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Chapter Text

            "We located Tantiss and rescued the imprisoned clones."

            Rex blinked at the communications array. Of all the reports he might have been expecting from Echo, this was not one of them. 

            "Rex?" Echo's voice held the slightest hint of concern now. "Do you copy?"

            Realizing they were not communicating via holo, and therefore Echo couldn't see that he was currently gaping in speechless astonishment, Rex cleared his throat and hastily replied, "Yes, yes, I'm still here. It's just... I thought you were going to call in support before breaching Tantiss."

            The mission to extract two clone squadrons from the Imperial Army forces stationed on Dermudo had been urgent, but Rex had almost called it off once word had come through about the Imperial incursion on Pabu and Omega being recaptured. It had been Echo and Howzer who had convinced him that since they already had a plan in place to save the squads, they couldn’t miss the opportunity; and when Echo had volunteered to go alone to rendezvous with Hunter and the others to carry out a plan to retrieve the coordinates to the elusive Tantiss base, Rex had conceded to still seeing the Dermudo mission through. If he had known Echo and the Bad Batch were going to attack Tantiss immediately... 

            "There was no time," Echo said. "We couldn't extract the coordinates the way we had planned, so we had to hitch a ride on the Imperial science vessel to get to Tantiss. I tried to send you a message, but it must not have reached you."

            "It didn't," Rex said regretfully. He had even risked keeping his comms open to outside transmissions during the extraction to make sure he didn't miss any messages from Echo. He hated knowing Echo and the remaining members of Clone Force 99 had faced a danger like Tantiss without proper backup... But there was nothing he could do about that now. At least they had all made it out safely. "Do you have coordinates now?"

            "We can feasibly pull them from the navicomputers of the ships we took from the base,” Echo said thoughtfully. “Are you thinking of keeping that space monitored?"

            "Yes." Might as well try to stay on top of things in case the Empire had any other plans for Tantiss. But since it didn't sound like Echo thought it was urgent to return... "Wait, did you say you rescued ALL the imprisoned clones?"

            "We found them all, yes. We lost a lot of good men in the fight on the way out, but we still have over three dozen survivors." As if anticipating Rex's next query, Echo said, "Should I give you a full debriefing now?"

            Rex glanced over his shoulder as Howzer entered the room, and nodded toward the comms before remembering yet again that Echo couldn’t see him. "That would be appreciated."

            By the time Echo had finished detailing the mission, Gregor, Heddy, and Chaser had joined the listening audience, looks of growing amazement apparent on their faces. 

            "... We just got back to Pabu," Echo finished. "I'll be heading over to Pantora shortly to discuss living arrangements for the rescued clones with Senator Chuchi."

            It was just like Echo to not keep still, but the other clones… "They don't want to stay on Pabu?"

            "It'll be easier for them to give their testimony to Riyo if they're on Pantora." 

            "That's true," Rex ceded. "Anyway, it shouldn't be too challenging to find accommodations for them. Riyo says most of the Pantorans are fully supportive of clone rights."

            "How did the extraction on Dermudo go? How many clones did you get out?" Echo asked with interest.

            "Both squads," Howzer put in now, "and we didn't lose any this time. Twelve of the men want to join our cause, too." This had been a most welcome development, as the additional volunteers nearly doubled the number of active clones working the underground efforts.

            "How are Omega and Crosshair holding up?" Rex asked. Hearing Omega had been recaptured had felt like taking a B2 droid’s punch to the gut, and he couldn’t even begin to imagine what Crosshair had gone through in returning to that place of torture.

            Echo's voice held a distinct note of pride tempered with brotherly concern as he said, "Omega has always been resilient, and she hasn't lost her drive to help, but she's going to need some time to recover. So will Crosshair." He paused before adding, "Really, all of them need some down time, but Hunter is already talking about finding the families of the kids we discovered on Tantiss."

            "I can help with that," Rex volunteered promptly. Locating families of kidnapped children - including a baby - wasn't going to be easy; but the Bad Batch had been through enough in the past year, and they needed support. Besides, they had helped find the location of a secret base that had eluded Rex's forces for months. Assisting Hunter in this latest objective was the least Rex could do. "Let Hunter know I'll reach out in the next day or two."

            "Copy that. I'll be in touch again once I've spoken with Riyo." 

            "Thank you, Echo." 

            Once the transmission ended, Rex turned to look at the other men in the room and wasted no time making assignments. "Gregor, once I leave, you'll be in charge of getting the new recruits up to speed and given their assignments. Howzer, keep on top of any extraction requests and keep me in the loop. Chaser, I'm pulling you off your current assignment - I need you to go to Pantora and help Echo with anything he needs there." 

            "What about the investigations into the work camps?" Heddy asked. 

            "Those will continue as they are." Knowing how personal that line of work was to Heddy, Rex added, "We need you to stay on comms monitoring, but Backlash will need assistance with processing the intel from the investigations. Can you do both?"

            Heddy straightened, a glimmer of heightened resolve in his eyes. "Yes, sir."

            "Very well, then." Rex nodded. "Let's get back to it." 

            Howzer kept his position, leaning against the wall facing Rex, as the others nodded and filed out of the room. "Do you want to share the news from Echo with the others, or should I?"

            Rex sat in the chair in front of the communications array, stifling a groan as he wondered why he hadn't thought to sit down when Echo had first contacted him. He had been on his feet too long - times like these, he really felt his age... or maybe older. Biologically speaking, he was only 32 years old. Did all 32-year-olds get stiff this easily from standing for over three hours? Forcing these musings from his mind, he answered Howzer. 

            "You can do it, I have a few more things to get settled before I contact Hunter." Realizing how tired he probably sounded at the moment, he forced a lighter tone as he added, "The boys will be happy to hear we got Tantiss. And right after another successful extraction, too." 

            "We needed these wins," Howzer said bluntly. "Things are moving too slow, Rex, and the situation just keeps getting worse. And the worst part is, apart from Senator Chuchi and a handful of other sympathizers, no one seems to care what happens to us." 

            Rex shook his head. "The Empire is oppressing so many people, Howzer. Everyone's just trying to survive." 

            "The Empire isn't just oppressing us, Rex. They're trying to erase us. Get as much use out of us as they can before we become a footnote in history. What kind of existence is that?" 

            Rex looked steadily at his friend. "I know, Howzer. Which is why I'm not giving up until the clones have been granted freedom." 

            Howzer nodded slowly. "So long as we're on the same page." 

            “Have you given any thought as to what you want to do with your life when we are free?” Rex asked musingly. The fight had always come first and foremost - he HAD to save his brothers - but seeing the Bad Batch find a place for themselves as something other than soldiers had made Rex start to consider what other lifestyle options may be available in the future for the clones. 

            Howzer immediately shook his head. “Not really. Not much point, is there? I can think about that once we win - assuming I survive that long.” 

            Howzer hadn't hesitated in giving his answer, but Rex couldn't help but think he wasn't being entirely truthful. Howzer was highly focused on the cause, but Rex got the feeling there was something more that Howzer did personally want but had already concluded he would never be able to obtain even when the fight was finally over. Still, if Howzer didn't want to share it, Rex wasn't about to pry; and he gave him a small smile. 

            “If you keep up talking like that, Howzer, you're going to end up sounding like me.”

            “Well, you're not so bad,” Howzer deadpanned. 

            Rex grinned wryly. “Thanks. Anyway, after you make the announcement, make sure Kade is getting dinner ready. I'm starving."

            "Sir, yes sir," Howzer saluted, his professionalism rather undercut by a good-humored eye roll, as he exited the room. 

            Now that he was alone, Rex indulged in a long sigh. Howzer was right: things were moving excruciatingly slow. Pulling clones out of Imperial service and tracking down those who were in danger of being imprisoned for questioning orders was time-consuming and very risky. With the losses sustained on some of the missions, sometimes it seemed they were simply trading one life – or even two or three lives – for another. Organizing a mass breakout or demonstration from the few holding facilities and barracks the underground knew the locations for wasn't feasible since some clones were still doggedly loyal to their oppressors and would readily turn in any brother they suspected to be a traitor. No one could operate in the open, either: even with the clone trooper program being phased out, all clones were still considered Imperial property, and any clone found out in society was known to be a deserter and treated accordingly. This, of course, meant that any rescued clones had to remain in hiding, while having practically nowhere safe to hide. And there were limited resources to find safe places to hide, too.

            Given all of this, for some time Rex and the others had entertained the idea that decommissioning might actually work in the clones' favor, especially with Riyo Chuchi pushing hard for the clones to be treated fairly; but with the reports that were now starting to surface about what decommissioning actually entailed... 

            Rex ran a hand over his face before pulling up the latest reports from the Senate hearings and diligently perusing them for any updates on the clone situation. He and his team would continue saving any clone who asked for help escaping Imperial servitude; but in the long term, legal processes were crucial for their success. 

            This was another reason why the successful breakout on Tantiss was such good news. In order to bolster her objective to obtain the clones' freedom, Riyo Chuchi needed all the evidence she could get her hands on to back up her claims that the soldiers were being treated inhumanely by the Empire, and testimonials from men who had been subjected to Imperial-sanctioned involuntary experimentation would go a long way in not only drawing needed attention to the clones' plight, but also shedding a light on the Empire's depravity. 

            It would be a long road, but the clones would win their freedom.

            Rex would make sure of it. 

*****

            Tarkin glanced at his timepiece as he walked toward the shuttle. It was about time he was finally able to leave. He had been stuck in this embarrassment of a base far too long already. 

            "Governor Tarkin! Sir!" hurried footsteps accompanied the voice sounding behind him. 

            Not bothering to hide his displeasure, Tarkin turned to face the officer. "Yes, Commander Bennett?"

            "Before you leave, there is something you need to see."

            Tarkin stared, unimpressed. "I believe I left the details of shutting down this facility to you and Captain Bragg."

            "Yes, sir, and we have the operation well in hand; but, respectfully, your input is necessary regarding certain assets." 

            Tarkin raised his brows. "What assets? I thought all the data was destroyed, along with most of the material for the experiments." Those that didn't escape, at least, he thought with a frown.

            Bennett hesitated. "It's probably best if I show you." 

            A moment of consideration; then, "Very well," Tarkin conceded, falling into step beside the commander. 

            The trip through the facilities took far too long, and served to remind Tarkin of the extravagance with which Royce Hemlock had carried out his charge overseeing the Advanced Science Division. Tarkin's lips pinched into a thin line at the thought of all the ways the funds could have been put to better use, but he kept his composure. It didn't matter now; Hemlock's experiments were at an end, and now the resources would be used for projects which would actually ensure order in this infuriatingly and stubbornly defiant galaxy. 

            Finally, Bennett stopped next to a nondescript door and gestured Tarkin toward it. "They're through here." 

            Somehow managing to straighten his posture even further, the governor stepped through the doorway ahead of the commander and stopped short, his gaze circling the chamber, the hum of machinery the only sound breaking the heavy silence in the room.

            He now understood why Bennett and Bragg had wanted his input. 

            "What should we do with these, sir?" Bennett asked. 

            Tarkin was silent, considering the best course of action. He wanted to simply leave everything here to rot - most of the critical machinery in the main compound had been destroyed, rendering specimens and various samples non-viable anyway. But he couldn't afford to leave this kind of evidence behind, and he doubted Palpatine would be pleased if he destroyed it. The Emperor had backed Hemlock, after all; and while Tarkin wasn't sure just how much the Emperor had known of the details of Hemlock's experiments, he did know his leader well enough to understand the Emperor would be most displeased if Tarkin wasted viable material such as this. 

            "Prepare the assets for transport on my vessel," Tarkin finally said, hiding a grimace of vexation at the need for him to delay his departure yet again from this loathsome base. In any case, perhaps the discovery of these assets would ease Palpatine's displeasure over the catastrophic failure that had been Tantiss. Casting one more glance at the equipment in question, he stalked away, barely registering Commander Bennett's "Yes sir." 

            He may be stuck here for several hours more, but he had work to do to deal with the clone problem for good, and there was no time to waste. 

*****

            Commander Wolffe walked into the spacious office at the Imperial Inspectorate HQ and stood at attention. 

            "You wished to speak with me, Admiral Dumize?" 

            The admiral looked up from the reports he was reviewing, his expression unreadable. "Yes, Commander." Now looking past Wolffe, he gave a small nod to the officer standing in the doorway. "Thank you, Lieutenant Tomas. That will be all." 

            Once the door had closed, leaving Dumize and Wolffe alone, the admiral leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, letting the silence stretch on. Wolffe retained his composure under the scrutiny, frankly meeting the admiral's gaze as he wondered what this was all about. Were the clones on the Recovery Strike Team now up for decommissioning? Wolffe had a hard time believing it - both the TK troopers and the CT troopers on the mixed team worked very well together and had proven their worth many times over - but with the rumors going around...

            "CC-3636," Admiral Dumize finally said. "With the recent incident on the Tantiss base, certain clone unit deployments that Royce Hemlock had taken the liberty to deem need-to-know have now been released to me for review." Wolffe had to admire the senior officer’s restraint: the irritation in his voice when he spoke about Hemlock was barely noticeable. Dumize now glanced down at a screen on his desk before fixing Wolffe with a hard stare. "Would you care to explain your team's failure on Teth?"

            Wolffe was stymied, but he knew better than to show his unease. Truth be told, he was surprised he hadn't been called in to explain himself long before now. Dr. Hemlock must have kept his demands even more close to the chest than Wolffe had originally thought. But now, the long-awaited conversation was at hand. "I submitted a full report explaining events, sir."

            "Yes, you did," Dumize agreed. "And to ensure I had a full picture of your failure, I recently spoke with your second-in-command, RC-352. Certain discrepancies between the two reports are most concerning."

            Wolffe felt it again - the niggling sensation in the back of his mind, the compulsion to be obedient, to follow orders without question, to tell the full truth and lay bare every minute detail of the mission. He was a soldier of the Empire; he needed to obey. Why he had ever questioned his orders on Teth...

            But no, he had done what he had deemed prudent on Teth, he had reported the situation truthfully while taking care to protect his men, and he was going to continue to protect them now. Ignoring the part of his brain that was screaming at him to fold to the questioning and comply, he asked steadily, "What discrepancies?"

            "For example, in your report you indicate the presence of a group of clones aiding the target, and that after a brief encounter with your team, the clones got away with the target. Your lieutenant, on the other hand, reveals you had a full conversation with the leader of the rogue group."

            Wolffe maintained his composure with dignity - his own life and the lives of those on his team depended on his carefully discreet navigation of this discussion. "What Lieutenant Hilo apparently described as a conversation, I described as an encounter." 

            "Hmm," Dumize was clearly unimpressed. "And you didn't apprehend these clones because...?"

            "We couldn't, sir. They were armed, and by the time we caught up to them they had already reached their rendezvous point for a pickup. Our orders were explicit that we were to bring in the target alive and unharmed, and attacking their vessel would not have fulfilled that objective."

            "So you indicated in your report,” Dumize acknowledged, his voice hardening; “but truth be told, I don't care about the failure to acquire the target. I'm more interested in what happened before these insurgents boarded their vessel, since apparently you somehow had time to talk to them." 

            "I demanded that they hand over the target, yes." 

            Dumize tilted his head. "The way RC-352 describes the conversation, one would think you let them get away." 

            Wolffe didn't even blink; protecting his team - even his lieutenant - took priority over strict obedience and honesty right now. "Hilo must have misunderstood."

            Dumize fell silent, studying Wolffe through narrowed eyes for several long moments before leaning forward and placing his hands on his desk. "I'll have to take your word for it. Regardless, your team will be facing disciplinary action for failing to apprehend clone deserters. Imprisonment is the lightest sentence that comes to mind. "

            Wolffe paled. His team were great men, dedicated and loyal; he would not let them suffer for this. "With all due respect, Admiral, my men did their duty to the letter: they obeyed my orders as their commanding officer. Failure in any aspect of the mission is my responsibility. Any punishment should be my burden, and mine alone."

            Dumize's face remained unreadable. Wolffe could only hope his own desperation wasn't obvious on his face. After what felt like an hour, during which time Wolffe had to consciously remind himself to breathe, Dumize abruptly nodded. 

            "I will be lenient this one time, Commander, not just with your men, but also with you. I warn you, however, this is the only second chance you will ever get. We need to know if you are fully loyal to the Empire, or if your loyalties are divided elsewhere." Dumize's expression took on a chilling intensity as he leaned closer toward Wolffe across the desk. "Fail me again, and I will make you suffer, as well as your men for following a traitor. Do I make myself clear?"

            Wolffe forced himself to look straight into his superior officer's eyes. "Yes, sir."

            Dumize nodded again, and his expression returned to its usual inscrutable severity. "Very well. I will also remind you that any clones who are not on active duty in the Imperial Army or serving as decommissioned units on authorized work details are all deserters and are to be treated as such by any soldier who comes across them. Is that understood?"

            "Yes, Admiral."

            Dumize didn't acknowledge the response, instead turning his attention back to his screen. "With that cleared up, I have a new assignment for the Recovery Strike Team."

            Wolffe nodded briskly. "We're always ready, sir. What is the mission objective?"

            "Bringing in a cell of clone deserters."

Chapter Text

            Fel stood as the transport shuttle landed with a soft jolt, and joined his brothers in filing out of the shuttle to line up on the rocky ground outside. He eagerly took in his surroundings for a moment – the light red and gray planet appeared barren and uninhabited save for the sprawling fenced base facing them, though he had seen several cities just a few miles away when they had flown over – before noticing the frown on the face of the brother to his left.

            “Cheer up, Hoz,” he said brightly even as he kept his volume to a low undertone. “It’ll be fine.”

            Hoz spared him a disbelieving side glance before shaking his head. “I don’t know how you manage to stay so optimistic. I know you’ve heard the rumors too.”

            It was Fel’s turn to shake his head, though he smiled. He knew Hoz better than any other clone – after all, he and Hoz had started out as batchmates and made it through cadet training, the war, and the aftermath together; but even so sometimes Fel wondered how Hoz fell for these kinds of stories. “That’s your first mistake. Don’t believe the rumors. They’re never accurate.”

            “Packer has never exaggerated before…”

            Fel scoffed lightly. “What would Packer know? He doesn’t exaggerate, sure, but the people he was talking to might. For all we know, he was talking to those rebel clones who kept kicking up a fuss before being decommissioned. They can’t possibly be a reliable source of information.”

            “But…”

            “You and I have been good soldiers, Hoz,” Fel reminded him. “We’ve never caused any trouble. We’ve followed orders. We’ve served the Empire. There’s no reason for them to treat us harshly.”

            Hoz didn’t have a chance to reply before the gates of the compound swung open loudly enough to prevent any further conversation. A tall, roundish man in lieutenant garb, flanked by a squad of TK troopers, marched through the opening, stopping a few feet away from the new arrivals and peering austerely at the orderly lines of fifty clones standing before him. After a few silent moments, the lieutenant cleared his throat, clasped his hands behind his back, and began to speak.

            “I am Lieutenant Gorsig,” he said in a tone that somehow managed to be commanding despite the nasally quality. “Welcome to the mining facility on Farsi. We recognize the many excellent traits the clones have exhibited – loyalty, obedience, diligence – and while you no longer serve on active duty, the Empire is prepared to show gratitude for your service by providing all clones the opportunity to continue contributing to the Empire.” Gorsig’s sharp gaze swept over the men as he continued, “I remind you all that decommissioning is not a punishment or a demotion. It is simply a reassignment, the next stage of your service. All of you here at the Farsi mines have proven yourselves to be stalwart, dedicated soldiers of the Empire. As long as you do your work, you will be taken care of.”

            Fel, standing at attention, let the promise chase away any doubts Hoz had raised in him. He had served as a fully commissioned soldier for only three months before the Clone War ended, and had been grateful for the opportunity to continue on as a soldier for the newly organized Empire for the past two years. When word had filtered through the ranks that decommissioning efforts were being accelerated, Fel had hoped his history of dedicated service would mean he would keep his commissioned status for some time yet, and had been rather disappointed when he and his squad had received orders two weeks ago to report to the admiral for decommissioning instructions. Upon hearing that the process functioned more or less as a reassignment to a work detail, which recognized the clones’ contributions and granted them continued purpose, Fel's relief had made room for his innate optimism to bud once more.

            Now, with Lieutenant Gorsig reiterating similar talking points, Fel found himself almost eager to get to work. A shiver of anticipation ran through him – though that shiver might have been influenced by the currently chilly temperatures.

            "Today, each of you will be assigned a clone worker who will show you around the facility, explain the expectations, and answer your questions. Tomorrow, the work begins. If you will each step forward when your CT number is called."

            Fel didn't have to wait long – "CT-81-4891" was the fourth number called out. With a brief nod to Hoz, Fel stepped toward the TK trooper and was waved onward with the instruction "You're with CT-6690."

            "The name's Amos," a voice greeted him before he could ask for further clarification; and Fel looked to the right to see a clone in a gray jumpsuit approaching him. The clone’s shaved head and neatly trimmed beard accentuated the intensity of his gaze, and Fel made an effort not to audibly gulp under the scrutiny.

            “I’m Fel,” he introduced himself, holding out his hand in greeting.

            Amos deigned to give him a brief but firm handshake, his well-calloused hand rough against Fel’s. “Come on,” he said a touch gruffly, “I’ll give you the guided tour.”

            Fel looked around with interest as he was led through the gate. One-story buildings lined up neatly on either side of a main thoroughfare; workers – all clones – moving purposefully in orderly groups; TK troopers making their rounds on the ground level, others surveying the compound from the raised partitions that lined the fence; the muted rumble of machinery below ground; the odd but not altogether unpleasant smell of earth and oil and wood smoke and soup from what must be the mess hall almost succeeding in covering up another scent that struck Fel as familiar but he couldn’t yet identify – all of these details matched closely with the scene he had anticipated when he had first learned he had been assigned to a mining facility. As expected, this was a well-organized base run on high standards of order and discipline; this was exactly what Fel was used to as a soldier, and would suit him well.  

            “Mess hall’s over there, barracks over there – you’ll get your uniforms tonight, three uniforms allotted per worker, washing facilities are in the back of the barracks, you’re responsible for keeping your own clothes clean. Local rotation is 26 hours, sleep cycle starts at 2400 and ends at 0500, work assignments are posted daily at the mess hall. We rotate through assignments on a pretty even basis, so you won’t get worn out too quickly so long as you learn fast, there’s no real time for training, you have to learn as you go. You’ll probably be on kitchen duty tomorrow to start with, make sure you don’t burn the soup, they don’t allow extra rations for do-overs. These are all storage facilities for the praxium. We don’t refine it here, we just dig it up.”

            “What’s that building?” Fel asked, pointing to the one low building Amos had passed by without naming.

            Amos spared it a quick glance. “The infirmary. You’ll never go there except once,” he said cryptically, before launching into the daily mealtimes.

            Fel absorbed Amos’s rapid-fire explanations as best he could as he followed his trainer deeper into the compound towards the lifts that would take them to the first level of the mines. Amos gave the briefest of overviews of the mining equipment as they dodged small groups of workers while walking along the narrow tunnels latticing the site, eventually concluding with, “But you’ll learn all this soon enough,” before falling silent.

            “It’s a smaller operation that I was imagining,” Fel admitted when they circled around to head back to the lift.

            Amos shrugged. “This mine was reopened less than a year ago. It was one of the first labor camps the clones were assigned to.”

            “How long have you been here?” 

            “Three months.” Amos pointed to a nearby clone. “Derin over there has been here the longest, about six months.”

            The mine had been manned with clones since it was first opened a year ago; but the senior worker had been here only six months? Fel frowned in thought.

            “How long is the assignment?” he finally asked Amos.

            “Until you’re dead.”

            It wasn’t the answer itself that startled Fel, but the abruptness with which it was delivered; and he stared at Amos, not noticing Hoz passing by with another clone. “What?”

            Amos raised a bemused brow at him. “You’re here for the rest of your life. We were born for the Republic, we die for the Empire, and we serve them all the years in between.”

            “Well, of course, but…”

            “They didn’t explain it to you?”

            “No… I mean, yes, I mean… I know what decommissioning entails,” Fel said, flustered. “What I mean is, what happened to the clones who opened this operation? Where did they get sent to?” 

            Amos stopped short in the middle of the tunnel and stared at him for a moment before a singular expression crossed his face. He shook his head and turned away before Fel could interpret the look. “You don’t understand,” he said softly. “Not yet. But you will.”

            A growing sense of unease settled on Fel. With Amos having seemingly exhausted his repertoire of explanations, and Fel unable to remember any of the other questions he had meant to ask, the trip back to the surface passed in silence.

            Crossing from the dim light of the tunnels into the bright, brisk air on the surface above lifted Fel’s spirits slightly, and he tried to smile, remind himself how good it was to be here, to still be valued by the Empire; but his lips froze in an odd half-grimace as he stopped and looked around the compound again with the knowledge that some secrets were being kept here.

            For the first time, he noticed the oppressive sense of watchful waiting hanging thick in the air, a feeling he thought he would only ever experience at the commencement of a battle. He noticed that the guns lining the fence weren’t pointed outward to stop intruders, but rather all pointed inward toward the compound. Come to think of it, why were there so many TK troopers here, simply to oversee reassigned former soldiers? Clone troopers – especially trusted, reputable clone troopers like Fel – on a work assignment shouldn’t need this level of surveillance, if they needed any military surveillance at all. And now, he noticed that the men, the workers walking around in their orderly groups, all of them looked… afraid.

            “Amos,” he said quietly, “I thought all the clones here had spotless service records.”

            “We do,” Amos nodded in agreement, subtly prompting Fel forward by starting to walk down the main path. “At least we weren’t assigned to some of the other decommissioning sites. From what I hear, one of them is worse than Kessel.”

            Fel blinked. “What could be worse than Kessel?”

            If Amos had an answer, Fel didn’t hear it; for at that moment, a clone walking near the back of a passing work group abruptly collapsed. Stopping in his tracks, Fel watched in disbelief as the other workers glanced furtively at their fallen comrade before discreetly shaking their heads at each other and walking away, leaving the clone behind.

            Fel, shocked by the behavior of some of his brothers, started toward the fallen clone; but Amos grabbed him by the shoulder and gave him a disapproving, if sorrowful, shake of the head.

            “Isn’t anyone going to do anything?” Fel demanded, stepping out of Amos’s grasp and looking toward the clone again. The man looked to be the same generation as him, if not even younger. “Aren’t there any medics here?”

            Amos fixed him with an almost pitying look, staring at Fel for several moments before his attention was drawn to something beyond Fel. “There’re your medics,” he said, jutting his chin toward a trio of armed TK troopers who were now approaching.

            Settling their rifles into place across their backs, two of the troopers grabbed the clone under his shoulders and dragged him across the rocky ground toward one of the buildings, while the third trooper guarded them. The clone, apparently roused out of his stupor by the rough treatment, weakly protested and moved his legs in a vain attempt to stand, but soon gave up as a coughing fit sapped his strength. As the troopers disappeared with the clone behind the doors of the building, Fel could only stare in disbelief, not quite able to process what he was seeing, feeling as if he was peering through a heavy fog…

            He wondered vaguely if that building was the medical unit… Yes, it was, that was the building Amos had named as the infirmary, though he still didn’t understand why Amos had remarked that Fel would only ever visit there once…

            The distinctive sound of a single blaster shot rang out from behind the doors. The TK troopers emerged. The clone did not.

            The longest-serving worker at this year-old facility had been here for six months. There were no reassignments.

            And Fel understood.

*****

            Whiplash was herded out of the transport by the military unit that had apprehended him and the deserters, and was marched toward the forbidding Imperial prison standing fifty feet away.

            "Wonder why they bothered bringing us here," he muttered to Flint, before one of the troopers roughly shoved him forward.

            "No communication with other prisoners," the trooper warned. Whiplash almost scoffed - what did it matter if he obeyed the rules now, he had nothing left to lose - but he didn't know if Flint would agree; and, not wanting to get any of the other prisoners in trouble, he held his peace.

            He and the dozen other clones who had been caught with him were led into the prison, sent through processing, and lined up to be inspected by the warden. Whiplash shook his head; this was all a waste of time. Everyone knew how this would end. They were deserters; there was only one punishment for that.  

            "Successful mission," he heard the warden comment approvingly to the commander as he looked them over.

            "Shall we see them to their cells, sir?" the commander replied, not acknowledging the warden’s comment.

            "Yes. The protocol has been explained to you?"

            The commander nodded and turned to direct his men; it was now that Whiplash finally decided to voice the question that had been on his mind ever since he had been captured. He still had nothing left to lose, and he wanted to know what all this was about.  

            "I thought deserters were shot."

            Some of the troopers glanced at each other uneasily, but the warden laughed. "Oh, no, the military looks down on summary executions. All you deserters and insubordinates will stand trial. Eventually."

            If anything, this answer left Whiplash even more confused. He had known full well what could happen if he deserted, and he had accepted that risk - anything to never again have to do what he had been ordered to do on his last mission for the Empire. He knew the Imperial military and how it worked. Since when did they care whether deserters were kept alive, much less received a trial? More, since when did the military discourage summary executions? One might almost think they were trying to be fair.

            The warden walked away before Whiplash could formulate any follow up questions, and the troopers were still aggressive toward any prisoner who attempted to speak. And so it wasn't until he was sent to the third floor and marched through the hallways past the seemingly endless rows of cells, catching stray glimpses of some of the other prisoners, that he started to understand.

            He was escorted into an open cell and pushed toward the bunk. He frowned as the trooper started to leave.

            "Wait, aren't you going to take the binders off?"

            "Once your cell is secured, you'll step up to that slot there for your binders to be removed," the trooper said shortly, indicating a small rectangular opening in the wall to the right of the cell's threshold. "That's also where food and water will be passed through to you."

            "How long before we get our trial?" he asked as the trooper backed out of the doorway, blaster trained on Whiplash the entire time.

            The trooper shrugged. "I don't know. I don't keep track of that."

            Whiplash glanced around at the 10 by 10 foot cell, thinking again of what he had known the Empire to do all those months he had served them, what he had heard of the Empire doing the past few months after he had gone AWOL, and what he had just seen as he had passed through the prison.

            And he got the feeling, as the containment field engaged over the doorway, that he would never step foot outside the cell again.

Chapter Text

            It's hard to hide as a clone. Your face is everywhere. Everyone knows what you look like. Try as you might to stake your claim on your individuality - tattoos, hairstyles, facial hair - everyone knows exactly what you are the moment they look at you. 

            It's hard to hide as a clone, but Cody knew how to hide. He hadn't been commander of the 212th for three years, leading side by side with one of the top Jedi generals, without learning more than a few tricks of the trade to successfully carry out stealth missions. That was essentially what he was doing now: leading a personal stealth op. 

            Granted, he had never imagined any stealth op would last well over a year and counting. He had never imagined life after the war would involve stealth ops in the first place. 

            Then again, he wasn't sure he had ever imagined life after the war, at all. And if he had, he’d never thought it would be like this. 

            He could see the other clone now - the clone stepping through the marketplace, trying to hide in plain sight. The clone wasn't doing too shabby of a job, just kept looking over his shoulder far too often. Probably wasn't a total rookie, Cody mused; the rookies he had run into before – the ones who had been commissioned mere weeks before the Republic became the Empire – always relied on by-the-book tactics, to where Cody could see trainer Duvin's methods on display as clearly as if he was back on the training grounds on Kamino. No, this clone he was currently watching must have had one, maybe two undercover missions under his belt before the war ended, then probably never completed any other stealth op again.

            Still, this clone must have only recently deserted. The way he was moving, there was no way he had managed to be out here on his own for more than a week. He would have been caught by now.

            The clone jumped, startled, when a salesman tried to draw his attention to the displayed goods; his reaction garnered the attention of four other shoppers, two of whom were now regarding the clone closely. And two TK troopers were patrolling just a few feet away… 

            Cody sighed. Tipping back the last of his drink, he slipped a credit onto the table before standing and striding into the open-air, crowded street, checking the position of his hood as he went. 

            The clone had nervously dismissed the salesman and started backpedaling through the crowd when Cody reached him, bumping into him in a way that Cody could link arms with him and drag him into the middle of a group of Ithorians. The creatures were just barely tall enough to conceal the two former soldiers long enough that Cody could guide the clone to the other side of the busy street and continue striding forward, away from curious eyes. 

            It was at this juncture that the clone seemed to finally catch up to the situation, and he began to resist Cody's guidance. 

            "I'm sorry, but I..."

            "Unless you want the stormtroopers talking to you, shut up and keep walking," Cody said in a voice that brooked no argument; and the clone thankfully took his advice. After a few more paces, Cody spoke again, still walking purposefully toward the other end of the long road that served as the main market. 

            "Are you trying to buy something?"

            "Uh… yeah, some food and new clothes."

            "First time here?"

            "Yes."

            “Bit of advice: never plan on buying something the first time you come to a marketplace. Your first trip is always, always to scout out the general set up and where all the goods are located. Do two, three more scouting trips if you have to. You can start buying only when you know exactly where you're going and what you're getting. You get in, you get out. You act like you've been here a million times, and no one's going to look at you twice." By this time they had reached the end of the road; Cody made a left turn down an alleyway, crossed over to a slightly less crowded residential section, and turned into a thankfully deserted alley before facing his companion and saying in an undertone, "You stumble around and don't know where you're going, you're gonna draw attention to yourself, and deserters like you and me can't afford any kind of attention." 

            Cody watched the blood drain from the clone's face. "H...h...how do you know I'm a deserter?" the other asked. 

            "You're a clone on the streets,” Cody replied bluntly. “You're a deserter."

            "But..."

            "Decommissioned clones are being hidden away, sent who knows where. Commissioned clones stay with their squads, all the time, even during their down time - they know better than to be mistaken for a deserter now, wandering around on their own."

            "I'm not on my own; three others came with me."

            "Great. Four deserters." Cody let out a longsuffering sigh and shook his head before taking a quick survey of the street they had just left. No new threats. Yet. He faced the other clone again. “What’s your name?”

            “I’m called Hyde,” the young soldier said, looking more anxious by the second. “Who… who are you?”

            “Cody.”

            The clone’s face shifted from anxious to dumbstruck to awed within two seconds. “Cody? As in, Commander Cody? Of the 212th Attack Battalion?”

            Millions of clones, you’d think more of us would share a name, Cody thought wearily. “Just Cody,” he replied flatly.

            “… Just Cody? But you’re a…”

            “I left the army. I’m not a commander anymore.”

            Hyde gaped a few moments more before finding his voice, a thread of hope lacing his tone. “Can I take you to meet the others? Maybe you can…”

            “No.” Staying in a group was too risky. He'd learned that the hard way. He had spent a year on his own, helping out the occasional stray clone he came across who had also gone AWOL and needed support, but had intuitively known better than to stay with any of them. Somehow, Damian had convinced him to change his mind, to join up with a group of deserters, and things had been fine for a few months...

            And then they had been caught, caught when some troopers had managed to follow Whiplash back to their hiding place. Only Cody and Neero had managed to escape the raid. And Cody had been left with the sinking realization that he could have just as easily been the one to inadvertently lead the enemy to his brothers - for all he knew, the troopers had followed the rest of them and had been staking out the hideout for weeks.

            Never again. Never again would he take such a risk.  

            “Oh.” Hyde was not skilled at hiding his emotions, that much was clear, Cody mused as he considered the younger man’s crestfallen expression. “I thought maybe you were with Captain Rex...”

            The name struck Cody like a slap across the face. “What?”

            Hyde stopped, confused. “What?”

            “Who did you just say…”

            “Captain Rex?” Hyde ventured.

            Cody paused a moment to temper his volume before speaking again. “Rex is alive?”

            Hyde cleared his throat nervously. “Yeah, I heard one of the clone troopers in Commander Wolffe’s unit talking about it, that the captain is still alive. They saw him. Other rumors have been going around about a clone underground of sorts, a network helping clones who are leaving the army. The way Commander Wolffe’s man was talking, I thought Captain Rex was part of it. Now I’ve seen you and I thought…”

            Cody’s attention wandered from Hyde’s ramblings as he absorbed the news. He, too, had heard whispers of a group of clones and sympathizers running a clandestine operation to extricate fellow clones from Imperial service and imprisonment, but this was the first he had ever heard of Rex surviving Order 66. The official report was that Rex had died with the rest of his men and Ahsoka Tano while returning from Mandalore.

            If Rex was alive…

            No, Cody thought, mentally shaking himself. He knew better. He was not going to join any other groups, any other networks. He was not going to jeopardize anyone else.

            The silence abruptly caught up to him, and Cody refocused on Hyde to see the young clone was gazing at him with something approximating awed bewilderment. Cody eyed him for a moment before making up his mind. If nothing else, he had to at least be sure these kids had a chance of making it off Coruscant alive.

            “Where are the rest of you?” he asked.

            "We've holed up in the basement of an abandoned factory a few streets away," the other said, gesturing vaguely toward the east. 

