New Order - day unknown.
Mayday woke. Another night full of dreams, nightmares. He was still trying to piece them together but they were so disparate. So confused, except that they always ended with his last mission and Crosshair.
He had survived the Empire, so far.
The door opened again and Donca entered
"You keep coming back to me. What do you want?" Mayday accused her. She came to see him everyday and he was getting restless, being enclosed for so long whilst being physically healthy. He needed to get out and about — fight.
Fight the demons from the Outpost.
He saw them every night now.
All his brothers and Crosshair.
Then find Hela.
"Talk, like we always do."
"So, I'm still a prisoner?"
"No, you can leave whenever you want. But I do want you to think about what you're going to do out there."
Mayday touched the shaved part of his head, "Thanks for this. You said you had to relieve the pressure on my brain, so what exactly did you do?"
"Drilled a hole in your head." She waited for his reaction.
"Oh, that's all! Glad I asked." He replied sardonically. "Did you find anything else?"
"There was a dark shadow on the scans but it reduced eventually and it's healing well, unless you have any pain, headaches, blurred vision or memory loss."
"No, nothing. You did a good job."
"Thank you."
Donca watched him; he also was studying her.
"They put chips in our heads, you know."
"Chips?"
"Bioengineered chips that could control us."
He had felt that control and the lack of his own will to override it.
Donca's hand went to her holster. Perhaps she had made a mistake; she had heard the rumours but it had never been verified.
"That's why I'm asking. Did you find it. If you didn't. You need to scan again to make sure. What level scans did you use?"
"The only one I could find. It was from the Outpost but Zak tinkered with it. Tried to make it stronger."
"Can I have a look? I'm medically trained to a certain level."
She handed it over.
He turned it over in his hands, studied the controls; he saw where it had been opened up.
"He's enhanced it? And it records so you can compare scans?" He asked.
"I can ask him." She pulled out her com.
"Zak! How far did you enhance the scanner?"
There was grumbling on the other side before a young man's voice replied . "It should be able to scan to an atomic level five but you said make it as good as possible to do brain surgery. So I did."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"You never asked!" The com closed off.
"Atomic Level five." She told him.
"Scan my head again. Just there." His voice betrayed his concern and he pointed to just under his circular scar.
"There was nothing there."
"Humour me! Check. Highest resolution."
Rumours of the reason for the chips had spread through a small part of the GAR, after Fives death but he dismissed it until Order 66. He felt it, when it triggered, the lack of control but there was only Baylan near him.
Donca scanned his head, checking the readouts.
"Nothing— there's nothing there. You're clear."
She saw the relief on his face.
"All the clones had dreams, you know, before the Order. Afterwards we put it down to the chips."
"Why?"
"We could never remember the dreams but they were there."
"Sometimes you don't."
"After the war, the effect of the chip seemed to deteriorate." Mayday recollected, he had never felt it's effects again.
"Or perhaps they were only activated once. Did you have other dreams?"
"The brothers I lost."
"What about the future?"
"As the war went on, more of us dreamt of having more. A number of us questioned what we were doing but we knew nothing else. It was an odd thing to do, to question the war, without which we wouldn't be here. I had a glimpse of that world but even that was taken away from me, with the chip."
"Not any more. You can make your own choices."
"I'd like to look for her, for Hela."
"We can help you. We may look disorganised but we have contacts."
Mayday looked more interested now.
"But?"
"We may need some help from you."
Mayday considered her for a moment.
"Quid pro quo. What do you want?"
"Training. As soldiers."
"All of you?"
"Everyone."
"Have any of you been soldiers?"
"No! Farmers, Doctors, Teachers, students—."
"It can't be done."
"It has to be done."
He watched her; her face showed determination.
"I can do it but it'll be hard."
"Nothing worth doing is easy."
Mayday nodded, "Looks like I've talked myself into joining you."
"It does." She replied, finally feeling she was getting somewhere.
"A word of warning." He continued, "If any of your people are using the gear you stole from the Empire, don't trust it! It's inferior. It's not like the original clone armour."
That much he knew.
.
"So you get to give me the lay of the land?" Mayday asked Finor.
"Yup!"
He was a man of few words which suited Mayday at the moment; he was still finding his feet among these people and many were not happy with him being there.
