Chapter Text
“Why are we going to Ord Mantell?” Omega looked up at the seemingly haphazard crew aboard the Havoc Marauder as Tech knelt in front of her to tinker with the comm device fastened around her arm. “I thought the plan was to lay low.”
“Not while a bounty hunter is after you. We need to find out why.” Hunter’s voice sounded about as haggard as he looked, which was more than usual. Their close call with the bounty hunter on Pantora had taken the wind out of them all, especially Hunter.
“I know an informant there named Syd. ‘Might be able to help.” Echo offered Omega an answer to her question.
“And you trust him?” Wrecker voiced the concern that already weighed heavy on everyone’s minds.
“Well the Jedi trusted him.” Echo insisted.
“The Jedi who are all dead?” Tech cut in, releasing Omega’s arm to stand and meet Echo’s gaze. It was a harsh observation but not an inaccurate one.
“Well--” Frustrated, Echo shook his head. “--anyone have a better option?”
Ord Mantell -- 19 BBY
The light was dim inside the old gambling parlor, causing the neon glow from slot machines in various states of disrepair to cast odd shadows across the stone floor. The tables sat abandoned save for a few patrons of the unsavory variety who nursed their drinks between a hushed conspiratorial conversation. Music played quietly from an old holo device behind the bar--which had no bartender--yet a lone body sat atop one of the stools with an untouched glass of Corellian whiskey in front of her. The Pantoran woman looked as if she might have wished to melt into the shadows herself with her choice of simple black pants and tunic. Had it not been for her the golden color of her eyes, which contrasted brilliantly against her blue complexion and dark hair, perhaps she might have. Gaze lowered, the green glow of a datapad illuminated her face as she poked halfheartedly at the figures on its screen.
Heavy footsteps announced the arrival of five strangers descending the steps that led to the entrance--four fully outfitted in modified Republic armor and the other… The Pantoran caught sight of the group in the reflection of a long, dirty mirror that hung behind the bar. The fifth stranger was no more than a child.
“Charming… ” The sarcasm in the soldier’s voice couldn’t be missed. One after the other, they removed their helmets to reveal one strikingly similar face in four different variations. They were clones, no doubt, but at even first glance hardly anything about them was standard.
“Which one of them is Syd?” A gruff voice came from the one who sported the dark stylized image of a skull on the left side of his own.
“I couldn’t tell ‘ya,” Another replied as he took a quick glance around the small collection of customers. “I only heard about Syd, never actually met him.”
“That would’ve been information to share earlier,” The sarcastic one quipped. His reflection in the mirror displayed a more angular face than his brothers, partially obscured by a pair of heavy goggles that surely did more than merely improve his eyesight.
The woman at the bar let the beginnings of a grin pull at the corner of her lips as she looked away, pretending to pull her attention back to her datapad. But she wasn’t the only one using the mirror to her advantage, and the flash of her gold eyes in the glass wasn’t quick enough to escape the attention of the crew’s most inquisitive party member.
“You’re Syd, aren’t you?”
Slowly, the Pantoran turned her head to study the child who had wandered up next to her stool. The young girl looked up at her through a mess of blonde hair with a smile reminiscent of a Loth cat who’d proudly returned with a mouse. The child eyed the blue-skinned woman with blatant curiosity, drawn particularly to the symmetrical yellow tattoos that decorated her chin and brow bone.
“Smart kid.” The Pantoran hummed a short laugh and arched a single eyebrow. “They’re friends of yours?” She tilted her head towards the soldiers, who still stood clumped together near the doorway. From the sounds of it, their muttering was quickly devolving into bickering.
“Yes, they’re my squad!” The girl answered proudly before sticking out her hand. “Syd, I’m Omega. We’ve been looking for you!”
Syd’s gaze flickered from Omega to the group of strange clones and back again before she carefully let the kid take her hand to give it an enthusiastic shake. Mimicking the reaction she’d overheard just moments before, Syd simply replied, “Charming.”
“I found Syd .” Omega spoke into the comm on her wrist as if she’d won some sort of game. Her voice crackled and echoed through the comms of her ‘squadmates’ across the room. All at once, their conversation fell short and four pairs of eyes fell first on Omega and then on the woman seated at the bar. Syd, however, found that she only met one pair in return--two hazel eyes that expertly sized her up from behind the lenses of those unusual goggles.
