather see that, myself," CT-7567 interjected, at which he felt the muzzle of the blaster jab at the base of his skull.
A moment passed before CT-2025 replied, "We'll come out with our blasters up, if your men will do the same."
"Agreed," came the quick answer.
"Are you crazy?!" 7567 shouted. "Don't do that! We don't negotiate with the enemy! Saving one life when—unh! Hey!" He cringed and scowled as 5869 jabbed him in the back of the head.
"Don't make me kill you," 5869 warned. "Your squad leader has already agreed. You're not in charge, so let's see if you can follow his orders."
"I don't believe this," Alpha's senior controller said with true bafflement. "He's trying to negotiate a cease-fire so that they can get past each other?"
"Is that what he's really doing? Or is this some kind of trick?" Echo's senior controller wondered out loud.
Colonel Claw was amused by both men's disbelief and confusion. "Are you both forgetting where CT-5869 comes from? He spends most of his time guarding politicians and statesmen, watching them negotiate treaties and rally votes to their causes. Clearly, he's picked up some of their way of doing things." A pause. "And I would dare say he noticed something in Echo Squad that most other trainees hadn't noticed yet. In fact, I doubt even Echo's advisor or any of you noticed it."
"What is that, Sir?" Echo's senior controller asked.
"He's recognized the gold ring."
"You mean CT-7567," Alpha's senior stated.
"Precisely. As difficult and overbearing as he might be, within his own squad, 7567's squad mates already think very highly of him. They weren't going to risk him being killed when they had the chance to negotiate," Colonel Claw explained. Then after a thoughtful pause, he added, "And that's a problem. Because it raises the question of whether or not Echo would throw an entire battle to save the life of just one man. CT-5869 could already see it in them, and he used it to his advantage."
"I guess I shouldn't be surprised that he recognized that. He's probably more perceptive of such things, just like he's good at negotiating," Alpha's senior nodded.
"What's surprising is that CT-7567 got caught out." This came from one of the junior controllers. "It's unlike him to make a mistake like that. I'm with Captain Dart—" he was referring to Echo's senior controller, "—I have to wonder if CT-7567 let himself get caught and has some plan in mind."
"I suppose we'll find out in the next few seconds," Colonel Claw replied.
"Ha! How's that for justice?!" CT-3636 burst out with vengeful joy. "The rocketeer gets taken by the diplomat! Wonderful!"
Cody gave a closed-mouthed laugh. "I'm almost afraid to see what happens next."
"Whatever it is, I'm sure it will be entertaining." This from CT-1004. "If I know CT-7567—and I do—he's not going to agree to this."
"But 2025 already has, and he's the squad leader," 5052 pointed out.
CT-1004 smirked, "And you think that makes a difference?"
CT-7567 was horrified—or as horrified as a man could be in a training scenario—as his fellow squad mates emerged from their hiding places, coming forward with their weapons raised; while at the same time, Alpha Squad did likewise.
This was no battle! This was a—a—a truce! A meeting of the minds! This involved no combat skills, no risk, no daring, no expertise on the field of war! There wasn't even any stealth or trickery!
CT-2025 spoke up. "We're all here. What now?"
"We just walk past each other," CT-5869 replied. "I'll just keep him with me until we've made it past." To his own men, "Go past them but don't turn your backs to them."
Alpha Squad followed their leader's orders. And as 5869 moved forward, he kept his hostage close.
As it turned out . . . too close.
No sooner had they passed the last of Echo Squad's men than CT-7567 abruptly threw his weight into 5869, throwing him momentarily off-balance. But in that moment, 7567 doubled-over, grabbed the lower part of 5869's leg and jerked him off his feet. He pounced on top of him and the struggle for the weapon began.
"Blast them!" 7567 shouted at the top of his lungs, hoping to be heard over the din of the machinery and without the benefit of his helmet's speaker system.
He did not see if this command was followed, for in the next instant, CT-5869 had dislodged him and rolled him to one side. One more turn and they would both go over the edge of the walkway.
And that was precisely what happened.
Below them were the body molds into which the liquid metal would be poured to form the outer casing of the battle droids. These molds moved in precision-timed intervals along a conveyor belt, and the jerking movements made standing on the belt the equivalent of navigating a funhouse.
