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The first time Crosshair almost lost everything, he was seven years old. Adolescence was famously hard for all species, especially humans, and barreling through those changes at double-speed meant twice the emotional outbursts, growing pains, and sullen sulks. Knowing his brothers were going through the same problems didn't help.
"Stand at attention!" said the trainer, another mercenary paid to train soldiers. Even the regs had to have seen through that farce.
"You don't deserve my attention," said Crosshair, the firmness of his voice undermined by his voice cracking, not dropped yet the way Wrecker's did two months ago or even Hunter's finally managed last week.
"Cadet CT-9904, demerit!" The mercs knew they had some power over the cadets and loved bossing them around. Crosshair couldn't wait until he was allowed live ammunition and then they'd see who was bossing who.
The demerit still stung. Crosshair folded his arms. "So what?" He barely heard his so-called teacher give him another over the buzzing in his ears. The other three looked at him like he'd lost his mind.
Hunter said, "Crosshair," in a warning tone, but Hunter didn't give him orders, either.
"This is stupid," he said. "Give us real guns and someone to respect." He dropped his training rifle and went to the door. His heart hammered in his chest. He couldn't believe he'd just talked back to the trainer. The story went that cadets who got drummed out were served up as chow in the mess. Crosshair didn't know who'd come up with that rumor but it filled his head now. He was going to fail his training and he'd be kicked out, and a clone without his training had nowhere to go.
"Defective," he heard the trainer mutter to his associate, another merc who didn't know what a soldier was for.
Then he heard another sound: Tech, Wrecker, and Hunter dropped their rifles.
"We'll be leaving," Hunter said. Adolescent or not, he'd already mastered a calm tone Crosshair was envious of, but the three of them came to stand by him at the door. When it didn't open, Tech casually popped the panel, pressed something inside, and stood back as the hatch slid open anyway.
Without a look back, the squad left the training room.
Wrecker said, "We're gonna be in trouble." He muttered to himself then said, "Good!"
"We won't," said Tech. "I sliced into the records. These two are on their last chance here. The Kaminoans are about to fire them if they can't do their jobs. Disciplining Crosshair might have been fine, but losing all of us will be the last straw. They'll be gone by tomorrow, and now we have a free day."
Crosshair wasn't good at saying thanks. But he gave a tight smile to Tech as they walked together back to their barracks, and noticed the tight smile in return.
They were on Saleucami, pinned down by enemy fire, and Crosshair was having a very bad day. His favorite rifle had caught a stray blast and was now a useless lump of metal and plastoid. He'd borrowed one of Hunter's guns, and of course he was a good shot with any firearm, but it wasn't the same. There was also the "pinned down" issue. A soldier's job was to do the job and not worry about tomorrow but as the Separatist droids hammered down on their position, Crosshair was starting to get a feeling they were going to die here.
"Tech?" Hunter shouted as he threw the last of his own grenades over the tiny ridge that was the only thing saving their lives right now.
"Wait, please," Tech said, for the fourth time. He wasn't shooting but he often did better work without his weapons. He focused on his datapad, typing so fast his fingers were almost a blur.
Crosshair sat up to get a better view. He missed his rifle very much. He got off a handful of shots while covering Tech's position.
"Any time now!" Wrecker said. He growled and dug through his own supplies. Even under his helmet, Crosshair could see his delight in coming up with an unexpected explosive. "All right!" He stood up, exposing his position to the enemy as Hunter told him to get down right now, then threw the device right into the midst of the rollies bearing down on them. He hit the dirt, partially landing on Crosshair and Tech, pushing the breath out of them, half a second before the explosive wave blasted out over their heads.
It took an hour before Crosshair could reprocess the moment and understand that if Wrecker hadn't shoved them down, the shockwave would have killed them. In the meantime, Tech shoved Wrecker away, finished his work, then pressed one button with a firm push. Over the other side of the ridge there was a high-pitched electronic squeal as the remaining droidekas succumbed to whatever programming glitch Tech had just sliced into them.
Hunter took a deep breath and said, "All right, let's go clean up this mess."
The Havoc Marauder lifted away from the platform and Crosshair wasn't aboard. His head was buzzing with orders and his heart raced, trying its best to burst out of his rib cage. They'd disobeyed orders, and they'd come back to Kamino for the kid, and they'd left Crosshair here. (Fired on them. He'd fired on his ship, his brothers.) His memory went back to the cell, with that girl sitting next to him, pity all over her face. Now that Tech had pointed it out of course he could see the same features of all of reg cadets stamped on her, but all he remembered now, watching the empty sky, was how sad her eyes had been, like she could hear the voice inside his head demanding he follow orders. Tech thought she was one of them, a defective little sister to their deviant brotherhood, a family in which Crosshair had always believed himself the youngest even if Echo was newer to their squad.
