Chapter Text
The resting rooms were always cold at night. Perhaps that was why the Kaminoans decided to group them two to a crib; so that the clone children could share in each other’s warmth, as the thin blankets provided to them offered little comfort. Perhaps it was an issue of logistics, for when so many children were being produced at once, space was a commodity they could not afford. Or perhaps the Kaminoans recognized that the children who were never socialized never turned out quite right; were more susceptible to behavioral problems; could never work in teams like the others did; would never live up to their full potential.
Starting from the day they were removed from their growth jars, the children were paired off with their batchmates and remained joined until after the age of three standard years, when they would be abruptly separated and placed into individual pods. It was the first true sacrifice they would experience, but certainly not the last.
It was not unusual for clones who shared cribs as toddlers, or crib mates, to become unusually close. They almost always were, in fact. As products of test tubes and cloning vats, the children latched onto the few comforts they were offered. They had no toys to play with beyond instructional materials. They were not given physical affection, nor were they coddled or held more than was strictly necessary. They were not indulged when they cried. They were not praised, or nurtured, or loved.
But they had each other, and that was enough.
CT-7567 was always cold. His batchmate had learned this early on, when it became a habit for CT-7567 to stick his freezing cold toes against his torso, and CT-7567’s batchmate would cry so loud he would wake the other children. Now that they were older, CT-7567 knew better than to do such things when he would be scolded in the morning for it. They were Year Twos now. Old enough to walk, talk, and hold a blaster. They would start training with the older clones soon, beyond boring educational modules.
But CT-7567 was still cold, even if he was a Year Two. Tonight, old habits resurfaced, and CT-7567’s batchmate found himself suffering under relentlessly cold feet in the dead of night.
“Keeli,” CT-7567 whispered in a way he thought was quiet, but was quite harsh in the dead-silent room. “‘M cold.”
“Get off, Rex.” Keeli huffed and drew their blanket tighter around himself, pushing at the onslaught of little feet. “I’m cold too.”
“Stop stealing.” Rex tugged at the blanket and rolled over, placing his back to Keeli. “You always do that.”
“Do not. Give it back!”
“Shh!” Rex hissed as if he hadn’t raised his voice just as much as his brother. “They’re gonna get mad.”
“Your fault,” Keeli mumbled. He wiggled further underneath the covers and pressed up to Rex’s warmth. “I can’t sleep.”
“Me neither.” It took all of five seconds for Rex to make up his mind, and he suddenly threw the blanket off both of them as he stood up in their low crib. “I’m gonna get up.”
“Rex!” Keeli sat up and tugged at Rex’s leg, trying to pull him back down, but it was to no avail. “You can’t! They’ll get mad again!”
“I’m cold,” Rex muttered petulantly, climbing over the smooth sides of their crib to land on the cool, tiled floor. “Are you coming?”
The pitter-patter of quick, little feet could be heard across the room as the two boys made their daring journey to the other side. Weaving through rows of hundreds of individual cribs, they located one in particular, in the back separated from the rest of the Year Twos. This was where the Year Threes slept, and Rex knew exactly where to find his favorite Year Three.
“Kote, are you awake?” Rex whispered as he clambered inside the crib. It swayed and rocked with his movements. “Cody. Wake up.”
A small sigh and a sleepy yawn could be heard from within. “Rex? What’re you doing over here?”
“Move over.” On instinct, Cody obeyed, and Rex planted himself between Cody and his crib mate.
“Ugh, you’re freezing!” Cody complained, wrestling his blanket away from Rex when his little brother attempted to steal it. “Why are you over here? Where’s Keeli?”
Cody received his answer when a second boy clambered over him, curling up between Rex and his crib mate. Bly was still sound asleep, somehow; he could sleep through almost anything.
“You can’t keep doing this, Rex. You and Keeli have to sleep by yourselves.” Even as he complained, Cody covered them all with the only blanket they had, hoping it would be enough to stave off the growing chill.
“Couldn’t sleep.” Much to Cody’s annoyance, Rex continued to shift around for several more seconds to get comfortable, before finally settling down with his head on Cody’s shoulder. Keeli was already drifting off alongside Bly. “I had a bad dream.”
“Come on, Rex. You know what I said before,” Cody replied softly, huddling down with Rex. “Bad dreams don’t mean anything. Monsters aren’t real.”
“It wasn’t a monster.” Rex gripped the front of Cody’s sleep tunic tightly. “I dreamed you went away.”
“Aw, Rex,” Cody said. “I am going away. Me and Bly are Year Threes.”
Rex made a distressed sound and scooted even closer. “You can’t stay?”
“No. We’re going to be in the pod room. Training like real warriors.” Cody puffed out his chest proudly. It was the day all the boys were waiting for; the day they transitioned from babies to real cadets. “But you have Keeli.”
“Keeli has cold feet,” Rex grumbled, and Cody laughed.
“No, you have cold feet. You’ll be fine.”
A small sigh escaped from Rex, and he was quiet for a long moment as he resigned himself to his lonely fate. He was a child, and not just that; he was a clone. He had as much control over his own destiny as their blaster rifles did. “But I’ll see you again?”
“Sure. You’ll still see me.” Cody tucked his chin on top of Rex’s head. His prickly blond hair tickled Cody’s nose. “I promise. You and Keeli will be fine.”
Rex sniffled softly. He wasn’t a baby. He wasn’t going to get upset, even if his heart was sad and his tummy hurt when he thought about his big brother leaving him. Keeli would always be with him, but Cody was the one who had taken care of him and protected him ever since he could remember. Rex didn’t have much. All he had was his brothers. The thought of losing them was nearly unbearable. Maybe there was something of Cody he could keep with him when he went away. They weren’t allowed to own physical objects, but the Kaminoans couldn’t steal their memories.
“Tell me a story,” Rex requested, closing his eyes as he relaxed into Cody’s warmth and comfort. “Please.”
“Just a short story. Until you fall asleep.” Cody was silent, and then his gentle voice picked up in Rex’s ear. “I knew a soldier who was old and wise and brave. He had lots of scars because he had been in a lot of battles. One day, the soldier picked up his blaster, and his CO said to him, ‘Soldier! Why are you holding your blaster like that?’ And the soldier replied, ‘Sir, I’m only doing it like you taught me, sir!’ And so the CO wasn’t too happy with that, ‘cause he wasn’t very bright, see, and the soldier was one of the best in their battalion…”