            "You've been avoiding the cams?"

            "Yeah, they were broken already anyway." 

            "It's a start," Cody grumbled. "Take me there... Wait." Pulling a spare strip of cloth out of his bag, he directed the clone, "Cover your face. When we leave the alley, walk with purpose and stop looking over your shoulder. Let's go." 

            With Cody's guidance, they managed to remain discreet enough to bypass the TK trooper patrols without incident. Soon enough, the clone deserter led Cody into an abandoned warehouse and toward the dilapidated lift that would carry them to the basement. 

            "You sure we shouldn't take the stairs?" Cody asked, eyeing the lift with distrust. 

            The clone shrugged. "Takes longer. The electrical's fine, Gorm checked it out already, the lift just looks broken."

            "Right.” Well, being taken out by a malfunctioning lift couldn’t be the worst way to go, if a little anticlimactic.

            The lift, thankfully, didn't break down; and Hyde led Cody toward the other side of the basement, where a few chairs occupied by three other clones surrounded a dusty table. Trooper packs leaned against the wall; apart from this, it appeared the deserters had no other belongings. 

            "Who've you got with you, Hyde?" one of the clones called out, barely hiding his suspicion. 

            "He's a deserter, too," Hyde replied casually. "He helped me out in the marketplace - I was getting noticed. This is Vix, Gorm, and that's Winn." He glanced at Cody. "Guys, this is… uh, Cody."

            A surprised silence reigned as the clones stared at him. "Not Commander Cody, from the 212th?" 

            If the similarities between Hyde’s and his colleagues’ separate reactions to Cody’s introduction struck him as amusing, Cody didn’t show it. "The 212th was dissolved a long time ago." 

            "Yeah, but... Kriff, I heard you went AWOL but I never would've.."

            "Shut up, Vix," Gorm hissed. 

            Cody strode forward and claimed the last free chair, leaving Hyde to stand as he stared down the other clones. He had to know where they stood in order to know how best to help them. 

            "I’m not here to stay, so focus and answer me this. Why did you all run?" he demanded. 

            "What?"

            "Why did you desert? Why now?" 

            The young men exchanged glances before Vix shrugged, almost brashly. “I'm getting out before I get decommissioned. The program is a joke. We're soldiers, trained to fight, and they're sending us off to so-called work details. If I can't be anything more than a laborer, I'm going to do it on my own terms.” 

            “Yeah,” Gorm put in, “and some of them aren't even work details. I heard some clones escaped one of those bases, they're saying they were being experimented on.” 

            Cody just nodded, before glancing at Hyde, who was looking rather uncomfortable. "What about you?" 

            Hyde looked startled. "Me?" 

            "Why did you leave?" 

            "Oh, uh, same reason," Hyde said; though Cody didn't miss the quick glance Winn gave Hyde before looking down at the table, nor the guarded look Hyde cast at Gorm and Vix, neither of whom noticed their brother’s trepidation. 

            Cody abruptly leaned back and changed the subject. "You're lucky - your hideout is right next door to a baker who doesn't ask questions." He fished a few credits out of the pocket of his cloak and pushed them across the table toward Gorm. "You two, go and bring back some food." 

            Gorm and Vix didn't hesitate, snatching up the credits and getting halfway across the basement before Cody even blinked. He waited until the lift doors had closed behind them before leaning forward, locking eyes with Winn before turning his attention to Hyde. 

            “Let's try this again, Hyde,” he said firmly. 

            “Pardon?”

            “Why did you run?”

            Hyde squirmed a bit under Cody’s frank gaze, glancing almost pleadingly at Winn before abruptly finding his courage. Drawing up straight, he blurted out, “Permission to speak freely, sir?”

            Cody almost smiled – he, too, still found himself falling back into military habits when stressed. “Permission granted.” 

            “I don't understand why the younglings had to be killed, sir.”  

            Cody’s heart skipped a beat. “Come again?” 

            All strength seemed to leave Hyde; he weakly sank into the chair Vix had abandoned. It took him a moment before he found his voice again. “The stories the Empire put out about what happened in the Jedi Temple aren’t true. They aren’t true. Winn and I… When our battalion returned to Coruscant after the war ended, our squad and a few others were assigned to help the 501st with…” he hesitated.

            “Clean up,” Winn supplied, almost vacantly. He was now staring fixedly at the tabletop, as if willing away the image of unwanted memories.

            “Yeah,” Hyde sighed, suppressing a shudder as he continued. “If you saw what we saw in that temple, you’d know… But the 501st, they were all talking about it anyway, how the order was reiterated before they walked in that they were to execute everyone in that temple for treason, no exceptions. All the younglings, all the children, just lying there…” Hyde shut his eyes tightly and gulped before opening them again and pressing on, his voice hardening with what Cody recognized as self-loathing. “Honestly, it didn’t bother me at the time. I had just helped kill the general of my battalion. It made sense that they all had to die. The Jedi had just tried to assassinate the Emperor and… Well, the Emperor couldn’t be wrong. What do I know, I was a rookie then. But… children? How could they possibly be part of a coup? But I didn’t even think about it, I just… followed orders. And maybe there was no other way, maybe the Jedi really did all need to be wiped out. I was a good soldier. I did what I was told. But…” He paused yet again, then finished in a rush, “it doesn’t feel right anymore. It just doesn’t feel right. I guess… Well, I’m not a good soldier anymore, so what’s the point of trying to stay in the army?”

            Cody sat back, his jaw clenching as he tried to ward off the wave of horrified regret that rose within him every time he thought of that fateful day, the day that had ended the war. He had heard what had happened in the Jedi Temple – both the real version and the Empire’s version – but either way, he hadn't killed any younglings or padawans himself. No; instead, he had...

            He forced his attention back to the matter at hand. "Vix and Gorm don't see eye to eye with you about Order 66, do they?" 

            "No, sir." It was Winn who spoke up again, now glancing up at Cody. "We decided it's best to not bring it up around them." 

            "Wise decision." That was a lesson Cody had learned from observing his fellow troopers, long before going AWOL himself: some clones who disagreed with the Empire's current methods still defended their actions with Order 66. Most of these deflected blame by repeating that they had been following orders, but some still insisted all the Jedi were traitors; and those who believed so could not be trusted to handle differences of opinion well, even among others who also wanted to leave the army.

            Cody could understand why some of his brothers persisted in justifying their actions – he often found himself wishing he could do the same. Living with himself would be a lot more comfortable if he could convince himself that the Jedi had, indeed, deserved to be wiped out.  

            He had meant to wait until Gorm and Vix had returned to share his next piece of advice; but, sensing that Hyde was gearing up to ask a question Cody didn't want to answer, Cody quickly moved on.       

            "I don't know where Rex is, but I do know of a doctor who can help get your inhibitor chips out. Yes," he pressed on when Hyde and Winn both gave a start of surprise, "the rumors are true. Maybe the doctor'll know where you can find Rex. If not, don't wait around to find him. Find a way off Coruscant as soon as you can. It's not safe here anymore. Hasn't been safe for us clones for a long time." 

            "Why are you still here, then?" Hyde queried.

            Cody paused, taken aback by the question. Why was he still here...? He should have left Coruscant and convinced the others to leave with him months ago; maybe then so many wouldn't have been lost to the raid. "Well, I won't be here much longer," he finally said as he stood to leave. 

            "You won't stay with us?" Winn asked.

            "If I stay with you, you'll be captured or die. I'm not letting that happen." Not again, he thought. "Don't stay together. The four of you, you need to split up. Two of you together might be fine. Maybe. Regardless, you need to get off Coruscant as soon as your chips are out. Am I clear?" 

            Winn nodded solemnly; but Hyde seemed to be gathering his courage again.

            "Commander, did you... Your general..." 

            One look at Cody's face, and Hyde couldn't finish the question - likely because he had gotten his answer. The young clone took a deep breath before asking in a shaky, low voice, "How do you live with it?"

            Cody didn't want to think about it, didn't want to answer. But he knew exactly how this clone was feeling, and - well, he knew better than to join any underground efforts or stick around with any other clones, but he could help with this, at least. The truth was bitterly painful; but maybe, just maybe, it would help.  

            "Every time you think about it, every day for the rest of your life, the guilt and shame are going to make you feel like you're burning from the inside out. It's your choice whether you let it destroy you where you stand, or fuel your resolve to never, ever make such a mistake again."

            Winn was looking down again, gaze fixed on his hands now clenched together on the tabletop; but Hyde was still staring at Cody, not bothering to hide his tears.

            “It’s your choice,” Cody repeated. “You chose to leave the Imperial Army. Seems to me you’ve already decided to never make a mistake like that order again.” He paused before adding, “The doctor’s name is Gordon Hibrid. Level 5002. Get to him as soon as you can.”

            He didn’t wait for the young men to process his words any longer – he should leave before Vix and Gorm came back, give Hyde and Winn enough time to compose themselves and figure out what they were going to do, how they were going to leave Coruscant. He took the lift, exited the warehouse, and glanced around before stealing through the streets to his current residence – his temporary residence, the one he’d have to leave by morning. His thoughts whirled with plans, he had so much to do – yet even with so much on his mind, his thoughts kept circling back to that one topic he wanted so dearly to forget.

            He had always assumed his Jedi General would outlive him, not only because the Jedi were practically invincible, but because of his own accelerated aging and the fact that clones were made to be expendable. And yet... Obi Wan had never treated him as if he were expendable; his general had saved his life more times than he could count, had treated him as an equal, as a friend, as… really, Cody knew no words to describe the bond he had felt with his general. If Cody had ever entertained the idea of what life might be like after the war, it was because Obi Wan's optimism told him the war would end eventually, it was because Obi Wan's compassion and confidence told him he could live to see the end of the fighting, that he deserved to enjoy the peace they were fighting so hard to attain for the Republic. 

            Obi Wan hadn't outlived him. Order 66 had made sure of that. Cody had made sure of that. 

            He knew Obi Wan Kenobi, he knew General Kenobi's strong loyalty to the Republic, to freedom and democracy and peace; yet he had shot his general without question, he had shot down – without warning – the man who trusted him implicitly, shot him down without even stopping for just one second to wonder how the Supreme Chancellor could be so certain every single Jedi was involved in a conspiracy, without even stopping for just one moment to wonder if, perhaps, the Supreme Chancellor was wrong.  

            Obi Wan was dead by his, Cody's, hand. And he would have to live with that for the rest of his life. 

Chapter Text

            Emerie followed Neema and Dorin Treshi as they led her toward the conference center. The couple owned a large hotel complex on Pantora and had been kind enough to house Emerie and the men who had been freed from Tantiss while Senator Riyo Chuchi worked to gather testimony to add to her case for demanding a formal Senate investigation into the so-called clone decommissioning program. 

            Passing through the lobby, Emerie glanced out the sparkling floor-to-ceiling windows at the picturesque view of the capital city beyond. The Treshis had somehow won their bid to refuse Imperial troopers from patrolling the hotel courtyard, and Emerie could almost forget just how close the Imperial threat was on this moon. Frankly, she was surprised the Empire hadn't demanded the release of the clones into their custody. Then again, the Empire was currently busy pretending they had known nothing about what was truly happening on Tantiss; Emerie supposed forcibly removing Riyo Chuchi's guests from Pantora wouldn't do much to help the Empire's image in this respect. 

            She thought back to the day she had first arrived on Pantora with Echo, the first time the rust-colored planet partially obscured by wispy white clouds had appeared to her view through the viewport, and, beneath the nervous anticipation, a tickle of excited curiosity she hadn't felt since... she couldn't remember when. And she had begun to ponder, what could have possibly elicited this response?

            She had thought of the children then, recalled Eva's squeal of excitement upon seeing Pabu, Jax's casual comment about how awesome it was to visit other planets without being locked up, and had wondered if they had felt as she did. She had always approached traveling with clinical detachment - after all, with the Kaminoans and then Hemlock, travel was always done with a purpose, not for pleasure, and Emerie's movements had always been restricted. 

            Of course, she had known then as she still knew now that this stay on Pantora wasn't for pleasure or leisure, either: Emerie had a job to do. And with the clone situation being what it was, she had known she likely wouldn't have complete freedom to go wherever she wanted, either on Pantora or the galaxy in general. But finding herself no longer under Hemlock's thumb had felt so... liberating. She had even begun to imagine the possibility of finding a real home once all this was over. 

            Emerie's job was taking longer than she had anticipated, but she was still free; and she found she loved Pantora and the people here more by the day, even with the Imperial presence. 

            Emerie nodded her thanks to Neema as the door to the conference room opened for her, and stepped through the threshold to find Senator Chuchi, four Pantoran guards, and Echo waiting on the other side. She had been somewhat surprised that Echo had stayed on Pantora this long - the ARC trooper was so heavily involved in every facet of the clone resistance network, she would have thought he'd have been called away long before now - but she was grateful for the added level of quiet support Echo brought to these proceedings. And if she was grateful for Echo's grounding presence, she knew those men who had stepped up to recount in rather painstaking detail the horrors they had experienced were glad for Echo's support as well.

            Not that she had talked to any of the men who had escaped Tantiss. Indeed, she had been keeping well out of their way. They didn’t need any other reminders of what they had been put through in that laboratory.

            "Thank you again for your assistance, Dr. Karr," Senator Chuchi said in her soft yet determined voice as Emerie approached the oblong table in the center of the room.  

            "I am happy to help." 

            The senator nodded with a small smile. "Your exceptional patience is still much appreciated. This should be the last day I need to gather evidence from you." 

            The first time she had met Riyo Chuchi, Emerie had been struck first and foremost by the senator's kindness. Her compassion, grace, and soft-spoken demeanor had instantly put Emerie at ease. These traits didn't undermine Riyo's fortitude, however; rather, they seemed to fuel it, giving an added measure of unyielding determination to the senator's drive to see her chosen causes through to the end. The senator would not give up on the clones' bid for rights and freedom, and neither should the clones. 

            In many ways, Riyo Chuchi reminded Emerie of Omega. 

            Emerie settled into the same chair she had chosen to sit in for each of the past three days of the interview. Hers was the last witness testimony the senator needed to collect before presenting a motion to the Senate. It had been a little over a month since Emerie had arrived on Pantora with Echo and the former soldiers who had volunteered to speak to the senator. She had to admit she hadn't originally anticipated the process for Riyo to gather intel would take this long; but between getting the clones settled in on Pantora despite the Imperial presence, Riyo completing some tasks for the Senate on Coruscant before returning to Pantora, and then organizing the interviews, Emerie now had to admit she was glad the process wasn't taking even longer. 

            "Now then," Riyo said as she and the others took their seats, "you have provided us extensive information regarding the various experiments Dr. Hemlock was conducting on Tantiss as head of the Advanced Science Division. Over the past two days, you have told us of experiments directly involving clone prisoners, including projects investigating the transference of something called m-count, the so-called CX operative project, and the replication and advancement of Kaminoan cloning technology." 

            Emerie nodded, wishing she knew more. Even after her promotion to lead scientist overseeing the m-count project, she hadn't asked questions, instead carrying out her duties with little understanding of the full implications of what having a high m-count level meant or why it was so crucial to isolate a vector capable of aiding in the transference of the mysterious entity during cloning procedures. Royce Hemlock, as was his typical way with all the other experiments, had been extremely secretive about the true purpose of the project, telling Emerie only that it was important to Emperor Palpatine, and she suspected it was much more extensive than what even she had known about. But none of that mattered now. Perhaps, in the end, it was better she didn't know everything about it: the research truly had died with Hemlock. 

            "Is there anything else that took place on Tantiss that the Senate should be aware of in relation to the treatment of the clones?" the senator asked. 

            Emerie tilted her head in thought. "The only other projects taking place within the Advanced Science Division under Dr. Hemlock’s purview were various experiments on animals and vegetation deemed as having significant weapons potential. Most of these experiments were in the early stages, and the material was kept in a separate facility associated with the base. They didn't involve the clones in any way - well," she amended, "that facility was also where the other clones were held in cryostasis. Dr. Hemlock never divulged his intentions regarding them." 

            "Others? What others?"

            Echo's deep voice startled her out of her train of thought, and she blinked bemusedly at him. 

            "Pardon?"

            "You just mentioned 'other clones.'" 

            Emerie stared at him, confused. "To my knowledge, there were about a dozen Fett clones held in the second Tantiss installation. I don’t know exactly who they were nor what Dr. Hemlock wanted them for – he kept that information classified, even from me – but it was common knowledge among the scientists that Dr. Hemlock had set aside some clones there.” 

            "That second mountain was active?" The growing dread in Echo's voice set Emerie on edge, but she made herself calmly respond. 

            "Well, the facility tended to stay rather quiet - as I said, it was primarily used as storage for assets planned to be used for future experiments." She paused, a possible reason for Echo's reaction suddenly occurring to her. "Did you not inspect the second installation before you left?"

            "No," Echo replied in a low tone. "We didn't know anyone was being kept there. Not that we would have had time to search it anyway, but..."

            "I... I'm sorry," Emerie stammered. "I assumed you knew... When you came to Pabu without any cryo pods, I thought perhaps they didn't survive." 

            Silence weighed heavily for only a moment before Echo shook his head. "It's not your fault. Don't worry about it." 

            Echo's reassurance did little to assuage Emerie's regret. She should have at least voiced her observations aloud when she hadn't seen any of the stasis chambers – but now was not the time to dwell on it. Senator Chuchi appeared to have more to discuss. 

            "Dr. Karr, you are sure the Emperor and other Imperial authorities were aware of the nature of the projects taking place on Tantiss?" 

            Emerie nodded firmly. "The Emperor personally visited the base several times to receive detailed updates from Dr. Hemlock, particularly regarding cloning experiments. Dr. Hemlock did not divulge much information to Governor Tarkin, but the governor was fully aware of expenditures and resources used on Tantiss, including the transfer of clone prisoners. And several military officers requested the services of clone shadow operatives for various operations, though I am not certain what these operations entailed."

            Riyo appeared on the verge of saying something, before apparently thinking better of it and smiling instead. 

            "Well, I believe we have reached the conclusion of this interview." 

            Emerie let out a small sigh of relief, but straightened again when Riyo took a more serious tone as she continued, "Dr. Karr, you should be aware that Dr. Hemlock's data being destroyed means these projects stand little chance of being resurrected by the Advanced Science Division; and, more importantly, it means the identities of the subjects who are not providing testimony will remain unknown for now. However, it also means we have no hard evidence of what occurred on Tantiss, only your word and the words of the prisoners."

            Emerie nodded - she had realized this weeks ago. "I understand."

            "I hope this statement will be enough on its own, but should the hearing move forward, you will be called upon to testify in person before the Senate." 

            "I am prepared for that. How can I help until then?"

            From the corner of her eye, Emerie saw Echo lean forward slightly as the Pantoran guards exchanged brief glances with each other. Her focus remained on Riyo, however, who met her gaze steadily as she replied, "Stay alive."

*****

            Palpatine stood in the middle of the now rather cramped chamber with the chief scientist of the Imperial research facility on Derma Prime, viewing the specimens lined up before him and contemplating how to best put them to use. 

            Tarkin had done well in preserving these assets. Palpatine knew Wilhuff had had little patience for Royce Hemlock and didn't understand the importance of the work on Tantiss - he couldn't know, Tarkin was a valuable military strategist and leader, but he couldn't be trusted with knowledge of Palpatine's schemes toward immortality. No one could be trusted with the full extent of his plans. And now, the loss of every shred of Hemlock's data along with almost all of the most important experimental material, combined with the death of a key Kaminoan researcher after nearly all other cloning experts had been eliminated - well, it was a blow that might take years to recover from, and over the past few weeks Palpatine had found it necessary to indulge in creative ways to channel his anger over these inconveniences that had delayed his plans. 

            But all was not lost; and with these assets now in his possession, perhaps reconstructing Hemlock's advancements would take less time than Palpatine originally calculated. 

            He didn't know all the reasons why Hemlock had so carefully stored these specimens - he couldn't pretend to have been overly interested in all the schemes the ambitious, if rather neurotic, scientist had engaged in - but according to Dr. Leman, the little data that had remained intact regarding these assets was enough for Palpatine’s scientists to go on with. The Emperor could have remained on Coruscant and contented himself with perusing holorecordings of this recovered material - but no, he needed to see them in person to best lay his plans; and with this in mind, he examined the Fett clones before him with renewed interest. 

            “As I mentioned in our previous discussion,” Dr. Leman was saying now, “we already have a thorough understanding of the basic theories and mechanics of the cloning process, as well as the ability to replicate the necessary equipment. This collection of Fett clones will provide adequate data for us to pursue investigations into genetic manipulation, growth templates, environmental factors, and more.”

            Palpatine glanced at the scientist. “Yes, so you have said. And as I have already appointed you to oversee rebuilding the cloning program, I trust your expertise. However, I do require further explanation.”

            Dr. Leman nodded, still exuding equal parts nervousness and professional competence but remarkably keeping her composure. “It appears that Dr. Hemlock’s general idea behind storing these Fett clones was to have both baseline samples and deviant examples to compare cloning techniques and mutations that could potentially render further advantages to future clone generations. These three clones” – she gestured to the specimens on the far right of the room – “apparently have never been decanted but were kept in growth pods for the past decade. I assume they must have been recovered from Kamino at some point before its unfortunate destruction and kept as a baseline to compare any genetic mutations acquired from exposure to the outside environment versus the natural result of aging. This would also explain the presence of four typical Fett clones with no notably variant traits – these would serve as another baseline for comparison.”

            Here the scientist paused and cast a surreptitious glance at the Emperor, as if to ensure he was following the lecture. Only when Palpatine nodded did she continue. “Now, there are four clones noted only as incidentally being found to have a higher m-count compared to typical Fett duplicates. I am unsure what this “m-count” is that was referred to, nor what Dr. Hemlock’s aim was with these clones, but…”

            “I know very little of the specifics of Hemlock’s experimental goals,” Palpatine put in, hiding his surprise upon hearing that any clone had been found to have increased m-counts compared to the norm, “but I do recall him telling me that this m-count he was measuring may provide some kind of advantage. Show me his notes.” Dr. Leman complied, and a brief glance at the recorded counts informed Palpatine that these four specimens posed absolutely no risk to him – even the Jedi with their low standards wouldn’t have bothered taking these in. Satisfied, Palpatine shook his head; though he felt another wave of irritation that these notes also didn’t reveal anything that would be even remotely useful in understanding successful transfer of midichlorian levels to a cloned body. “I am afraid I see nothing more here that would shed any additional light on this matter. Be that as it may, I suggest that you examine these specimens and monitor these counts as you would for any other potential genetic benefit.”

            Dr. Leman nodded. “As you wish. That leaves us with the last three specimens, who seem to also have incidentally been found to possess heightened abilities of apparent interest to Dr. Hemlock. One of the specimens has increased stamina compared to baseline, one has higher intelligence, and one has faster healing capacity. Again, with this much variety with the assets, I am confident we will meet the Empire’s goals in the field of cloning, despite recent setbacks.”

            Palpatine registered the last statement but didn’t acknowledge it, for two specimens in particular had just caught his eye – and not in a good way. Most of the assets were currently stored in cryostasis pods; these two, however, were held in combination stasis/life support chambers - and no wonder, Palpatine had no idea what catastrophes had befallen these specimens but one glance was enough to determine they were barely viable. The thought crossed his mind that he should dispense with the burden of keeping these clones alive... but no, for all Hemlock's faults, he had been a brilliant scientist and must have had good reasons for preserving them. Still…

            “With the variety you have described, is it necessary to expend the resources necessary to sustain these specimens in the life support chambers?” he questioned the scientist.

            A look of apprehension briefly dawned on Dr. Leman’s face before she schooled her features back into calm aloofness. “If I may be frank, Emperor Palpatine, these clones may be among the most valuable of all the deviant assets. Dr. Hemlock’s data suggests as much.”

            Curious, Palpatine drew closer to one of the clones on life support, thinking back to what he had read of what remained of Hemlock’s notes. If Royce's data was to be believed, this clone's intelligence might be on par with any of the top Imperial scientists. And the clone in the other life support pod was one of those with a relatively high m-count. Palpatine gazed at the specimens, considering... And his mind was made up. Best to not dispose of them yet. 

            “I assume you have plans for these two specimens, then,” he stated.

            Dr. Leman hesitated. “I could not presume…”

            “Of course you can, Dr. Leman,” Palpatine interrupted her smoothly. “I expect you to carry this project far beyond simply reconstructing Hemlock’s vision.”  

            Dr. Leman blinked, but in her eyes now sparkled the steely resolution of an ambitious individual who has fully accepted a worthy challenge. Good. He could save the threats for the future, to ensure her cooperation in more pressing situations. “To that end,” Dr. Leman was now saying, “I believe it would be of significant benefit to the program if I revive the specimens in the life support pods.”

            “You may do with them whatever you wish,” he acceded.

            "Those in cryostasis are best kept here for observation – we can extract the necessary material from them while keeping them in stasis, and will likely have better… cooperation from them if we do so. But for those on life support to have the best chance of survival, I will need better-equipped medical facilities than what is available here."

            Palpatine casually waved a hand. "Name the facility you wish to work in, and I will see you and the specimens safely settled there. Should you succeed, I will have further tasks for you." 

            The doctor nodded. "Thank you, Emperor. I look forward to meeting your demands." 

            Palpatine simply nodded before turning to exit the chamber, but he smiled to himself as he took his leave with his Praetorian guards to return to his ship. Yes, the loss of Hemlock and Tantiss was a mere hiccup in his plans, one that would soon be rectified. And with a new military growing in numbers by the day, the clone soldiers being disposed of, the Senate being kept in its place, and the galaxy steadily falling further under his control with all its vast resources at his disposal, all his schemes were coming to fruition. 

            Immortality would be his. 

Chapter Text

            Wolffe held in a sigh as he stood with his team in the transport carrying them across the bumpy roads of Ypan. Despite being a rather sparsely populated planet overall, the capital city passed as a fairly bustling metropolis, which left Wolffe to wonder why the roads were kept in such poor repair. 

            The transport hit a pothole, and Wolffe was bounced two feet in the air, almost knocking Severin over before he managed to regain his equilibrium. He didn't bother holding in a displeased grunt now; with everyone else letting out similar noises of irritation, his own complaint wouldn't be noticed. 

            If he was being honest with himself, it wasn't road conditions leaving him feeling out of sorts. It was the fact that the Recovery Strike Team was on its second mission to capture a cell of deserters, and he didn't feel any better about this operation than he had about the first one.

            The Empire had started cracking down hard on desertion, and Wolffe understood why: loyalty, duty, and order demanded that all soldiers - including clones - fulfill their responsibilities to the Empire for as long as the Empire required them. He just wished he didn't have to be the one assigned to rounding up these clones, his brothers. If only they would stop running away from the Imperial Army in such high numbers... 

            The mutters had faded away only moments before one of the men started voicing opinions Wolffe never dared to say himself – though he had to admit he was a little surprised that Striker, a clone commando like Hilo, was the one saying it.

            “Does the Empire really have nothing better for us to do than round up deserters?” 

            “Striker…” Nomad sighed. 

            “What? It’s not like they’re causing trouble.”

            “Seriously? What about those clones who are staging prison breaks and inciting riots and…”

            “All rumors,” Striker said stubbornly.

            "The Empire won’t even verify the riots and breakouts are happening, much less who’s doing it," TK trooper Trey put in. 

            “Yeah?" Nomad said testily. "And what about all the clones who are going AWOL after disobeying orders and putting missions in jeopardy?”

            “Rumors," Striker said. 

            “Slider, Loni, Theo, Winger… You’re saying all of them are rumors?”

            Striker was getting heated now. “I’m saying maybe we should be asking why so many of our brothers…”

            “Enough." Wolffe knew exactly where this conversation was going and he couldn't let it happen, not now and definitely not in front of Hilo or TK trooper Ethan.  

            The men quieted immediately as their commander spoke; he continued, "We have our orders, and it’s not our job to question them." Knowing he also had to reinforce the reasons for their assignment, he added, "I’ll also remind you all that desertion is a serious offense, a betrayal not only of our duty to the Empire but also our duty to our fellow soldiers, our brothers. These clones are causing trouble and disorder in our ranks by running away the way they are. But the Empire is being lenient. Rather than facing immediate execution, deserters are being granted fair trials. They are simply being imprisoned while they await those trials.”

            "Like that's any better," Striker muttered. Wolffe ignored him, speaking again before any of the others could jump on Striker's comment. 

            "We're the Recovery Strike Team. We are loyal to the Empire. We're going to apprehend these deserters and remind them where their loyalties should lie. Are we clear?"

            Muttered "Yes sirs" sounded throughout the vehicle, and Wolffe nodded in acknowledgement of their agreement. 

            If only he fully agreed with his own assertions. 

            No matter - he had to protect his team. And that included nipping any hint of subversion in the bud.

            The transport pulled up at their drop off point in short order, and the men silently piled out. Nighttime had fallen hours ago, and the darkness would go a long way in concealing their approach. Wolffe surveyed their surroundings to verify the location of the two-story building on the very edge of the city... There, just as their intel said. The nearby forest might give the deserters a chance to escape, but the extra space around the building provided a better opportunity for the strike team to set up a tight perimeter to box the rogues in.

            It was certainly a better set up than the operation on Coruscant, where it had been far more challenging to contain the deserters, and two clones had managed to slip away through a back entrance into a tavern before losing themselves in the crowded streets.  Besides that, the last op had taken three weeks and had involved tailing two or three members of the group of clone deserters in order to verify their numbers and plan out when best to catch them by surprise. This mission, in contrast, was much simpler: an informant had shared all the necessary details about the rogue clones, and all that was left for Wolffe's team to do was gather them up.

            Vey came through on comms: six heat signatures verified on the scopes, all holed up in the building. Perfect - their plan would work. 

            "Hilo, Striker, you two take the lower level. Justice, you're with me on the upper level. The rest of you, form a perimeter and cover all entrances. Do not let anyone through, either in or out." 

            "Copy that." 

            Justice appeared by Wolffe's side, and they approached the front entrance behind Hilo and Striker as the rest of the men moved into position. One last glance around, and Wolffe nodded to Hilo, who breached the entrance without any further prompting. 

            The two commandos had already apprehended two men before Wolffe and Justice even made it to the bottom of the staircase. A shadow to his left drew Wolffe's attention as soon as he made it to the top step; one stun shot later, a deserter fell to the ground, and Wolffe heard two other shots behind him. Turning, he saw Justice had taken care of the other two clones on the top floor. 

            This was almost too easy...

            Blaster fire erupted from the bottom floor; moments later, Hilo barked through the comms: "We have a runner, and he's armed!" 

            Wolffe dashed down the stairs with Justice right on his heels. He barely registered Hilo kneeling on the ground next to Striker before he was out the door, demanding a status report...

            No need. The other troopers had stood their ground, and the deserter was now cornered against the south wall of the building with no way to escape to the forest just beyond. Even in the darkness, lit only by a few of the strike team members now holding flashlights, Wolffe could see the former clone trooper's eyes wide with wild desperation, his teeth gritted in panicked defiance as he brandished his blaster at the men surrounding him. The deserter didn't fire, however; he likely recognized the futility of such a gesture. With this in mind, Wolffe gestured to his team and approached the deserter slowly, blaster at his side though not holstered yet - he wasn't that stupid. 

            "Steady now," Wolffe said calmly as he drew within fifteen feet of the runaway.

            "Commander Wolffe, right?" the clone called out. 

            "That's right," he replied, wary now. 

            The deserter let out a mirthless laugh. "'Course. All of us soldiers fought together for years, so now they make brothers turn on each other. Gotta prove your loyalty, right?" 

            "You are the one who went AWOL," Wolffe returned. "You turned your back on us first..."

            "Turned my back?” the deserter interrupted, his voice rising in pitch. “On what? The Empire was getting rid of us long before I left!" 

            He abruptly decided to try a different tack. "Look, this doesn't have to get worse. Just put down the blaster and..."

            "I'm not coming with you," the clone shouted back, his voice cracking.

            Wolffe remained calm. "The Empire is being lenient. Deserters who come quietly aren't being executed.  You'll be afforded a trial, you can plead your case. You might even get lucky, be assigned to a work detail like the other decommissioned clones." 

            The man openly sneered. "You pretend you haven't heard what happens on those work details? Well, I have. Some of your lenient assignments are worse than death."

            Wolffe’s heart sank as he braced himself: he already knew what the man was going to do. Apparently, so did Hilo. The deserter, firing a random cover shot that barely missed Ethan, bolted toward the line again but didn't make it two steps before Hilo fired. The man collapsed to the ground, and moved no more. 

            Wolffe stared at the now barely visible dark lump laying on the even darker ground, and remained staring as Hilo approached. 

            "I had to do it, sir. He had a blaster, and it wasn't set to stun." 

            Wolffe nodded now, swallowing down the edge of regret that the confrontation had come to this. "I know, Lieutenant. Thank you. The other targets are still secure?" 

            "Yes, Commander."

            "How's Striker?"

            "He got lucky, the blaster bolt only grazed his arm. He should be fine." 

            "Get back to the transport and call ahead for a medic." Wolffe now spoke through his helmet comms. "Trey, Justice, you two lead out in getting the prisoners to the transport. We're heading out." 

            "Yes sir," two voices responded. 

            Wolffe took another turn around the perimeter of the house before heading back to the vehicle himself. Another successful recovery mission. All on his team remained alive. No concerns he or his team would be accused of disobeying orders. 

            If only he didn't have to prove his loyalty by hunting down his own brothers. 

*****

            Three months. 

            Echo had left Tantiss with a ship full of freed clone prisoners - far fewer than he would have liked, but still a win. He had left Tantiss assuming he would never return. 

            Yet here he was again, only three months later. 

            He had wanted to infiltrate the base seven weeks ago, when he had first learned from Emerie that more clones were being held in another installation on the planet. An installation he vaguely remembered catching a glimpse of through the open doors of the hangar bay when he had snuck off the Imperial science vessel, but hadn't really registered as being a point of interest. And with nothing else drawing his attention to it during the wild chaos that had ensued shortly thereafter, he had given no more thought to it. 

            Riyo had pulled him aside after the interview with Emerie had concluded, her eyes soft with sympathy. "What you said to Dr. Karr applies to you too, you know," she had said. "It's not your fault. You didn't know about the other clones." 

            Echo had nodded. "I know, but I still need to fix this." 

            He hadn't known about the other clones, but that didn't excuse him: he should have been more thorough. But that was why he was here now. 

            He was far later than he wanted to be, but it had taken this long to extract the navigational data and decipher the correct coordinates from the ship they had escaped on, then ensure the Imperial presence in the system was gone. He had hated admitting it at the time, but Howzer was right: either the Imperials had relocated the stasis pods, or they hadn't, but Echo risking himself on a reconnaissance mission while Imperials were still around wouldn't change the outcome in Echo's favor, not when over a month had already passed anyway. 

            The Imperials were gone now - the planet was totally abandoned. This alone struck Echo as odd... Then again, Riyo had said the Empire was distancing themselves as much as possible from the debacle that was Tantiss, so perhaps their absence wasn't all that surprising. 

            "Okay, we've made a full circuit around the planet and no alarms have been tripped," Gains said, nervously checking the instruments yet again. "What do you think?" 

            Echo looked out the viewport again, surveying the dense forest below, and nodded. "Bring her in."

            Tippit said nothing, simply guided the ship to land at the second installation that stood immediately adjacent to the main facility. Echo had only recently met the two clones, relatively new recruits to the clone resistance efforts who were accompanying him on this mission; but he could already tell Tippit was the type who would only speak if what he had to say was critical, while Gains was a bundle of nervous energy. Both had served in the GAR for about a year before the end of the war, and Gregor had been the one to bring both of them up to speed on the workings of the clone network, so Echo had no scruples bringing them on this run to Tantiss. 

            The hangar bay was closed, but Echo wasn't concerned. Tippit brought the ship to land on the outer platform. Echo, immediately leaving the ship, soon had the hangar door open and prepped to tell Tippit to move the ship inside, glancing at the control panel again as he removed his scomp.

            That's when he noticed that a silent alarm had been triggered.

            "Blast," he muttered as he jammed his scomp back into the port. He managed to turn off the alarm quicker than even he had anticipated, but...

            "What is it?" Gains asked. 

            "We might have company. Move the ship and stay put. I'm going to check out the status of the cryo chambers."

            "You don't want backup?" Gains asked. 

            "You're already my backup," Echo reminded him.

            He heard Gains give a small snort. "I meant backup with you as you search the base. This place is creepy." 

            "Negative.” Well, the base was creepy… but there was no time to clarify such a minor point. “Stay with the ship and keep a lookout.  I'll comm you when I find the pods." 