"How many men?"
"Enough!"
"Still don't trust me?"
"Nope!"
"Know where we stand, then don't we."
He didn't blame him but he had given his word and he would be able to look for Hela. After that he wasn't sure; he couldn't think that far ahead.
Finor took him around the makeshift base; the armoury, vehicle garage, quarters, coms room. They had it all, not like they had in the GAR. All the rebels equipment was mismatched, scrounged from various places and different manufacturers, including GAR and more recent Empire equipment.
He knew which he would trust.
.
Finor watched the man he was showing around; part of him still unable to comprehend that he had been made in a petrie dish or test tube whatever you liked to call it and grown into a sentient being in a glass jar.
He understood Donca's thinking, what she was after; someone to train their ragtag band of rebels because that's what they were. They didn't want to take over the whole galaxy, just their little part free from the Empire to rule themselves. Just as they had wanted to be free from the Republic because all it did was take and take. The CIS weren't any better. They had soon found that out.
But they were too small to go it alone.
They had to admit that.
Then there was this Fulcrum thing that had happened a few months ago.
He turned to look at the soldier next to him, he had to give him a chance.
"Do you want a Caf? We've got a little mess hall thing going."
"An army marches on its stomach. You need good rations to keep the men going." Mayday replied, realising what the man was trying to do. "Yes. That'd be good."
He'd give Finor a chance.
.
Daiyu.
Hela leaned under the shower; they even had hot water here, for part of the day, and for a price. She was hogging it now. The server, she had never found out her name and they had never been back to that Tapcaf, had given them information about accommodation and work, and it had been invaluable.
They secured the small apartment; clean for the most part and reasonable, given that no questions were asked and they paid the price, which she was sure was hiked just for them but work was problematic. She wasn't trained for anything low key.
"You finished yet?" shouted Zur.
Hela switched off the shower, "Just!"
"Good. I've found somewhere else that needs a server and Bouncer."
Hela walked out of the fresher, "We need to keep these jobs."
"I didn't start it with the chef." Zur said.
"Cook. He was no chef." replied Hela.
"He disagreed but still shouldn't have threatened you, you were only saying what that sleemo who didn't like the nerf burger said."
"Perhaps I shouldn't next time."
"Right. We keep our heads down."
"Agreed." said Hela, "We keep our heads down."
.
Barton IV
"So where exactly are we going?" Mayday asked the young lad, Zak, who was carefully packing instruments in the transport crates in Medbay.
"The warmer zone."
"I didn't know this place had a warmer zone."
"There's probably lots of things you don't know about it. The Republic or Empire didn't ask permission to come here."
"You're right. We followed orders and were stuck in that outpost for over a year."
Mayday watched him struggle with the weight of one of the crates; the lad was a scrawny thing, not very tall and barely needing to shave; although it looked like he was trying. There was a little band of fluff on his top lip. Mayday stroked his beard. "Need any help?"
Donca warned him the clones were not liked by some of her group and he had been told this lad blamed him for the deaths of his parents and wanted to leave him for dead, or even finish him off at the Outpost. He couldn't blame him for that; he'd lost enough brothers but he couldn't do anything about it now.
The lad stared at him obviously debating whether or not to accept the offer.
"It goes faster if we cooperate." added Mayday, reasonably.
"They need carrying out and loading up."
"Copy that." Mayday picked up two and carried them out, as the lad watched him.
Finor was loading up one of the transports and took one of the crates off him, pushing it into the rear of the transport.
"Fully recovered then?" He asked, despite already knowing the answer.
"Nearly. Still not up to optimum fighting weight though."
Finor stared at him, "Is that how you see yourself or describe yourself—optimum fighting weight?"
Mayday couldn't stop using all the phrases and acronyms he had been brought up and fought with. It was automatic.
"We were trained from an early age to physically check ourselves everyday to ensure we had no injuries or illnesses that would prevent us fighting."
Every day?" Finor frowned.
"Every day. It was second nature."
Finor leaned against the transport tailgate.
"So, what happened if you were ill or injured, so you couldn't fight?" Finor sensed the man was holding something back.
"We reported to Medbay."
Mayday stared at the crate in his hand.
"And they treated you?"
"Sometimes."
