Chapter Text
You’re nothing but a bunch of fives in a row. That’s all we are, kih’vod, numbers.
26-782 was angry. Bric was treating them all like banthashit again and today he took it out in 27-5555. Normally he could shrug it off, make a rude comment and move on. But 782 had used his numbers, he knew how much 5555 hated it. His serial. He had stormed away, and though he knew that Bric was probably giving Domino squad hell over it he was absolutely not going to come back until he was done fuming.
As he opened the door to an empty room he felt cooled tears drip off his chin, which only served to upset him further.
“I’m a soldier. I’m almost six for stars sake! I’m supposed to be stronger than this. I can’t afford to get so worked up over my own numbers.” He sat heavily on a bench at the far wall, not bothering to turn on the lights and risk getting found by the long necks. Pulling his knees as close to his chest as he could and holding them in place with arms around his shins, he stared at his hands and lost himself in thought.
Just numbers.
Time to watch the Dominos fall.
You’re making me look bad, brats.
Just numbers.
Failure will result in demotion and more.
You can’t help it, you’re just a bunch of whiny clones.
Just numbers.
You’re just a line of fives in a row.
Just numbers.
Just numbers.
“Ahh! That’s just a bunch of boring numbers! Tell me something interesting!”
“Oh-Three, these are interesting!”
“ Osik, no, that’s just statistics and math. Gimme tibanna and C4!”
“Keep it down you two, Oh-One’s got a headache again.”
“Sorry Ninety-Nine.”
How lost in thought was he that four clones had wandered in before he’d noticed? Ninety-Nine was with them, too. He looked up, trying to decide who was who. Three cadets he’d never seen before, and one of them looked so unlike the others he wasn’t even sure he was a clone at all.
The first brother wore four bandages on his face and three more on each hand. He was one of those clones you could just tell was going to be bigger than the others around him, he also seemed to be missing a tooth and was grinning brightly while fidgeting with one of the benches, which 5555 now realized were their beds.
Why the hell do these guys get a private room and open bunks ? He thought bitterly in silence as he continued to watch from the bunk he was hiding in.
The second brother, who looked mildly annoyed at the other’s “tinkering” wore an odd pair of goggles, had much-too-light brunette hair and a thin face. He was a little pale, and sat down at his own bunk and began scribbling on the wall behind it, muttering to himself something 5555 couldn’t hear from his spot across the room.
He saw Ninety-Nine helping a brother, who actually looked pretty normal despite looking like he might collapse any second, to the bunk closest to where he was waiting quietly to be discovered. That one, he realized, must be Oh-One. He looked entirely miserable, and 5555 wondered why the Kaminoans would have kept a clone like that out of decom.
“He wouldn’t have another headache if kriffing Tarshala would let us go to the mess on time!”
“Keep quiet Oh-Four!” 01 hissed “if she hears you it’ll be two more hours of hand-to-hand and I can’t take anymore today!”
Must have been one of the trainers, but before he could think of anything a white haired boy suddenly stepped up to the bunk and froze.
He was thin, his jaw too narrow and pointed, his eyes too sharp, look he could see straight through him. The newly colored bruise forming on his cheek only made his cheeks look sunken, but the glare that crept onto his face pierced through 5555 like a jeti’kad .
“Which of you.” He began, his words slow and careful, drawn out and sharp as a knife “let a Reg, into my bed.”