Minutes later after Omega had happily run them through some introductions, they all crowded into the small office in the back of the cantina. Syd looked at each of the clones in turn, silently reminding herself of their names: Hunter--dark and broody, Wrecker--big and loud, Echo--clean cut and to the point (with some extra chrome for good measure), and Tech. Leaning back and folding her arms over her chest, Syd let the cluttered desk behind her prop up her weight as her gaze lingered on the last brother--a little brains to go with all that brawn.
“I have to say, this is a new one. I’ve never had a group of clone deserters show up on my doorstep.” As she spoke, Syd turned her attention to watch Echo gently steer Omega away from touching one of the many artifacts that decorated the room, souvenirs from days past that ranged in value from a pretty stack of credits to purely sentimental.
“Yes, well…” Preoccupied with examining the contents of a shelf of old hard-bound volumes, Tech only glanced towards the rest of the group rather distractedly. “We’ve separated due to a fundamental difference in ideology.”
“I would hope so--” Syd started, a little shocked by the matter-of-fact way he referred to the Empire’s most recent actions on some of the galaxy’s less fortunate worlds as a ‘difference in ideology.’ She had a long list of reasons to keep out of their new Empire’s way herself, and at the top of that list sat her past affiliations with the Jedi, who were now labeled as criminals guilty of treason.
“Are these original transcriptions?” Tech interrupted her before she could say any more. He pointed to the books that lined the shelf in front of him, their spines ratty and worn away with age. “Huttese, Mando’a, Twi’leki, Outer Rim Basic…” He listed the names of the various languages as he recognized them.
Syd hesitated, still reeling from the hasty change in conversation. “I… Yes, I guess you could say I’m a collector.”
“If you can read all of these, I’d say more than that.” Still focused on the volumes, Tech reached up to readjust his goggles as if to get a better look. “You’re a polyglot.”
“A poly… what?” Wrecker spoke up, seeming disgruntled.
Tech breathed a quiet sigh and stepped back from the shelf, turning to face the others. “A polyglot.” Though he repeated himself for Wrecker’s benefit, he noticed Omega was also waiting patiently for an explanation. “A person who is able to understand and use several different languages. Based on her interest in antique texts, the array of mementos from various galactic systems and peoples, and the article she was reading in Rodian when we first arrived--though the datapad could have easily translated to Aurebesh had she asked it to--” Tech looked to the woman in question. “--Syd is almost certainly a talented xenolinguist.”
Despite herself, Syd felt some of her caution slip away in favor of intrigue. His observation of her took her by surprise, and she found that it was almost a pleasant feeling to be seen so keenly. She held Tech’s gaze evenly as a sly smile softened her face. “Trying to make up for being outdone by the kid?”
“Tech, we’re supposed to be playing nice ,” Wrecker drew out the word as he moved to elbow his brother in the side. He’d intended to be discreet, but there was little about the larger clone that fell into that category. The amount of force was enough to jostle Tech on his feet. “Quit calling names.”
“Calling names?” Irritated, Tech shoved Wrecker’s arm away. “Not at all. If anything, it was a--”
“ --compliment .” Syd finished the sentence for him, a glint of mischief in her eyes. There was a moment of pause in which some semblance of unspoken understanding passed between her and Tech. It was the same addictive boost of adrenaline that a particularly savvy gambler might feel when realizing they’ve been sat across the table from an opposing player who might actually give them a run for their credits, or a speed junkie podracer who finally met a challenger worth racing.
Tech didn’t protest her word choice, agreeing instead with a simple, “Precisely.” The contrast between speaking to Syd and speaking to Wrecker was stark, even with just a handful of sentences exchanged. Perhaps the difference was not so extreme when he considered conversations with Hunter, Echo, and even Omega, but there was something that still didn't quite measure up. Tech got the distinct impression that he was looking at someone--maybe for the first time, certainly for the first time in a long time--who he might consider able to keep up with the relentless stream of thought that flooded through his mind without requiring childish translation. He wanted to test his theory, but he wasn’t allowed the chance.
“But you have worked for the Jedi before?” Hunter pressed, choosing to ignore the back and forth that strayed from their mission objective.