            Echo set off without delay. He had to make this quick. The Empire could show up any minute, and he needed to find the pods and get them onto the ship long before then. The stench of decaying organic material seeped through his helmet, prompting him to turn on the helmet’s filtration system before exiting the hangar bay to search the facility. In the dim light of his glowrod as he delved deeper into the compound, he caught glimpses of strange materials and animal types lying dead and rotting in the bottom of containers drained of any preserving fluids. That would explain the smell - the lack of temperature control and the open interior doorways due to the power being shut down didn't help matters, either. 

            Quickening his steps, he wended his way through a myriad of chambers and hallways, Emerie's description of the layout of the facility and the location of the cryostasis storage chamber guiding his steps. She had been exceptionally thorough in her descriptions, and it was paying off. He'd need to be sure to thank her for it when he returned to Pantora - he knew she was still feeling guilty about not mentioning the other clone specimens to him earlier. 

            Sooner than he had originally anticipated, he found himself approaching the entrance to the room Emerie had described in excruciating detail as the one that held the clones set aside for other projects, though she had never been permitted in the room herself. He hoped Emerie had also been right in estimating about a dozen clones had been put into cryostasis - if there were too many more than that, they wouldn't all fit on the ship, even though Echo had brought along the biggest freighter he could acquire at this given moment...

            He stepped through the open doorway, and moments later his heart sank. No need to worry about sufficient cargo space after all....

            "Echo, come in. An Imperial ship has entered the system." 

            "How far away?" Echo asked. 

            "ETA to our location: about five minutes." 

            Echo sighed. "We'll be gone by then. The clones aren't here. The stasis pods are all gone." Not giving Gains a moment to reply, Echo hurried on, "I'll be there in three minutes. Be ready to go." 

            Casting one more searching look around the room as if the pods would magically appear, Echo risked taking the time to check a nearby console to see if any kind of logs were left - nothing, the consoles were not only devoid of power, but it looked like the cleanup crew had shot the consoles through to ensure there would be no chance of any data retrieval by trespassers. Shaking his head in disappointment, Echo sprinted through the facility and made it back to the ship four minutes later. 

            "You're late..." Gains started to say. 

            "Yeah, yeah," Echo retorted. "Get us out of here first, complain later." 

            He needn't have said anything - Tippit was already taking off, and managed to get the ship to hyperspace without being spotted by the Imps.

            Echo couldn't remember the last time he had been able to complete a mission on an Imperial base without at least one shot being fired. If only they had found the clones, this mission would be a complete success. 

            "So..." Gains ventured after a lengthy silence, "you didn't find the clones?"

            Echo shook his head. 

            "Are you sure you found the right room?"

            "Yes, the set up and extraneous equipment were what you'd typically find for maintaining cryostasis chambers long-term." He didn't go into detail about how he knew this, and Gains didn't ask. "We have to find a way to figure out where they were transported." 

            Gains stared at him for a moment before asking bluntly, "How do you know they're still alive?" 

            "The Empire wouldn't have bothered moving them if there wasn't a plan to use them for something," Echo asserted. In this he was confident, given what he had seen in the labs, of the other experimental material being left behind to rot. "We have got to find them." 

            "Tarkin would know." 

            It took a moment for Echo to register it had been Tippet who spoke. "Come again?"

            "I heard some troopers talking the night we" - gesturing to Gains - "got out. Tarkin was scheduled to do an inspection on Dermudo, but got called away last minute to clean up a mess at an Imperial lab." He shrugged. "Might be part of the reason why Captain Rex managed to get all of us out without any complications. Anyway, figure Tarkin must have been in charge of shutting down Tantiss. Don't think any other Imperial lab would need his personal attention."

            Echo nodded thoughtfully. It made sense, especially considering Tarkin and Hemlock had been known associates. If Echo could come up with a way to track what Tarkin's movements had been during that time...

            "We'll help you as much as we can, Echo," Gains promised, with Tippit nodding his agreement. 

            "I appreciate it," Echo said solemnly, touched by their concern. 

            As if understanding Echo needed time to think, even Gains remained quiet the rest of the trip back to their base on Predonia. In the silence, Echo couldn't stop considering options to track the clones' location, even though all the options he was currently coming up with were wildly impossible. 

            He didn't know how he'd do it, but of one thing he was sure. 

            He was going to save these clones. No matter what. 

Chapter Text

            Admiral Dumize cordially shook hands with Governor Tarkin, seated himself across the desk from the governor, and barely refrained from openly scowling. He knew what this meeting would entail, but none of this was his fault.

            Former Vice Admiral Edmon Rampart had been in charge of pushing through the Defense Recruitment Bill and overseeing the clone decommissioning program, but then he had completely bungled his job and left him, Ralf Dumize, with a royal mess to clean up. He had risen to the challenge, feeling honored, at first, to be given the opportunity to meet the Emperor’s objectives in this matter: recruit citizens to replace the clones in the Imperial military as quickly as possible, while finding some other use for the clones to prevent them from being released into society.  

            The Emperor never said as much, but Dumize understood the utility of building an army from the general populace as a means to exert more control over the systems that made up the galaxy. Offer struggling commoners the opportunity of receiving basic necessities in exchange for loyalty to an Empire that helped them rather than to the planetary system that had ignored them, and volunteers outpaced conscriptions by a wide margin; but even drafted soldiers proved to be disciplined and loyal. Knowing a good portion of the population was devoted to the Empire would be enough to bring any errant senators to heel.

            In terms of the second objective, he knew the clones could not be allowed to retire. One couldn’t just release hundreds of thousands of highly trained soldiers into society – what would happen if they ever banded together for change, if they ever joined Riyo Chuchi’s fight for clone rights? Besides, retirement implied they were Imperial citizens, which would then pose the threat of draining Imperial resources given certain senators’ push for pensions for the clones, not to mention leading to increased difficulties with the question of Senate representation. No; the clones could not continue serving in a military capacity, but they must remain controlled, out of sight.

            At any rate, most of the clones hadn’t wanted to retire anyway: such an idea had never occurred to them, and this had served Dumize’s plans well. It was pathetic bordering on pitiful, really, to have the clones clamoring to continue serving the Empire as soldiers; now, they just had to be convinced that serving on work details was equally honorable and useful to the Empire.

            Personally, he would have preferred a different method for decommissioning the clones; but the Defense Recruitment Bill being passed had coincided with Rampart's fall from grace, and while most people were apathetic toward the clones, Dumize knew better than to think the Senate's apathy would extend so far as to overlook wholesale slaughter of a population still lauded – even if it was only with empty words – as war heroes. Besides, it might be challenging to recruit even conscripted soldiers if citizens were under the impression that execution was the inevitable conclusion of their service. This could not be; better to find an alternative method to deal with the decommissioned clones and keep them out of the public eye so as to not give Riyo Chuchi and her allies any more reason to demand clone rights. The clones would still be made useful; they would be out of the army; and if handled properly, the upper echelons of Imperial leadership – including himself, Admiral Dumize – would have plausible deniability about the true conditions of the work camps.

            And so, understanding the main objectives, and in pursuit of meeting the challenge immediately after Rampart’s arrest, Dumize had dealt with the various hiccups relating to management of the clone problem that had arisen in rapid succession, and had – if he did say so himself – handled it all extremely well. He had managed to ride out the upheaval that occurred when half the clone trainers on Daro had abruptly gone AWOL in protest soon after the Defense Recruitment Bill had been passed: he had found replacements for the trainers and even increased recruitment efforts for non-clone soldiers to a rather impressive degree considering the circumstances. A few clones had escaped early on from one of the work sites, but he had swiftly dealt with it and contained the fallout enough that reports of conditions at the site had easily been chalked up to false rumors. He had dealt with constant questioning and pressure from that meddler Senator Chuchi for months, but hadn’t been overly concerned.  Let the senator keep yapping; there was nothing the Senate could do. CT troopers were steadily – if more slowly than he’d like – being replaced by TK troopers; and when the few labor camps created for the decommissioning program had been at risk of being overfilled, Dr. Royce Hemlock had requested that all decommissioned clones be sent to his lab on Tantiss. And Dumize had been assured in his success of meeting his Emperor’s expectations.

            That was when everything had started falling apart.

            Tantiss had been abruptly and unexpectedly shut down, leaving Dumize with over three hundred newly decommissioned clones with impossibly clean records who needed to be put somewhere – and even Dumize knew he wouldn’t be able to get away with simply executing them. He had needed to postpone decommissioning other clone units while dealing with the excess clones on his hands, and even now he thought with great displeasure of the number of teams who were still commissioned despite occasional mission failures. To make matters immeasurably worse, some clones had actually managed to escape Tantiss, giving Senator Chuchi the leverage she needed to move forward in pushing for an inquiry into the decommissioning program.

            None of this had been his fault. Yet he was still going to be held responsible for it all – for Rampart’s incompetence, for Hemlock’s arrogance, for Chuchi’s infuriating stubbornness, for the clones’ existence.

            “I presume you understand the reason for my calling a meeting with you, Admiral,” Governor Tarkin said austerely by way of opening the discussion.

            Dumize gave a curt nod. “The clones are becoming a problem.”

            Tarkin raised an eyebrow in a way that instantly informed Dumize that he had chosen his words poorly. “Becoming a problem? They have been a problem, Admiral Dumize, especially since the Pantoran senator got it into the clones’ heads that they deserve more than what the Empire is offering them. They have been a problem, Admiral, that you were supposed to take care of. That is why we are meeting today, so we can review your progress in this matter.”

            “We ran into a… complication when Tantiss was shut down,” Dumize began stiffly. “We only had three functioning work sites for the decommissioning program at the time, all of which were at full capacity. We were relying on Dr. Hemlock taking in more than just the insubordinate clones who were causing trouble in the prisons. When that option was no longer viable, we had to adjust with increased work sites as well as sufficient security to oversee them. It has taken time, but we have established a total of five work sites now – even with the Bornash site being repurposed – and have settled on a steady, sustainable rate of decommissioning the clones.”

            “You speak as if your decommissioning program accounts for those punished for insubordination, not to mention the ever-growing number of deserters,” Tarkin returned tartly, his eyebrow still raised. “You do recognize the danger inherent in allowing deserters to run loose without consequence. Should such behavior become the norm, we will lose all semblance of dignity and order within the military.”

            This was another sore point: the clones, whose loyalty and obedience had been touted as the best of their virtues and who had initially been so dismayed at the idea of being forced out of the military they had jumped at the opportunity to continue serving the Empire in any capacity, had apparently changed their minds some months after the Defense Recruitment Bill had passed. Some decided they had basic standards for the opportunities they would accept and chose to go AWOL rather than be decommissioned. More had shown a propensity for insubordination at levels previously unheard of - one clone had even dared to stir up the entirety of his platoon into refusing to comply with a mission objective by citing Emperor Palpatine’s own words deriding the clones for “blindly following orders.” Dumize almost cringed at the memory now. The entire platoon had been subjected to summary execution rather than imprisonment, in an attempt to contain the problem; but the sentiment seemed to be spreading, and more clone troopers who questioned orders were deciding to risk going on the run rather than facing other consequences.

            And it had gotten worse: Admiral Pureti had kicked up such a tremendous fuss about what had happened to the platoon, top military leadership had almost unanimously decided to strictly re-establish the need for a court martial to be held prior to any executions, including for clone troopers. Dumize, finding himself in charge not only of the decommissioning program but all inactive clone troopers, had been stuck dealing with the fallout, and had needed to make arrangements for prisons to hold captured deserters and clone troopers accused of insubordination, ostensibly to await their court martial. Of course, it just so happened that the court martials had to be delayed for one reason or another - Admiral Pureti was just one of several military leaders who proved there was a significant risk that the judges would be clone sympathizers – and prisoners were instead simply kept in their solitary cells until they died of "natural causes"; but the fact remained that there was no simple solution to the clone problem, even for an issue that should be as simple as enacting the punishment due for treason.  

            “Increasing rates of insubordination is one of the reasons why the decommissioning process is so important. And I do not consider desertion to be a solution to the problem, Governor Tarkin,” Dumize said now. “Rest assured, deserters are being dealt with.”

            “When they are caught.”

            “I am dedicating adequate resources to finding them.”

            “Yes, resources that could otherwise be used to achieve Emperor Palpatine’s wider objectives for the galaxy.”

            Dumize almost gritted his teeth – Tarkin had backed him into a corner, shredding his attempts at regaining control of the clones by insinuating these attempts were, far from solving the issue, instead creating other problems.

            “In that case, Governor Tarkin, do you suggest we simply execute the clones?” Dumize queried in a tone of forced calm. He knew what the answer would be, of course; but perhaps…

            “Of course not,” Tarkin replied stiffly. “If we could, we would have done so by now. No, we do not yet have sufficient control to contain the backlash that would inevitably occur if we took such measures. There are those in the military as well as senators who are still sympathetic toward the clones, and who would strongly object to such a course of action. With the current level of scrutiny, under no circumstances can execution be the standard decommissioning solution."

            “Then we agree,” Dumize said pointedly.

            Tarkin, however, remained unimpressed. “Agreement does not absolve you of your responsibilities, Admiral. You have yet to tell me how you plan to resolve the issues you have so clearly delineated and which we both agree do, indeed, exist.”   

            "The Senate's interference is severely limiting my ability to solve the clone problem. As we speak, Senator Chuchi is advocating for the Senate to demand a full inquiry into the work sites as well as the Tantiss operation and the extent of the Empire's knowledge of it. She wants to prove the decommissioning process has been mishandled, that the clones have been deliberately mistreated and deserve compensation, and that they deserve rights equal to..."

"           Precisely my point, Admiral Dumize," Tarkin interrupted, his volume rising slightly as a sign of his impatience. " Since it seems impossible for you to cease obfuscating the matter at hand, I will be direct: How will you handle Senator Chuchi? How will you ensure the inquiry does not go ahead? Most importantly, how will you guarantee the evidence of the Imperial administration’s involvement on Tantiss never sees the light of day?”

            Dumize, taken aback, paused for a moment to collect his thoughts before he replied, "I will meet with Senator Chuchi when the Senate is next in session to convince her that the decommissioning program was devised to assure the clones of their continued welfare given their history of service to the Empire.”

            Tarkin stared unblinkingly at Dumize for several long moments. "If you manage to convince Senator Chuchi that the work assignments are the best option for the clones, I will be most impressed."

            "The clones cannot be released and left to their own devices in society," Dumize countered. "That will only serve to strengthen the movement for clone rights."

            "Unfortunately, you are correct," Tarkin said. “However, this does not address the most pressing matter. Whatever is revealed about the conditions of the work camps is relatively unimportant, Admiral. Under no circumstances should Tantiss operations become public knowledge.”

            “I understand. To that end, I already have several plans in place to make sure Senator Chuchi’s witnesses cease to be a concern…”

            At this juncture, Tarkin was interrupted by a pinging comm. Looking annoyed, the governor accepted the transmission without even excusing himself to the admiral.

            “Apologies, Governor Tarkin, for the abrupt summons,” Mas Amedda said, “but Emperor Palpatine wishes to speak with you immediately.”

            “Very well, I shall be available presently,” Tarkin replied, closing the transmission and turning his severe gaze on Dumize. “I will accept your word, Admiral, and take my leave of you without requiring further explanation. Be advised, however, I will be asking for details of these plans if they do not prove successful before the next Senate hearing.” He rose, indicating an end to the discussion; Admiral Dumize rose with him. "I will leave you to your work. I look forward to hearing the results of your strategies."

            Dumize respectfully nodded, despite the overwhelming ire he felt toward the man across from him. “Thank you, Governor Tarkin.”

Chapter Text

            Fel lay down on his cot with a groan and lay still, idly listening to the conversation being carried out in hushed tones by the other men near him. A new batch of decommissioned clones had arrived today, the first in a month. Fel had been assigned as one of the first-day trainers, paired with a young clone named Samuel who reminded Fel a lot of himself. Or, at least, who he used to be. He was too tired now to be optimistic. But he couldn't stand the thought of dimming Samuel's naive hope - not so early - and so Samuel had ended the tour still thinking the workers here would be treated well. 

            Based on the conversation going on now, Samuel would very soon be disabused of this notion.

            "At least we're not being experimented on," Broadside noted. 

            "They shut that one down months ago," Blue said dismissively with a wave of his hand. 

            "Only after all the prisoners broke out and they didn't have anyone to experiment on," one of the new clones put in - Fel didn't know his name yet. 

            "Not the Empire's fault, they didn't know what was going on. The chief scientist had gone rogue."

            "If you really believe that..." 

            "Are you sure they aren't running any experiments here? Seeing what exposure to raw praxium does to the body, how long people last?" 

            "It's not the praxium itself, it's breathing in the toxic gas pockets that are sometimes released when..."

            “And I think it’s just a problem here on Farsi.”

            "All we'd need is air filters..."

            "Oh, but the Empire has deemed filtration systems for the mines an “unnecessary expenditure.””

            “Yeah, we’re not dying fast enough for filters to be necessary…”

            "Nothing so fancy as a full system. Even trooper helmets would do, just while we're down in the mines." 

            "Never gonna happen, Trickshot." 

            The conversation went on only a minute longer before the lights cut out. The voices cut off just as quickly, and the men all settled into their cots, silence descending on the barracks, interrupted only by the murmur of heavy breathing as the men fell to sleep. 

            Fel, too exhausted for sleep, lay still in his bed and stared idly at the skylight in the ceiling above him, a square of deep blackness set against a backdrop of slightly muted darkness. There was no moon tonight, and this patch of sky seemed devoid of stars, but Fel knew the lack of starlight was due to the light cloud cover. 

            Derin had died a month ago, having set a new longevity record of nine months in the labor camp. Amos had died a week before him - Fel had been sure Amos would last at least a few more months, but a broken plate during dinner had cost the former captain three days' worth of rations - workers always had to pay back, somehow, anything they were found responsible for breaking or mishandling - and he had never recovered his strength, especially with the workload being increased shortly thereafter. 

            This wasn't any worse than being on the front lines in the war, he reminded himself now - in many ways, this was better. Steady work, less uncertainty, no droids shooting at him, and when the men died they did it one at a time and were quickly moved out of sight. No more standing on a vast battlefield surrounded by the dead. No, now he stood daily in a mining facility surrounded by the dying...

            He coughed, interrupting his own train of thought; and he returned to his original musings. He had only fought in the Clone War for a few months, but he had been so relieved when the war had ended, even though he had spurned the idea of not being in the army – being a soldier was all he had ever known. He had never really thought about what he would do when the war was over, though, and he now supposed working in a mine in service to the Empire was as good a job as any. Still, he had always assumed that when he died, it would be in a fight for the Republic - no, the Empire. Dying here seemed rather pointless...

            "Do you remember the farmers in Ty'Gerin?" 

            Hoz's quiet voice floated down from the cot above Fel, and Fel blinked before sighing to himself. 

            "We were told to arrest them because they didn't have enough food to feed our platoon. We already had rations, and the farmers had given us everything they had, but the general still said they were being defiant and we had to arrest them." Hoz paused as he coughed. "Never found out what happened to them." 

            Hoz had been going on like this for weeks now. Almost every night he'd bring up yet another mission for the Imperial Army that Fel didn't want to think about, orders he almost wished he could forget. Two nights ago, Hoz had talked about the former Separatist stronghold whose occupants were shot down even though they had surrendered. The night before that, the child who had died after being exposed to the elements when the commanding officer ordered all civilians out of their homes for hours while a search for insurgents was conducted through the long hours of the night... 

            The child had haunted Fel's dreams the past two nights. Perhaps that was why he couldn't sleep. 

            Hoz was still talking, almost a whisper now, more as if he was talking to himself than to Fel. “I should have said no. I shouldn’t have followed orders.”

            “Don’t say that. You know what would have happened if you had disobeyed,” Fel said, his tone rather more forceful than he had intended. The idea of Hoz dying…

            “Right. We get decommissioned for following orders, and executed for questioning orders,” Hoz said bitterly.

            “Exactly, you would have been killed.”

            “Better than dying here. No. No matter how obedient and loyal we are, the Empire uses us up and throws us away.” Hoz was silent for so long, Fel almost thought he had fallen asleep; but then he coughed before speaking again. “Should have taken the chance to resist. At least then I would have died knowing I had stood for something.”

            Fel, not knowing what to say, said nothing at all; but while Hoz did fall asleep eventually, Fel could not. His old squadmate’s words kept running through his mind, pricking at him, bothering him; he needed to concentrate on pushing them away, reminding himself of the reality of the situation.

            Sure, he didn’t like to think about some of the things he had been ordered to do by the Empire; but his superior officers must have had a good reason for the orders. The generals and admirals weren’t required to justify the orders to the troopers; it was the troopers who were required to obey. That was what the clones were made for, after all. Then and now, as a soldier and as a miner, that fact remained.

            He might not be very optimistic anymore; but he would still be obedient.

            If only obedience meant he and his brothers could live.

            The sky through the skylights had faded from black to hazy dark gray, and the workers in the barracks began to stir. Fel opened his eyes - he must have dozed off, though he didn't remember doing so. He stood and was halfway through getting his gear for the day when he noticed Hoz had yet to move. 

            "Hoz, get up," he hissed, waiting a moment before shaking the cot, continuing to shake it even as the truth dawned. "You know what'll happen if you're late..."

            Hoz didn't stir. He would never stir again.

            He had lasted four months.

*****

            Silence had reigned in the dorm room for the past twenty minutes, all the clone workers taking what rest they could; but only when he heard Buck snoring did Lucky cautiously raise his head from his pillow and glance around the room. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness in the dorm room almost half an hour ago, but he knew from past experience that he didn’t dare move from his bunk if Buck wasn’t sound asleep.

            Ensuring the five inches of wire he had recently obtained were still in his pocket, he soundlessly rolled out of bed and stole across the room to the refresher, stepping inside and counting to ten before peeking back out to make sure he was still unobserved. Satisfied, he slipped back out of the refresher and ducked into the supply closet immediately adjacent to it. Ensuring the door was fully shut behind him, he sat on the floor, wedging himself into the back corner between the stacks of supplies, and uncovered the personal project he had concealed here.

            He looked at his progress, and released a disappointed sigh. It had been months now, and the small comms unit he was constructing was maybe halfway completed. Acquiring the parts he needed to build this unit from scratch was the main problem. If he had free rein of all the parts and equipment here, he'd have finished this job within thirty minutes even with the limited down time; but he did not have free rein over anything and the officers here were extremely strict with inventory. And so he had needed to locate a place he could hide his project, scrounge for basic tools to repair parts as needed, then keep an eagle eye out for any stray broken or mislabeled equipment that he could slip into a pocket without it being missed. All this, while also finding moments like now where he could safely hide the parts, not to mention actually building the unit.

            But he had to continue. He had no other choice. He had made a promise. He had to get the message out. He had to get himself out of this labor camp. And he had to help his brothers get out too.

            Of course, many of his brothers here didn't want to get out.

            Their work in this facility involved building various components that would ultimately be used to construct Star Destroyers, which wouldn’t be too bad if they weren’t worked flat out for eighteen hours of a twenty-four-hour day. The mortality rate wasn’t too high – Lucky had seen worse in some battles – but exhaustion did often lead to injuries which were never treated properly, and some mistakes were fatal. Additionally, the decommissioned clones, who had been assured that the work assignments were not at prison labor camps, found themselves restricted to the facility with no contact with the outside world.  

            What struck Lucky the hardest, though, was that all the men wanted to work, were more than willing to work. Why make conditions like this? What did the Empire have to gain? It was almost as if the Empire thought a clone with any semblance of freedom would start to get ideas above their station.

            One would think the reality of the situation would be obvious; but no. Lucky had discovered multiple times over that trying to get through to some of the men was not only exhausting, but pointless. They were adamant that loyalty to the Empire was paramount - that was what they were made for, after all. Even as news filtered in, via the more recent arrivals of decommissioned soldiers, of what had happened to some of their brothers on a base called Tantiss, these hardheaded men insisted that it changed nothing, the Empire still deserved undying loyalty, the clones on that base deserved their treatment for questioning orders.

            “We’re imprisoned here, too, you know,” Lucky had blurted out a few weeks ago when the argument came up again.

            “This isn’t a prison,” Mals had insisted.

            “What else would you call it?”

            “A work assignment, just like we were told!”

            “This is a work prison and you know it!” Lucky persisted. “No personal belongings, strict schedule, we can’t talk to anyone on the outside, we’re never allowed to leave base – what, since we aren’t being tortured and experimented on, that means we aren’t prisoners?”

            “If they were tortured, which is doubtful, they had it coming,” Buck had interjected. “They were insubordinate. They questioned orders. Clones like them are the reason why the military decided to decommission us.”

            "Really? Because according to the Emperor, NOT questioning orders is what got us decommissioned in the first place," Lucky had retorted, causing an uproar that had landed him in solitary confinement for a week.

            Given the work conditions, one might think solitary confinement would be a welcome reprieve. Only those who hadn't been locked for a week in the tiny windowless room constantly lit with white light and featuring an incessant high-pitched whining noise would persist in such delusion. Lucky had handled it well enough, but he didn't want to be punished again, if only because it postponed his work on the comms unit. Besides, he knew the lieutenant now had him on watch; and though Lieutenant Triyto wasn’t inclined to execute clone workers for relatively mild acts of insubordination, Lucky knew that being found with contraband, especially contraband necessary to build a signaling device, would be cause for an exception.

            He had to make sure he wasn’t caught. That meant he had less than ten minutes now to get this wiring installed before the guards took notice of his absence.

            He had just barely fit the last wire in place when he heard the door to the storage closet slide open, and he hastily pushed his project out of sight. Grabbing a bottle of cleaner, he stood and turned, smiling sheepishly at the man who was blocking his path.

            “Finally found it,” Lucky said, holding up the bottle.

            Wyatt looked severely unimpressed. Then again, with the thick, raised, ropy scar that ran in an uninterrupted line across his nose and cheekbones, every expression he made was severe. In contrast to his expression, though, his voice was low and soft when he replied, “Here. Thought you could use this.”

            Lucky glanced quizzically down at the object Wyatt was holding out to him, and very nearly lost his attempt at naïve nonchalance.

            “What would I need a type 4C oscillator for?” he asked levelly, his mind already running through various scenarios in which he could get the component from Wyatt without blowing his cover. He had been especially worried over how he was going to get his hands on any type of oscillator or even a component he could feasibly modify to function as an oscillator; and now here was a type 4C, one of the highest grades, and what’s more, it looked completely intact.

            Wyatt somehow managed to look even more unimpressed. “Come off it, Lucky, I know you’re trying to build a radio.”

            “That’s against the rules.” Wyatt wasn’t openly antagonistic toward Lucky like some of the other clones were, but he maintained the view that the clones should accept whatever fate the Empire handed to them, and Lucky wasn’t sure he could be trusted. What if this was a trap?

            Wyatt stared at him with an inscrutable expression before abruptly commenting, “You think this is a trap, don’t you?” When Lucky didn’t reply, Wyatt shook his head. “If Lieutenant Triyto found out about the device, it wouldn’t matter who was responsible for it. We would all be punished. I’d be put in solitary for two weeks just for being found with this oscillator, no matter what my intentions were with it. There’s nothing to gain by trapping you.”

            Lucky considered Wyatt’s argument – the other clone was right, of course, on both counts, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t setting Lucky up out of pure spite. Some of the clones truly were that loyal to the Empire.

            “Why would you take the risk, then?” Lucky finally asked. “You don’t want out.”

            Wyatt abruptly stepped forward, speaking in a voice barely above a whisper. “You’re right. The Empire doesn't care about us. They were looking for a way to get rid of us - didn't matter what we did as soldiers, didn't matter how loyal or obedient or talented we were; they wanted us gone, so they found a way to do it.”

            Lucky frowned. “Then why don’t you…”

            Wyatt cut off Lucky’s question when he took a deep breath, eyes still fixed on him. “Because, truth is, I was glad to be decommissioned.”

            “What?” Lucky blurted incredulously.

            “I wouldn’t have to fight anymore,” Wyatt said simply, his eyes taking on a heaviness Lucky recognized all too well, for he had felt it himself before.

            “But that’s the point, Wyatt,” Lucky urged him. “We’ve served our time, done our duty. We fought in the war, and the war was won. We should be free to live our own lives now, not stuck in some prison and worked to death.”

            Wyatt slowly shook his head, clearly unconvinced. “What life? It’s not so bad here. At least the orders we’re given here aren’t the kind that keep me up at night. And I don’t care if I die here. You know as well as I do what our brothers are dealing with, trying to get what they call freedom. Fight and die out there, or work and die in here. I don’t want to fight anymore.” He proffered the oscillator yet again. “But if you want out – well, why not. A lot of the others want out too, more than you might think, they just don’t like to talk about it either. But Rain’ll talk to you about it, you should go to him. Most of the rest don’t really care – they won’t help you, but they won’t stop you either. Watch out for Buck and Cutter and Aron, though – mass punishment or not, they will turn you in if they find out what you’re doing.”

            Lucky stared, dumbfounded, at Wyatt, torn between accepting his help without complaint and trying harder to convince the clone that there must be more to life than this…

            Too late: he now heard the TK troopers approaching, and he froze as he wildly cast around for some way to explain his and Wyatt’s presence in the closet…

            Wyatt suddenly grabbed the bottle out of Lucky’s hands and stepped out of the closet before Lucky could even blink, closing the door behind him.

            “What are you doing?” a trooper called out suspiciously.

            “Getting this for the refresher,” Wyatt answered – Lucky could just imagine him holding up the bottle of cleaner much like Lucky had done earlier.

            “There is another clone out of bed,” the trooper said now. “Where is he?”

            “In the refresher. He’s not feeling too good.”

            A few shuffling steps, then – “Step aside,” another trooper’s voice demanded. Lucky listened intently – it didn’t sound like they were right outside the closet, they must be standing outside the refresher…

            “I would have thought you’d want me to clean up in there first,” Wyatt was saying now, almost casually, “but if you don’t mind all the vomit…”

            Lucky would have snorted if he didn’t know the sound would immediately give up the game for both him and Wyatt.

            As expected, Wyatt’s remark had given the troopers pause. A few moments of awkward silence passed; then: “You’re expected to be back in your bunk in fifteen minutes,” the first trooper’s voice said imperiously. “We’ll be checking. Tell the other clone, too.”

            “Yes, sir,” Wyatt said; and Lucky could hear the door to the refresher sliding open as the troopers stalked away.

            Fifteen minutes. In ten minutes he’d duck back to the refresher before exiting to return to his bunk. Now all he had to do was wait quietly. He sat down on a crate of supplies and glanced around, his eyes abruptly landing on an object sitting on the shelf in front of him.

            Wyatt had left the oscillator behind.

            Lucky slowly reached out and picked up the part, staring at it in his hands for a moment before a wide grin spread across his face. Moving to tuck the part safely away with the project – he’d have to install it later, no time now – he returned to the crate and waited, his expression now solemn.

            He had to get out of here, and he would get the other clones out of here as well.

            He had a promise to keep.

Chapter Text

            Rex strode onto his ship, fully intending to set off immediately. 

            Five minutes later, he found himself sitting in the pilot seat, still staring tiredly through the viewport at the lush green meadows surrounding this residential district of Corpa Nia. 

            Locating the families of the older kids from Tantiss had been relatively easy. Locating the baby's family was not. 

            They had run into more than their fair share of complications, of course. Sami had been the first to reunite with her family - the little girl had recited her home address on Pantora and had been returned to her parents and younger brother the next day. It had taken a little longer to locate Jax's father - the man had asked a few too many questions of the woman who had come to his home under the pretense of offering his son the opportunity to join a school for the gifted, and had decided to flee his home and the planet after finally being released from the hospital. After three weeks of following one dead end lead after another, with the Bad Batch and Phee helping as much as they could, Rex finally found the man on Shianu. He had assumed a new identity, but had been overjoyed to be reunited with Jax.

            The run in with the Inquisitor on Torpus Cristi had been what had first clued Rex in to the fact that the children might not be quite as safe as they had originally thought, even with the Tantiss research destroyed. Rex had heard rumors of the Inquisitorius Program, with its Force wielders who were tasked with hunting down surviving Jedi, and knew these rumors to be true - after all, Ahsoka Tano had encountered one herself, had sent him a message months ago informing him of the encounter and letting him know she was safe before going completely silent. Apparently, based on the Inquisitor’s appearance on Torpus Cristi, the Inquisitors had expanded their repertoire beyond hunting only known members of the Jedi Order. By a stroke of sheer blind luck, Eva had convinced not only Omega, Hunter, Crosshair, and Wrecker, but also Mox, Deke, Stak, and Phee to come with her and "the nice captain" to meet her family. Rex would forever be grateful he had consented to bringing along the entourage and that Phee had insisted on bringing her own ship - he didn't know how they all, along with Eva's family, would have made it off the planet alive otherwise. 

            Now knowing that Inquisitors would go after anyone who might be capable of using the Force had prompted Rex to contact the other families to warn them and urge them to relocate. Pabu, at least, was secure, that much Rex knew: a non-clone human who sympathized with the clone cause and was well-placed at the Imperial military HQ had disclosed that Hemlock had been extremely secretive about his movements and had, much to the ire of Tarkin and several other top military advisors, withheld crucial details even on official reports about several retrieval operations conducted in the last few months before his death. With several other sources confirming this, and with those who had visited Pabu remaining very discreet about its existence, Rex was fairly certain the island planet would be safe from Imperial notice for the time being. Jax and his father had immediately joined Eva's family in deciding to move to Pabu; and at Riyo Chuchi’s urging due to the increasingly oppressive Imperial presence on Pantora, Sami's family had recently decided to join them as well.

            Even with all these unforeseen complications, Bayrn's situation was by far the most challenging. After all, the baby couldn't share any information, and no one else knew anything about his family or where he was from. The only information Emerie could give was that the bounty hunter Cad Bane had delivered the baby, and Bane wasn't likely to share any intel willingly. 

          And so, for the past month and a half after having reunited the other children with their families, Rex, the Bad Batch with Phee, and a Pabu resident named Tekka who had his own ship, had all been running down reports of missing children in the hopes of finding information about Bayrn's family. Narrowing the search to Tarlafars younger than two years old who had been reported missing within the past six months and whose holos bore at least a passing resemblance to Bayrn had yielded an astonishing ninety-three results - and this method was based purely on the hope that the missing-persons report had been released to the galactic-wide database, dismissing altogether the sobering idea that the child's family might not have been alive to report him missing. Still, this was a start; and Tekka had taken the Inner Rim planets while Rex and the Bad Batch began scouring the Outer Rim. 

            Corpa Nia had been the sixteenth planet on Rex's list of twenty-five locations to check out, and this had also been a bust. At least no one here had tried turning him in as a deserter; the work was already draining enough without needing to escape authorities. Worse than constantly being at risk of being arrested, worse even than not finding what he was looking for, was ultimately leaving these bereaved and desperate parents disappointed yet again. And what would happen if they couldn't find Bayrn's family on any of these planets?

            Rex toyed with the idea of calling in the clone network resources, before just as quickly dismissing it. With Echo taking Rex's place in helping Senator Chuchi on Pantora as well as trying to find more lost clones from Tantiss, Gregor and Howzer leading extraction ops, Heddy and several others trying to locate labor camps, clones and non-clones alike all striving to help deserters continually relocate given the paucity of safe places for clones to gather and stay, and all of this along with the current objective of pushing the Senate to hold the Empire accountable for offenses committed against clones and eventually passing a bill allowing clones to be fully recognized as citizens - no, he couldn't afford to pull anyone off their assignments. 

            Sighing, he roused himself and began readying his ship for departure - and then noticed his comms receiver blinking. He accepted the transmission, not realizing how heavily he had been frowning until he felt his face relax upon seeing Hunter on the other end. 

            "Hunter," he greeted the other. 

            "I have good news, Rex," Hunter said without preamble. 

            "I could use some good news right now," Rex replied, perking up. 

            "A source has come through with information about Bayrn's mother. Phee and the rest of us will work on reuniting them. You can stop your search; I know you need to get back to your other business.” 

            Rex couldn't help but sigh in relief: the search was finally over. Still, he couldn't stop himself from asking, "Isn't Phee getting tired of carting you all around?" 

            Hunter hid a smile. "If you manage to scrounge up a spare ship for us, we'll all be forever in your debt. Phee included." 

            "Don't speak for me, Hunter!" Phee's voice called out a warning in the background. 

            "So you like piloting us around." With that level of sarcasm, it could only be Crosshair speaking now.

            "No," Phee retorted, "I like piloting Omega around. Maybe Wrecker too, but mostly Omega. The two of us can take care of this ourselves, you know..."

            "Never gonna happen," Hunter called casually over his shoulder. 

            "After all this time, you don't trust me?" Phee's voice now held a distinct note of disbelief. 

            "Hunter trusts you, Phee." Rex heard Omega speak just before she came into view directly over Hunter's shoulder. "He just doesn't trust... well, the rest of the galaxy." Omega waved at the holo. "Hi, Rex." 