And now he'd lost them all.
"Good soldiers," he said out loud, and didn't know why.
He was used to being on his own. Sent on a mission here, given command of a team there, Crosshair wasn't meant to be part of a team. He never had been, not even when it had been his squad of brothers. He was a lone agent, a hand the Empire could send out to enact whatever it needed done.
He looked into the crates again, staring at the cheap plastoid armor he and his new friend had spent all this time and effort to retrieve.
"We're good soldiers," Mayday said. "We followed orders. And for what?"
Crosshair remembered the last time he'd seen his squad, leaving him on Kamino for the second time. But before he could say anything, he heard the rumble of the mountain, and fear gripped him as Mayday shouted, "Go!"
The mountain fell upon them in lung-burning gulps of ice and snow. Crosshair ached over every inch of his body. He'd die here and his brothers would never know. Even as he dug like mad to find the first real friend he'd made in years, he already knew he'd lost everything that mattered.
Pabu was burning, and Omega was gone. Hemlock had sent his forces after her, stopping at nothing to seize his prize. Wrecker was badly injured, another notch in his long list of injuries, and Crosshair was caught between his worry now and his guilt over the wounds he knew he'd caused during his own estrangement from the others. Some of the wounds went even deeper than others. None of them had ever once said they blamed him for Tech's loss despite that loss coming as a direct result of their attempts to rescue Crosshair. He had to blame himself instead, and he'd carry the blame for both of Omega's abductions. The last time, she'd been protected from Hemlock's interest.
"Ventress said she's not a Jedi," Hunter said, reading his face in the light of the flames. "There's nothing Hemlock could do to her if her M-Count doesn't mean that."
Crosshair's hand shook. There was plenty that Hemlock could and would do, and all the blame lay at Crosshair's feet again.
"He must have followed us here," he said.
"We don't know how he found us," Hunter replied. "And it doesn't matter. We need to get out of here, get to Echo, and go rescue Omega."
"From a planet we can't find. It's hopeless." He'd lost everything for them: first Kamino and now Pabu, lost Tech, lost Omega.
He felt Hunter's hand on his shoulder and almost shrugged it away. But he could practically see Omega's disappointment in her absent eyes if he did. He settled into the contact, not deserving this kind touch from his brother.
"We'll find her," Hunter said.
Crosshair was spending more time than he liked under AZI-3's medical care. The surgeons at Tantiss had patched up his wrist but AZI-3 was taking his time in helping the flesh to heal properly. The knitting skin itched under the sterile cap and it was everything within Crosshair's power not to rip the thing off with his teeth for a good scratch.
At least the company was good.
He sat up in the med bed, the best Pabu could provide, and watched as AZI-3 tended the other patient. Crosshair had been wounded, Wrecker had been injured again, and half the clones they'd rescued needed care for injuries inflicted by Hemlock's dark experiments as well as the privations they'd suffered as prisoners. And there was the matter of the other patient.
Crosshair had worked with Jedi. He'd watched Ventress attempt to suss out any kind of Force sensitivity in Omega. He didn't believe in the Force but at the same time he was aware the Force didn't need his belief to function. It must have been the Force that led them through that last medical suite, out of their way to the escape ship, where they'd found one clone under heavy care, critically injured in the past and still recovering from that trauma, but alive.
AZI-3 injected the second patient's neck with another round of antibiotics. "Ow."
"You are almost better," said the droid in its too-cheery voice. "Another three days of rest should be appropriate before we work on your physical rehabilitation. You may be up and walking within another two weeks."
"I would prefer to be working," said the voice in a tone of mild complaint, but not in argument.
"Listen to the droid, Tech," Crosshair said. "Stay in bed."
Tech sighed then gave Crosshair a look intended to be scathing but Crosshair knew enough to see how tired he was.
"Move," he said, and Tech shuffled to make space. Crosshair lay next to him on the med bed. Other people who loved each other would use calming words and endearments to encourage each other to rest and heal. That wasn't their style. But he rested his head against Tech's and listened as his brother's breathing slowed. "I'll stay here with you," he said in promise as Tech fell asleep. "I'm never losing you again."