But that did not deter CT-7567 and CT-5869. No sooner had they landed, still interlocked, than 7567 drove the heel of his hand violently against the bottom front of 5869's helmet, disengaging the clamps and knocking it off, where it went skittering over the edge and out of sight. It was a design flaw that the Republic was working on even now, for when the seals were not engaged, it was not so difficult to knock a clone's helmet off. A sharp jab with enough force in the right place could leave a man's head vulnerable.
The two men traded blows until at last 5869 managed to back-pedal just out of arm's reach, in and out, up and over the interconnected molds.
They stood staring at each other, both in fighting stances.
"You know you can't beat me," CT-7567 said with the same cockiness that 5869 had witnessed up on the observation ring.
"The goal isn't to beat you," 5869 replied. "The goal is to plant the flag."
"Huh, do you think either squad is trying to plant the flag now? Or are they back to fighting each other?" 7567 asked. "That's what the cadre wanted: a good fight."
"Yes, and that good fight was only a distraction to steer us away from the objective," 5869 said.
CT-7567 paused and considered his words for a moment. "You know, you're right. If the goal is to plant the flag, everything we do should be geared towards that objective. This is a distraction." For a split-second, a wicked grin flashed across his face. "And I like it!" He shouted as he sprang forward, catching 5869 around the waist and taking him down.
As he pounded away, he burst out in punctuated fragments, "I don't!—even care!—if we win!—or not! This is my!—kind of!—battle!"
It was at that moment that CT-5869 realized that his opponent was speaking no more than the truth. CT-7567 was enjoying this bout of hand-to-hand combat. And there could be no wondering why: the man was damned good at it.
Though identical in size, it did not take 5869 long to realize that 7567 had several advantages. The first was his unorthodox manner of fighting, switching styles with every punch and counterpunch, advancing when he should have retreated and retreating when he should have advanced. The second was his superior strength. While all clones had the same genetic makeup, giving them the same build in general, a clone could increase his strength just as any other creature could: through exercise and diet. It was clear to 5869 that, although 7567 did not appear bulky and muscle-bound, the muscle mass beneath the armor was, even if only a small bit, superior to his own. And lastly, CT-7567's mindset was irrepressible. The man wanted to fight, wanted to show his skills, and he had confidence in his abilities. He knew what he could do, and he had no fear in doing it.
Despite the fact that he was the adversary at the moment, CT-5869 could not help but feel a great admiration for CT-7567. Admiration of skills and determination, yes; but also admiration for the way he had so quickly made himself an almost indispensable part of his squad.
Call it charisma. Call it leadership. Call it heroism. Whatever it was, CT-7567 had it, and it inspired confidence in the men who comprised his squad. And even the men who did not comprise his squad.
For his own part, CT-7567 was astounded that he had come up against a man who was, if not his equal in hand-to-hand, at least a formidable challenge. CT-5869 had stamina, quick reflexes, and the sort of never-say-die attitude that 7567 imagined must be a prerequisite for CG duty. How different it must be to fight to protect lives from immediate danger as opposed to fighting to take ground or destroy enemy capabilities. The idea of literally standing between the enemy and another living being—even if that being was a politician or diplomat—had to entail a sense of urgency and the willingness to sacrifice your own life in the most literal connotation.
CT-7567 was certain it was not the sort of duty he would be any good at. He was a field soldier, a man best suited to combat beside his brothers, fighting to keep them alive as much as fighting to take or hold a piece of alien soil.
And even though they were pitted against each other in this scenario, CT-7567 was already beginning to think that CT-5869 was the sort of man he would gladly call brother, even beyond the genetic meaning.
Up ahead, he could see the funnel through which the molten liquid was pouring into the molds. He figured he had no more than thirty seconds to end this contest. The question was, how to end it?
He needed only a second to make his decision. He had already worn his opponent down; perseverance was all that remained.
He pressed his gauntleted forearm against 5869's throat, bearing through 5869's resistance until it grew feeble and then stopped completely. He stayed on top of him, carefully exerting just enough pressure to keep his foe unconscious. Then, as the mold upon which they were lying was positioned under the funnel, he leapt back and prepared to let the trace-trackers do their job.
But when the funnel opened, CT-7567 inexplicably found himself lunging forward. He grabbed 5869 by the legs and yanked him back, out from under the funnel. Still confounded by his own actions, CT-7567 hoisted the man up over his shoulder, looked over the side at another line of cooling vats filled with water below, and jumped.
*Again, I do enjoy writing how the clones view each other. I like the idea of Stone and Rex admiring each other, despite how different their missions are. Anyone who's ever been in the military knows that's not always the case!