“Worked for. Worked with. Sure.” Syd nodded as she let her demeanor fall serious once again. “During the war, a couple of Jedi were dispatched to Pantora to diffuse a hostage situation that had suspected ties to the Seperatist cause. My name came up in their investigation. Told them what I knew and ended up testifying at the Senate trial.”
“And in return the Jedi… relocated you. Protected their witness,” Echo offered. His revelation seemed to dawn on all of the newcomers at the same time, as each of the clones and Omega turned to look at Syd as if under a new light. She wasn’t a begrudging informant exchanging tips for years off of a prison sentence; she had been a civilian asset to the war effort.
“And ‘Syd?’ That’s the name the Jedi gave you when they set you up here on Ord Mantell,” Tech followed Echo’s train of logic a step further, peering at her thoughtfully from behind his glasses. “The name they used to contact you for future inquiries and how Echo remembers you from their comm channels.”
“Now you boys are on a roll,” Syd teased. Although she made light of the situation, a distant look glossed over her eyes as they spoke of the past. Her connection to the Jedi would always have been considered traitorous in some circles, but with the hand of the Empire closing tight around the throat of the galaxy, it was now more dangerous than ever. Quickly, she chose to shift focus back onto her visitors. “And that’s what you can continue to call me while you tell me what you’re all doing here.”
She listened attentively as Hunter recounted their run-in with the mysterious bounty hunter on Pantora. He described, as best he could, the bounty hunter’s looks, how she operated, and how she was only focused on Omega. The rest of the crew seemed expendable to her as long as she left Pantora with the child in tow. Syd nodded along, all the while racking her brain for any known underworld operatives who might fit the description. Off the top of her head, there were none. However, that didn’t mean that she couldn’t reach out to a few contacts and find out.
“Can you help us? Tell us who hired her?” Hunter finished. Syd’s eyes moved to land on Omega, who now stood close to Wrecker’s side with her head hung low. It was obvious that hearing Hunter retell the story of the bounty hunter encounter made the kid feel guilty for being the cause of their trouble. Hunter followed her gaze only to step rather protectively into Syd’s line of sight. The gesture didn’t even cause her any offense, only a solid reassurance that Omega was lucky to be in good hands no matter who the bounty hunter’s benefactor might be.
“I can help,” Syd answered, moving to push herself away from her desk. “And I’ll do it for only the credits it will cost me to get the information you need. No profit off the top. Consider it my last job for friends of the Jedi.” She expected at least one of the soldiers to break into a smile or offer a word of thanks, but when Syd glanced around the room she was met instead by a series of confused and sullen looks.
“We… don’t have any credits to speak of,” Tech admitted, the first to break the silence. The others nodded or shuffled about sheepishly. Even Omega looked disappointed in their luck.
“You didn’t mention you came in here looking for favors.” Syd’s words landed with her audience a little harsher than she intended them judging by the way Hunter bristled in response.
“You won’t help us, then. Is that it?” The edge to his voice would have sounded threatening had Syd not already noted the watchful eye he kept on Omega--that all of them kept on Omega. She saw not a cold threat, but rather the frustration of a protective guardian.
It was then that it dawned on Syd how truly out of their element Clone Force 99 was standing in the back room of a gambling parlor in the slums of Ord Mantell. She was looking at a group of soldiers who had lived for the Republic that created them. They knew wartime and battle strategy, weapons and mission objectives. They did not know what happened on the other side, once the Grand Army of the Republic moved their forces to another front and left a planet behind. They didn’t have currency, contacts, or contingency plans to fall back on. And thus, they had followed the one lead they had in hopes of finding an ally who sympathized with the Jedi and the Republic.
And they had found one.
Syd took a breath, glancing down at her boots as she weighed her options.
“Alright, let’s try this--” She looked at Hunter first, as he seemed to be the one calling the shots. “I can help you in exchange for some work on your part. Something you’re good at.” She eyed the clones carefully as if to determine what that might be. They stared back at her expectantly, each of them in turn--Hunter, Echo, Wrecker, Tech--four highly capable former soldiers of the Republic should’ve been able to handle the local variety of scum with no issue.