            "Good to see you, Omega," Rex nodded back at the same moment Phee said, "Fine. But back to the matter at hand: I'm not in anyone’s debt." 

            "Duly noted, Phee," Rex called back drily.

            Despite what he had heard about the pirate from Echo, Rex had been more than a little surprised at Phee’s competence in helping to get Eva’s family off Torpus Cristi, just as he had been surprised when she had gamely agreed to Omega’s request to help with finding the children’s families.

            “Of course I want to help,” Phee had said stoutly when Rex hadn’t been able to hide his surprise over the pirate immediately agreeing to the proposal. “These kids need their families, you boys” – gesturing to Hunter, Wrecker, and Crosshair – “need a ship, and Omega needs me,” she had finished while slinging her arm across Omega’s shoulders, the young clone beaming in response.

            If anything, Rex was in Phee’s debt; but he knew her well enough now that he knew to not press that topic. Therefore, he now returned his focus to Hunter. "Thank you all. If you don't mind my asking, what source came through?" 

            Hunter hesitated, but Omega had no qualms in answering. "Ventress!" she piped in with a grin. 

            Rather against his will, Rex’s mouth fell open in shock as he shifted his gaze between the grinning Omega and the stoic Hunter. "Ventress?" Rex repeated. "As in Asajj Ventress, the Separatist assassin?"

            "She's good now!" Omega said. 

            "She's not currently a danger to us in this particular matter," Hunter amended. "We stumbled across her and her… uh, sidekick a few weeks ago.”

            “She has a sidekick,” Rex stated in a daze.

            “Yeah, talkative kid. Anyway. Seems she's very interested in helping what she calls Force-sensitives stay out of Inquisitors' hands” –

            “More like it’s the kid who’s interested and she goes along with it,” Wrecker called out from what sounded like somewhere near the back of the flight deck.

            “… Sure,” Hunter agreed. “At any rate, she didn’t promise to help us then, but she contacted us just yesterday to let us know she'd tracked down Bayrn's mother. She was a little... scarce on the details of how she managed it, but her information checks out." 

            Rex had no idea how to process... any of this; but he trusted Hunter enough to leave well enough alone. At least he wasn't needing to deal with Ventress himself. 

            "I really appreciate this, Hunter," he said, adding with a small smile, "I'll contact you once I find that spare ship." 

            "Thank you." 

            "Let me know if you need anything else," Rex said, before signing off. Leaning back in his seat, he allowed himself the briefest of moments to enjoy the sheer relief of the months-long mission having finally reached its conclusion, before turning to his comms array again. 

            He needed to update Gregor and Echo; but first, there was one other person he needed to check in with. 

            He thought he had adequately composed himself; but the moment the senator's bright face, compassionate smile, and large golden eyes appeared to view, he couldn't contain the smile that spread across his face, and it took him a moment to school his features back into the expression he thought most suitable for a dignified captain addressing a respected friend.

            "Captain Rex," Riyo said. "I didn't expect to hear from you so soon." 

            "I didn't expect to be finished with the mission so soon," he admitted. "Hunter and the others are taking care of the last reunion themselves. I wanted to check in with you before updating Gregor and Echo. Is there anything I can help you with?"

            She shook her head. "Not at the moment. I'm due back on Coruscant tomorrow." 

            "You don't need any additional protection?"

            "You know it's not safe for you on Coruscant. I can't let you risk it." Her eyes took on a hint of regret. "I wish I could see you in person." 

            He nodded rather dejectedly. The Empire had been increasingly feeding into anti-clone sentiment by portraying clones who escaped the Empire as dangerous, lawless traitors bent on destroying all semblance of law and order. A few Inner Rim planets were less swayed by the propaganda, and Pantora was openly welcoming of clones who no longer associated with the army; but such places were few and far between. Short, well-planned missions to places like Coruscant were necessary to free some clones from the Imperial military, but staying there for more than a day or two was risky. Being part of a senator's security detail on the capital planet, even as backup, was out of the question. "I don't like being limited like this." 

            Riyo smiled as she tried to reassure him. "It won't last long. Just think: once the clones are free, you can go wherever you want." 

            "Always the optimist." 

            "Perhaps then I'll request your services permanently on my security detail." 

            "Request approved," Rex replied instantly. 

            This made her laugh. "On second thought, perhaps I should instead be convincing you to take a much-deserved break once all this is over." 

            "Request denied," he deadpanned.

            "Come now, Rex," Riyo lightly chided him, "when was the last time you gave yourself time to rest?"

            "I could ask you the same." 

            "You know a senator's work is never done. There's always something else to stand and fight for." 

            Rex nodded firmly. "The same goes for captains, even those who aren't in the army anymore." Riyo Chuchi had first earned his respect with her bravery on Orto Plutonia; in the years that followed, this respect had grown to admiration and deep esteem as he had witnessed her unwavering determination to stand firm for compassion and justice. The least he could do was match her efforts. 

            Riyo tilted her head at him. "Rex..."

            "I'll rest when you do." 

            She laughed softly. "You do know how to win an argument.”

            “Nah, you’re just letting me win,” Rex returned. He sighed as he recognized he needed to wrap up this conversation. "I'll be returning to base for a few days. Keep me informed about what's going on in the Senate, would you?"

            "Of course."

            He hesitated only for a moment as he leaned forward to end the transmission. "It's always good to see you, Senator."

            She gave him a warm smile, the kind that never failed to lift his spirits. "Likewise, Captain Rex."

Chapter Text

            "Alright, boys, all clear on your roles?"

            "Yes, Commander Gregor," four voices echoed in his ears. 

            Gregor frowned uncertainly. He still wasn't sure whether he liked being referred to as "Commander" or not, not now when he was fighting to be free of the army. After a moment, he decided to let it go. After all, they were running a rescue op and the boys probably needed some semblance of order.

            A non-clone human named Kor Teemu'jawe who had joined the underground efforts almost a year ago had been running supplies for the Empire to the compound on Dhormalima for months before learning it had been turned into a holding facility for decommissioned clones awaiting transfer to their new assignments. Overhearing a whispered conversation between several clones had informed her that at least two dozen men wanted out. With Rex helping relocate a deserter who had been on the run after being discovered on Corellia, Howzer in the middle of drawing up a plan to pull some active clone troopers from the military base on Coruscant, Echo taking a brief pause in his efforts to locate the missing Tantiss clones and going to pick up some much-needed supplies from an ally on Tenthis, and Backlash and Gambit overseeing another op to move some deserters off Fulcan before Imperial troops caught up with them, it had fallen to Gregor to take on this rescue operation.

            With only thirty standard hours to act before the decommissioned clones were moved to their assignments, somehow Gregor, Heddy, and Kade had managed to uncover enough intel to come up with a plan: a detailed conversation with Kor combined with extensive study of the compound blueprints revealed a structural weakness in the northwest corner of the wall surrounding the compound, which, if exploited in the three minutes between guard rounds, would allow enough time for some clones to slip in and break out the decommissioned men.

            But the entrance and exit routes weren't the most challenging parts of the plan. No, the most challenging part was coming up with a viable plan with the fewest number of men possible. 

            Only thirty-two clones were currently part of the underground efforts full time – these, of course, all had their inhibitor chips removed, which was one of Rex’s few stipulations for joining the cause. About a dozen others, including the Bad Batch on Pabu, made themselves available when needed, but most operations often came up so quickly there was no time to call in backup. Over a hundred non-clones had joined the cause and were helpful in providing support such as supplies, transport, and temporary shelter; but the vast majority of these were not combat-trained and thus could not help with the most dangerous of the underground's missions: extractions. 

            The motivations for clone troopers to decide to escape Imperial service varied widely. Many had started to question Imperial orders – most of these also questioned the order regarding the Jedi, though some did not – and felt morally obligated to stop fighting for the Empire. Others were offended by the Empire’s lack of loyalty in decommissioning the clones at all. Some were put off by the rumors that had been spreading regarding the true nature of the decommissioning program.

            Regardless of the motivation, most clones who made it out, either with help or on their own, saw no point putting their own tenuous liberty at increased risk by joining the movement to assist other clones. Gregor couldn't blame them, though he also couldn't help but think the movement would have succeeded already if more brothers were willing to make a concerted effort towards an objective that would be to everyone's benefit. Riyo Chuchi's efforts in the Senate could only go so far if the clones didn't want to be saved - or worse, if they were all dead before any motion passed. 

            Of course, that likely was the reason why the Emperor and the military branch were drawing this process out as long as they could. Wait it out long enough, and between the accelerated aging and harsh living conditions, the clones would cease to exist to make any demands for their freedom. This consideration added to the urgency of the clone underground's drive to free as many clones as they could, while waiting for the slow and arduous legal process to bear fruit. 

            But difficulties had arisen that made the work to find and rescue clones move more slowly than anyone liked. For one thing, the locations of the labor camps were kept highly classified, to where not even the few clone underground contacts working within the Imperial military were privy to the information. The clone network knew the location of only one of the camps, and that was only because some men had managed to escape – and the information was useless now. Thirteen men had made it out of a labor camp on Bornash a month before Tantiss was found and managed to contact Rex to ask for help getting others out, but when Rex and Echo had snuck onto the planet to assess the situation, they had discovered all the workers had been replaced with non-clones. No one knew for sure what had happened to the clone workforce. 

            Another complication: the Empire had begun moving decommissioning facilities, prisoner holding facilities and transfer locations, and travel routes that had been breached even once, so every single extraction op required recon and planning around a new location or route – when the network was able to find out what the new location or route was. Former clone troopers were highly trained to be adaptable, of course, but these factors still added to the time and complexity of the missions, as well as continually setting back the clone initiative. 

            What the network lacked in numbers and resources, however, they made up for in sheer determination and an unwavering drive to see their brothers free; and so Gregor now found himself approaching Dhormalima with four other men, one droid, and the stubborn will to get these clones away from Imperial servitude. 

            Hyde, a recent recruit Gregor had picked up from Coruscant along with a clone named Winn following a tip from Dr. Hibrid, was nervous but eager. He would follow commands without question from people he trusted, and Gregor knew he had gained the young man's undying loyalty. Kade was easygoing and quick to laugh, but was completely reliable on missions like these and, as a bonus, was currently the foremost expert in electrical engineering among those in the clone underground. His skills, along with the droid, would be crucial to this mission. The droid itself was a relatively new acquisition – indeed, after the Empire had turned several droids into a significant security risk, the clone network had almost given up on using droids altogether; but this second-hand droid had just enough… unique qualities to make it untraceable while still being a useful asset on base. Forge, the pilot, could keep a level head in a crisis. Last but not least was Heddy, who had been with the underground for months now and knew all the details of the operation almost as thoroughly as Rex, Echo, Gregor, and Howzer did. 

            Gregor glanced at Heddy, who was sitting stiffly in the copilot's seat. The younger man had been looking on edge since last night when the intel had come through about the request for aid, and Gregor knew why. While they were targeting a holding facility today, there was every chance the men might have overheard some information that would lead them to the locations of other labor camps. 

            That consideration could be dealt with later. For now, they all had to focus on coming out the other side of this mission alive. 

            "Look sharp," Forge said as they dropped out of hyperspace, the stark green and yellow-brown orb of Dhormalima expanding as they drew closer to the planet.

            The falsified credentials got them onto the planet with no issue, and soon enough, Forge had brought the ship in to land by a span of short hills that moderately concealed the interlopers from the compound beyond. At Gregor’s nod, Heddy and Kade donned their helmets and stood ready for the ramp to lower.

            Hyde grunted as he stood awkwardly, the R3 unit strapped to his front. “Why do I have to carry the droid?”

            “Because the propulsor system is malfunctioning and we have yet to be able to locate all the parts to fix it,” Heddy reminded him impatiently. Given that R3 units were only supposed to be available to the military, finding – and affording – replacement parts posed a significant challenge.  

            Hyde looked down at the now sadly trilling droid before repeating the question. “I know that, but why do I have to carry it?”

            “You’re the newest,” Gregor said, clapping Hyde sympathetically on the back. The R3 unit’s defunct propulsion system along with several other issues meant the clones rarely took the droid out on missions if they could possibly help it; in this case, they couldn’t help it. Still, the astromech did try to help as much as it could, especially on base; and Gregor spared the droid a quick pat too. “Come on, let’s get going.”

            The R3 unit had been stripped of its useless propulsor apparatus and other broken parts, rendering it quite a bit lighter than most R-series astromechs, but it was still a bulky load to carry. Despite the extra weight, Hyde did an admirable job keeping pace with the others, and they reached the fence enclosing the base within five minutes. After a quick survey of the scene before them and waiting a moment for a patrol to pass, Gregor gestured the others forward and took up his position at the gate to keep watch. Kade quickly unloaded his equipment and started his work disrupting the electrical current running through the wire fence as well as the other intruder alert systems surrounding the perimeter. A minute passed with everyone waiting in silence for the work to be done; then, Heddy shifted and took in a breath.

            “If you make one remark about me needing to hurry up, Heddy,” Kade said in the slow and ponderous way he had that indicated he was deeply concentrating on whatever task he may be occupied with, whether it was cooking or electronics, “I will permanently sabotage the temp controls in your quarters.”

            “I didn’t say anything!” Heddy protested.

            “You were going to.”

            “Let him get on with it, Heddy,” Gregor agreed.

            “But…!”

            Gregor shook his head once, and Heddy begrudgingly subsided. Moments later, Kade’s device beeped.

            “It’s done,” Kade said, getting up from where he had been kneeling on the ground. Without a word, Heddy impatiently stepped forward and cut an opening through the wires of the fence, holding the wires back to allow the others through before ducking in himself just behind Gregor. Gregor quickly stepped up to take the lead, guiding the men around the perimeter of the compound to the northwestern wall of the facility, dodging floodlights and staying in the shadows until they made it to the outer doors of the building.

            This was where R3 came in: opening the outer doors along with two inner doors leading to a storage room immediately adjacent to the large central room that had been converted to barracks for the decommissioned clone troopers. Any clone trooper could have sliced through the doors eventually with the right equipment, of course; but time was of the essence, and the R3 unit, with all its defects, was really fast at opening doors. In next to no time, the door to the storage room was opened and Gregor gestured to the others to keep watch while he moved ahead.

            Kor had anonymously ensured a message with the offer of aid to leave the planet fell into the hands of one of the conspirators. If the clones had heeded the message and were here in the storage room, this might go down as the easiest extraction op Gregor had ever participated in…

            Gregor stepped through the doors, and grinned. Hooray for easy extraction ops.

            Kor’s descriptions had been thorough enough that he recognized the single clone standing there as one of those who had been in on the conversation to escape: a clone with a nose that looked to have been broken several times, and three short straight lines tattooed under the right eye.

            Gregor looked at the clone.

            The clone looked at Gregor.

            “So, are you the only clone who wants to get out?” Gregor asked.

            The clone’s face shifted from shock to suspicion. “Who are you?”

            “Who am I?” Gregor asked, bewildered, as he removed his helmet. “Who else are you waiting in a storage room for?”

            “I… Are you the one who’s going to get us out?”

            “Seems so,” Gregor agreed before repeating his original question. “Are you the only one?”

            “No, there are others,” the clone said quickly. “I just had them wait in the barracks so we didn’t tip off the ones who didn’t want to come.”

            Gregor sighed – there were always clones who not only didn’t want to come, but would make life difficult for those who did.

            “Just give me a moment,” the clone said as he disappeared into a small corridor behind him. A few seconds later, he returned, leading other men out.

            Gregor nodded to the men before leading them to the open door and peeking out. He was just about to give them the all clear when a loud voice sounded behind him.

            "What are you doing, Marks?" 

            Gregor turned and, through the mass of over a dozen clones crowding the small storage space, he caught sight of a sour-looking clone confronting the first clone Gregor had met. Gesturing to Heddy and Kade, who were within his line of sight, to start getting the men out, Gregor waved the current escapees ahead while he made his way back toward the confrontation.

            By this time, Marks was squarely facing his accuser and had started to argue back – whether to give his brothers time to get out, or try to convince this other clone to change his mind, or both, Gregor wasn’t sure.

            "I'm getting out of here. I'm not being sent off to some labor camp to die." 

            "You're deserting. You're disobeying orders." 

            "I’m not deserting. Haven't you heard?” Marks’ voice was now laced with bitterness. “We aren't part of the army anymore. We've been decommissioned." 

            "That doesn't mean we can just leave,” the other argued back.

            "And why not?” Marks was now obviously struggling to keep his volume low as his frustration built. “We fought for the Empire, we did our duty. And now we're being told we're not good enough to keep fighting. Well, if I'm not good enough to fight, at least I'm good enough to find my own way, and I should be free to do so." 

            "The Empire is grateful! Don't you get it? We are free! They're doing this to take care of us!"

            A droid could be heard beeping indignantly outside. It sounded like R3 – Gregor hoped it was R3 – but Hyde should have taken the astromech ahead to reopen the outer doors…

            "Take care of us?” Marks was scoffing now. “Do you hear yourself right now? You know the stories..."

            "All fearmongering,” the other clone insisted. “Lies from deviants, insurgents. They were all in that lab or prison or whatever for a reason!"

            The reference to Tantiss raised Gregor's hackles: he had seen and heard about the experiments, and no one, not even prisoners, deserved such treatment. But Marks was already arguing back.

            "I'm talking about the ones who weren’t in any prison, the ones who escaped these so-called work details..." 

            "They say they didn't escape from prison..." the other muttered.

            "WAKE UP, Dex!” Marks just about exploded, even as he kept his voice barely above a whisper. “If the program is so great and everyone can come and go as they please, why haven't we heard from any of them? Why are the only brothers we hear from the ones saying the camps are prisons? We should have news from the work crews themselves, not just escaped inmates!" Suddenly he sighed wearily, glancing briefly at Gregor before taking the unspoken cue to move out. "It doesn't matter. You stay if you want. I'm getting out." 

            But Dex wasn’t done. "You're wrong,” he said coldly, “and if you leave you're going to get all the rest of us in trouble." 

            “Then come with us,” Gregor interjected bluntly. “You’ll have your freedom.”

            Dex sneered. “Yeah, I’ll be so free while the Empire is hunting me down for leaving.”

            “Staying here isn’t freedom, Dex,” Marks said from near the door.

            Gregor, recognizing the futility of arguing further, started to back away; but the expression on Dex’s face gave him pause… and then he saw where the clone was now standing.

            Loath though he was to potentially use it, Gregor reached for his blaster while prepping to set it to stun. “Don’t do it…” he warned.

            Too late. Dex hit the control panel he was standing next to, setting off a blaring alarm that echoed so loudly through the compound it made even Gregor jump. Before he could think of what to do, however, the alarm abruptly stopped.

            “What the…” he muttered to himself, just before a blur passed by him making a beeline for Dex. The sound of Marks’ fist connecting with Dex’s jaw somehow was audible even to Gregor’s ringing ears, and Dex barely had a chance to groan before he thudded unconscious to the floor.

            “Maybe the guards will think the alarms malfunctioned,” Marks observed, rubbing the knuckles of his right hand as he started toward the door again.

            “Yep, that’s it, think positive,” Gregor replied cheerfully, donning his helmet and making it to the threshold before Marks did. Cautiously peering out to ensure the way was clear, he caught sight of R3 still scomped into the control panel and Hyde keeping watch.

            “You were supposed to go ahead to open the doors for the others,” Gregor informed them.

            “Yeah, well, R3 didn’t want to leave,” Hyde shrugged. “Guess it remotely accessed the other doors from this panel. Cut off the alarm almost before it started, too.”

            Gregor set his hand on the droid and shook his head at it, even as a grin stretched across his face under his helmet. “Thanks, R3. But it really is time to get out of here now. The guards will be here any second…”

            “Time’s up,” Marks muttered, a flurry of blaster shots punctuating his warning. In the blink of an eye, R3 had disconnected itself from the control panel, and Hyde, picking up the droid, started sprinting toward the outer door of the facility, with Gregor and Marks following his lead.

            It was still full dark outside; Gregor couldn’t see any sign of the others, and hoped that meant they had made it out okay. The darkness would also conceal him, Hyde, and Marks, so he decided against firing back at the troops as this would only give away their position. Then again, if more guards showed up, a blaster shot was bound to hit its mark eventually, darkness or not; and with this in mind, Gregor picked up his pace even further.

            Hyde had gotten a head start, but the droid was really starting to slow him down, and Gregor wasn’t about to let that happen. “Give me the droid,” he commanded Hyde as he pulled up next to the younger clone. Hyde, recognizing there was no time to argue, immediately complied; and the exchange was done in short order.

            Gregor briefly wondered how in Colonel Gascon’s name Hyde had managed to sprint while holding the droid; but he didn’t ponder this for long, given the situation they were in.

            Marks slowed when he approached them; seeing the exchange was complete, he forged ahead… only to be shot down by a sudden burst of fire.

            “No!” Hyde gasped, staring in dismay and frozen in shock…

            Gregor shook him out of his stupor. “Go. Go!” he shouted. “I’ll check on him. GO!” he yelled again; and Hyde, casting one more look at Marks, heeded Gregor’s order and sprinted toward the fence.

            Gregor, already knowing nothing could be done, checked Marks’ pulse and shook his head sadly. There was no time to bring the body. Scooping up the R3 unit, Gregor began again to run toward the exit.

            Kade was waiting for him at the newly expanded opening in the fence – apparently, either Kade or Heddy had decided to blow the fence apart for a quicker exit. Gregor passed by two fallen bodies of other clones, but he didn’t stop. The members of the clone underground were all in staunch agreement on the issue of leaving anyone behind who wanted out; and if Kade wasn’t dragging either clone out, it was because both were already dead. Gregor dashed past the fence, Kade bringing up the rear, but the danger wasn’t over yet: he could already hear their pursuers following them as their exit route was all too apparent.

            The trip back to the ship felt simultaneously quicker and slower than the trip coming, especially as Gregor couldn’t help but anticipate feeling a blaster bolt burn its way through his back at any moment… But no, they dashed onto the ship without any further injuries or losses; and the moment Forge had ascertained everyone who should be on board was on board, he wasted no time taking off, dodging the few enemy ships that had scrambled to intercept them and making it to hyperspace in due course.

            The tense atmosphere on the ship eased slightly as the escapees realized they had successfully made it out; and now one of the clones craned his neck around to peer at his comrades.

            “How many of us got out?”

            “Wicker and Dodge got shot down,” one of the men said somberly.

            “Is Marks…?” another man ventured.

            “He didn’t make it, either,” Gregor informed them soberly.

            The clone who had first asked the question sighed. “Eleven of us then.”

            The conversation was interrupted by Heddy abruptly appearing on the threshold of the flight deck, an intensity in his eyes that made all the clones start casting nervous sidelong glances at each other.  

            “You were all supposed to be sent to work assignments, right?” Heddy asked.

            “Uh, yes, sir,” one of the clones said nervously, apparently not realizing Heddy was technically the same rank as they.

            “Where are they? Where are the work assignments supposed to be?”

            “We don’t know,” another clone admitted. “They said we didn’t have to know in advance, that we’d know where we were when we got there.”

            Heddy’s disappointment was palpable, and an uneasy silence settled on the group for several long moments before one of the escapees straightened.

            “You’re part of the clone resistance group we’ve been hearing whispers about, right? If you’re looking for the other camps, I’ll help as much as I can. I’d like to join you.”

            Gregor joined Kade in nodding appreciatively at the volunteer, but Heddy was now staring at the others.

            “Anyone else?” he asked.

            Ten clones averted their gaze, none of them volunteering.

            “No one else? Not one of you who have been rescued will even try to save any of your other brothers?” Heddy said harshly.

            Gregor glanced over the other clones, at the uncertainty in their eyes, at their dazed expressions, their weary posture. And he understood. He understood that these clones had recently undergone a crisis of not only belief but identity; that first daring to question and then choosing to escape the single entity they had been strictly trained and shaped since birth to be forever loyal to was a decision not many had the will to make; that whatever their personal motivations for making such a decision, it had forever changed the trajectory of what remained of their lives, and they knew it, and it was a heavy burden to bear. Leaving was their rebellion, and was all they could summon the strength to do for now.

            Gregor approached Heddy and set a consoling hand on his shoulder. “We’ll find the other camps,” he said sympathetically. “Let’s leave them be for now.”

            Heddy nodded resignedly, but didn’t move as Gregor entered the flight deck to tell Forge to head for Portavis first. From there, the clones who didn’t want to join the underground could find transport to whatever planet they chose to take the chance to live on. The underground couldn’t risk anyone who wasn’t involved knowing where the base was.

            He glanced back to where the other clones were gathered, saw the volunteer urgently whisper to a comrade who was stubbornly shaking his head, and sighed. He understood why most of the escapees wouldn’t join the underground, and he couldn’t blame them for it.

            But he couldn’t help but think, yet again, that if only more clones would find it within themselves to stand together and strengthen each other, this fight would already be won.

Chapter Text

            The Sovereign, Tarkin's Star Destroyer, was on Coruscant. 

            Which worked out perfectly for Echo, who had just returned from his supply run and was already keeping a low profile on Coruscant in the lead up to the Imperial Army extraction operation. 

            Of course, sneaking onto the Star Destroyer of one of the most influential - and dangerously ruthless - leaders in the galaxy might not be considered "low profile" by most people. Nor would most people consider it to be "perfect" that circumstances would need to line up for such a mission at all. 

            But Echo wasn't most people, and the Sovereign was his best chance of finding out where the missing clones from Tantiss had been moved to. 

            The Martez sisters, who had contacted him just a few hours ago to relay the intel they had acquired of the Destroyer’s whereabouts, had also had the foresight and good will to obtain the access codes Echo would need to slip into the shipyard undetected. According to their intel, Tarkin would be leaving Coruscant tomorrow.

            Echo had to act now. He couldn't miss this opportunity. 

            He knew Rex would highly disapprove of his decision to breach the Destroyer alone. But the rest of the clone network was busily preparing for the extraction mission, and Echo knew they couldn't afford to have anyone else pulled off their assignments at this juncture. Besides, he would be far more discreet on his own, and the fact that the Destroyer was grounded at the moment would make breaching the vessel cadet's play compared to trying to access it while it was in orbit. 

            Entering the yard was easy with the codes. Slipping through the shadows to one of the maintenance kiosks and downloading the codes to access the ship itself went off without a hitch. Crossing the yard took a little longer than anticipated, as he had to dodge first a patrol of security droids and then a group of maintenance workers on break; but clambering aboard the ship through one of the maintenance hatches on the underbelly was quicker than he had thought it would be. And with his TK trooper armor donned, he managed to get to the bridge with no one sparing him a second glance. 

            Returning a cordial nod to one of the officers who passed him by, Echo thought of the remarks some of the other clones had made when he had decided to keep the TK trooper armor even after finally getting refitted with some of the spare clone armor Chaser had managed to acquire. He had never planned on wearing the TK armor regularly – there were some upgrades compared to the clone armor, but there were quite a few downgrades as well – but he had known it would come in handy somehow. He smirked to himself now. Howzer could stow it.

            The bridge was empty - for the moment. Not willing to press his luck, Echo set up the data rod for the download and left it to do its work while he concealed himself under one of the work consoles - and not a moment too soon, for an Imperial officer walked onto the bridge to retrieve a datapad immediately thereafter. Thankfully, the officer didn't notice Echo or the random data rod protruding from the main computer; and the officer soon departed, with the download completed a minute later. 

            Exiting the ship was easier than getting onto it, and before he knew it, he was back on the Remora, still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that a mission had been completed with no complications at all. 

            When was the last time that had happened? Probably during the mission on Hydrinia II with the Bad Batch during the Clone War… 

            A ping from his comms array interrupted his thoughts, and he answered it to see Rex on the other end of the holo. 

            "Echo," Rex said, before immediately continuing on, "what's this I hear from the Martez's about them letting you know the location of Tarkin's Star Destroyer?”

            "Hello, Rex," Echo returned casually, before repeating Rex’s words back to him. "Yes, they told me the location of the Star Destroyer." 

            A lengthy silence, then - "Why do I get the impression you've already broken onto the ship?"

            "Because I did."

            Rex's eyes widened before he shook his head in exasperation. "Echo..."

            "I couldn't pass up the opportunity, I had all the resources I needed, having other men with me would have slowed me down on this mission, and the network has other priorities at the moment," Echo pointed out levelly. 

            "Echo, you’re a priority, and your mission to find the clones is a priority that calls for you to have backup," Rex said firmly. 

            "Thank you, Rex; but you should know by now that I know what I'm doing." 

            Rex sighed wearily. "At least give me a heads up next time you're planning on doing a solo mission. I don't want to find out through other channels that you've gotten into trouble." 

            "Fair enough," Echo conceded. "I'll be at the rendezvous in three hours."

            "See you then."

            Three hours until he needed to meet with the others to check their intel on the layout of the main barracks at the military base. Unable to sit still that long, Echo plugged in the data rod and began reviewing the travel logs, hoping, hoping...

            Ah, there it was. The inevitable complication. 

            In the three months between the Tantiss escape and Echo's return to that base, the Destroyer had delivered unspecified "assets" to a mix of military, research, and medical facilities on five different planets: Teraan, Cato Neimoidia, Lucx, Derma Prime, and Tintha. 

            Echo sighed. Grateful though he was that the logs had turned up potentially useful information, the prospect of coming up with five separate mission plans to comb through five different labyrinthian facilities in search of unconscious clones was daunting, to say the least. 

            He glanced at the time. One hour until he was needed at the rendezvous. 

            There was no time like the present. He was going to find these clones. 

            Without further ado, he pulled up a map of Teraan and started taking notes. 

*****

            Howzer pulled his hood further forward over his face as he casually walked the perimeter of the Imperial military base on Coruscant. He was itching to move the scarf around his neck up over his nose in order to further conceal himself, but resisted the urge. Hoods could be overlooked, but face coverings ironically drew more attention this close to the base, and he needed to draw as little attention to himself as possible. 

            Eli and Gambit had each completed a circuit of the perimeter at different times earlier today; and now, as it was nearing dusk, it was Howzer's turn. They wouldn't be infiltrating the base itself this time, but they still needed to be sure their timing for the patrols and guard changes along the wall was accurate. Their success in this endeavor depended heavily on it. 

            A few weeks ago, three clones deployed on Geralten had smuggled word to the underground that they wanted out of the army. They had been on one too many missions involving needlessly brutal methods to achieve certain objectives, but they didn't dare speak up because any soldier who did was never heard from again. Their mission had ended before the underground could reach them, but Howzer had tracked them to Coruscant where they were now awaiting their next deployment. By the time Howzer had managed to make contact with the soldiers through a sympathizer who worked in the mess hall, the number of clones who sought escape had grown from three to nineteen. 

            The underground hadn't tried to pull anyone from the Coruscant base since their last attempt six months ago, when Backlash - who, after becoming disillusioned with the Empire, had chosen to remain with the Imperial Army for months to feed intel to the clone underground - had been compromised and required an emergency extraction. The op had gone sideways almost immediately, very nearly resulted in Rex and Gregor's capture, left Halves and Milo dead, and led directly to the increased Imperial surveillance all over Coruscant to locate and apprehend deserters and rogue clones. It was a huge risk to pull these nineteen troopers out from here, but this was the most feasible option: once deployments came up again, the clone troopers would be scattered across the galaxy. If the underground wanted to save all the clones, they had to act now. 

            Rounding the corner onto the narrow strip of paved road that ran parallel to the main thoroughfare, Howzer glanced at a Twi’lek father and two small sons passing by a few feet away, and caught himself staring as they moved forward, oblivious to his attention.

            He shook his head to return his attention to the task at hand, trying to force away the memories. There had been much he had found to appreciate about Ryloth and its culture, but he had been especially fascinated by the fact that even warriors and activists like Cham and Eleni Syndulla had dedicated partners and children of their own. And then he had met Vela, and if he had had the luxury of thinking about it at the time, he might have even...

            But no, that opportunity had long since passed, and it wasn’t worth wasting time thinking about now. He, Howzer, had always known he could never have a family like the Syndullas had. Clones didn’t have families, after all. At least, that’s what many in the galaxy seemed to believe. He knew from reading far too many Senate briefings recently that some argued even the “brother” aspect of clone culture was a weak attempt at simulating “real” family ties, and while he had scoffed at this shoddy argument against clone rights, mothers and fathers and marriage partners and children were relationship concepts clones had never been accustomed to consider in relation to themselves. Besides, now he was also a deserter, a fugitive who never had citizenship status to begin with, and he and his brothers – his current family – were now fighting just to stay alive, even though the war was over. There was no guarantee how long he would live; how could he even think about what might happen beyond today?

            Yes, he knew he could never have his own family unit; and this recognition frequently stirred within him the bitter sting of loss even though he had never had a partner or children to lose. And so whenever there was any discussion about what the clones wanted to do when they were free, he didn't bother talking about his own impossible wishes. Still, his fascination with the family concept – expanded beyond brothers – had been enough to motivate him to do as much as he could to protect the children in particular on Ryloth, then to defend Cham’s daughter and ultimately help the entire Syndulla family escape. Even now he sometimes wondered what it would be like to be a husband and father…

            Enough, he scolded himself, cutting off this train of thought. He had a job to do to keep his own brothers safe, here and now. His brothers were his priority.

            Howzer had just completed his circuit when he heard hurried footsteps coming toward him, and glanced up from under his hood to see a TK trooper walking briskly in his direction. Not wanting to have a TK trooper behind him, Howzer decided against turning back the way he had come, as he had planned, and instead continued onward, making sure to walk on the opposite side of the walkway in order to leave plenty of space between him and the soldier...

            They had very nearly passed each other when the soldier abruptly veered to his left, crossed the ten feet of distance between them, and roughly bumped into Howzer without warning. 

            Either the soldier was drunk – a very serious offense considering he was likely on duty – or this was deliberate. Howzer was leaning toward deliberate. In his experience, drunk soldiers didn't walk a straight line for a hundred feet only to lose their balance across ten feet of open ground to knock into the only other person currently in sight. Still, Howzer decided to play it cool. 

            "Sorry!" the TK trooper gasped as he grabbed Howzer's arm. 

            "Don't worry about it," Howzer said, pitching his voice a few octaves lower than normal and trying to discreetly shake off the soldier's grip, turning his face away when he noticed the trooper trying to get a glimpse under his hood. 

            The trooper wouldn't let go of Howzer's arm; instead, he tightened his grip and started walking away from the wall of the base, dragging Howzer with him. Howzer readied himself for a fight; but the trooper spoke again, and the desperation in his low voice made Howzer pause.

            "Walk with me, please," the trooper said, suddenly letting go of Howzer's arm and slowing his pace slightly to walk just behind him. "You can lead the way but we need to keep walking. I have urgent information for you."

            "I think you've got the wrong man," Howzer ventured, leading the soldier around a corner to a small alleyway that kept them out of sight of cams, guards, and pedestrians.

            He wouldn't run - yet. He wanted to end this encounter peacefully, if possible. Less attention that way. But if he had to knock out this trooper, best to stay out of sight while he did so.

            The TK trooper glanced around to make sure they were alone and concealed before pulling off his helmet, revealing a young man who couldn't be more than eighteen, maybe nineteen years old...

            "You're one of the men in the clone resistance, aren't you?" he asked eagerly. 

            Howzer blinked. "Does it look like I'm part of some resistance group?"

            The trooper gave Howzer a once-over. "Well, you're a clone, and you definitely aren't in the army." 

            "Maybe I'm undercover," Howzer deadpanned. 

            The other shook his head. "No, they stopped putting clones on undercover missions a while ago, after some clone troopers got mistaken for deserters. CTs still do stealth ops but always keep their uniforms on now." 

            Howzer mentally kicked himself - he should have worn his armor. He had thought he'd be less conspicuous here in civilian clothes rather than running the risk of being identified with his armor; apparently, he had thought wrong.  But he wasn't going to reveal any more about himself to this soldier. "I'm still not part of any resistance group. They’re just a rumor, anyway." 

            The trooper's eager expression took on a distinct hint of desperation. "Well, someone’s helping to pull out some clone troopers soon. If it’s not clones who are getting them out…”

            Howzer’s blood ran cold. “What are you talking about?”

            The trooper vacillated for a moment before apparently making up his mind. “We know there’s a plan to help some clone soldiers desert three nights from now. It’s a trap.”

            "What do you mean?" Howzer demanded.

            The trooper bit his lip, hesitating again. “Well, if you can at least pass a message on to someone…”

            Howzer made his decision in an instant – he had to know what the trooper was talking about. “I might know someone. What’s going on?”

            "We’ve identified most of the clones who want out, and we know they're getting outside help to escape. If they escape in three nights as planned, my team's set to capture them and anyone who’s helping them.”

            Howzer's thoughts swirled with the implications. "How did your team get this information anyway? And why are you talking to anyone about it?"

            The trooper glanced around nervously before continuing. "A transmission with a date and an order for subsequent radio silence was intercepted. Admiral Dumize knew who received the transmission and deduced the rest. The admiral gave Commander Wolffe our assignment just four days ago. It’s the first time we’ve gotten such advance notice about a mission."