Finor hoped Donca was wrong with some of the things she said about the clones, how they were treated, what the Republic agreed to when they took the army on. It was bad enough that they fought hordes of droids most of the time and he had been part of the enemy that used those droids.
They were told the clones weren't any better than droids and the way the Republic used them seemed to confirm it.
"What do you mean —sometimes?"
"If the injury could not be treated fairly simply….or the cadet's development was off the normal parameters….or it took too long or cost too much to treat…."
Mayday hesitated, he was having trouble speaking about this; he was having trouble with his whole existence at this moment. He had survived while so many of his brothers hadn't.
"Yes?" Finor prompted him.
Mayday reverted to how the Kaminoans spoke, "The defective clone unit was terminated."
"Term…..shit!" Finor said, as he realised what the man meant. They were truly expendable.
Finor frowned and pushed another crate to the rear of the transport, "So how old were you when you started your training?"
"I can only ever remember training, until we left to fight on Geonosis."
"Then?"
"It was fight, fight and more fighting. That's all I knew. But it's what I was bred for. If there had been no war. I wouldn't be here."
Finor watched, as Mayday's eyes unfocused and stared into the distance past the transport.
I thought I had it bad but I had a choice.
"That's it on this transport." He jumped down, pulled up the tailgate and slapped the side three times; it trundled off, "Lets get another ready."
Finor waved the next one in, "This should be the last. Then it's a long drive to the Warmer Zone."
"So what's Donca to you?" Asked Mayday, as they walked to the next transport.
He looked at the crates, these would need a repulsor lift, "You seem very protective of her. You remind me of someone I used to know." He continued, remembering the way Zur was with Hela, despite his protests that he was only a paid lackey.
Finor smiled, as they walked to the living areas, "I was married to her once. Well twice actually if you want to be strictly accurate."
"Married? Twice?" Mayday shook his head.
"Yeah."
"So what's the story?"
Despite himself, Finor was growing to like the clone and chatting like this he was easy to talk to.
"Too young the first time and too late the second time."
"But you're here now?"
"She needs me."
Mayday watched him closely, there was something he wasn't saying, "You're still in love with her."
Finor stopped moving the crate.
"So what if I am and what do you know about love?"
"I know it's precious to find it. So many of my brothers didn't get the chance. Didn't think they deserved it."
"And you did?"
"I don't know but somebody did."
"Was is it this Hela girl?"
"Yes."
"She must be very special."
"She is. She made me realise so much. She wasn't just any girl. She wasn't someone I picked up in a bar for one night. She was my girl."
#
"So Commander? How's your girl? Is she okay?" Veetch asked.
"She's fine."
"Just fine?"
"Yes."
They walked through to the barracks. Mayday watched his brothers, as they passed them. Despite what they were doing, they were all watching him, even though they tried to hide it. Some did better than others. They all knew. If the Republic could rely on just the clones' gossip, they'd win hands down.
"The flowers? Hexx will want to know."
"Perfect. She loved them. They're her favourite. Where's the Sergeant?"
"Talking to the QM."
Mayday didn't ask why. It appeared they had an 'understanding'.
"How many on reprimands today?"
"Here!"
Mayday took the datapad offered to him. He looked at the figures and winced.
"It was the first night." Veetch offered.
"Shinies as well?"
"Sorry."
He looked at the message from the Boys in Red, and winced again.
"We need to find something to keep them busy."
"Yes sir! Also the Marshall Commander wants to see you."
Mayday checked the time, "So much for being on leave."
"Sir."
"Yes?"
"I'm glad everything went well with Hela."
"Thanks!"
#
"Mayday? Are you alright?" Finor's voice broke through his memories.
"Yes. I'm fine. I need to know if she's still alive. It was a while ago when she sent me the message."
"I assume Donca has asked you something which may be mutually beneficial. If you're right about that message."
"I'm right about it. I taught her myself."
"Can you teach us?"
The clone narrowed his eyes for a few seconds.
"The code?"
"Yes. Zak can show us how to embed it in other messages."
"You can use it everywhere, not just embedded."
"Is it that simple?"
"Once you know it, it can be used in many different ways. It's Mandalorian."
"Mandalorian? You'll have to tell me all about how that came about one day."
Mayday smiled, "I will."
.