“There’s a particularly nasty gang that runs a fighting ring on the other side of town.” Syd stepped up to the holoprojector in the center of the room and pressed a few buttons to pull up a glowing, three-dimensional map of the city. “Fighting Corellian hounds, taking bets. They rake in more credits than their lackeys know how to count.”
“You’re asking us to take out your competition?” Echo asked incredulously. “We aren’t mercenaries.”
“Competition?” Syd narrowed her eyes at the accusation. “This old dump is nothing but a place to hide--a hiding spot your Jedi put me in.” She waved her hand dismissively towards the door. “If I was running the bar out there as my primary source of income, I wouldn’t have enough credits to keep the lights on.”
Echo and Hunter exchanged a glance before the latter encouraged her to continue. “Go on.”
“I shouldn’t have to tell you Corellian hounds aren’t native species to Ord Mantell.” Syd pressed another couple of buttons and the image on the holoprojector changed to one of a large four-legged animal with fearsome fangs. “They’re domesticated on Corellia as hunting and protection companions, and for good reason. They’re dangerous if they haven’t been trained. Or--”
“If they’ve been trained to kill.” Hunter concluded, running a hand along his jaw as he mulled over what Syd was offering them. “You want us to clean up their dog fighting ring, knock them down a peg, hurt their flow of credits.”
“I understand that you aren’t mercs,” Syd’s eyes shifted to Echo just briefly. “But this is not a personal vendetta. And these are not nice people. The profit they make pours into other operations--spices, trafficking, you name it.”
“We do this, you get us information on our bounty hunter. I get that. But what exactly are you getting out of all this?” Despite the fact that she stood tall enough to meet his eyes comfortably, the way Hunter was looking at her suddenly made Syd feel small, even on her own turf.
“Isn’t it obvious?” It would be Tech’s clipped accent that spoke up this time. “Ord Mantell isn’t known for its low rate of crime; however, that in turn provides an ideal environment for a person to bury their identity and lay low. That is likely why the Jedi chose this planet to relocate their witness in the first place. And even after all this time, Syd has managed to stay relatively safe. This is a calculated play on her part to help ensure that safety.”
“And how do you figure that?” Echo’s brow furrowed. “If it’s not a personal vendetta…”
“The criminals in question have a distinct prejudice towards individuals who are not human.” Tech fixed his gaze on Syd. “Being intelligent, well-connected, and of a near-human species herself, others in the community see Syd as being in a position to help them.
While Hunter’s stare had made her feel small, Tech’s managed to do the opposite. Syd could have sworn that even through the glare of his goggles, she caught a glimpse of something that softened his analytical scrutiny. It lifted her up rather than put her down. Once again she felt seen through those eyes, and in this instance, she was grateful. He had saved her from a difficult conversation.
“She didn’t say--”
“She didn’t need to. It could not have been more clear.” Tech spoke the words with a finality that discouraged any other lingering questions for explanation. Rather than say more, he simply pointed at a corner of the desk just behind Syd.
Amongst the scattering of everyday items there was a neat stack of currency from other planetary systems. Most of the money had long been out of circulation in favor of standard Republic credits, and there was not enough of any one kind to buy much more than a hot meal. It was a collection--’payment’ accepted from those who insisted on compensating Syd for her work but did not have credits to spare. To save their pride, she accepted a token from their homeworld and assured them it would mean a great deal to her to add it to her collection. The assortment of outdated currency sat in front of a small holoframe that displayed the still image of Syd smiling alongside a young Twi’lek woman.
Tech had noticed the small tribute just the same as he’d taken note of the other items and artifacts that filled Syd’s office. To him the room seemed a greater display of individuality than any clone, even the Bad Batch, was ever allowed or encouraged to achieve. It struck him as deeply personal, being able to stand amidst her trinkets and collections and spot puzzle pieces that, when put together in the correct manner, might make up Syd in her entirety. He thought fleetingly of what his bunk on Kamino might say about him should he observe it from a stranger’s point of view, but surely whatever it might reveal was not half as interesting as one corner of Syd’s office. He noticed, too, the way that her eyes caught on his and appeared reluctant to let go, even when she’d started to turn her head back towards Hunter.
“Do we have a deal?” Though Syd phrased it as a question, the renewed confidence that had filtered into her posture, the tilt of her chin, the corner of her lips all conveyed that she already knew Hunter’s answer.