            Four days ago. That was precisely when the network had gotten word to the troopers about when to be ready for extraction - and to send no further messages. The good news was that, based on what this TK trooper was saying, there was no indication that any of the clone troopers had betrayed their brothers and revealed the planned escape themselves. 

            It was then that a name the trooper had mentioned caught up with him - Howzer remembered well the clone commander he, Rex, and the Bad Batch had encountered on Teth. "Commander Wolffe, huh?"

            "Yeah, I'm on his strike team," the trooper said a trifle absently, clearly missing the ire in Howzer’s voice, before forging ahead with more intel. "Thing is, if the troopers don't get out that day, Dumize is going to have them arrested anyway." 

            "What'll happen to them?"

            "Oh, uh, well, you probably know the clones who are openly questioning orders are imprisoned…”

            “Where are they imprisoned?” Howzer asked with newfound interest. The clone underground had been trying to locate the prisons for months…

            “Uh, one is here on Coruscant. There’s another one called the Crucible, but I don’t know exactly where it is, my team’s never had a reason to go there. I'm not sure what the conditions are, but..." the trooper shook himself. "Anyway, I can tell you the prison here is impregnable. There's no way anyone from the clone resistance would be able to get in without inside help, and I don't have access..." he trailed off, looking almost disappointed with himself. If Howzer didn't know any better, he would think the trooper would already be offering himself to help the underground break the rebel clones out of prison if he had the ability to do so. 

            But they had more pressing matters to worry about.

            "Hm," Howzer hummed skeptically. "I still don't understand why you decided to talk to me."

            "I thought about telling the clone troopers, but they wouldn't have been able to get a message out to whoever’s helping them. And then I saw you and thought maybe you were a clone and decided to just…" 

            "No, why did you decide to tell anyone about the trap at all?"

            "Oh!" The young man fell silent for a moment, before looking at Howzer with an odd contradictory mixture of warmth and sadness in his eyes. "I... well... The clone army saved my home, saved me and my family during the war. So when the war ended and the Empire started recruiting non-clones like me for the army, I was excited to serve alongside you all." He frowned now. "I didn't realize the Empire planned to decommission all the clones so quickly. And it just doesn't make sense why they did it. We’re supposed to follow orders, and we get in serious trouble if we just ask any questions; so to blame the clones for not asking questions..." He stopped and took a breath as if to recenter himself before continuing on, Howzer finding himself listening with growing fascination to this trooper's rambling. "Anyway, and then I found out what the decommissioning program is and... well, it's awful. You're all heroes. Even if the army doesn't want you anymore, at least you should be honorably discharged, you should all have a choice for your future. But they won't even give you that. And the way they're going after the clones who just want to leave the army and live in peace..." He shook his head regretfully. "Look, the Recovery Strike Team has been sent on a bunch of missions to capture deserters. Thing is, the deserters are leaving long after the war ended, and they aren't even causing trouble, they just don't want to be sent to work camps or prisons where they're never heard from again. I can't blame them for that. And I know it bothers Commander Wolffe to be in charge of bringing them in, but..." He gave a long sigh. "I'm sorry, I'm talking too much. But that's why I needed to warn you. The clone troopers who want out - I know most of them, they're good men, they deserve their freedom. And whoever is brave enough to help them shouldn’t be captured." The trooper looked beseechingly at Howzer. "So will you tell whoever your contact is?"

            Howzer considered the young man for a long moment, the silence stretching almost painfully between them as he pondered his options. 

            He was not going to involve this trooper. He still didn't fully trust him - for all he knew, this "warning" was part of the trap. And if this TK trooper could be trusted, Howzer couldn't compromise him. He harbored some hard feelings toward Wolffe - he had witnessed the commander's moment of clarity on Teth, and he would never understand how someone could come to such a realization only to then choose not only stay with the Empire, but actively hunt down fellow brothers. Still, he couldn't risk the men under Wolffe's command. 

            "What's your name, kid?" he asked abruptly. 

            "Oh uh... I'm Trey," the trooper stammered, surprised. 

            "What'll happen if the troopers get pulled out tomorrow night instead?"

            Trey shook his head. "The strike team won't be ready. We're making sure everything is staying normal for now so no one suspects we're onto them. The only concern would be the usual guards. In three days we were going to have the base locked down and bring in twice the number of patrols to capture you all when you come in for the troopers."

            "Hmmm..." The clone underground hadn't been planning on breaking into the base at all. The plan had been to have the escapees split up and come out to them, with half of them coming out through the mess hall on one side of the base to be picked up by Echo, Backlash, and four other clones, while the other half got out of the barracks around the same time to be picked up on the opposite side by Howzer, Rex, and five others. Howzer, Eli, and Gambit had been keeping watch on the guard schedule to know where to position themselves for the pick up. 

            They wouldn't be breaking onto the base, but if the base was locked down the troopers wouldn't be able to sneak out either. 

            Of course, being followed was always a risk, and every extraction included a plan to shake off any followers long before heading to their true destination. Still, if the risk could be minimized... 

            "Thank you for the information, Trey," Howzer said, nodding at the entrance of the alleyway to signal the end to the conversation. "You should put your helmet back on before you leave."

            "Uh, right. Nice meeting you." Trey donned his helmet, hesitating slightly as he stepped away before adding, "And... Well, good luck."

            Howzer waited almost a minute after Trey left before exiting the alleyway through a back route over a fence. Ideas simmered in the back of his mind as he navigated the busy streets of Coruscant, even as he stayed focused on his current objective of returning to the safehouse without being detected. Only once he was inside the safehouse and was sure he was secure did he collapse on the low, second-hand sofa and begin thinking through the problem in earnest. 

            This would have to be an infiltration operation. They had wanted to avoid this, but there was no way around it. If the base was locked down the troopers wouldn't be able to get out as planned, and the mission would be a failure before it started. And at this stage there was no reliable way to get word to the clones about any change in plan without breaking into the facilities anyway. 

            Furthermore, the mission would have to go down tonight. Howzer had indicated to Trey that it would happen tomorrow, but he was taking a major risk trusting the TK trooper's intel as is and assuming the base would, indeed, still be operating normally now. No need to take further risks by acting on a date he had told the trooper about, close to the original target date. No, they had to get the clones out tonight – in less than four hours.

            An idea suddenly struck Howzer, and he wasted no time getting on his comms. 

            "Echo? You still have that stormtrooper armor?"

*****

            Liam finished storing his gear and collapsed into a seated position on the edge of his bunk moments before a lone TK trooper walked into the common barracks. The trooper called out five CT numbers, including Liam's, before directing them, "Come with me."

            A stunned silence met the directive before Izak broke the silence. “What?”

            "This is a random inspection to test readiness for scrambling an emergency deployment. Grab your gear and get a move on."

            Liam remained sitting on the edge of his bunk, confused, as the others protested. 

            "Now?"

            "This late at night?"

            "We're not all even in the same squad."

            "This is highly irregular..."

            "It's the middle of the night!"

            The TK trooper rigidly ignored the complaints. "Take it up with your commanding officer." 

            Bonus, as could be expected, was suspicious, and repeated his previous observation. "This is highly irregular.” He narrowed his eyes. “And you sound like..."            

            "I'm not going to tell you again," the TK trooper interrupted authoritatively. "Get those helmets on. Let's go."

            It wasn’t until they found themselves huddled in an alcove beside the lift positioned across the hall from the side entrance to the barracks that the TK trooper revealed himself to actually be a clone named Echo who was working with Rex and Howzer to get them all out. 

            "I said this was irregular! I said…" Bonus began triumphantly, until a withering look from Echo led to Bonus shutting his mouth with a snap. 

            "But I thought..." Izak started to say, in what Liam knew was going to be a question about the plan to leave three nights from now. After all, Izak had been the one to receive the message from the rumored clone underground movement.

            "No time for explanations," Echo interrupted, holding up a hand that… wait, was that a droid hand? "If you want out, you have to go now. We're getting you out in pairs. You're going to wait until a patrol passes outside. As soon as they round the corner, you're going to follow them as if you're on patrol as well. When you get near the south exit, slip out. A clone named Stitch will direct you on what to do next."

            "The guards will just... let us out?" Liam asked skeptically. 

            "Let's just say you don't have to worry about the guards at this very moment, but that's also why we have to hurry. I'm going back for another group and then we'll start..."

            "I can start organizing us all now," Izak volunteered. "We can get at least one pair off before you get back."

            "Lucky none of us are out on patrol," Ardo observed. 

            "They knew there was going to be a breakout," Echo returned bluntly. "It's likely they kept clone troopers off patrol this week to stop you from doing precisely what we're about to do." He then nodded to Izak. "Do what you can. Act natural and don’t draw attention to yourselves. I'll be back." 

            Echo returned just as Bonus and Ardo set off, and left it to Liam to explain the situation while he went back for yet another group. Based on the reactions of each subsequent group of clones, the mood in the barracks was growing increasingly irate over these unusual circumstances; but Echo, not to be put off, managed to get all nineteen clones out of the barracks before Izak sent the fourth pair out. 

            Liam didn’t want to be the last; but it seemed Izak wanted to make sure the others got out safely, and Liam wasn’t about to leave him behind. And so he waited breathlessly for any sign of their operation being discovered; and when he, Izak, Trip, and Echo were the only ones left, he almost breathed a sigh of relief...

            An alarm split the air, and everything happened faster than Liam could possibly track.

            Echo immediately burst into action, shouting, "Go! Don't stop running!" as he pushed the startled troopers ahead of him out the door and in the direction of the south exit. Liam had a sudden sense of déjà vu, as if he was right back in the middle of a war zone: people shouting, blaster fire everywhere, troopers sprinting, trying to outrun death... Digger was hauling a wounded Tame along, trying desperately to get to the gate, until Digger himself was shot down... Then Izak dropped, the blaster shot in close enough range to knock his helmet off as he fell, and one look at Izak's wide eyes told Liam it was too late... Echo came up then and shoved him forward, forward, away from Izak and Digger, wouldn't let Liam retrieve their bodies... Echo made sure Liam got through the gate before going back for Tame...

            By the time Liam came to himself again, he was on a ship called the Remora. Izak and Digger were dead; Tame had made it to a waiting transport before succumbing to his wounds; two of the rescuers, Gains and Winlet, were dead, and a third, Backlash, had been wounded but was expected to make it. 

            So much had changed in less than two hours.

            And here Liam sat, trying - and failing - to come to terms with all of it. 

            He was a soldier. Brothers died all the time, and he knew he could die any given moment. He had been in so many battles during the last year of the Clone War, had seen so many comrades die. Death didn't faze him - at least, he had thought it didn't, until he had witnessed a brother be shot right in front of him simply for asking why they needed to round up an entire village after the single rebel who had only been passing through had already been caught.

            A brother, dead, not by enemy hands, but by a non-clone commanding officer who hadn't even granted a court martial first.

            It was then that the seed of doubt over what the Empire's goals truly were began to take root. The soldiers had been told since the Clone Wars that the army was fighting for peace. The war was over, the Republic had won, but the fighting continued. Whatever peace was supposed to look like, he was starting to think this wasn't it. 

            Some of his brothers were determined to keep fighting for the army - it was all they knew, after all. They began shifting to the Imperial line that they were fighting for order, perhaps believing that the ever-elusive "order" would bring the equally elusive peace they were supposed to want. Liam understood why they clung so tenaciously to this belief; but he didn't believe it anymore.

            And with every brother who had died thereafter, he couldn't shake the thought that they shouldn't have died. The war was over. The military kept saying they didn't need clones anymore, anyway, so why were the clones still fighting and dying, killing and being killed? This, above all else, was what sprouted the seed of doubt into a deeply rooted tree of resolve: he needed out. Not "decommissioned," where he would be sent off to die for the Imperial war machine in some labor camp. No, he needed out; he needed to be gone, away from Imperial oversight. 

            Now, he was out. 

            And so many had died to get him out.     

            A clone with a small star-like shape tattooed above his right eyebrow sat next to him. Gambit, that was this clone’s name – though Liam couldn’t remember when or how he had met this man, one of the clones who was part of the resistance network.

            “Want to talk about it?” Gambit suddenly said offhandedly.

            Liam shook his head; no, he didn’t want to talk about it – and yet the words came spilling out almost against his will. “Your people – I’m sorry, I know they… died. I wouldn’t have tried to make it out if I had known…”

            Gambit placed a firm hand on his shoulder, cutting him off. “You did know,” he said frankly. “You knew you might die, and you still decided to take the risk to get out. We knew what could happen, too. We still came, because we know the chance to get away from that is worth the risk.”

            “But…” Liam didn’t understand this. “You all were already out. Why risk coming back?”

            Gambit shrugged. “Because our brothers came back for us.”

            This statement hit Liam right between the eyes; and he hardly noticed when Gambit was called away shortly thereafter. Still, it only took a few minutes for his thoughts to coalesce around Gambit’s remark into a clear objective; and with this objective came newfound direction and clarity.

            He had wanted to stop fighting, not only because he didn’t know what he was fighting for, but because the tactics and means he was told to fight with were wrong. But he knew what this clone underground’s goals were, saw the methods they employed to achieve these goals, and he wanted to help them succeed.

            He would fight for this.

            Peace may still be elusive; but now he would be fighting for his brothers' freedom, just as they had fought for him. 

            And that was worth it. 

Chapter Text

            Rex, walking through the clone underground’s base on Predonia after staying up far too late trying – with limited success – to follow a tip from Howzer and find anything he could about the clone prison called the Crucible, saw the new names on the memorial wall, and slowed his steps to a halt. Fireball had been the one to start this practice to commemorate the clones who had died while trying to save their brothers or escape the Empire, only two weeks before he himself had been killed on Teth; and Echo and Howzer had carried the idea forward by setting up a similar memorial when they had moved to Predonia. The list on the memorial had grown ever longer in the intervening months - too long, Rex thought. He knew Gregor wanted more of the deserters to join the underground - Gregor believed the clone initiative would be met by now if they had more numbers, and Rex agreed with him - but at times like these, when more names were added to the list, Rex found himself almost relieved that so few rescued clones wanted to fight for the network. Sometimes he could pretend they stood a better chance at survival that way.

            He read through the list one more time before turning away. He would not let these men be forgotten, no matter how much the memories of them pained him.

            He sighed as he made his way back toward his quarters. In a few short hours, some of the men would be heading out in pairs to scout out the facilities Echo had identified as potentially holding the missing clones from Tantiss. Rex wouldn’t be going on these missions – he needed to get back to Pantora – but he did want to see Echo off, and he knew he should take the opportunity now to get some sleep.

            A lone figure sitting at the table in the galley caught his eye as he walked past. Apparently, Rex wasn’t the only one who was finding it difficult to unwind. After a moment of indecision, he walked into the galley and leaned against the counter that stood opposite the other clone.

            "Can't sleep?"

            Winn looked up at him, his expression unreadable. This was the norm for him, though. Rex couldn't recall a time he had ever seen this clone let his emotions show on his face.

            "Don't worry, sir,” Winn said in his typical low, level tone, “I'll be ready for the mission tomorrow..."

            "I know you will,” Rex interrupted. “That’s not why I was asking.”

            Winn met Rex’s gaze for a few moments longer before looking down at the table. He did that a lot, too – looking down. Rex wanted to know why. All the clones, especially those who chose to continue fighting for the resistance efforts, had experienced more than their fair share of horrors; but the burden seemed heavier for Winn than for most.

            "Winn, you came along with Hyde when Gregor picked you up from Coruscant, right?” Rex asked.

            The other man nodded, not looking up.  

            “Gregor says Hyde wanted to join this network right away, that Hyde said he wanted to do something that would make a difference,” Rex continued. “You seemed to just come along for the ride."

            "I want our men free, sir,” Winn said with a conviction that somehow almost surprised Rex.

            "I don't doubt it. But I also can't help but think that something else is bothering you, something more than just what our brothers are facing.”

            Winn, still looking down at the tabletop, slowly shook his head. "It's not something the men like to talk about."

            Rex instantly knew what Winn was referring to. "You mean the Jedi."

            Winn did look up at this, a flicker of… some emotion crossing his face, gone before Rex could identify it. Several seconds passed before he spoke. "Weren't you captain of the 501st?"

            Rex nodded. "I was."

            "Were you there on Coruscant when the Jedi Temple was destroyed?"

            "No, I was with a detachment that was sent to Mandalore."

            "So... You weren't with a Jedi when the order came through.” Winn’s voice had become even flatter than usual, and Rex thought he could guess why.

            “Actually, I was. It’s a long story.” Rex sighed a little – he didn’t want to go into too many specifics, but he had a feeling Winn needed to know the story. “My padawan commander – former padawan – anyway, she was with us. She’s the reason I got my inhibitor chip out. We weren’t able to save any of the other men, though. Half of the 501st… They all died because they couldn’t stop fighting long enough to be saved.”

            He thought he had come to terms with it, that horrific day, facing down Jesse and all the other men who had fought side by side with him through countless battles, wanting so desperately to make them see reason even though he knew they couldn’t see reason, knowing they had lost all their own will and weren’t even aware of it, knowing he was out of time. It was times like these that he realized he may never fully come to terms with that day, no matter how many other clones he saved.

            Winn had a far off look in his eyes now, and when he spoke his tone was almost lifeless despite his blunt words. “Hyde helped kill our general. I’m the one who shot down our padawan commander. Shot her in the back. She wasn’t expecting it. We lost only two men – our general fought for his life, but still, he tried not to hurt us, he didn’t want to hurt us. They both trusted us. Just like the Jedi trusted the soldiers who attacked them in the temple. I saw them all, all those teachers and all those children, just… laying there. And the worst part is, it didn’t bother me at all. For months. Months. And now I can’t stop seeing them.”

            He fell silent, still gazing into nothingness; and Rex understood.

            He, Rex, had left the army because of what Order 66 had done to his brothers, and had been fighting against the Empire to save his brothers ever since. Winn had left the army because of what Order 66 had done to the Jedi. He was fighting to save other clones, too, and was a dedicated and loyal brother; but Rex wondered if, perhaps, Winn had joined this fight only because he needed something to live for, and with no way to help the Jedi victims of the order, the fight for the clones was the next best option.

            Rex knew all the clones – even those who had had their inhibitor chips removed – avoided talking about Order 66 and the Jedi. He had thought it was simply because of the risk of talking about the Jedi sympathetically in front of the wrong person. He hadn’t considered until now that, for some, that experience might be too painful to talk about. Truth be told, while he had been horrified to learn just how successful the order had been in making the Jedi nearly extinct, and had shuddered at the realization of just how close he had come to acting on the order and killing Ahsoka himself, he had never had occasion to consider just how much guilt some of the clones who had acted on the order must be feeling.

            No wonder there were so many clones – even some who had become disillusioned with the Empire in general – who still insisted the Jedi were traitors and the Empire had been right in that situation. Persisting in this belief had to be much more tolerable than entertaining the idea that many, if not all, of the victims of such widespread slaughter had been innocent.

            He briefly thought about what the Bad Batch had told him of Ventress apparently trying to relocate Jedi survivors and potential Force wielders, before dismissing the idea. Even if Winn felt comfortable working with such a notorious assassin as Asajj Ventress, there was very little chance Ventress would be willing to work with a clone in this endeavor. Besides, clones couldn’t even live freely in the open yet.

            “I don’t know how to make the nightmares stop,” Rex confessed to Winn now. “If I did, all of us would be sleeping a lot better at night.”

            Winn offered the ghost of a smile. “I’m fine. I’m glad I’m here. At least I’m not fighting for the Empire anymore.”

            Rex nodded as he pushed off from the counter, somehow intuiting that Winn had said his piece and now needed solitude. “We’re glad to have you, Winn,” he said sincerely before he walked toward the door.

            “Captain Rex?”

            He turned back. “Yes, Winn?”

            The clone was looking at him thoughtfully. “Thanks. For listening.”

            “Anytime,” Rex replied; though his heart ached with the wish that he could do more to help all the men, including Winn, recover from the traumas they had endured in their short lives. 

            And when Rex had finally settled into his quarters, his thoughts full of the men who had died during the Clone War and the men who had died since then and all the Jedi who had been exterminated on the Emperor’s orders, he wondered if the galaxy itself would ever recover from the far-reaching consequences of Order 66.  

*****

            The rhythmic stomp of stormtrooper boots drawing close to the eatery didn’t concern Cody. He wouldn’t draw their attention; and if he did, he knew how to slip away from them.

            It wasn’t until he heard the familiar swish and faint hum of a lightsaber igniting that his pulse quickened, and he strained his ears to aid him in mentally calculating the Inquisitor’s location without looking…

            Inquisitors’ primary goal was finding Jedi, but they wouldn’t hesitate to apprehend deserters or anyone else they deemed a threat or who got in their way. As long as Cody stayed well out of their way, he’d be safe.

            But if an Inquisitor was here, that meant they were fairly certain a Jedi was here; and Inquisitors were rarely wrong.

            Cody had been here on the sleepy planet Sorgan for quite some time now, and counted himself lucky for having found it so soon after leaving Coruscant. With an economy primarily based on krill farming and manufacture of related products, the planet had little chance of drawing undue Imperial attention to itself. As more time had gone by without incident, the thought had even crossed Cody’s mind in the past few days that, perhaps, he should find a way to contact Rex, let his old friend know that clones who had gone AWOL might be relatively safe here, where they would be amongst civilians who wouldn’t pry too far into anyone’s cover story, were far enough removed from the Inner Rim to be unaware of growing anti-clone sentiment, and were well out of the way of Imperial oversight. This planet was the perfect place to lay low.

            Apparently, a Jedi had thought the same thing. And the Empire had somehow tracked the Jedi here.

            The outdoor seating area of the eatery fell silent as the Imperial troops approached, aiding Cody’s efforts to place each Imperial player by hearing alone – he was seated with his back to the visitors, and nothing on this planet could induce him to turn around to watch them. As far as he could tell, the Inquisitor had positioned him- or herself near the back of the formation; knowing this, Cody couldn’t help but lift his gaze from the table and glance around at what other patrons he could see without moving his head.

            A young woman, sitting in a chair facing Cody at the end of a long table fifteen feet ahead of him, clearly had the same objective Cody and all the other patrons currently did: stay inconspicuous. She was human, like almost all the other residents of this tiny settlement; she wore a rough-woven dress of the same style as any other krill farmer; she was, at best, seventeen years old, and if Cody didn’t know the couple seated at the other end of the table was childless, he might even believe she was their daughter. He had never seen her around this part of the settlement before, but that wasn’t unusual – many of the owners of the outlying farms rarely came to town.

            And yet, he knew; somehow he knew this woman was the Inquisitor’s target… just as he suddenly knew he couldn’t let this Jedi meet the fate of her kind, not if he could help it.

            He wasn’t going to make the same mistake again.  

            The troops had reached the edge of the seating area, and the Inquisitor stepped forward, red lightsaber still humming menacingly, dark eyes glinting, eager and suspicious, through a mask that covered the face.

            “I know a Jedi is here,” a female voice, contorted by the mask, intoned. “I will give you all the benefit of the doubt in assuming none of you knew a Jedi is here. If you identify any newcomers to this planet, anyone who arrived about a month ago, I will spare the rest of you.”

            No one spoke, but already Cody could see a few of the other villagers casting their eyes nervously toward the young woman – whether on purpose or subconsciously, it didn’t matter, for the Inquisitor would notice the subtle hint soon enough.

            The Inquisitor was carefully surveilling the yard; the troopers formed a perimeter, flanking her on either side; the owner of the eatery was cowering in the shadow of the doorway; no one moved, no one dared even breathe…

            The shrill shriek of a grinjer cut like a knife through the stillness. Three patrons jumped in their seats at the sudden noise; a cup was knocked to the floor at the same time the waitress dropped her full tray with a startled cry; the troopers turned toward the disturbance, two of them firing warning shots in the air.

            If the shots were meant to induce the patrons to remain still, they failed miserably. In fact, the opposite reaction occurred: now, patrons started scurrying for cover; and Cody, not wasting a moment in taking advantage of the distraction, lunged forward, grabbed the Jedi’s arm in a vise-like grip, and had dragged her through the doorway past the wide-eyed owner of the eatery before hearing the Inquisitor shout for silence. Increasing his speed further and grateful to find the Jedi was keeping pace rather than resisting him, Cody passed through the kitchen, coming out the other side onto the quiet street, and kept running, not stopping until he reached the small side cottage he was renting from the local butcher. He wanted to get to his ship, but it was parked on the edge of town and he knew the Imperial troops had set up a perimeter. He and his unexpected charge would need to wait this out in the house and make their escape off-world later.

            He bolted through the front door, still holding tightly to the Jedi’s arm, and in his haste he all but shoved her across the one-room cottage as he turned to close and barricade the door as best he could. Lights flickered on automatically in the relative darkness, and he cast a critical look over the home. Maybe they would be safer if they hid in the butcher’s storage shed… but the shed had fewer means for escape…  

            The girl abruptly stumbled backwards until she reached the farthest corner of the room, her face twisted in terror as she looked wide-eyed at him. “You!”

            “What’s the matter?” he asked in no small amount of confusion, before suddenly registering that his hood had slid off his head in the mad rush across town.  

            “You’re… you’re one of them. You’re a clone,” she spat, the terror in her voice now mixed with an equal measure of revulsion.

            Cody held his hands up, keeping them in plain sight. This was why it was never a good idea to act on impulse. If he had just taken a second to think, he might have realized the Jedi probably didn’t want his help – for multiple reasons. “Maybe I am a danger to you,” he said slowly, “but it’s not because you’re a Jedi. It’s because I’m a deserter. I’m not working with the Inquisitor. I can’t be. They would arrest me just as soon as they’d arrest you.”

            She let out an almost hysterical snort of laughter. “They don’t arrest Jedi. We join them, or we die.”

            Cody shook his head, unsure how to respond but taking a crack at it anyway. “I want to help you, not harm you. I don’t want any Jedi to get hurt.”

            She hesitated, still regarding him with open suspicion. “So… you didn’t kill your Jedi?”

            Cody had been debating the wisdom of trying to take a step nearer; but at this statement he became still. His silence was answer enough; and the Jedi took another step back, pressing herself against the wall as she cast another anxious glance around the room.

            “You did!” she exclaimed in a whisper. “You killed them! And now you want to kill me too…”

            “No,” Cody interjected. “No, I’m not going to kill you. I… I shouldn’t have killed my Jedi. I know that now.”

            She was inching her way along the wall toward the back door, keeping as much physical distance between her and Cody as she could; but this statement made her pause. “What, you didn’t know it then?” she returned scathingly.

            He had to make her understand. He had to convince her to let him help her. He couldn’t let another Jedi die when he could do something, anything to prevent it.

            “Some of the clones said we have – I don’t know, control chips in our head. I – well, I got mine taken out once I deserted. I don’t know if it was actually a control chip, but something was there.”

            The Jedi was staring at him with an expression bordering on disgust now. “That’s your excuse. You’re saying you were mind controlled.”

            “No, I’m not making any excuses.” His arms were starting to get tired, but he didn’t dare make any move that would spook her further. Still, his voice became more forceful – he had to make her understand. “I’m not making any excuses,” he repeated. “I just… When the order came through, I don’t know why but it made sense at the time. It doesn’t make sense anymore. It stopped making sense even before I got the chip out.” He locked eyes with her, forced himself to hold her gaze. “I should have realized it then. I shouldn’t have killed my Jedi.”

            She had stopped moving toward the back door, but her expression was unreadable, and it dawned on Cody that even if he did manage to somehow make her believe him, he couldn’t bring himself to make her survival contingent upon her needing to travel with him, a clone who had betrayed and murdered people like her.

            “Look,” he said, gesturing vaguely with his still-raised arms, “my ship is the light freighter on the edge of town just north of here. When the Imperials are gone, take it and go to Merialis.” Merialis was far too unimportant to attract undue Imperial attention for some time yet; but Cody knew from personal experience that the formerly neutral planet, which had essentially hated both sides during the war, was none too friendly toward anyone who bore any resemblance to Fett clones. This Jedi wouldn’t be instantly recognizable as a Jedi, however, and should be able to conceal herself with relative ease.  

            She tilted her head pensively. “You really do just want to help me, don’t you?” she said softly.

            Cody nodded. “Yes.”

            “And you want me to just take your ship.”

            “Yes. Go to Merialis,” he repeated. “You should be safe there.”

            She had an oddly distant look on her face now, one reminiscent of a look Obi Wan had sometimes worn that had often led Cody to wonder if his Jedi General could really peek into the future. Suddenly she straightened, her expression more alert as she peered at some point over Cody’s shoulder; and now Cody heard it: the distant sound of Imperial soldiers sweeping each street.

            The soldiers were still some ways away, though, far enough away that Cody and the Jedi could still sneak out to a more secure location; and Cody made up his mind.

            “Come with me,” he said, finally dropping his hands to his side and crossing the room to open the back door, ushering her through the door and relieved yet again to find that she wasn’t resisting him. “You can hide in the butcher’s shop for now. They won’t find you there.”

            He had guided her halfway across the tiny fenced-in back yard when she stopped in her tracks and turned to look at him, a sorrowful yet resigned expression in her eyes that filled Cody with dread. “They always find me. And it always ends the same way.” She shook her head. “Not again.”

            She had already crossed the yard and vaulted over the low fence before Cody could fully process her words. “Stop,” he called after her in a low voice. “Where are you going?”

            She paused and looked back at him with a sad half-smile that Cody knew would haunt him for the rest of his days. “Maybe this way, they won’t find you.”

            And then she was gone.

            He wanted to go after her, needed to find her and help her get to safety – but just as he reached the fence and prepared to clamber over it, he knew it was already too late as he heard the shout of challenge two streets away, heard the sickeningly brief wordless response from the Inquisitor, heard the troopers start to move back toward the center of the village, away from his home.

            Only then did he realize he didn’t know her name.  

*****

            “We have our next mission, men,” Wolffe announced as he walked into the barracks set aside for the Recovery Strike Team.

            The soldiers turned toward him almost as one, regarding him with a mix of expressions: most were mildly curious, one or two looked excited, but some looked apprehensive.

            “Are we going after deserters again, sir?” Trey asked, biting his lip before realizing what he was doing and smoothing his expression.

            Wolffe shook his head. “Not this time. And we’re only providing support on this one.”

            “Who’s leading this mission, then, Commander?” Hilo asked.

            “An Inquisitor.”

            Now everyone looked apprehensive, and the room fell so silent one could have heard a pin drop. After a long pause, Striker broke the silence.

            “Inquisitors. Are those…?”

            “Yes,” Wolffe affirmed. “They are the ones who have been helping hunt down surviving Jedi who threaten the Empire. They are best equipped for these operations since they use the Force, like Jedi can, but they are not Jedi.”

            “So…” Striker drew out the word as he struggled to place this information within a familiar frame of reference, “they’re like Asajj Ventress, then.”

            The mention of the Separatist assassin made Wolffe’s facial scar burn with the memory of the lightsaber strike that had resulted in his need for the mechanical replacement for his right eye. Forcibly dragging his thoughts back to the present, he shook his head again. “No. Unlike Ventress, they are not enemies of the Empire. Never have been.”

            He looked around the room again, noting the disquiet now mixed with skepticism still evident on his men’s faces. It was a good thing, Wolffe mused, that none of them had heard the pointed comment Admiral Tukat had made upon revealing the assignment.

            “I hope your team will be better than the other clone units we assigned to these operations,” the admiral had said. “They didn’t seem able to get it through their heads that the Inquisitor is in full command, and they questioned some of their orders. The missions almost ended in failure because of their insubordination.”

            Wolffe should have known better, but he had found himself asking, “What happened to them, the clone units?”

            Admiral Tukat had glanced at him as if the answer was obvious. “The Inquisitors executed the commanders, of course. The troopers are imprisoned until they get their trials – though why the Empire is bothering with such things is beyond me...”

            Wolffe had stood at attention. “We will not fail you, sir.”

            “Of course you won’t,” the admiral had replied. “You’re dismissed.”  

            Now, facing his men in the barracks, Wolffe decided against bringing up any of these concerns. His men had always diligently observed their orders, after all. “We need to be ready to go at 0900. Carry on.”

            Striker and Trey exchanged unreadable looks; Noah and Severin muttered quietly to each other; the rest of the team turned to their bunks to ready themselves for the mission; but Justice pensively shook his head and started walking toward the door. Wolffe watched, perplexed, as Justice left the barracks. The team had four hours until they were required to be on their transport, so the trooper had plenty of time to get prepared; but usually Justice was the first to get prepped for any mission, regardless of the time allotted. Glancing back at the others, Wolffe affirmed that the rest of the team had apparently finished processing the information before stepping out after Justice.

            He spotted the clone already at the end of the hall entering the lift to exit the building. He hurried to catch up, managing to step in just before the doors closed. He didn’t miss the momentary flash of panic on the younger clone’s face before the trooper stood at attention and greeted Wolffe with a formal “Sir.”

            Wolffe wondered at the formality: his men were respectful of him as their commander, but they were all on personable terms with each other. He steadily regarded the trooper before silently turning away, letting Justice take the lead as they exited the lift together and walked out into the growing light of dawn on Coruscant. It wasn’t until they were some distance away from the barracks that Wolffe spoke.

            “Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you, Justice?”

            Justice, doggedly avoiding Wolffe’s gaze, remained silent for almost a full minute before finally saying, “If I may ask, Commander... were you the one who took down your Jedi general?”

            “No, I wasn’t in the vicinity," Wolffe replied, wondering at the strange sense of relief that flooded him as he recalled that he hadn't been personally responsible for the death of his general.

            And yet... he could still feel the pull, that faint but ever-present impulse, the compulsive need to follow orders; and he knew that if he had been nearby, he would have shot down Plo Koon in a heartbeat. Plo Koon, the man who had convinced him and everyone in the Wolf Pack that they were not identical mindless entities only good for being used up and discarded, that they were each individuals, each worth as much as any other life. Plo Koon, the man who had been everything that Wolffe had imagined a “father” would be ever since Wolffe had first been introduced to such a concept. Plo Koon, the man who had valued Wolffe enough to save him at the risk of his own life on more occasions than Wolffe could count – and still Wolffe knew, with absolute certainty, that the Jedi general would have died at his own clone commander’s hand had circumstances allowed it. 

            This impulse, even now, to obey the order… could the rumors of inhibitor chips possibly be true...?

            Pushing away this traitorous thought along with the memories of General Koon and the shame that inevitably came with them, Wolffe flatly continued on, telling Justice the bitter truth: "I wouldn't have hesitated to do it if I had the opportunity. We had our orders. There's always a reason for those orders; our responsibility is to comply."

            Justice kept his gaze on the path ahead of him, still refusing to look at his commander, and Wolffe could guess the younger clone had been directly involved in the deaths of his Jedi commanding officers. He said nothing, however; and they walked a few paces in silence before Justice, with a nervous gulp, spoke again. "And... You're okay with that? After all this time, you're okay with what we did to the Jedi? With what we're supposed to do now?"

            Wolffe took five quick steps forward to get ahead of Justice before stopping and turning to face him head on. The trooper, following Wolffe's lead, stopped as well and lifted his gaze to meet the commander's scrutiny. Only now did Wolffe fully see the bitter regret weighing heavily in Justice's eyes.

            “The Jedi are our enemy, Justice,” Wolffe said firmly. “We can’t let ourselves forget that.”

            Slowly, Justice nodded, though Wolffe knew better than to believe for even a moment that he was convinced. "As you say, Commander," Justice said. "With your permission, I would like to return to the barracks to prep for the mission."

            "Permission granted."

            Justice nodded again and went back the way they had come, leaving Wolffe standing alone with his thoughts.

            The impulse to obey orders had to be right, had to be justifiable. Order 66 had been justified. The Jedi were traitors who had wanted to destroy the Republic - the Emperor himself said so. They had tried to assassinate him, and if they had been willing to do that, who knew what other atrocities they had been prepared to commit? Wolffe felt the familiar indignation swell within him as he considered that the Jedi had betrayed the clones just as much as they had betrayed the Republic. Who knew what lies the Jedi had told the clones under their charge, pretending to care, to be friends, while really plotting to take over the galaxy...  

            But… would Plo Koon really lie? The love, the pure compassion Wolffe distinctly remembered his general consistently exhibiting - had it really been a farce? He, Wolffe, just couldn't believe it, he couldn’t reconcile what he had personally seen of General Koon with what he had been told…

            He shook his head to clear his thoughts before slowly proceeding to walk back to the barracks.

            The Jedi had to be the enemy. That had to be the truth.

            Because if it wasn't, Wolffe didn't know how he could live with himself.

Chapter Text

            Echo, staring at the dozen cryostasis pods now lining both sides of the hold, still couldn’t believe what he was seeing. 

            They had done it. It had taken them almost two months, but they had actually done it. They had found the missing clones. 