Zak watched Mayday stretching; he had never spent much time with him before, only when they were loading and he still wanted to kill him and now he was teaching him to fight. One on one.
Donca had insisted and she was in charge.
He was a little apprehensive if the truth be told. He looked at his opponent, stripped to the waist, muscles defined despite his recent injuries and rehabilitation.
Zak was convinced he would never look like that— ever.
He stared at him, trying to count the various scars on the clone's body but he lost it when he reached the twenties. Some looked really old, fading almost to white.
Mayday saw him looking.
"Zak isn't it?"
"Yes."
"How old are you?"
"Fifteen."
Mayday stared at him, thinking he was only just that age—barely.
"Why are you fighting?"
"For freedom. It was bad under the Republic and its even worse under the Empire."
"So by choice?"
"Yes. Your scars?"
Mayday wondered when he would ask.
"That one," Mayday pointed to the rough scars on his abdomen, "was caused by a bomb on Geonosis. My first Battle."
Zak stared at him, wide eyed, "You survived a bomb?"
Mayday smiled.
"This," he pointed to a 3-to-4-inch wide white scar, "Was from a mission on Nar Shadda, a knife fight and that was just shrapnel." He pointed to another scar.
Zak looked at the various other scars and could see one from a chest shot with a blaster and a tibanna burn on his wrist from an overheated blaster cartridge; then there was one on his arm and a nasty one snaking down below his waist band around his hip area.
"This one is from Saleucami where a droid got in a lucky shot."
"It's like a map of all the Battles in the Clone Wars." Zak said before engaging his brain.
Mayday laughed, "I never thought of it like that."
"Can you really teach me how to fight like you?"
"That's why I'm here." Mayday smiled, he actually liked the lad. He was a little on the earnest side but willing to learn, if he didn't kill him first.
"Now?"
"I can show you some moves. Then we could spar, practise them."
Zak's eyes narrowed; Mayday kept a straight face. If he was in Zak's shoes, he knew what he would be thinking. I could hurt him.
"You'll beat me."
"The first time— yes. Then you'll get up. Find out where you went wrong and try again. Then one day you'll beat me. That's what you're aiming for and the only person who can show you that is me."
Zak considered him for a few seconds.
"Okay!"
.
Finor saw them setting up the ring to spar, intrigued he leaned on the wall and watched them. Mayday instructed more of the youngsters who joined him and Zak as they practised. He smiled to himself. Some of these youngsters were working harder today than they had ever done before and most of the time they ended up on their backside.
Finor had fought but nothing like this, he watched, analysing Mayday's fighting techniques, as he went through his demonstration.
There was no wasted energy. His favourite moves were headbutts, elbow strikes, and kicks to the groin area; there was a ruthlessness to each move.
The last of his students got back up and rubbed his shoulder but there were no injuries that would prevent them fighting, pulling a trigger.
"That's all for today. You all need to build up your strength. I'll work on some stamina building ready for next time."
The younglings slunk off. There was only Zak who had originally volunteered for this, the others had been ordered, if you could order rebels. Zak stayed behind to put away the makeshift ring.
"Strength?" Finor asked.
Mayday wandered over to him, wrapping a scruffy discoloured towel around his shoulders.
"They need to be able to survive and that could be running, swimming, climbing. There's no Kamino anymore to provide replacements."
It was the first time Mayday had mentioned where he was born, if that what you called it.
"No. There isn't."
"You want a go old man?" He asked.
"Not me." He shook his head. Donca was right, he was what they needed.
"You're checking me out, analysing my technique. Just in case you need to ….do something."
"If I needed to do something, I'd make sure I had a blaster."
Mayday huffed and looked at the man's face, there were a few old scars there, "But you've fought. Had a broken nose or two, it's not quite straight. So what's your verdict?"
Finor considered his reply, "From what I've seen, you're a brutal fighter who has no compunction about fighting dirty, ending the fight as soon as possible."
Mayday smiled, "Go on."
"I think you'll do anything you have to, to win and will use anything you can as a weapon."
Mayday nodded.
"Were you trained that way?"
"Partly, someone once told me, 'My opponent may care how he wins, all I care about is pissing on his grave'."
"Maybe that's what a Rebellion needs." Noted Finor.
"It is, because it's what the Empire already has, from the top down."
.
