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The tubie was an Anomaly.
13 peered over the edge of the sterile white crib, watching with unwavering attention at the small being that occupied the vessel.
The Scientists had begun production on the Bravo-class clone line- the ones that would become the commanders and leaders of the Charlie-classes that have yet to emerge from the beta-testing stages. The Bravos were different from the Alphas- they would age differently, maintain a standard height depicted by the Prime, not as strong and independent as the Alphas, but will be autonomous enough while maintaining loyalty to their future leaders that it would be seen as an attribute and not a hindrance. They wouldn’t be like Alphas like 17- who were too loyal, making them too cold and callous and rigid in their moral structure, or Alphas such as 77, who readily bent their orders to suit what they believed was correct.
Too independent, like the Nulls.
But even with this first batch of Bravo-class tubies, 13 knew the moment he’d seen the tubie from the observation deck four days ago when the tubies had been first removed from their vats- that this one wasn’t like the rest.
It looked like the rest- with round cheeks and small hands and feet, a cute little nose and a head of dark fluff. CC-1010 was scrawled across its bassinet, the only allowed outward different between itself and the hundreds of others around it. Yet, unlike its neighbors, it didn’t cry when the feeder drones came and went before it was finished, as if it knew that crying would only prolong the time before it was next fed in some twisted attempt to curb the innate need to wail for food. Instead it stared out at the world, thumb in its mouth and keeping quiet as its colleagues wailed for comfort that would never come.
13 could feel its Strangeness. It wasn’t something he could see, but something he simply knew all the same, a sense of oddity that twinged in his chest. This one tubie- so similar, yet so different.
The Scientists wouldn’t let it live.
13 may only be six years old- six long years of developing and training and being examined for any sign of flaw like 99, but he knew what laid in store for these tubies- unprotected by Prime’s twisted sense of purpose. The Scientists’ need to examine their products, each individually tweaked to see what could possibly be viable and what wouldn’t thrive in their mass-produced versions, would pick up in a heartbeat on this Anomaly. Individuality wasn’t set in this class’s genetic code.
It wouldn’t pass inspection.
13 reached out, gently thumbing the round cheek before him. The tubie wiggled, kicking its little feet, tiny hands emerging from its mouth as it reached out to latch into his fingers.
No one would care what would happen to this little one. They were, as Prime always liked to tell them, empty husks. Droids made of meat and bone instead of wire and metal. Everything that made them alive came from a vial of biomass, fiddled with to suit their needs. Everything had been chosen for them before they had even been created.
13 was only six. Many of the other Alpha-class called him a coward, for always sneaking around, for being quiet and stealthy instead of being brash and forward. But 13 thought himself as brave enough- he simply liked to consider his options and map out what he wanted to do before he enacted on a knee-jerk reaction.
He had already decided his course before he’d even step foot into the Nursery. A great risk, for certain, but 13 was brave. The Scientists would wish to pick him apart to see his malfunction if he were ever caught, but that was alright. It was worth trying.
1010 was an Anomaly, but 13 was too.
The tubie was heavy despite its small form, 13 realized as he picked it up from the cradle. He tucked his arms under its rump, its small head pressed against his neck. He had a ten-minute window to get across the facility to the receiving platforms where the droid-operated supply ship would be taking off before anyone became wise of his absence. It would be four minutes before the feeder drones within the Nursery would realize there was a crib empty and flag it, which would put the rest of the facility on alert as soon as a Scientist came to inspect whether it was an error in the drone’s function or a missing tubie.
He simply had to move fast.
Please be quiet, 13 chanting inwardly towards the tubie in his arms, ducking through wall panels and under walkways on silent feet. Any chance of escape would come crashing down if it were to cry and give away their position now.
But 1010 was more content in drooling on his collar than making any noise, pudgy cheek smooshed against his shoulder. Maybe the Anomaly it was understood the need to be silent in this moment, could feel that 13 meant no harm and was taking it elsewhere.
Whether that elsewhere be safer than here, 13 did not know. All he knew was the roaring waves and stormy skies of the water planet he and his brothers lived on. There was a galaxy outside the waters, but it was strange, vague, conceptual thing, much like the supposed Jedi general who would lead them in a war that hasn’t started yet, to fight a civil war that years if not decades away from fruition.
There was no war yet, so he had to risk the chance, if only for this little one’s sake.
Through shortcuts, it took eight minutes to pop out of a maintenance hatch near Platform 8W, but by then he’d already heard and avoided the heavy feet of Trainers and the slow ambling gait of the Scientists heading in the opposite direction. They must know of the missing tubie now.
Slinking past a camera, the automatic doors hissed open, immediately pelting 13 with icy rain as the wind whipped around him.
In his arms, 1010 whined, burying itself further into his warm. 13 did his best to hoist him up closer, taking a deep breath before he bolted across the void between the doorway and the ramp of the supply ship. He darted in right behind a lifter droid carrying a crate up into the ship just as the ramp started to recede away, the shipments running like clockwork as the demand for food and supplies started to ramp up alongside clone production.
13 ducked into a small cubby just off to the side of the ramp as the ship’s hatch closed, cutting off the stormy chill. 1010 was impossibly heavy in his arms now, his limbs trembling as he found himself dropping down onto the ground in the tiny space, tucking himself around the tubie to preserve some warmth as the ship rumbled underneath him.
He didn’t know where the ship was heading, and didn’t know what he was going to do once they arrived. He didn’t know if it would be safe where they were going, or if it would be like back in the facility where danger lurked around every corner wearing armor or with long sweeping necks.
But for now, they were free. That was all that mattered now.