            Two scout teams sent to Teraan and Lucx had turned up nothing; but on the next scouting trips, Winn and Gambit had reported a promising find on Derma Prime: the research facility registered twelve cryostasis pods in use, and a daring stealth trip into the facility had revealed the pods did, indeed, hold Fett clones.

            The trip to retrieve the pods from the facility had gone seamlessly – so seamlessly, in fact, Echo was still processing that they had made it out without raising any suspicion. Really, it was almost strange to have an uncontested win, especially after how the last three extraction missions the network had undertaken in the past two months had turned out.

            In this case, a contact named Jarr’win had used his credentials as owner of a transport service to obtain a job delivering a shipment of medical supplies to the lab on Derma Prime, and had brought along Echo, Gregor, Winn, Gambit, Tippit, and Hyde as his delivery crew. The clones had walked in with the medical supplies and walked out with a dozen cryo chambers; having obtained and changed into medical uniforms complete with face masks, neither of the two personnel who had happened to walk through that area of the facility had even given them a second glance, much less asked any questions.

            Echo looked around again at the cryo containers lined up in the hold, letting out a sigh that broke the heavy silence. The other men were still on the flight deck, but Echo decided against joining them for now. It was a long trip back to Pantora. He might as well use the time to dig into what little data they had been able to recover from the computer in the lab. 

            Ignoring the uneasy feeling inherent in being alone in an enclosed room with a bunch of unconscious beings, Echo inserted the data disk into the single computer console in the hold and concentrated on reviewing the information, shaking his head upon discovering most of the intel was encrypted. He'd have to wait until getting back to Pantora to see if Riyo Chuchi’s aide, Ferin Chuvarro, could help with the decryption. Of the data that was readily accessible, none of it appeared useful at first glance - transport logs wouldn't tell him much about why these clones had been set aside in cold storage, nor why two of them required full life support systems while the twelve others were essentially kept in suspended animation…

          The discrepancy abruptly caught up to him.

            They hadn’t retrieved any life support pods.

            Reviewing the logs more carefully, he discovered that fourteen clones had been received by the Derma Prime facility, but Echo’s group had only recovered twelve pods. Concern mounting, he continued sifting through the logs, finally finding a record of two specimens being relocated – to an unnamed destination.  

            How had he still not managed to recover all the clones?

            Sighing in frustration, Echo walked to the back of the hold to check the pods, making note of the clone identification numbers before returning to the computer. Perhaps he could identify which clones were missing. 

            What should have been a simple process most decidedly was not. The Empire had either deemed it unnecessary or a breach of security to include detailed information about the specimens being transported, and had only recorded the number of assets being shipped. The transport logs offered no new information, but Echo's curiosity - and sheer stubbornness - was piqued enough that, after a moment's consideration, he decided to try decrypting some of the intel himself. As long as he only did what he knew how to do, there should be little danger of damaging the data. 

            It took almost an hour of careful slicing – it would have taken less time had Hyde not wandered into the hold asking what Echo was doing – but his efforts paid off. Breaking through some of the mid-level encryption, he skimmed through the now-readable documents and discovered a prize: a log countersigned by Royce Hemlock with brief descriptions of the clones transferred to the specialized unit. The log didn't contain enough information to tell Echo about Hemlock's plans or why the clones were designated for that unit in the first place, but this should be enough information to start searching for the missing clones. Running his hand over his eyes – they were beginning to lightly burn from staring at the screen so long – Echo glanced once more at the record while preparing to pull up the noted identification numbers for comparison. 

            A number on the log caught his eye, and he stared, the datapad with his notes dropping unheeded to the floor. After a breathless moment he closed his eyes, shook his head, opened his eyes... And stared again. 

            It... It CAN'T be, he thought in stunned disbelief. 

            Suddenly realizing he had dropped the datapad, he stooped to retrieve it, looking at the log on the computer screen yet again when he straightened. 

            The number was still there. 

            CT-9902. 

            He forced himself to drag his gaze downward to the description below the clone designation. 

            "Affiliation: Clone Force 99 (hostile). Retrieved on Eriadu. Potential: Priority 1A." 

            Echo didn't know how long he stared at the screen, all coherent thought scattering as the words before him dominated his mind.

            Eriadu.

            Clone Force 99.

            CT-9902. 

            He abruptly came back to himself, taking a sharp inhale of breath before looking down at his datapad. Almost as if the numbers meant nothing to him, he scrolled through the log and compared them to the ID numbers from the retrieved pods, noting with now detached efficiency the two clones that were missing. 

            CT-22-8406. “Affiliation: 442^nd Siege Battalion. Retrieved on Korman’dum. Potential: Priority 1A.”

            CT-9902. "Affiliation: Clone Force 99 (hostile). Retrieved on Eriadu. Potential: Priority 1A." 

            Having accomplished what he had set out to do, Echo pulled the disk from the console and made his way to the flight deck, nodding at Gregor and Winn as he took one of the passenger seats. 

            "Well? Did you find out anything?" Hyde asked curiously.

            "Yeah, we're missing two more clones,” Echo reported.

            Tippit sighed heavily.

            "Any idea where they are?" Gregor asked.

            "Not yet,” Echo said, “but I intend to find out."

*****

            He was falling, falling into perpetual oblivion, falling into blackness where time and space and self were meaningless. He had been falling so long, the feeling no longer registered as an anomaly. It simply was. Just as he simply was, simply falling, falling forever…

          Until he wasn’t.

            He had forgotten what it felt like to not be falling; it had been so long it took some time to adapt to the new sensation…

            Time. Time existed now. Space. Self existed. Consciousness…

            Pain. Pain existed now, existed again. So much pain. He had felt this pain before, long ago; but then he had been falling again, falling forever, and the pain had ceased.

            And he longed for the weightless bliss of falling again.

            But he wasn’t falling again; and so his mind reached out for other sensations, any sensation that could distract from this excruciating physical torment. Faint humming indicated some kind of machinery, but no other identifying sounds were present. The harsh chemical odors assaulting his nose were unfamiliar, but they were probably related to the thin layer of moisture still clinging to whatever clothing was covering his skin as the fluid drained away... Oh, he must have been in a liquid bath of some kind... Not water, not now, water didn’t smell like this, didn’t feel slimy like this... Where was he? 

            The white light beckoning to him from the other side of his closed eyelids was already bright enough that he was reluctant to open his eyes, but he needed more data to verify his hypothesis as to his current location, and the most efficient way to collect the data would be through sight. So he opened his eyes - sure enough, the light was intense enough to make his eyes water, and he blinked rapidly before glancing around. 

            Yes, as he had suspected: he was in a medical unit. Not that he could see any of the equipment very clearly, but what he could make out combined with how he currently physically felt led to only one logical conclusion.

            But he couldn't recall why he was here... Come to think of it, who was he? 

            He squinted at a nondescript metal object a few feet away as he tried to dredge up any memory that would inform him of his identity... Mentally pushing backward through the interminable sensation of falling, the primal sense of overwhelming fear... He had to have more memories than just that... 

            A sound echoed through his mind, a guttural bellow, a panicked shout of "No!"... Almost completely masking another, softer voice calling out, "Tech"...

            Tech... That sounded so familiar, it resonated in his very bones...

            "Oh good, you're awake." 

            His reverie was interrupted by a new voice, an unfamiliar voice, not one from his memories - a voice coming from within this room. A human shape drew nearer, close enough that the face was no longer blurry, and he could make out the black hair, ivory skin, angular features, and intense black eyes of the human woman who had addressed him. 

            "You may address me as Dr. Leman,” the woman said now, before tilting her head and frowning slightly. “Can you hear me? Can you speak?"

            Blinking again, he experimentally cleared his throat before hesitantly opening his lips and croaking out, "Yes." 

            The woman smiled - a smile that sent a chill of foreboding through him. "Good," she repeated. "Then we can proceed." 

Chapter Text

            “Thank you for meeting with me, Senator Chuchi,” Admiral Dumize smiled politely at Riyo, who was seated across the desk from him with her two guards, Norash and Tebetski, behind her. “I hope this discussion will prove favorable in aligning our goals in the matter of the clones.”

            “I hope for the same, Admiral,” Riyo replied calmly before falling silent, an unspoken cue prompting him to lead out the discussion. Whatever reasons Dumize had had in requesting this audience, it certainly wasn’t to reach a compromise, and she knew it. But she wanted to hear his angle first.

            “Before we begin discussing the decommissioning program,” the admiral said, “there is another matter that must be addressed. I understand you are harboring clones on Pantora, clones who escaped imprisonment on Tantiss.”

            “They should not have been imprisoned,” Riyo replied.

            “Come now,” he said coaxingly, “they were insubordinate at best, traitors at worst.”

            “There are no records of any trials,” she countered, “even for the men who had accusations levied against them. A few of them have clean service records. Besides, being subjected to involuntary experimentation is not an accepted form of punishment, especially since the war is over.”

            “Is that why you are requesting a Senate inquiry?” Dumize asked, looking surprised – as if he didn’t know full well what was happening in the Senate. She had first submitted the motion almost five months ago, after all. “The clones are claiming they were experimented on against their will?”

            “You claim total ignorance of the matter on Tantiss?” she said mildly, though she fixed him with a knowing stare.

            “Rest assured, Senator Chuchi, the Empire would never sanction such activities. If such breaches of protocol occurred, Dr. Hemlock is fully liable; and he is now dead.”

            No, she wouldn’t let him or the Empire off the hook that easily. “I fail to see how Dr. Hemlock’s death solves the current problem of clone rights, much less proves the Imperial military and other administrations weren’t complicit in their mistreatment.”

            “Alleged mistreatment,” Dumize emphasized. “Regardless, we are straying from the point. The clones on Pantora need to return to Coruscant.”

            She refused to let her surprise and outrage show on her face. “For what reason?”

            “Given the current state of affairs, any clone that does not remain part of the military or has not been formally decommissioned is considered a deserter. Therefore, to avoid being considered absent without leave, the clones must return to Coruscant so their status can be properly reviewed.”

            Of all the dirty tricks…

            “I will not agree to that,” Riyo shook her head firmly. “These men have been through enough. They will not be subjected to…”

            “It is not up for debate,” Dumize said, losing his smile. “You know the situation regarding deserters. For the safety and security of all Imperial citizens, for the safety of the clones themselves, all clones must be accounted for. If you will not surrender them, the military will have no choice but to take them by force.”

            None of this was for the sake of any citizens, much less for the sake of the clones; but Riyo could clearly see she would gain nothing by arguing this point further. If anything, open resistance now would make the admiral move much faster in retrieving the refugee clones.

            “I see,” was all she said, keeping her expression level.  

            The admiral blinked, as if surprised she had relented with so little argument; but then he smiled again and moved on. “With that being settled, let us turn to the decommissioning program. I gather you still have reservations regarding this…”

            “Reservations beyond the management of Tantiss, you mean.”

            Dumize shook his head, his smile again turning condescending. “Tantiss wasn’t under the purview of the program.”

            “I find that difficult to believe, Admiral, given the clone situation that was described to me. And you are in charge of the fate of clones who are no longer active members of the military.”

            “The decommissioning program is not responsible for prison arrangements for insubordinate clones,” Dumize pressed.

            Riyo frowned internally, though her expression didn’t change. She had put forth the motion for the Senate to investigate the clone decommissioning program, with witness statements from clones rescued from Tantiss as her chief evidence. She hoped that proving the clones were being horribly mistreated by the Empire even after being dismissed from active military service would garner more support for her efforts to ensure the clones were recognized as full citizens and afforded all due rights and privileges. She hadn’t been surprised by the Emperor’s administration and the military consistently denying any knowledge of the dubious activities that had taken place under Dr. Hemlock’s direction; but this assertion that Tantiss was unrelated to any plans for managing decommissioned clones was new. What did Dumize hope to gain from making such a distinction?  

            Admiral Dumize was speaking again, making an attempt at a placating tone. “Senator Chuchi, ever since the Defense Recruitment Bill passed, you have been a leading voice advocating for decommissioned clones to be taken care of, given resources and support. I have built the program to address these needs. Clones are given the opportunity to continue serving the Empire and are granted living privileges some parts of the galaxy yearn for.”

            Riyo nimbly shifted her mental focus from Tantiss to the future of the clones at large. “At what point are they deemed to have given sufficient service?”

            This query seemed to throw Admiral Dumize for a loop. “Would you clarify?”

            “When are they fully released from service?”

            He still looked puzzled. “Why would they ever be released?”

            Riyo tilted her head before bluntly stating the implications. "So they have to work until they die?"

            The condescending smile was back again. "Are you saying one should not be expected to maintain one’s own upkeep? If the clones cannot contribute even in such a small way to our great Imperial society, they have no reason to remain as part of it."

            Riyo swayed backward in shock. She knew this kind of mentality existed, of course; but she hadn’t imagined Dumize would state it so bluntly, without any embarrassment whatsoever. “What happens when they grow too old to work?” she asked.

            The admiral shrugged. “Then they are of no further use to the Empire, and no longer warrant our attention or resources.”

            Unbelievable. “Is this how your culture treats its elders?”

            Admiral Dumize raised an eyebrow in derision. “You talk about the clones as if they’re normal people, with families and communities. They’re clones, manufactured duplicates.  They owe their very existence to the Empire. Yes, they serve the Empire until they die.”

            He didn’t appear at all surprised by the outrage that flashed in Riyo’s eyes; but when even her stoic Pantoran guards looked askance at each other, it seemed to dawn on him that, perhaps, he might have gone too far in letting his true feelings show. Smiling serenely, he attempted to restore the conversation: “Need I remind you that the clones were against being decommissioned. They wanted to serve as soldiers until they died. They cannot remain soldiers now; however, they can continue to have a purpose. We provide that for them. We also provide everything they need to remain comfortable for the rest of their days. This we do for those clones who have remained loyal enough to the Empire to earn a place in the decommissioning program.”

            Riyo was unimpressed, and this time, she let it show on her face. "I have received reports about these work details. It appears even the most loyal, trustworthy men are being sent to labor camps, imprisoned in order to extract cheap labor from them.”

            “Whatever reports you have received are patently false,” Dumize argued, frowning now.

            “Then why the secrecy? Why do we not know where any of these work sites are located?”

            “My dear Senator, it is for the clones’ own safety. One site has already needed to be shut down due to rogue clones attacking them. These rogues have chosen to refuse a comfortable, meaningful existence and insist that no one else can choose it, either. Just imagine what might happen if these insurgents knew where all the sites were located.”

            “Indeed. Just imagine,” Riyo said flatly, deciding it would be futile to argue the fact that none of the work sites had been attacked, and the clones who had escaped had done so of their own accord. She would go along with the admiral’s fallacious reasoning in making her counterargument. “Of course, I can also imagine that perhaps these so-called “insurgents” might not be so concerned about their brothers if the brothers sent to these work details were ever heard from again. As it stands, the only clones who have been heard from have nothing good to say about the camps.”

            “Then why not see for yourself?” Dumize offered genially. “I will take you to one of the sites. You can tour the facility and see for yourself the excellent conditions the clones live in.”

            Riyo had raised a brow, but once Dumize had finished speaking, she immediately nodded. “I accept your offer, Admiral. This would mean, of course, that you are making public the location of one of the sites.”

            “Of course. I have nothing to hide. I only have the clones’ security in mind. I would assume you do as well.”

            She understood the pointed implication that the military would hold her personally responsible if the work site was breached once its location was known, and made no comment, instead simply rising to indicate the end of the conversation. There was nothing more to gain from continuing a discussion with an admiral whose only objective seemed to be finding any way possible to oppress the clones; and she had more important matters to attend to, including keeping what men she could out of the admiral’s reach.

            “You’ll make the arrangements with my aide, if you would please,” she said now.

            “Yes, Senator,” the admiral stood and granted her a deep nod. “I look forward to the tour.”

            Riyo left the office feeling much as she usually did after talking to an Imperial loyalist in a position of power: as if she had been diligently playing a game of chess and abiding by the rules while her opponent was planning the entire time to simply knock over the board. Part of her wanted to give up the legal angle she had taken and instead urge the clones, especially those in the underground, to simply run and hide while they still could; but she couldn’t do it. The Empire wanted the clones to stay imprisoned and limited, whether in labor camps or by hiding, only to then hunt them down. She would not let the Empire get away with this.

            Besides, she had a feeling that the only reason why the clones hadn’t simply all been executed by now was because she and her few allies were keeping so much attention on them in the Senate.

            No; no matter what tricks Admiral Dumize had up his sleeve, she wouldn’t let this go. The clones needed this win; and if the clones could win, perhaps the Pantorans and others in the galaxy would know they could win, too.

            “Is everything alright, Senator?” Tebetski asked when they had made it all the way back to her senatorial office without her saying a word.

            She granted her guards a smile. “It will be, Tebetski. It will be.”

            Dumize sat back at the senator left, contemplating which location to use to fulfill his promise of a tour.

            He knew full well the true conditions on each site, of course. Useful though the clones may be in providing manual labor, he knew he had to run them into the ground as fast as possible to minimize the chances of it occurring to them that they should protest their treatment. But it wouldn't do for Senator Chuchi to see that she was absolutely correct in describing the program as prison labor camps. 

            The site on Bornash would have been the perfect choice: the clones had been confined there, of course, but conditions were decent – at least, superficially – and the workers remained relatively healthy. Unfortunately, a rather large breakout when the program had been in its earliest stages had rendered it necessary to dispose of the rest of the clone workforce and turn the quarry over to the locals. Indeed, it was this escape that had prompted Dumize to instruct that the clones on all the remaining sites be worked to the point of exhaustion with no proportional increase in resources. The clones obviously couldn't appreciate good conditions and used any extra time and energy to focus on escaping; this had to be remedied, or the idea of the clones having rights would take root within the clones themselves.

            With Bornash no longer an option, that left Farsi as the next best choice. The clones tended to develop a rather nasty cough quite quickly once assigned to the mines, but he would order Lieutenant Gorsig to keep the sickest clones confined and out of sight while Senator Chuchi was on site. Besides, Senator Dukata and the other leaders on Farsi were reliant on the praxium being mined there, even if they weren’t aware the mines were being worked by clones specifically. The Farsi senator couldn't afford to kick up a fuss once the truth came out; and so, while the Senate might know the location of one of the sites, any pressure to close the site would be short-lived.

            Dumize nodded to himself, satisfied. Yes, this tour would be for the best. Once the motion came to the Senate floor, he would be able to explain how satisfied the clones themselves were with the work camps, with Riyo Chuchi herself as a witness – and a reluctant witness to boot. He allowed himself a self-satisfied smile at the thought: Chuchi had been a thorn in his side for so long, it would be a pleasure to witness her discomfort in front of the Senate. And this, along with the other plays he had set into motion, would mean the petition would die long before there was any chance for evidence about Tantiss to become public.

            He would succeed, and the clones would fall.

Chapter Text

            "Who are you?" 

            "Unit 2099." 

            "To whom do you owe your life?" 

            "The Galactic Empire." 

            "Whom do you serve?" 

            "The Emperor." 

            “Good.” Dr. Leman nodded in satisfaction. “Again.”

*****

            “The good news is, Emerie was able to successfully release eight of the clones from cryostasis, and they are recovering very well,” Rex said, speaking via holotransmission from Pantora. “The bad news is, four of them didn’t make it. Emerie says at least three of the four had never actually been decanted, which might be why they couldn’t survive outside the pod. She was unaware of their status until after she examined them when they were released.”  

            “I didn’t realize it was possible to keep clones growing past a certain point without decanting them,” Echo frowned.

            “There’s a lot we don’t know about what the Kaminoans were doing,” Rex pointed out. “The important thing is, you were able to stop the Empire from experimenting on more of our brothers.”

            “Our work isn’t done yet, though.”

            “Not by a long shot,” Rex agreed. “That brings me to my next point: Ferin can’t break the decryption, and he’s concerned that if he messes with the data any more he might delete something.” Sympathy was evident on Rex’s face even through the grainy holo.

            Echo let out a small resigned sigh at Rex’s report. After delivering the cryostasis pods to Emerie two weeks ago, Echo had wanted to stay on Pantora himself to talk to Riyo’s aide about the decryption, but the contact who had set up the means for infiltration on Derma Prime had needed his ship back as soon as possible, and Echo and the other clones were needed back at base to oversee operations there. Rex, who was already on Pantora awaiting Senator Chuchi’s return from the Senate session, had offered to do what he could about getting the intel regarding the Tantiss clones decoded.

            “Any chance any of this information will help Riyo’s case in establishing how much the Emperor was involved with Tantiss?” Rex had asked when Echo had explained the significance of the data.

            Echo had had to answer in the negative. “No. As far as I can tell, all this proves is that the Empire was involved in cleaning up after Tantiss. It doesn’t prove they knew what was going on there beforehand.”

            Rex had seemed to expect this response. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll get this taken care of and the information to you as soon as possible.”

            Apparently, “soon” was going to take much longer than Echo liked.

            “We need that information, but I don’t know what else we can do,” Echo admitted now. Trying to figure out, from the limited travel logs Echo had been able to read, the exact vessel that had been chartered to relocate the two clones, not to mention tracking the vessel down and finding a way to download the data from the navicomputer as he had with Tarkin’s Destroyer, would likely take more time than trying to find another decryption expert. The coordinates where the clones were taken had to be listed in that intel; they just needed to break through the final layers of encryption.

            “What if we found an Imperial terminal?” Liam suggested. He, along with Heddy, Gregor, Howzer, and Niner, were with Echo in the communications room on base, listening to the conversation with Rex.

            Echo knew where Liam was going with this – after all, Crosshair had suggested a similar course of action to decrypt Nala Se’s datapad to try to find Tantiss. But such a plan wouldn’t work this time. For one thing, the data wasn’t on an Imperial-coded device such as Nala Se’s datapad had been. For another, the only relatively easily accessible Imperial terminal Echo knew of was on Barton IV, and the equipment had ultimately been destroyed when the power had failed and what Echo had to assume had been an ice wyrm had ripped through the base.

            “The data isn’t on an Imperial-coded device, so plugging it into an Imperial terminal won’t help,” Echo replied now to Liam. “Just plugging it in would likely set off alarms; and in the off chance it didn’t, we’d have to slice through multiple layers of security at the terminal to make it readable, and I don’t know of any Imperial terminals that are still in good enough repair that we could access for the amount of time necessary to complete this job without getting caught. Do you?”

            Liam pondered for a moment, before shaking his head in disappointment. “No.” 

            “Thanks for the thought, though,” Echo said even as he continued mentally reviewing other options. An Imperial droid would be useful in breaking the encryption, but the Empire had gotten clever enough that any droid capable of such tasks would have all Imperial decryption parameters wiped from their systems the moment they were discovered missing. For similar reasons, R3 wouldn’t be much help with this either.

            No, they’d have to find an ally who could do this. Ironically, the individual who would be the top choice to decrypt Imperial intel on this scale was one of the very people Echo needed to rescue.

            “Have you told the Bad Batch?” Rex asked now. “Maybe they know someone…”

            “I can’t tell them. Not yet,” Echo interjected. He couldn’t bring himself to reveal to them Tech might be alive, that Hemlock had had reason to keep him on life support, when there was every chance the Empire had decided to discard the two clones that were damaged enough to require such resource-intensive methods to live. He couldn’t give the squad such hope only for them to be let down again – Force knew how Crosshair in particular would respond to such disappointment, and the others didn’t need such emotional upheaval either, especially after what they had experienced on Tantiss. Crosshair had only recently been able to start talking openly about Tech; as far as Echo was aware, Hunter had yet to visit the memorial Omega had set up for Tech in the Archium and still hadn’t mentioned Tech’s name himself.

            Rex’s brows were drawn together in concern now. “Echo…” he started.

            “I will tell them, Rex,” Echo insisted. “Just not yet.”

            Rex sighed. “You know them best. In the meantime…”

            “Is it really that important to save these clones?” Heddy abruptly interjected.

            A surprised silence filled the room before Echo managed to find his voice. “What do you mean?” he asked.

            “I mean exactly what I said,” Heddy replied flatly, as if trying to keep his emotions in check. “Are we really going to be expending our limited resources in searching for two clones on life support?”

            “They’re our brothers. Shouldn’t that be enough?” Echo said simply, though he thought he now had some idea where Heddy’s protests were coming from.

            Heddy shook his head before proceeding to reiterate the same points, with different wording. “We’re spread thin enough as it is, trying to find where the Empire's hiding some of the clones and trying to help others desert and then getting other deserters out of their own messes after they decide to go off on their own, and losing some of our own men in the process. Are we really talking about putting the few men we have left on another mission that’s bound to go sideways? All for two clones who are as good as dead anyway?”

            Echo and Rex exchanged glances. The mission to Derma Prime had gone well, but it was definitely an outlier. The last three missions in particular had seen them sustain heavier losses than usual. And this wasn’t accounting for the sobering facts that not only was the case in the Senate practically at a standstill, but nearly ninety percent of the clones in the Imperial military had been decommissioned or imprisoned by this point, and the underground still had no idea where they were being sent.

            "Look, Heddy,” Rex finally said gently, “I know the last extraction in particular didn't go well, but..."

            Rex’s attempt to keep things calm didn’t work: Heddy practically exploded in his anger. "Five men, Rex! You were there! We lost five men on one mission, trying to extract one brother” – disgust filled his voice when he uttered the familial term – “who then got cold feet at the last minute and refused to leave! And what about all the other missions where a brother turned on the ones who wanted out? Why aren’t we preparing for missions to help the brothers we know are on our side?”

            Howzer, stealing a glance at Echo, tried now. “You want a major win, Heddy. We all do…”

            “No,” Heddy interrupted, “the point is that I don’t want us to keep losing!”

            “Losing so many brothers is precisely why it’s so imperative to save every single one we possibly can,” Echo argued.

            “At what cost? How many brothers are we going to sacrifice this time in the off chance we might save two people?”

            "Well, pretty sure neither of the clones we rescue on Echo's mission will flake out on us,” Gregor pointed out.

            Heddy scowled at him, clearly bemused. “What?”

            “I mean, if they're in life support pods, they won't have much choice but to come with us."

            "Gregor!" Howzer scolded, bringing a hand to his forehead in his exasperation; meanwhile, Niner, who was still silently watching the entire exchange, looked completely unsurprised by Gregor unabashedly making such an observation.

            "What?” Gregor defended himself. “You know it's true…"

            The debate raged on as Echo stood there, arms crossed, trying to determine how best to convince Heddy that the risk was worth it. Because it was worth it, wasn’t it? Rex had risked himself and an entire squad to save him, Echo, one single clone who had long since been given up as dead. Shouldn’t all clones be equally valued?

            Echo knew he would be pushing just as hard to save these last two clones even if there wasn’t a chance one of them was Tech. In fact, the past few weeks he had almost forcibly pushed the possibility of Tech being alive out of his mind, telling himself again and again that he was trying to find two missing clones – that was it, no personal connection to Echo whatsoever, just two missing brothers who were each equally as important as any other man.

            And yet… the fact remained that one of them could be Tech. Tech, the brother who had figured out how to disconnect Echo from the Techno Union equipment quickly enough that they could all escape. Tech, the brother whose somewhat reckless yet effective schemes reminded Echo so much of Fives it almost hurt to think about; Tech, who was so unlike Fives Echo still couldn’t figure out how well the two of them would have gotten along. Tech, the brother who had quietly – well, not so quietly, given his penchant for over-explaining everything – upgraded Echo's prosthetics and modifications so the excruciating constant pain had long since faded to a distant memory. Tech, the brother who had agreed without hesitation to help Echo find the men Hemlock had taken, even before the discovery had been made that Crosshair was in danger. Tech, the brother who hadn't thought twice about sacrificing his own life to give Echo and the others a chance to live.

            Echo would do everything in his power to save every clone he could; but this was Tech, and Echo couldn't leave him behind. 

            “Heddy,” he said quietly now, somehow breaking through the loud heated argument the discussion had turned into and prompting all the clones to turn their attention to him, “you have a brother you want to save. So do I. Your brother sacrificed himself, his freedom, for a chance to help you and others escape. So did mine. We will keep doing everything we can to find your brother and get him out. Please,” he said as he took a step toward Heddy. “Let me do everything I can to get my brother out too.” 

            Heddy’s expression had hardened in an obvious attempt to hold back frustrated tears; but now, the look in his eyes told Echo they had reached an understanding. Swallowing hard, Heddy nodded.

            The others furtively exchanged relieved glances. Rex, meanwhile, now spoke as if no argument had occurred at all.

            “Riyo will be back in a few days. I’ll be able to ask her then if she has any other personnel who can decrypt the intel.”

            Echo nodded, his eyes darting toward Heddy who was now leaving the room. He wanted to go after Heddy, make sure everything was alright; but Gregor beat him to it. “Thank you, Rex,” Echo said instead.

            Rex let out a small sigh. “With all that settled, I have to go. Emerie wants to get out of the hotel for a few hours, and I agreed to escort her.”

            Echo knew Pantora was one of the few planets where clones, even deserters, could move relatively freely, since it was common knowledge that all clones were under Senator Chuchi’s protection given the push to investigate events on Tantiss. Still, with an Imperial Army detachment on the planet…

            “Be careful, Rex,” Echo said. “We can’t lose you, either.”

            Rex chuckled lightly. “Well, it’s good to be needed.”   

Chapter Text

            Emerie, walking toward the Treshi’s hotel, glanced at the entourage that was her guard detail, and sighed. A simple trip to the marketplace just to get out of the hotel for a while had apparently necessitated the services of half a dozen Pantoran guards plus Captain Rex. If she didn’t know Senator Chuchi’s own guard detail had been substantially increased following multiple attempts on Riyo’s life, she might have assumed she was more protected than the senator.

            She was grateful, of course, that most leaders in the Pantoran government were so invested in supporting Riyo’s efforts in advocating for clone rights that they were willing to dedicate so many resources to protecting Emerie and the other clones living here; but this protection came with so many restrictions on her movements she was feeling stifled.

            She had been in captivity, confined and trapped, her entire life; but for so many years she hadn’t recognized it for what it was, for it was all she had ever known. It hadn’t been until she had flown the Force-sensitive children away from Tantiss, felt the nervous but exhilarating thrill of making her own major decision for the first time in her life, that understanding had dawned, and she had acknowledged Hemlock for what he had been: her captor. She had mistaken captivity for security; she hadn’t known she had been trapped until she had experienced her first taste of freedom.

            She was feeling trapped again, limited as she was in her movements; but she had to acknowledge it was different this time. She had her autonomy; she knew that if she changed her mind, if she said she was out, if she insisted there be no guard detail or restrictions, her decision would be honored even if it was under protest. And she wouldn’t change her mind: she needed to make amends for her mistakes, she needed to reverse at least some of the consequences of her folly in blindly obeying Hemlock. And if Riyo Chuchi said her, Emerie’s, safety and security was the topmost priority in ensuring she could make amends, then she would comply.

            Still, it was rather grating to have tasted freedom only to find it necessary to submit to restrictions such as these yet again – especially since it was difficult to believe such security measures were truly necessary. She was barely worth anyone’s notice, after all.

            “Is something the matter, Dr. Karr?” Noam, one of the Pantoran guards, had apparently heard her sigh.

            “No, Noam. Thank you for your concern,” she replied formally, grateful that Rex was currently absorbed in scanning the outer courtyard they were now traversing. The captain had an uncanny knack for knowing when she was hiding her concerns, along with an exasperating propensity to not let a matter drop until she had fully explained herself.

            They were now about a hundred feet away from the entry gate to the hotel, and Emerie’s thoughts turned toward imagining what she might choose to do once her part in this fight was over. With her name, credentials, and appearance, she had more options than the other Fett clones currently did given the political climate; and she sadly suspected that even once the clones had their rights and freedom, she would still face far less judgment than they. With this in mind, she felt compelled to consider how she could continue using her influence to improve their situation. She wanted to stay on Pantora, but perhaps the clones would need her elsewhere.

            If they wanted her assistance, that is…

            So wrapped up in her thoughts was she, she almost didn’t notice Rex slowing his pace and briefly tensing…

            “Get down!” Rex shouted—and then everything after was a blur: Rex turning toward her and knocking her to the ground, the crackling whistle of superheated plasma passing far too close for comfort, a hand pressing into her back keeping her face down on the gritty stone of the walkway, she could sense but couldn’t see another presence hovering in close proximity, shielding her, scuffling feet around her, the loud pops of a bevy of blaster bolts and stun shots being fired in the opposite direction away from her, startled screams of passerby – she herself was too shocked, to disoriented to scream…

            Suddenly the pressure on her back lifted, and gentle yet strong hands were prodding her to move, now helping her to her feet... And she found herself face to face with Captain Rex.

            "Are you okay? Did you get hit?" Rex asked somewhat forcefully, holding her firmly by her shoulders and giving her a once over.

            She shook her head - she'd have several bruises from where she had landed hard on the pavement, but she was otherwise unharmed. "I am relatively well, thanks to your efforts," she said simply, though she was not quite able to stop her voice from shaking.

            Rex was giving her that look, the one that told her he was going to push her for a more detailed explanation later; but all he said now, as he gently took her arm to escort her forward, was, "Come on, let's get you out of sight."

            Bero, another Pantoran guard, now rounded the entrance to the courtyard, coming toward them – Emerie blinked, trying to recall if she had seen him leave the group…

            "What did you find?" Rex asked as they approached.

            "We managed to get him alive, he took a blaster bolt to the arm but he'll live. He's still unconscious from the stunners. Noam and Matio are moving him now."

            "Any idea who it is?"

            "Well…” Bero said slowly, as if hesitant to share the news, “it looks like one of those shadow operatives who tried to assassinate Senator Chuchi a few months ago."

            Emerie already felt like she was moving in slow motion, stuck ten seconds behind everyone else, trying to play catch up; now, everything around her faded completely as she abruptly found herself confronted with three cold, hard, sobering facts.

            First, the senator, Rex, Echo, and the guards had been right: she was in danger, she did need protection. Someone – perhaps several people – wanted her dead.

            Second, if someone wanted her dead, what chance did she possibly have to make amends and help the other clones be granted their freedom?

            Third, she had never been free; and, perhaps, she never would be.

*****

            “That was foolish.”

            Admiral Dumize had never seen Governor Tarkin so irate. “It was a calculated risk,” he countered. “My sources tell me Dr. Karr is a key witness to the Empire’s heavy involvement in Tantiss operations. The Senate would demand that she testify in person so she could be cross-examined, especially since Senator Chuchi has no other hard evidence of complicity from other Imperial organizations. With Dr. Karr eliminated, the entire case would fall apart.”

            “But she wasn’t eliminated, Admiral,” Tarkin spat back, “and now the opposition is in possession of a shadow operative, an assassin. They now have positive proof to support their claims of the types of experiments carried out on that base, and they can assert that someone is trying to silence them.”

            “They can’t prove I or anyone else with Imperial authority sent it,” Dumize argued.

            “Not as of yet; but if we are somehow found in possession of the other operatives, we will have no way of disproving a connection that will link us directly to Hemlock’s work on Tantiss. We will never be able to rid ourselves of the suspicion that will result.”

            It took a moment before the implications caught up to Dumize. “Are you saying…?” he faltered.

            “Yes. Put down the remaining operatives. Get rid of them and any evidence that they existed. We cannot ever use one of them again; they are only a liability.”

            “I…”

            “You have your orders, Admiral Dumize,” Tarkin said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

            Dumize sighed. “Yes, sir.”

*****

            Whiplash lay flat on his back on the cot in his prison cell, staring apathetically at the ceiling above him.

            He had been right: the prisoners were never released from their cells.

            Not alive, at least.

            Six months stuck in this cramped room. Every day he asked when he would stand trial; every day his question was ignored. One meal, four cups of water a day. Nothing else to do. The one small mercy was that the containment field muffled sound but didn't eliminate it entirely: if one wanted to, one could be heard across the hall or in the cell on either side; so sometimes, between guard rotations, the prisoners might talk to each other in an attempt to alleviate the boredom. Some prisoners started out exercising in their cells just for something to do; but motivation to continue doing so would inevitably taper off as malnutrition slowly sapped their strength.

            Whiplash hadn’t seen Damian or Flint or any of the other deserters who had come in with him, not since they had been captured. Based on the fact that four of the five neighbors within speaking distance of his cell were not the same neighbors he’d met his first day, he didn’t harbor any hopes that Flint or the others were still alive.

            Lodger had been the one to tell Whiplash the rumor that the reason why the Empire was supposedly offering court martials to every clone accused of desertion or disobeying orders was because some commanding officers had gotten too trigger-happy when handing out immediate punishments, and it had apparently caused some kind of ruckus. Ultimately, though, it didn’t matter. No one left here for a trial. The only way a prisoner left was on a stretcher being carted off to the morgue.

            Lodger was long since gone, now. The clone currently occupying that cell went by the name of Stiff and had been imprisoned a month ago for refusing to follow an order to raze a village while the civilians were trapped inside. Every clone here seemed to have a story of orders they regretted, the tales passed down from cell to cell, neighbor to neighbor – though there was one particular order no one ever talked about. Whiplash himself had several stories and had shared them, though he wasn’t sure why. Did he just want to be remembered, somehow? Was he simply seeking the relief of confession of some kind? Was it the shared experience of knowing he wasn’t alone in questioning his decisions and the Empire’s tactics? Whatever the reasons, the clones kept sharing their stories, and their fellow inmates kept listening.

            Even though, in the end, none of their stories would matter, and all of them would be forgotten.

            It occurred to Whiplash that there used to be a roughly equal number of prisoners who were punished for disobeying orders and those who were captured after going AWOL; now, based on the rumors and shared stories, the vast majority of the prisoners being brought in now were deserters. Probably because there weren’t many commissioned clones left to be insubordinate. Stiff said that his unit had been one of only a handful of clone units remaining on active duty.  

            Whiplash stared up at the ceiling a few moments longer as these thoughts passed through his mind, before grudgingly rolling out of the cot and starting his routine of taking ten laps around the room. He made himself do this at least three times a day: once before the meal, once after the meal, and once before taking the nighttime shower. The prisoners were allotted two minutes a night in the tiny shower built into the corner of each cell; most nights, Whiplash found himself thirsty enough that he would allow himself only the quickest of rinse downs before drinking the rest of the water that trickled out, oddly grateful that the cells were equipped with water instead of sonic showers. He could survive without a full shower; he couldn't survive long-term dehydration.

            The Empire obviously hadn’t considered that the clones had sometimes lived under far worse conditions than these during the war. Granted, even the worst missions hadn’t lasted six months; but the clones knew how to survive. Some of them didn’t want to survive; some of them wasted away within weeks of being imprisoned. But Whiplash was not one of them.  

            He had been prepared to be executed, but he wasn't going to wither away and die of his own accord. No, he was going to stay alive as long as he could, if for no other reason than to spite the Empire.

            He finished his laps and sat down on the edge of the cot, breathing as heavily as if he had just trekked halfway across Felucia.

            Yes, he was going to stay alive as long as he could.

            He just didn’t know how long that would be. 

Chapter Text

            The surge of thrilled anticipation he felt at the prospect of seeing a good friend dimmed with concern as he caught sight of her disembarking from the ship.

            Riyo looked worn down, burdened, worried. That wasn’t a good sign.

            She spotted him and plastered on a smile, and his concern deepened. She was trying to hide from him how worried she was. That definitely wasn’t a good sign.

            Still, now was not the time or place to question her; and he accepted the slim hand she proffered him in greeting.

            “Captain Rex,” she said. “I am so glad to see you. I wasn’t sure you would still be here when I returned.”

            "Things are status quo with the clone underground," he replied as they fell into step with each other, heading toward the senator's home. "Much as we want the status quo to change, right now, it's a good thing there haven't been any major developments. It meant I could stay here until you got back."

            "And it meant you were here to stop an assassination attempt," she said, turning to look at him with wide, solemn eyes.

            "The guards are excellent. They would have prevented it had I not been there."

            "That's not how they tell the story," Riyo gave a fleeting smile. "Nonetheless, your commendation of the guards is noted. How is Dr. Karr now?"

            "Understandably shaken, but she's coped with it better than I would have imagined. I'm not sure she fully realized before how much danger she is in. She's more determined than ever to see this case through, but... well, I don't think she's dared to leave her room in the past two weeks since the attempt."

            "I’ll have to do something about that," Riyo said thoughtfully. "No need for this to be any harder on her than it already is. At any rate, any new developments as far as the identity of the assassin?"

            Rex let out a small sigh as they were ushered into the front hall of the senator estate and proceeded to climb the staircase to the second floor. "No doubt about it, he's one of the clone assassins. We removed the suicide chip, found and destroyed the trackers the Empire installed on his equipment, and Emerie helped us disable all the additional trackers Hemlock installed in the clone himself.” He shook his head: Hemlock certainly had been both devious and creative with his assassin clones. “Since he’s clean, we’re hopeful that we can hold him longer than we did the previous one. He wasn’t being very… cooperative, though, so we’re keeping him in one of the cryostasis chambers." Rex felt rather bad about that last development, but it had to be done - not only for the mystery clone's own safety, but for the safety of everyone else. "We'll be moving him to our base shortly."

            Riyo frowned slightly. “Would it not be better to keep him here, on Pantora? We don’t want the Empire to have any chance to retrieve him…”

            “That’s precisely why we’re moving him,” Rex said. “The Empire has proven they won’t hesitate to make a move on Pantora. We need to get the clone where they can’t find him.”

            She nodded slowly. "I see your point."

            By this time, they had reached the library, and Riyo unexpectedly turned to dismiss her guards. "There are matters I need to discuss privately with the captain," she said. Noting their reluctance to leave, she added with a kind smile, "You know he won't let anything happen to me."

            The Pantorans glanced at Rex before nodding, saluting, and taking up position outside the door. Taking the senator's silent cue, Rex followed Riyo into the library, waiting for her to settle onto one of the plush sofas before sitting across from her and meeting her grave gaze.

            "I have news, Rex," she said, "and it's not good."

            Rex frowned as he leaned toward her. "What is it?"

            "Admiral Dumize is insisting all clones living on Pantora be returned to Coruscant for their status to be determined by the military."

            Rex bolted to his feet in shock. "What?"

            "It's not up for negotiation. Believe me, I tried, both during and after my meeting with the admiral. Since the Senate has yet to approve an official inquiry, the military has grounds to consider the rescued clones to be deserters. If we try to keep them on Pantora, the clones will be forcibly removed. It won't be difficult for the Empire to remove them, either, given Imperial presence here."

            Rex sank back into his chair, his mind reeling. "They're trying to prevent an inquiry from ever taking place."

            Riyo nodded. "I believe the same. They're aiming to remove all evidence – first Dr. Karr, now the men who experienced the atrocities firsthand. But we have nothing but suspicions to say the Empire sent the assassin; and the Empire currently has the right to demand the clones be returned to Coruscant."

            "Then we'll have to get the clones off Pantora," Rex said decisively. It was the only option.

            "I agree," Riyo concurred. "The sooner, the better."

            Well, this explained Riyo's insistence on privacy with this conversation. She trusted her guards, but also held firm to the belief that the fewer people who knew about clone movements and where they were located, the better. 

            "I'll contact Echo right away, see if he's available to help me move the clones," Rex said half to himself, already pondering the best way to smuggle the men off world without the Imperial military presence or Imperial sympathizers catching wind of their plans.

            "I wanted Pantora to be a safe haven for the clones, a place where they could relocate," she said sadly, breaking into his thoughts, "but it appears the other location may be the only viable option."

            Rex shook his head. "We’ll have to find other places eventually. That planet has limited habitable areas." Pabu was predominantly ocean, and most of the few landmasses had active volcanoes that rendered them uninhabitable. Echo said the people on Pabu were the sort who would sleep five to a bed if necessary to make room for anyone and everyone who sought refuge there, and Rex didn't doubt it; but the fact remained that there simply wouldn't be enough space to house all the clones who were escaping the Empire. They needed to find other options for if - no, when - the clones were free and could settle more openly rather than scattering and hiding as they currently were. But how to find other locations with the network stretched as thin as it was...

            "You must take Emerie with you as well," Riyo was saying now.

            Rex tilted his head at her expression. "There's something you're not telling me."

            She sighed, deflated. "Senator Fimo'lya, who is overseeing the motion for the Senate inquiry, told me I need to bring Dr. Karr to the next Senate session to prove the validity of my claims before they'll consider granting the petition."

            Politics. But this request didn’t make any sense. "Shouldn't her recorded testimony be enough for now? This isn’t an official trial yet; we’re only asking for one."

            Riyo shrugged helplessly. "One would think so, but..."

            "They're trying to draw her out," Rex realized.

            "I imagine so. Above all, we have to keep Emerie safe to testify during the official inquiry - that is when the Senate will need to cross-examine her personally. Well," Riyo amended, "we need to keep her safe regardless."

            Rex couldn't help but be touched by the subtle reminder of Riyo's innate compassion: she cared about people and wanted to help them, even when she stood to gain nothing in return. Really, this entire effort for the hearing was of no benefit to the senator; and, while most Pantorans were still supportive, there were enough vocal detractors that Rex knew it would be infinitely easier for her to drop this endeavor. He also knew she would never back down from this fight – she would see it through to the end, be it bitter or happy.

            "I'll let Emerie know she has to leave Pantora,” Rex said. “But what are you going to do about the Senate?"

            "I'm still going to motion for an inquiry, without Dr. Karr present. We shall see how things proceed. At the very least, perhaps the situation will calm down enough that Dr. Karr can safely make an appearance during a later session."

            "Riyo, you must know that is very unlikely. This is the Imperial military and Emperor Palpatine we are talking about."

            She shook her head. "Their reaction to this puzzles me," she admitted. "I would have thought the Emperor and Governor Tarkin and other military leadership would have doubled down on the claim that the clones in question were insubordinate and therefore deserved their treatment. Instead, they are doing everything they possibly can to conceal any evidence about what happened on Tantiss, and are denying knowing anything."

            Rex shrugged. "I know next to nothing about politics. What I do know is battle strategy. And if this was a battle, I would consider this to be the enemy revealing a weak point, and I would exploit it for all it's worth."

            Riyo smiled now. "Difficult though it may be to believe, I would propose that politics and battle strategies have much more in common than there are differences. Nevertheless, I agree with your interpretation and will take your advice to, as you so eloquently phrased it, "exploit it for all it's worth.""

            "Let's hope my advice is worth anything."

            Her eyes softened. "Captain Rex, your advice is always worth more than words can express."

            Riyo now made to stand, but Rex beat her to it and proffered his hand to help her up. She smiled at him again, but in this close proximity, he couldn't help but notice the exhaustion in her eyes.

            "You do know you could stop at any time," he said frankly, "and no one would blame you, least of all the clones. You owe us nothing."

            She shook her head, a spark of stubborn determination now piercing through the weariness. "Rex, everyone in this galaxy owes the clones something, even Emperor Palpatine. They just don't like to admit it. They might be able to bring themselves to overlook you all, but I cannot. At the very least, I can provide you a voice; you deserve much more than that, but it is what I can do for now, so I'm going to do it."

          He almost grinned. "Guess I will have to try harder to convince you to rest, won't I?"

            Riyo chuckled lightly as she moved her hand up his arm to grasp the crook of his elbow, allowing him to escort her toward the library door. "To borrow your own phrasing again," she said with humor in her voice, "I'll rest when you do."

*****

            "Who are you?" 

            "Unit 2099." 

            "To whom do you owe your life?" 

            "The Galactic Empire." 

            "Whom do you serve?" 

            "The Emperor." 

            "Excellent." Dr. Leman took a note on her datapad before glancing at him. "You were once considered a genius, you know. I had my doubts with how long recovery was taking - you would persist in believing those false memories. But with your memory of your true identity now stabilized, you may actually be of some use." 

            "I welcome the opportunity to prove my gratitude and allegiance to my benefactors." 

            All of this was wrong. Completely wrong. Everything he said, everything he was told to believe was a lie. He knew he once had a name; he knew he once had a family - he remembered them; not their names, not yet, but their faces were so clear, the faces of people who loved him, faces of people he loved, loved so much he chose to fall for them, to risk death for them, hands reaching out to him desperate to stop him from falling, voices desperately calling out his name...

            He had to find them, but he must bide his time for now. He needed to remember their names if he wanted to find them. But he couldn't concentrate on remembering their names right now, not with Dr. Leman around.

            That first day when he had woken and she had asked if he remembered who he was, the name "Tech" had rolled off his lips so easily - and then he had been met with a brief but agonizing jolt of pain, a high-voltage electric shock that was repeated every time he made any mention of his true memories. She said he had been brainwashed, that false memories had been planted in his mind and needed to be erased before he could fulfill his purpose as an agent of the Empire to whom he owed his life. He knew better, knew with a conviction beyond any mere logic that she was lying. But there was nothing to be gained by resisting - out loud, at least. And so he learned to glibly and convincingly give her the answers she wanted to hear, while silently reminding himself over and over of who he truly was.

            He was Tech, he had been created as a clone to serve in a war for the Galactic Republic, created to be loyal to and serve the Republic, the Republic that had become the Empire. He had been part of a specialized unit. Every day he recalled more and more of the times he had spent with them. If only he could remember names...

            "I have another test for you before I can determine how you can best serve the Empire," Dr. Leman said now, holding out a datapad. 

            Tech took it obediently, his lips twitching slightly as he recalled the first time Dr. Leman had handed him a datapad and demanded to know if he could read. He had taken the datapad, registering how familiar it felt to hold such a device in his hands, holding it close to his eyes and squinting at it before hearing himself reply, "Yes, though it would be much easier if I had corrective lenses." The next day, the doctor had arrived with a pair of spectacles for him, along with a battery of knowledge tests that had proven to be laughably simple. 

            He certainly preferred the knowledge tests over the other tests and medical examinations Dr. Leman put him through. 

            Now, he completed the test and handed the datapad back to the doctor, resting his head back against the cot he was still confined to and letting his mind wander as Dr. Leman checked the results. Maybe if he found a way to let his mind relax, the names would return to him more easily. Personal names would give so much clarity to his memories of an ocean planet and endless days of training and battles against droids and...

            "Well, you are well versed in the theory behind the Kaminoan cloning experiments," Dr. Leman commented idly, stepping over to a nearby computer and pressing some buttons before staring at the screen. "Perhaps I was right about you. Perhaps your intellect will indeed be useful." 

            Kamino... Yes, yes, that was the name of the ocean planet... It had been destroyed, he remembered now, he was running from danger, into danger, constant danger, his squad was in danger, his squad was torn apart as the tall lean one stayed behind, his brother staying behind on Kamino and leaving the squad, his brother, his family, his squad was his family, "we're a family, aren't we?"

            "Omega," he whispered. 

            "Pardon?" Dr. Leman said sharply, startling Tech out of his reverie. 

            "Apologies, Dr. Leman," Tech said, "I was just wondering if you have any further assignments for me." 

            The scientist considered him for a moment, and Tech stared solemnly back at her, his stoic expression not revealing any hint of his inner elation at finally, FINALLY remembering the most important names of his life. 

            Omega. Crosshair. Hunter. Wrecker. Echo. The names brought a new level of focused clarity to the memories that had been floating through his mind. These were his sister and brothers, his squad, his family. It had been on a mission to bring Crosshair back to the family that he, Tech, had died, but now he was alive again... 

            "Tell me, Unit 2099, what you think of this hypothesis," Dr. Leman said now, showing him a different screen on the datapad. 

            Tech forced his attention back to the matter at hand and looked at the screen for a moment before saying matter-of-factly, "The hypothesis would be logical if the base premise wasn't flawed." 

            Dr. Leman placed the datapad on a table, a smirk now appearing on her face. "Oh, yes, you'll do quite well." Stepping closer to him, she clasped her hands behind her back before saying, "You need more time to fully recover physically, so you will be kept restricted to this room for now; but your mind is more than adequate for my purposes. The Emperor has multiple projects he wants prioritized for scientific advancement. I will need your assistance with various aspects of these projects. Are you prepared to begin tomorrow?"

            Tech gazed at her steadily. He knew he had been created as a clone, created to be loyal to and serve the Republic, the Republic that had become the Empire. And he knew exactly what he needed to do now.

            "Tell me how I can assist the Empire." 

Chapter Text

            “I wanted to visit Pabu again,” Vik commented casually. “I just didn’t think it would be this soon.” He paused. “Or under these circumstances.”

            Echo glanced back at his passenger, one of the men who had been freed from Tantiss and had joined in the fight to rescue Hunter, Wrecker, Crosshair, and Omega from Hemlock’s clutches. Vik had even directly saved Echo’s life. And he hadn’t stopped there: he had been one of the first to volunteer to provide testimony to Senator Chuchi and planned to remain on Pantora until the hoped-for inquiry was completed.

            Plans had changed. Now, no clones were safe on Pantora. Even Emerie, whose identity as a clone had yet to be made known to anyone except the other clones and Riyo, had to be relocated due to an attempt on her life a few weeks ago.

            Rex had contacted Echo just a few days ago to tell him the sobering news Riyo had brought back from Coruscant, and Echo hadn’t hesitated to meet the captain and help smuggle Emerie, all the men who had been freed from Tantiss including the clones who had recently been found and released from cryostasis, and the shadow operative who was now residing in one of the cryo pods, off of Pantora. The operation had been smooth – unsurprising, given the Pantoran guards had asked absolutely no questions when they had been taken off the security detail for the clones and Dr. Karr – and both Rex and Echo were now on approach to Pabu.

            The stasis pod wouldn't be staying on Pabu, of course. The residents of Pabu were taking enough of a risk accepting fugitive clones; they didn't need to deal with the threat of an unhinged assassin on top of it, even if the assassin was locked in cryostasis. Granted, Howzer wasn’t too thrilled about the operative being on base, either; it had taken Emerie speaking directly to him and assuring him all trackers had been removed before Howzer finally stopped openly arguing about it. But Echo agreed with Rex: Predonia was the best option at the moment to keep the assassin out of the Empire’s hands until they could figure out what to do with the clone.

            “Looks like we have a welcoming committee,” Vector said as he leaned forward to gaze out the viewport. He was one of the clones who had been kept in cryostasis, and therefore wouldn’t recognize any of the people gathered on the plaza near the Archium; but Echo recognized them all, and he couldn’t help but grin.

            “Don’t worry, Vector; you’ll know who they are soon enough,” Echo said as he brought the Remora in to land, Rex’s vessel soon settling next to his.

            He knew what to expect by now, and it was with great pleasure that he kneeled down to accept his sister’s enthusiastic hug and embrace her warmly in return.

            “Echo!” she squealed in his ear before pulling back and beaming at him. “I’m so glad you’re back – it’s been months!” Her attention was caught by the clones now disembarking behind him. “Are those the other clones you found? The ones the Empire had taken from Tantiss?”

            Echo’s smile faltered at the reminder that he had yet to find the last two missing clones – and that he hadn’t yet told Omega or the other members of the Bad Batch that all indications pointed to Tech being one of the missing subjects. His voice remained steady, however, as he replied, “Yes. Well, not all of them survived the process to come out of cryostasis; but those who did, are now here.”

            Omega only had time to nod solemnly before Phee came sauntering over as Echo got to his feet. “Good to see you, Echo,” she nodded.

            “You too, Phee,” he replied cordially. “How’s the pirating going?”

            “The job title is still ‘liberator of ancient wonders,’” she countered good-naturedly.

            “And she’s still as good as ever at telling stories,” Omega piped in with a broad smile.

            “Of course,” Phee agreed. “Especially after all those missions you all and your friend Rex over there got me on. Those jobs expanded my repertoire significantly.”

            "Yes, make sure Phee tells you the story of how she added ‘child smuggling’ to her list of accomplishments,” Crosshair drawled as he meandered over with Wrecker.

            “No, Crosshair. We talked about this,” Phee casually corrected him. “The term is “liberator of tiny modern wonders.””

            “Annoying modern wonders,” Crosshair retorted with a scoff.

            Phee snorted. “Modern wonders who all still call you Uncle Crosshair, and don’t pretend you don’t like the name.”

            Echo blinked, having entirely lost the train of the conversation, and glanced at Omega for help. “What is this about child smuggling?”

            Omega shrugged. “It came up when we had to get Eva and her family off Torpus Cristi in a hurry – you know, Eva has a brother and a sister, and all of them are younger than ten years old. Eva’s mother wasn’t convinced we could sneak them past the orbital checkpoint, Phee said she’s a professional, Eva’s father asked if her resumé included successfully smuggling children, and” – she let out an amused sigh –  “I don’t think Crosshair will ever let Phee live it down.”  

            "Do the kids really call him Uncle Crosshair?" Echo asked, fascinated. Maybe he really had been away too long this time. He'd been meaning to stop by, just to check in, but first he had been so focused on finding the missing clones between other ops he hadn't had any time, and then when he found out there were still some clones missing and one of them might be Tech...

            Not that he had been avoiding Pabu, of course…

            "Yep," Wrecker verified with a wide grin as he elbowed Crosshair, almost knocking the sniper over. "Eva started it, she calls me and Hunter “uncle” too. Crosshair pretends to hate it, but we all know he likes it."

            "And Phee won't let him live that down, along with a bunch of other things, so," Omega finished, watching Crosshair, now scowling, continue to bicker with an unbothered Phee.

            "Just ignore them," Hunter put in, rolling his eyes wearily as he walked over with Rex, though he smiled as he shook Echo's hand in greeting. He looked like he was about to say something else, but then Shep joined them.

            "Echo, always good to see you," Shep said jovially. "And Captain Rex, glad you could come back. Thank you again for your help in finding the children's families."

            “It was an honor to help," Rex returned. "How are they?"

            "They've adjusted very well. Prima – she’s Sami’s mother, you remember – started talking to Jax's father about setting up a localized shield for the island in case of any other incursions, but we've been running into some difficulties coming up with enough power for it."

            "That is a sound idea,” Rex nodded. “Maybe some of the men can help come up with a solution. And thank you for being willing to let more men stay here, especially on such short notice."

            Shep smiled kindly. "It's our pleasure. Oh, hello, Dr. Karr," he added as Emerie walked over.

            She nodded to him in greeting. "Hello, Mayor Hazard. If I may, I would like to introduce you to some of the other clones, those who haven’t been here before, so they can get settled in."

            "Of course," Shep agreed.

            Noticing Omega’s friendly wave, a hint of a smile showed on Emerie’s face. "Perhaps I’ll see you later, Omega," Emerie said as she began guiding Shep away, though Echo didn’t miss the shame in her eyes as she gave a side glance to Crosshair, nor the way she stiffened and quickly turned away when she discovered Crosshair staring at her impassively.   

            "Okay!" Omega, having apparently not noticed Emerie’s discomfort, waved them off as Rex now moved over to Echo's other side.

            "Echo," he said in an undertone, "Heddy just contacted me. He went through Senator Singh and found a former Separatist slicer on Mesla who thinks she can crack the Imperial decryption, but it'll take time. I need to get the clone operative back to base. I figured you could take the intel to her."

            Echo had been planning on staying a day or two on Pabu to ensure everything was in order, especially since it seemed Emerie might need some support; but... "You trust Heddy's contact?"

            "I trust Heddy, I trust Singh, and - well, this is our best shot."

            Rex was right - this was their best shot at finding the last two clones from Tantiss, and there was no time to waste. Besides, he could trust Omega to ensure Emerie would feel settled.

            "Very well," Echo said as he pocketed the disk Rex gave him and turned back to the others, who all had been watching the exchange with great interest. "I have to go," he announced. "I will be back when I can."

            Omega's face fell. "You have to leave so soon?"

            Echo felt the same tug on his heartstrings he had felt when he had first told Omega he was leaving Clone Force 99; but, as he did then, he also felt the pull toward his duty, even more strongly now since it was coupled with the personal stake he had in this.

            He had to find Tech and the other clone.

            "Yes, Omega," he replied. "I have to get this information to someone who can decrypt it, and I have to do it as soon as possible. There are still two clones missing from the ones left on Tantiss. I have to find them."

            Omega still looked crestfallen, but she nodded understandingly. Hunter, Wrecker, and Crosshair all looked as though they had expected he would need to leave immediately for one reason or another – Echo wasn't sure if this made him feel better or worse, but ultimately it didn't matter. Phee, on the other hand, put a hand on his arm and made him face her as she scrutinized him closely.

            "What aren't you telling them?" she asked bluntly.

            He hadn’t wanted to tell them until he knew for sure, hadn’t wanted to raise their hopes only to be disappointed again, wanted to spare them the pain of possibly losing their brother all over again. But facing them now, he realized he had also been trying to spare himself – telling them of his suspicions would make it all the more real, and he didn’t want to face the possibility of losing Tech all over again either. Now, he realized with absolute certainty that, whatever the ultimate outcome, they would want to know; moreover, they deserved to know, and he couldn’t keep the truth from them in a vain attempt to spare himself more heartache.

            He glanced at Rex, who gave him a subtle encouraging nod. Taking a deep fortifying breath, he looked at Phee, Omega, Crosshair, Wrecker, and Hunter one by one before he said, “It’s Tech. I… I think he’s alive.”

            Crosshair stood in the back of the group behind Wrecker, arms crossed, lips pressed into a thin line, wishing he had a toothpick handy, as he listened silently to the animated discussion taking place before him.

            When Echo had dropped his bombshell of a revelation a few minutes ago, everyone had gone perfectly still, frozen in shock at the news. Everyone, that is, except Phee, who, with an expression that looked as if it had been carved out of stone, had dazedly muttered something about “Well, that’s my cue to leave, this is family business,” and had started to walk away until Omega, who had been staring blankly at Echo along with the rest of her brothers, grabbed Phee’s hand.

            “Don’t be silly, Phee, you are family,” Omega had said, looking up at her with wide eyes. “Please stay. If you want.”

            And so Phee had stayed, without needing any further encouragement; and as Echo explained the circumstances and evidence behind his wild claim, Omega and Wrecker had, predictably, become ecstatic. Even the stoic Hunter and skeptical Phee had gradually become cautiously optimistic. Now, none of them would let Echo leave so he could get on with actually finding where Tech and the other missing clone supposedly were; instead, they were arguing with Echo about who was going to do that job.

            “The situation for clones in general is getting worse,” Rex was warning them. “They are cracking down harder than ever on deserters. It won’t be safe out there for you all.”

            “Safer for us than for you,” Wrecker asserted.

            “Yeah, we don’t exactly look like regular clones,” Omega pointed out, with Phee nodding her agreement.

            Hunter opened his mouth – to shut down this line of argument, Crosshair knew – but Echo beat him to it.

            “I’m glad you want to help, but the best way you can all help right now is by making sure Emerie and the clones here on Pabu stay safe. Besides, I’m the one who knows all the contacts, so it will be faster and safer for me to pass on the intel and stay updated on any developments. Don’t worry,” he added hastily as Wrecker frowned stubbornly, “I will let you know as soon as I have a location. I’ll need your help with the retrieval. But for right now, I need to get this intel to the contact to get the location decrypted.”

            “Sounds like you better get going, then,” Crosshair interjected shortly as he turned to stalk away.

            He knew he had been too abrupt, even before registering the stunned silence he had left behind; but he didn’t care. Echo had to go, and he had to wait, just stay here on Pabu and be completely useless...

            Hurried footsteps caught up to him, and he paused when Hunter laid a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?” Hunter asked in a low voice. 

            Crosshair looked at Hunter, saw the brotherly concern in his eyes, and grappled with how to respond. Crosshair had only recently, in the past few months, come to terms with the fact that the gaping void in his chest that was Tech’s absence would be permanent. Now, there was a chance – a slight, unexpected, unbelievable chance – that void would be filled. This should be the best news he had ever heard in his life, topped only if they actually found Tech. He should be happy. He should be thrilled.

            Instead, all he felt was dread.

            “No,” he replied, as he pulled away from Hunter’s touch and walked away.

            Wrecker found Crosshair in the fourth place he looked: in the Archium, seated on the ground slumped against the wall, staring at Tech’s broken goggles.

            Wrecker had wanted to follow Crosshair right away, but had felt compelled to see Echo off first. He still could hardly wrap his mind around the possibility that Tech might actually be alive, but every time he began to doubt, he remembered who had told them the news. Echo would never say something unless he was sure he was correct in his facts.

            He was a lot like Tech that way.

            Wrecker had told Hunter and Omega that he wanted to be the one to talk to Crosshair, and they had relented; and once Echo and Rex had both left, Wrecker had immediately set off to find his brother. Crosshair had had plenty of time to stew over whatever was bothering him; now it was time for him to let it go, and Wrecker wanted to help him with that.

            If only he knew what to say. After all, he didn’t have the slightest idea what could have made Crosshair so upset. Echo had given them good news – no, great news; yet Crosshair had walked away looking as if someone else had just died.  

            Crosshair didn’t acknowledge him as he settled heavily onto the ground nearby; and Wrecker stayed silent, bending his knees up to his chest so he could rest his forearms on his knees while he joined Crosshair in looking at the memento.

            The goggles had once been a bitter reminder of the effects of gravity and what these effects must have done to his brother’s body. As one of the few mementos that had belonged to Tech, however, Wrecker had found he couldn’t go longer than a week without stopping by the Archium and spending some time looking at the goggles, reminiscing about his lost brother.

            Now, if all went well, his brother would be coming home – and Wrecker, while still a little shell-shocked by the revelation, was thrilled by the prospect.

            Crosshair stared at the goggles, not saying a word.

            As the heavy silence stretched on, Wrecker tilted his head back against the wall and stole a glance at his sniper brother.

            Crosshair had gotten a prosthetic hand a few months ago, but more often than not he kept it off, said he had gotten used to doing everything with one hand anyway. He wouldn’t even put it on for the target practice sessions he did with Omega to work on her shooting skills; come to think of it, Wrecker was pretty sure the only time Crosshair bothered with the prosthesis was when Wrecker asked for help in the kitchen.

            Even without the prosthesis on, Wrecker could see Crosshair’s right wrist and forearm were shaking, like his right hand had before it had been cut off. It had taken a long time and a lot more meditation with Omega before the shaking had really subsided, but Wrecker hadn’t seen Crosshair’s limb shake like this in months, and it worried him to see the tremors make another appearance.

            Crosshair gripped his right wrist with his left hand, and the tremors stilled.

            “I can’t fail him again, Wrecker.”

            If Crosshair wasn’t sitting on Wrecker’s right side, Wrecker very well might have missed the statement, given how low Crosshair was speaking. Still, Wrecker tried to match his brother’s energy, keeping his own voice as quiet as he could when he responded. “Whaddya mean?”

            “You know exactly what I mean, Wrecker, do I have to spell it out?” Crosshair snapped, before sharply inhaling in an effort to bring himself back under control. Wrecker, well used to these kinds of outbursts when Crosshair was mad at himself over something, waited patiently for him to continue – though he couldn’t understand for the life of him what Crosshair could possibly be mad at himself about this time.

            Crosshair took another deep breath before speaking again. “I shouldn’t have stayed behind on Kamino, I should have been there with you all on Eriadu, I… He was on Tantiss,” Crosshair almost whispered now, clenching his left hand into a fist and pounding it against the ground in frustration, “how did I not know he was on Tantiss?”

            Wrecker frowned at this. “You were locked up, how could you know?”

            But Crosshair shook his head. “But then I wanted Echo to just… stop. I never wanted to go back to Tantiss in the first place, and then afterwards I thought he was being so foolish running around trying to save everyone, and now I know that if I’d had my way and Echo had stopped…” He paused, and Wrecker could see the muscle working in Crosshair’s jaw. “What if I fail Tech again?” he ended miserably.

            “Crosshair, none of us were looking for Tech. Not even Echo was. We all thought he was gone for good.” Wrecker sighed. “If that means you failed him, then I guess we all failed him.”

            Crosshair turned to look at him now, his brow furrowed. “You’ve never failed any of us, Wrecker.”

            The sentiment hit Wrecker in the gut. He knew it wasn’t his fault, he knew he couldn’t have stopped Tech once Tech made his decision; but knowing something was different than believing it, and even now a small part of him persisted in believing that if he had just been stronger, quicker, braver, Tech wouldn’t have fallen. Still, he couldn’t say any of this to Crosshair – his brother was the one who needed comfort and reassurance right now, not him.

            “I know,” Wrecker said now, forcing a half smile. “That’s the point. You haven’t failed Tech either. And we might be able to get him back.”

            Wrecker had hoped this remark would encourage Crosshair, but it did not; if anything, it made Crosshair look panicked. “What if he isn’t alive, Wrecker?” he asked, before his expression became even more terrified. “What if he is? How can I…?” He cut off, unable to finish the sentence; but Wrecker knew what he had been meaning to say.

            Wrecker grinned and pulled his brother into a side-hug. “Tech is going to be so happy to see you,” he asserted, knowledge and belief coming together to add more power to his statement; and this sincere conviction led to him reflexively squeezing Crosshair even more tightly. “He always wanted you to come back, Crosshair, as much as the rest of us did. Once Echo finds him, Tech’ll tell you that himself.”  

            “Right, okay, Wrecker,” Crosshair said in a muffled voice before finally managing to extricate himself from Wrecker’s hug. Any annoyance was overridden by the reluctant smile on his face, however; and Wrecker grinned again.

            “Yeah, you know I’m right,” he returned, lightly elbowing his brother before quieting down and looking at Tech’s broken goggles again.

            Elation filled him as he thought of what the future might bring, the thought that he might soon be able to look at Tech himself again, not just some old goggles. Even more exciting was the thought of Crosshair finally seeing Tech again – finally, after so long.

            And Wrecker could hardly wait.  

Chapter Text

            The Marauder wasn’t responding.

            Tech flipped the comms device off then on again, though he knew such action would be futile. If the Marauder comms were still active in any capacity, this device he had constructed would have picked up a signal by now – indeed, it would have picked up a signal immediately. Yet here he was, trying again for the fourth day in a row.

            He sighed, checking the device and trying to send a signal one last time before abandoning the attempt and deconstructing the unit, quickly reallocating the equipment to other projects to cover his tracks while he had the chance to do so.

            Just in time, too: he could hear Dr. Leman approaching now, and soon enough the scientist had entered the room and was standing before him expectantly.

            "Have you completed the analysis of the data sets yet?" 

            Tech shook his head. "I will need another day. The Kaminoans kept their genetic manipulation and recombination processes a closely guarded secret, and it will take time to rediscover precisely how they modified personality traits in the Fett clones. We need to be careful with this phase of the experiments, otherwise all future attempts at cloning advancements will fail."

            Dr. Leman considered him for a moment before nodding. "For the Empire." 

            "For the Empire," Tech agreed, his flat expression revealing no hint as to his true feelings.

            He hadn't understood at first why the name "Empire" was so repugnant to him; but as his personal memories had grown ever clearer, now he knew. He remembered the depravity, the moral corruption, the evil the Empire had been inflicting on the galaxy; he remembered why the entire squad - minus Crosshair – had quickly decided to not join the Empire.

            To any outside observer, Tech had now joined the Empire, willingly helping Dr. Leman to analyze and apply data from myriad projects - the doctor primarily kept him working on cloning but soon expanded to energy production and weapons engineering. What the outside observer wouldn't be aware of, if he played his part correctly, was Tech's true intentions: sabotage and espionage. 

            It appeared he was playing his part correctly for now: Dr. Leman now nodded at his response and left the room, and Tech returned his attention to the screen before him. He had finished analyzing the data sets three days ago, even though such work held little interest for him – perhaps because it was so simple. But there was no need for him to let the Empire move forward any faster with whatever they were planning to do with this research, even if he had modified some of the data ever so slightly.

            Besides, he needed the time to determine what his own next steps would be.

            His first objective upon remembering who he was had been to contact his squad. Remembering his brothers' names had also shaken loose his recollection of the old comm frequency to the Marauder. The difficulty had lain in the fact that he couldn't easily leave his designated room even if Dr. Leman allowed it, and the chief scientist had also been extremely cautious in approving equipment he requested to carry out his assignments – she wouldn’t even let a medical droid remain in the room. It had taken three weeks before Dr. Leman trusted him to carry out his assignments without constant supervision; it had taken several more days of strategic planning and careful accumulation of necessary components that wouldn't make obvious his intentions, before he had managed to construct a small comms device to signal his brothers... Only to discover the frequency was no longer active.

            He was now left to ponder all the possible reasons why the frequency wasn't working. It couldn't be due to lack of vigilance on his siblings' parts in keeping the comms in good repair - they were much too careful to overlook such a crucial task. Could something have happened that they needed to change frequencies altogether? Had something happened to the Marauder?

            Had something happened to them? 

            He faced this worst of possible explanations head on before setting it aside. Yes, it was possible that his siblings were all dead, that his sacrifice had been in vain and they hadn’t made it off Eriadu, or that something had happened since then. But until he knew for certain, he would continue operating under the assumption that they were alive. That meant he needed to try to find any information he could that might give him a clue as to their current movements.

            He idly tapped the screen in thought. One of the first things he had done when Dr. Leman had finally granted him unsupervised access to the computer was slice into the medical records to review his own history. Beyond a few brief records countersigned by Dr. Royce Hemlock summarizing medical treatments applied to CT-9902 and the specimen’s subsequent need for continued life support, he had found nothing indicating his squad’s status. More to the point, Tech had no idea why he wasn’t still in Hemlock’s custody.

            Perhaps looking into Hemlock again would lead to information about the squad.

            And with a new objective in mind, Tech spent the rest of the day setting up the necessary protocols, security systems, and subroutines that would allow him to access the Imperial military database without being detected.

            That prep work was the easy part. The rest of the process was painstakingly slow – not because Tech wasn’t able to locate the records he needed, but because of insufficient time to dedicate to the search. A large portion of his time was still spent submitting to medical examinations and routine blood draws, in addition to analyzing data while sabotaging the results as much as possible without anyone discovering what he was up to. And, while Dr. Leman wasn’t supervising him so long as he continued yielding results with the data, she didn’t fully trust him. It took him yet another week to convince Dr. Leman to let him have a datapad in addition to computer access, and then he had to set up security protocols so he could securely download records onto his pad without Dr. Leman being able to find them.

            Weeks passed, but his efforts began to pay off: he found a link between Hemlock and a base called Tantiss, along with a cache of documents related to said base. His research was relatively straightforward from there.

            He delved into the Tantiss records, discovering more detailed information regarding Hemlock retrieving him from Eriadu and his subsequent treatment, though why Hemlock had been so invested in keeping Tech alive remained a mystery. This information was intriguing, but Tech had much more important questions to pursue; and he pushed forward with his research, his pulse quickening when he recognized a familiar CT number listed as a subject undergoing reconditioning experiments. Later records marked CT-9904 as having failed the experiments; but even before Tech could accustom himself to the idea that failure must mean Crosshair was dead, he came across a prisoner list from an even later date that still listed CT-9904 as a prisoner.

            He sighed with relief. Perhaps Crosshair was still alive.

            Almost another week passed before he came across the report detailing events leading to Tantiss base being closed. Apparently, an incursion of some kind – details unknown – had led to numerous clone specimens, both human and non-human, escaping the base. Tech could only hope Crosshair had been among those who escaped. Reading further, he discovered that during the escape, numerous scientists including Nala Se had perished, and an explosion – origins unknown – had wiped out all data, including foundational data, relating to a specialized and highly classified project entitled “Necromancer.” An interview with a scientist named Dr. Scalder revealed only that the project involved cloning, specifically advanced genetic manipulation and enhancement, and that the destruction of the databanks on top of the loss of Kamino and its top scientists had significantly set back Imperial research attempts to replicate and advance even basic Kaminoan cloning technology. The Kaminoans had held their cloning secrets extremely close, after all.

            At this point, Tech leaned back in his chair, taking a rare moment to indulge in fully appreciating the delicious irony. He had been wondering, as he had been set certain experiment results to review, why it seemed the Empire’s theoretical and technical knowledge of cloning was limited to one-to-one duplication with only basic working theories of genetic manipulation, genetic enhancement, and medical applications for cloning principles. All of these advancements were child’s play for the Kaminoans; even Tech understood these principles, despite not being overly interested in cloning, and it had baffled him that Dr. Leman seemed to consider his relatively basic knowledge to be indispensable for whatever experiments she was running. But now he knew why. The Empire had wanted to control cloning knowledge so tightly, they had nearly eradicated all cloning knowledge entirely. Kamino had been annihilated, and Nala Se had been the last surviving Kaminoan chief scientist. With her dead and with crucial data lost, the Empire’s cloning efforts had been set back nearly to square one.

            Tech still didn’t know if Echo, Wrecker, Hunter, and Omega had survived Eriadu, or if Crosshair had survived Tantiss; but at least he knew the Empire’s militant efforts to be in complete control of cloning and its vast applications had backfired spectacularly. And with his own scheme to subtly sabotage the current data, he could set the Empire’s objectives in this area back by at least another decade. 

            Having learned all there was to know about Tantiss base and Hemlock, and with an ever-growing collection of Tantiss documents to peruse further should the need ever arise – detailed budgets, requisitions requests, travel logs countersigned by Governor Tarkin and several other high-ranking Imperial officials, a military escort for Palpatine to visit the base, clone prisoner transfer records – the only avenue left to him to discover what may have happened to his brothers was to investigate the current situation with the clones. He remembered that Echo had joined Rex full time to head up an initiative to help clones escape the Empire. Perhaps military intel regarding the Empire’s plans for commissioned clones would give him some sort of clue as to Rex’s and Echo’s current status.

            And so another week or two passed as he continued searching, delving into multiple Imperial reports detailing the basic framework for a decommissioning program and a tentative two-year timetable to allow adequate time to train the clone’s replacements, the original plan to shuffle half the decommissioned clones to Tantiss per Hemlock’s request, labor camps being reworked to accommodate an increased number of decommissioned clones when Tantiss ended up being shuttered prematurely, one of the prisons on Coruscant and another on Belarmus being entirely dedicated to holding clone dissidents who hadn’t yet undergone a court martial, a labor camp on Bornash being restructured when a few clones managed to escape with the remaining clone workforce denoted as “deceased” with no official explanation, a recent proclamation from the Emperor formally labeling clone deserters as a “threat to society,” and a recent missive from Governor Tarkin ordering all remaining clones – with the exception of a handful of specialized units – to be decommissioned within the next six months.

          All this and more, Tech discovered in his research; but none of it revealed the fate of those closest to him. The sliver of hope that remained to him stemmed from the fact that he found none of his squadmates mentioned in any of these Imperial documents.

            Perhaps… just perhaps… they had managed to escape to Pabu.

            The thought of Pabu brought other memories flooding back to him, the force of which almost mentally knocked him off balance. His family, so happy and content there, finding new purpose; all the friends he had made there: Shep and Lyana, Ray and Demetri and Pia, Orrson and Neali, Phee…

            Phee.

            He sighed as he thought back to all the time they had spent together on Pabu, the projects they had worked on, the conversations they had had, the stories they had shared. He had started to wonder, shortly before departing for Eriadu, if his feelings for her were expanding beyond what he understood as simple friendship, but he hadn’t had an opportunity to give the matter much thought…

            And he couldn’t do so now, he reminded himself as he shook himself from his reverie. Daydreaming would get him nowhere. He had plenty of evidence to show him that the clones weren’t meant to survive much longer, and the Empire was finding ways to discard them. If he wanted to really find out what happened to his family and his friends, he couldn’t let himself be discarded; he needed to remain useful long enough to devise a viable plan for escape.

            And escape he would.

            No matter how impossible it seemed.

*****

            Emerie stood near the wall lining the wide path leading from Lower to Upper Pabu, gazing out over the ocean. She needed to get back to the Perris's home soon - Tip Perris made it clear she wanted Emerie to enjoy dinner with the family - but she had some time to spare, and the view here was calming.

            She wanted to enjoy her time here on Pabu. After all, there was no need for security details here, and she was free to come and go as she pleased.

            Yet somehow, she still felt trapped.

            Perhaps it was because she wasn't supposed to be here, confined to this planet.

            She should be on Coruscant right now. No inquiry had been granted yet; but she knew Senator Chuchi had been asked to bring her to the meeting where the Senate would be deliberating whether to move the motion forward. The senator believed the opposition would take the opportunity to try to assassinate Emerie again. Emerie didn't know what to think about that. She understood now that her life truly was in danger, and she didn't want to be attacked again nor did she want anyone else to risk their lives to protect her; but she should be on Coruscant, helping advance the cause. What was the point in staying alive if she was just standing here, useless?

            Oh, she was doing what she could to help the clones who were formerly in stasis regain full health. Surprisingly, Sami and Jax and Eva always seemed happy to see her, too, and the residents here were so kind.

            The clones that had been rescued from Tantiss were here, too, of course. Including Crosshair. But, much like she had on Pantora, she had been staying out of the way of any and all clones, apart from those who had recently been released from stasis. Well, and Omega – but this was more so because Omega seemed to go out of her way to say hi to Emerie, though Emerie still couldn’t fathom how or why the young clone was unfailingly cheerful and friendly toward her.

            Yes, she had been avoiding them. Why wouldn't she? The last time they had had any interaction with her, she had been carrying out experiments on them. She hadn't been personally involved in all of Hemlock's experiments, of course - she only knew the basics about all of the projects - but she had treated all these clones as subjects for study, as Hemlock had taught her to do. And every time her conscience had pricked her, she had reminded herself of what she had been told by some of the commandos: that these men were prisoners for a reason, they were hardened war criminals who had maliciously disobeyed orders resulting in catastrophe.

            She knew better now, of course. And even if they had been hardened war criminals, that wouldn't have justified them being forced to undergo experimentation. Given everything they had gone through, she wouldn't force them to continue seeing her. She would stay well out of their way.

            She couldn't stand the thought of facing them, anyway.

            A figure now came into view, trekking up the path toward her. Recognizing him, she quickly averted her gaze and focused her attention on the docks below, waiting for him to pass by even as she became acutely aware of him drawing up next to her.

            "This spot taken?" Vik greeted her as he indicated the section of wall to her immediate right.

            She blinked, confused. No one else was in sight on the path at the moment, and the wall on either side of her was free of spectators as far as the eye could see; but if he really wanted to stand in this exact spot...

            "Oh, I can leave," she said stiffly, starting to back away... Then she froze as he reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder, giving her a sheepish half-smile.

            "You can stay. I wanted to talk to you." His hand dropped from her shoulder as he apparently realized his words alone had stunned her enough that she would stay in place. "We - the other clones and I - we noticed you were kinda avoiding us on Pantora, so we figured we'd give you space. But Pabu's a little smaller and we're bound to run into each other. Figured I should break the ice."

            She blinked again, not quite sure how to react to this. "You're not... mad at me?"

            "Well," he shrugged as he rested his right elbow on the top of the wall and leaned against it, "I would have preferred not being experimented on, but..."

          Guilt surged, somehow causing her to take a step closer to him rather than further away. "I'm sorry," she said, wishing with all her heart that there was something, anything, she could say or do to erase that part of the past and the harm she had caused.

            He shook his head. "Look, we've all done things we only realize later we shouldn't have done," he said frankly. "You realized it, you stopped doing it, and now you're doing what you can to help. I can't be mad about that. Besides, we all knew you were under Hemlock's thumb as much as the rest of us were."

            This last observation both surprised and saddened her. "How did you all see it before I did?"

            "Because we've all experienced it. All of us know what it is to be enslaved."

            She fell silent as she considered this. Yes, the clones did all know what it was to be enslaved: first to the Kaminoans, then to the Republic. Assets, bought and paid for, expected to do whatever their masters ordered them to do. Of course, few of the clones realized they had been enslaved since birth; Emerie sometimes wondered if even Echo and Rex fully accepted that they, too, had been slaves, and were still essentially considered as Imperial property by many in the galaxy.

            "Tempo is still a little mad at you,” Vik admitted offhandedly now, “but the rest of us... well, we've forgiven you. Maybe it's time you forgive yourself."

            She straightened, holding her hands behind her back. "Forgiving myself doesn't mean I am absolved of my responsibility in correcting my error,” she replied.  

            Vik looked at her thoughtfully. "You wish you were on Coruscant, don't you?"

            She hesitated briefly, before deciding to fully reciprocate his attempt at cordiality. “That’s where I’m needed, so that’s where I’m supposed to be.” Besides, it would mean she wouldn’t have to see the men whose rights she had violated…

            “Rex and Senator Chuchi are right. There would be another attempt on your life.”

            “Circumstances won’t change when the inquiry goes through and I am required to testify before the Senate,” she retorted. “Am I supposed to stay here, hidden away, and let the case fall apart?”

            Vik still had a thoughtful expression on his face. “We’ll figure that out when we get to that point,” he said. “Just remember, you aren’t the only one being hidden away.”

            Emerie looked away as the realization hit her: the rescued clones had volunteered to provide evidence as well, wanting to help advance the cause, and also had found themselves wanted by the Empire and needing to go into hiding. They likely felt much like she did.

            "You and I, Emerie, we thought our testimony would help,” Vik said now.  “And it did, just not the way we hoped it would. It might be taking longer than we expected for the motion to pass, and we might be stuck here for now; but the fact that we’re being hunted means we’ve ruffled a few Imperial feathers. And that’s something.”

            Emerie couldn’t help but give a brief smile at the immense satisfaction evident on Vik’s face with this comment. “Senator Chuchi did say our testimonies have already won some other senators over to our cause, too,” she added.

            “See?” Vik grinned. “We are making a difference, all without being on Coruscant right now.”

            She returned the smile briefly before becoming solemn. She had been focusing so heavily on making amends by helping with the legal side of the Tantiss case, she had failed to consider that she might have other responsibilities toward the victims. “Vik, if there is anything else I need to do to make things right…”

            “Maybe consider talking to the other men. Crosshair too. Yes,” he insisted upon noticing her visibly gulp, “Crosshair too. Look, the men all know how sorry you are, but it might do them some good to hear it straight from you. And it might do you some good to know most of them really don’t hate you. We are nice people, you know – for the most part, at least. And we are your brothers.”  

            She looked out over the ocean for some time, silently considering… then she glanced at her timepiece – she still had more than an hour before the Perris family would be expecting her. And she summoned her courage. “Are you returning to the other men now?”

            “Yep,” Vik nodded.

            “May I accompany you?”

            Vik gave her a kind smile as he turned and gestured toward the upward path. “I would like nothing more.”  

Chapter Text

            “Admiral Dumize will be bringing a senator from Pantora to tour our facility two days from now,” Lieutenant Gorsig announced during breakfast just before the clones departed to receive their assignments for the day. "So, everyone, make sure you are on your best behavior. Work as you normally do, and there will be no need for disciplinary action."

            "Best behavior," Trickshot muttered as all the clones crowded out of the mess hall. "We all know what that means."

            "Yeah, don't die in front of the senator,” Blane said with an odd mix of overly cheerful sarcasm.

            "Don't cough in front of the senator,” Red added.

            "Definitely don’t talk in front of the senator,” Novak said.

            "As if they'd give us a chance to talk at all, senator or not,” Gavin snorted; but Blane was already continuing his musings.

            "Do you think they'll let us breathe in front of the senator?"

            "Well, yeah, you just reminded us – don't die..." Trickshot returned.

            "Don't die yet," Red clarified.

            "Be happy little workers full of purpose,” Blane summarized with a lopsided, sardonic grin.

            "What's our purpose again? Dying?" Novak asked.

            "Wrong,” Trickshot immediately corrected, “our purpose is to do all the hard work no one else wants to do until it kills us."

            Fel lost track of the conversation as he scanned the board, saw his assignment, and turned with most of the others toward the entrance to the mines; but his thoughts soon turned back to the announcement. "Best behavior," of course, meaning everyone had to act healthy and happy to be here. Smiles could be faked, this was true; but Fel had to wonder how anyone with eyes could possibly miss the fact that the health of these men was rapidly deteriorating, whether the men were allowed to talk or not. Then again, he hadn't noticed when he had first gotten here, either. And Gorsig certainly wouldn't let any man collapse while the senator was here.

            Why a senator would want to tour the mines, Fel had no idea. Maybe Pantora was looking to contract with Farsi for the praxium? Not that it mattered. A new contract wasn't going to change anything for the workers - the clones who had been born for the Republic, would die for the Empire, and served them all the years in between. Such was life for a clone. Such was what their existence amounted to.

            He thought back to Hoz’s final words expressing his desire to have spoken up against some of the military orders, and shook his head wearily. Hoz had wanted to stand for something, as if any effort they made wasn’t fleeting, a flash in the pan, a pointless exercise in futility. Fel had once been so sure that all the orders he had carried out for his superiors in the army were justified; if he felt uncomfortable with the orders, it was only because he wasn’t privy to all the reasons why the orders were given. Now, he wondered… But it didn’t matter if what he had done was justified or not. It wouldn’t have mattered if he had acted on some whim of moral superiority and questioned the orders. No one cared what the clones thought, after all. He simply would have died sooner, and someone else would have carried out the orders.

            No; if Fel desired anything, he wished he and his brothers could serve and die in a more dignified way than wearing themselves out in a praxium mine and coughing themselves to death. Somehow, he had thought that decommissioning would mean he could continue to serve without watching all of his brothers die around him as they had in the war. Everyone he had started with in the mines was dead now, but this time they were all dead for no purpose. He, Fel, was about to break Derin’s record for longevity, as if that was some accomplishment. Whether it was today or two months from now, he was going to die the same way as everyone else – once a soldier fighting for a just cause to keep the Republic intact, now abandoned and forgotten.

            His brothers shouldn’t have to die like this.

            Not like this.

            Samuel’s voice broke through his thoughts. "What's the name of the senator who's coming?"

            It was Blane who answered. "There's only one senator for Pantora, her name's Riyo Chuchi."

            "Why does she sound so familiar...?"

            "Kamino. She's the one who revealed Rampart had destroyed Kamino with an orbital bombardment."

            "Isn't that what got us all decommissioned?" Novak said with a near-scowl.

            "Nah,” Blane waved a hand, “we would have been decommissioned anyway. They were already training the TKs months before that whole scandal broke."

            "I heard something that Senator Chuchi wanted Rampart to guarantee us a pension plan,” Samuel said thoughtfully.

            Red snorted. “That worked out well...”

            The conversation continued, but the realization struck Fel so strongly he almost stopped in his tracks.

            Senator Riyo Chuchi. The leader who had been pushing hard ever since the war ended to secure clone rights and a viable retirement plan for clones who survived to old age.

            This realization was shortly followed by a sudden possibility crossing his mind, an idea so impossibly foreign to his usual line of thinking he immediately dismissed it – or at least, he tried to dismiss it. But he couldn't stop considering it, turning it over in his mind and assessing its feasibility.

            "Whatcha thinking of, Fel?" Trickshot asked genially as they exited the lift. Trickshot had come to the mines only a few weeks after Fel’s cohort; and, despite Trickshot not being shy about sharing his complaints to his brothers while Fel persisted in believing obedience was the only way, the two of them had become quite close. Fel earnestly hoped Trickshot would outlast him here.

            Still, his current thoughts weren’t something he could share, especially not with Trickshot.

            "Aw, nothing,” Fel replied offhandedly. “What's there to think of here?"

            A long pause, then Trickshot observed soberly, "That's the truth."

            That night, Trickshot died, collapsing on the way to the barracks; and Fel found himself resolved to carry out his insane plan.

            He had nothing to lose, after all.

            By sheer luck, he was assigned to equipment repair the next day. Even more astonishing, he quickly found a data processor that wasn't salvageable. It would be almost easy to insert a testimonial about the true conditions of the work detail on one of the analog chips from the memory core, before removing the chip and hiding it in the single pocket of his work uniform.

            Well, easy, apart from the constant near-panic through the entire painstaking process that he would be caught.

            And then he was caught.

            “What are you doing?” Mason, coming up to him from behind, asked just as he readied himself to take the chip with the newly recorded testimony out of the data processor.

            Adrenaline pumping through him steeled his resolve as he looked at Mason with a hard expression in his eyes. He hadn’t planned on letting anyone else in on his scheme – he didn’t want any of his brothers to be involved, he wanted to save them from any trouble. But Mason needed an answer.

            “I’m getting the word out about what’s really going on here,” he said boldly after checking to make sure they were alone.

            “Why?” Mason asked as he crossed his arms.

            “Because we deserve better,” Fel blurted. “We’re strong, we’re capable, we’re obedient, and they’re just… throwing us away. There’s no reason for us to be treated this way.” He almost gulped before adding brashly, “Are you going to try and stop me?”

            Mason stared at him for a moment before letting out a short laugh. “Nah, I wouldn’t want to, but I’m telling you now you’re not going to succeed anyway.”

            Fel simply shrugged, and Mason walked away. That was the only interruption in his work; and Mason, true to his word, said nothing to the guards. A seed of doubt threatened to take root at Mason’s assertion that the plan wouldn’t work; but Fel refused to change his mind. He had to take this chance. He had to share the truth of what was really going on in this camp.

            He knew what he had to do. He just didn't know if he'd get the opportunity to do it.

            Now, the fateful day had come; and, standing in the third row from the front in an orderly group of a hundred carefully selected workers and watching the senator be herded past them, Fel realized with a sinking feeling that he may not be able to pass the chip to the senator after all. He should have figured that neither the lieutenant nor the admiral would dare let the senator actually interact in any meaningful way with the workers...

            The visiting entourage had almost passed through completely, when they stopped and seemed to be talking amongst themselves. Fel strained to hear, and managed to catch a stray phrase carried on the breeze, the admiral's strong voice raising an objection: "...no need to greet them, they're..."

            Whatever the debate, it was apparently resolved in short order: now, the group returned to face them, with Lieutenant Gorsig announcing with a somewhat strained smile: "Look sharp, lads. Senator Chuchi wishes to greet you. Those of you in the first five rows, come forward, one at a time..."

            Fel's heart beat even faster now. It was meant to be. He would be able to pass off the information to the Senator. Maybe, just maybe, if the Senate knew what was going on here, how the clones were being treated, maybe things would change. Maybe, just maybe, if he took a stand now, his brothers would live.

            He heard the short conversation now taking place between the senator and Garman, who was just ahead of him.

            "Do you like it here?" the senator asked in a soft voice.

            Fel had to give credit to Garman for not even hesitating, though he didn't miss the slight twitch of the head that indicated Garman had looked to see where Lieutenant Gorsig was standing.

            "Yes, Senator," Garman replied stoutly upon seeing that Gorsig was closely listening to every word.

            "Do you get enough to eat? Time to rest? Any leave?"

            "Uh - yes, to all of that," Garman nodded before a significant look from the lieutenant prompted him to hastily thank the senator for visiting and step back into line.

            It was Fel's turn now; and now that the moment had come, he felt no anxiety, no doubt, no fear. He stepped forward, the chip now secure in his palm, and proffered his hand to the Pantoran.

            "Senator Chuchi, it is an honor to meet you," he said cordially.

            "Likewise," the other replied, accepting the chip without a hint of surprise or hesitation. The handshake having ended, she continued, "May I ask your name...?"

            "Pardon the interruption, Senator," Lieutenant Gorsig barked out, "but what did the clone pass to you?"

            Fel's stomach plummeted - he had thought he had been so careful... The next moment, he found it difficult to hide his confusion when the senator opened her hands wide to reveal they were empty.     

            "He didn't pass me anything," she replied calmly.

            "For your safety, Senator..."

            "Honestly, Lieutenant, what are you so worried about? I was made to understand that these are some of our most loyal, stalwart former soldiers; why would any of them wish to harm me? And I repeat what I said: he didn't pass me anything. Now," she continued, turning back to Fel as if Gorsig was no longer worth her notice, "what is your name?"

            Fel, having just surreptitiously glanced at the ground to reassure himself that neither he nor the senator had dropped the chip, steadily met her gaze. "CT-81-4891. I'm called Fel, ma'am."

            "Thank you, Fel," she said with a small smile. "I am here to ensure conditions in these work sites are appropriate. Is there anything you and your fellow clones need here?"

            He almost blurted out "filtration systems," but one look at Gorsig put him straight. "No, Senator Chuchi," he replied. "Everything is adequate here. Thank you for your time." And with that, he stepped away, feeling as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, knowing he had done his duty for himself and for his brothers.

            The clones were dismissed in due course, told to return to their normal duties; and the senator's tour ended a few hours before dinner. And when the shift had ended and dinner had passed without incident, Fel began to wonder if maybe, just maybe, he had gotten away with it.

            TK troopers came to collect him just before he left the mess hall, and he knew he hadn't.

            He knew what to expect the moment the troopers ushered him into what was ironically called the “infirmary,” what he now saw to be nothing more than a large warehouse-style front room with a door at the far end leading to the back half of the building. He had no idea what was back there, but it didn't matter: he was facing down Lieutenant Gorsig and five armed troopers, and that was all that mattered. Strangely enough, he felt completely at peace, and an abrupt bout of coughing only heightened his sense of calm.

            He was a dead man anyway.

            "You may deny it, that senator might deny it, and I might not have the authority to search or question a senator, but I do have the authority to question you," Lieutenant Gorsig told him, walking closer until he was right in Fel's face. "What did you pass to the senator?"

            He only wished he could have bid farewell to Samuel and Blane and Novak and the others. "Nothing," he said firmly.

            Gorsig shook his head. "I know a liar when I see one."

            "I doubt it's in my power to convince you otherwise, Lieutenant," Fel shrugged.

            The sour look on Gorsig's face quickly melted to an expression of self-satisfied vindictiveness. "Well, I don't doubt you know what we do to clones who lie. And rest assured, no one in the Empire, much less a senator, cares." And he nodded to the troopers.

            Fel didn't resist as the troopers lined him up against the wall, didn't falter when the troopers backed up and stood at attention, didn't blink when Lieutenant Gorsig began shouting out the commands. It didn’t even register that workers who were no longer active military members shouldn’t be subjected to execution such as this. His thoughts were too full of Trickshot, and Amos, and Derin, and Hoz - Hoz, who had died with so many regrets, who had understood the need to stand for something.

            And just before the shot rang out, the last sound Fel would ever hear, he smiled. 

            At least he had stood for something. 

Chapter Text

            Screams from the marketplace reached Wolffe's ears where he stood a quarter mile away by the town entrance, and he uneasily braced himself.

            "Steady, men," he ordered as the rest of the team, lined up along the inside of the wall, shifted and readied their blasters. The Inquisitor had made it very clear they were not to set their weapons to stun, and Wolffe knew at least half the team were troubled about this; but what could he do? When he had tried to reason with the Inquisitor, the Force wielder had retorted that the measure was only necessary to protect the troopers themselves.

            "You know you must keep the perimeter secure so the Jedi don't have any chance to escape. Besides, you have already lost two men on these missions," the Inquisitor had said. "I would think you wouldn't want to risk any others."

            Wolffe had argued no more, even though the Inquisitor's reason irked him, given that the weapons setting had no bearing on Justice and Asher dying – the first members of the Recovery Stroke Team to die. No; both had died when this Inquisitor had gotten sloppy with his Force tricks, and Justice and Asher had ended up in the line of fire. The Inquisitor took no responsibility, of course; he said the troopers had died because civilians had attacked them, even though all the civilians had stayed as far away from the fighting as possible without breaching the perimeter.

            It wasn't just missions with Inquisitors that made Wolffe squirm, either. Imperial orders for the team regarding target retrievals of all kinds were becoming increasingly stringent, merciless, even - dare he think it - brutal. And it seemed the more successful the Recovery Strike Team was on all types of missions, the more closely they were being watched by their superiors, and the harsher the orders became.

            All this, when the war was already over, when they were supposedly in a time of peace.

            Missions like these in particular, to help Inquisitors retrieve Jedi, almost made Wolffe long for the days when the Recovery Strike Team had been assigned to capture deserters. At least the team had been expected to try to bring in the deserters alive for a trial, rather than expected to terrorize already terrified civilians by preventing them from evacuating during a fight between two Force users, and then being expected to stand by while the Inquisitor decided whether the civilians were guilty of knowingly harboring a fugitive...

            No. He couldn't think like that. The Jedi were the enemy. Anyone who helped Jedi were conspirators and traitors. Wolffe and his men were loyal; the Empire was establishing peace and order; and the Inquisitors were doing what was necessary for this peace to be achieved.

            Still, his heart sank as he saw a few civilians start running toward them from the direction of the marketplace, even as he relayed the message.

            “Alright, men, we have our orders. Hold the perimeter. Don’t let anyone escape."

            The sight of the troopers was enough to make two of the frantic townspeople turn around in search of somewhere else to hide within the town limits; but more were coming, and many of them were uninterested in the troopers' shouted warnings. Wolffe reluctantly pulled the trigger when a civilian was almost on top of him, while a heated conversation took place between some of his men on the open helmet comms.

            “The orders were shoot to kill!” Ethan was saying.

            “They’re civilians!”

            “Noah," Hilo barked back in response, "you will obey orders!”

            Four people were shot before most of the other townspeople finally got the hint and stopped trying to escape through the gate, and even though he found it necessary to fire on a few other stubborn runners, Wolffe began to hope that, maybe, this wouldn't end in a total massacre.

            Of course, that would depend on the Inquisitor deciding not to make an example of the entire town, as some other Inquisitors had during past missions...

            “Trey, there are two coming right for you," Vey's voice suddenly sounded through the comms.

            Wolffe caught sight of the TK trooper, standing as far removed from the line as he possibly could be, but still the woman and what appeared to be her son were running directly toward him, perhaps thinking they could dodge around him. Trey had his blaster up and was desperately shouting warnings, but the civilians just kept coming, abject terror on their faces; and as Wolffe watched, Trey started to lower his weapon...

            “Trey!” Wolffe shouted.

            Three blaster bolts hit the two runners - Wolffe would never know who had fired them - and they toppled face forward onto the ground, dead.

            Wolffe glanced around. No one else was trying to escape now; people were hiding themselves as best they could in the alleyways and behind the buildings lining the street leading to the nearby plaza and market, but none of them dared draw anywhere close to the troopers guarding the gate.

            His eyes fell again on the mother and son... The son looked as if he couldn't be older than twelve years old...

            Wolffe's distant examination of the boy was interrupted by the sight of the Inquisitor stalking toward them from the direction of the plaza. The Force wielder, now holding a second lightsaber, ignored the few townsfolk who were now quietly skirting back toward the center of town, and drew up next to Wolffe, viewing the carnage apathetically.

            "Well done," the Inquisitor said.

            “Well done?” Trey's voice was so altered Wolffe almost didn't recognize it, but was loud enough to be heard clearly by the Inquisitor.

            The Force user regarded Trey uninterestedly. “You killed the filth who were hiding the Jedi. They were traitors, they got their just reward.” Without waiting for a reply, he turned to Wolffe. "Commander, your team needs to stay overnight until the occupying troops arrive. Make sure there is no uprising or retaliation. I will send for you if I require your further services."

            The Inquisitor strode away, and Wolffe released a small sigh of relief: the orders meant most of the residents had been left alive. Turning to his team, careful to keep his eyes raised away from the ground, he gestured for the men to move. "Back to the ship," he said.

            Despite the helmets, he didn't miss most of the men looking uneasily at the dead civilians, nor did he miss the other subtle signs indicating they were eager to get away from the town and the reminder of what they had just done. Wolffe still didn't look down; the deceased would haunt him tonight even without him engraining the sight of them into his memory. He shuffled around to bring up the rear, only then noticing that Trey hadn't moved.

            "Trey, we're going," he said.

            Trey remained where he was.

            "Trey..."

            The TK trooper suddenly shook his head. "What is this?" he said slowly, his voice low but clearly heard. "What are we doing? I signed up for the Imperial Army to protect civilians, not slaughter them!"

            The other men glanced at each other. Wolffe, having no answer to this, decided to ignore it; but then Ethan stepped forward, speaking almost casually. "You heard the Inquisitor. These aren't civilians. They are traitors. They were harboring a fugitive. They were a threat to the Empire."

            If Wolffe had thought Trey hearing from a fellow non-clone would provide some level of reassurance, he was mistaken. Trey abruptly ripped his helmet off his head, revealing a face contorted with guilt-stricken rage. "That boy" - he gestured wildly at the young boy before him - "that boy was a threat to the Empire?"

            Ethan stiffened, though his helmet remained on. "We had our orders. We did our part, and the Inquisitor was able to neutralize the Jedi. The Jedi are our enemy. You know this."

            “Yeah?" Trey shot back. "What about our orders on Kar’Mell? The engineer we were sent to hunt down on Xaxes? He wasn’t a Jedi. Yespin? Tarma? There weren’t even any Jedi there!”

            “All those missions came straight from the Emperor through Admiral Dumize," Hilo said now. “And the Inquisitors are acting with authority directly from the Emperor, too.”

            “Those people were all unarmed!” Trey persisted. “All civilians! None of them were doing anything remotely suspicious or rebellious!”

            “That we know of,” Deck interjected levelly.

            Trey, gaping in disbelief, was at a loss for words for a moment. "You're really okay with just... doing whatever you're told to do without any explanation whatsoever? Kill this person, arrest that person, abduct someone else, hunt down every single Jedi, even the kids? You just trust that all of it is right?"

            "The Emperor knows what he’s doing," Ethan said heatedly. "What we’re being asked to do, it’s to make the galaxy safer. You want an explanation for this mission, Trey? The Jedi are the enemy. They’re the ones who tried to assassinate Emperor Palpatine, they would have stopped him from forming the Empire and making the galaxy stronger than ever. They wanted to take over for themselves. If the Jedi'd had their way, the Empire wouldn’t exist. Never forget that.”

            Wolffe could see the other men were growing increasingly uncomfortable witnessing this argument; and, knowing a discussion such as this would gain them no favors or security with the townspeople, finally interjected.

            “Enough," he said forcefully, causing Ethan to step back and Trey to shut his mouth with a loud snap. "There’s no point in debating this any further. Move out.”

            He stepped forward, wordlessly prompting the men to obey. Trey watched silently, looking almost nauseous, still not moving; and Wolffe gave up the idea of bringing up the rear. He'd get the rest of the team out and come back for Trey if he had to.

            He wouldn't need to come back: as he herded the other men in front of him through the gate, Trey swayed and started forward to join them, helmet held under his arm, forgotten. Even so, Wolffe didn't miss the words Trey muttered to himself.

            “Maybe the Jedi were right.”

            Maybe the Jedi were right.

            The idea had wormed its way into Wolffe’s deepest thoughts, and he couldn’t root it out.

            The war had, presumably, been fought to defend the Republic against the tyranny of a Separatist state that sought to impose its will through conquest. In pursuit of the Republic’s goal, General Koon and the other Jedi – with only one or two infamous exceptions, whom even the Jedi Order disavowed once their crimes came to light – had been strict, disciplined, and measured in directing their troops in battles against droids and Separatist forces, yet had taken great care to minimize collateral damage whenever possible and had given even Separatist civilians the benefit of the doubt. Ever since the war had ended and the restored Republic had been rebranded as the Galactic Empire, military orders had demanded sweeping sanctions and much more extreme measures against anyone who was in even remote proximity to insurgent groups, all in the name of galactic security. The clones had been raised, taught, molded to be loyal to a Republic that upheld ideals of democracy, freedom, justice, and equity. The Empire, supposedly the Republic reborn, purportedly held to these ideals; but in practice it seemed to rely much more heavily on force and fear tactics to ensure strict compliance to… well, whatever the Emperor dictated. 

            Wolffe had never really thought about it before, but… with such differing ideals, could the Empire really be considered the same entity as the former Republic?

            What if the Jedi were right? What if they had somehow seen and understood what the rest of the galaxy hadn’t? What if… what if the Empire was the true enemy?

            Movement just outside the ship drew his attention: Severin and Vey were moving to relieve Chaucer and Nomad from watch duty. He shook off his reflections. Whether the Jedi were right or not, it didn’t change what Wolffe now had to do.

            Wolffe hadn’t been the only one who overheard Trey’s traitorous remark. Ethan would expect something to be done about it; and if Wolffe didn’t do anything about it, Ethan would seek out higher authority to do it, even if it put everyone on the team in jeopardy. Above all else, Wolffe was determined to protect his team. Admiral Dumize didn’t make idle threats, after all, and he had a very long memory.

            Better to lose one man than the entire team.

            He left the drop ship and crossed the camp site that had been set up immediately next to it, heading to the edge of the site where Trey was sitting next to Striker. He knew Ethan, Hilo, and Deck were watching closely; and with this in mind, he let his voice carry farther than he had originally intended.

            “Trey. Come with me,” he said, immediately turning and walking away to avoid any questions, yet still somehow hearing Trey’s audible gulp as the trooper instantly complied. All eyes were on them as they left the circle of light that demarcated the camp site, and Wolffe’s expression hardened as he came to terms with what he was about to do.

            They were a hundred feet away from the camp site, well away from where Nomad and Chaucer were keeping watch, before Wolffe stopped and turned to face Trey. Far as they were from the lamplights, the full moons made Trey’s apprehensive expression clearly visible as he slowly drew closer to his commander.

            “You… wished to speak to me, Commander Wolffe?” Trey queried tremulously when he stopped five feet away from Wolffe.

            Wolffe closed the distance between them even more and spoke in an undertone. “You need to leave. Now.”

            Trey drew back, startled, confusion distorting his features. “What? Why?”

            “You were overheard.”

            “Look,” Trey stammered, “I know I shouldn’t have argued about orders, but…”

            “I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about you saying the Jedi might have been right.” Trey paled, but Wolffe was already pressing on. “They will execute you for treason. Find Captain Rex, he’ll keep you safe. Somehow. Contact the Pantoran senator. With her talking about clone rights… well, if anyone knows where Captain Rex is, it’ll be her.”

            Trey gulped, still looking as if he was on the verge of passing out. “But… I’m not a clone.”

            Wolffe shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. Rex will help you. That’s just the kind of person he is. You need to disappear. Take this” – he shoved a small pack of rations into Trey’s hands – “you don’t have time to grab any other supplies. Don’t wander around in your armor – get rid of it if you have to.” He glanced around to make sure they were still alone, speaking ever more quickly, ever more urgently. “I’ll need to fire some shots after you. If you want me to miss, I suggest you take that straight path through those trees. Now, go!”

            Trey was clearly having difficulty keeping up with the onslaught of directives, but his fear and doubt were now laced with a healthy dose of stubbornness. “But…”

            “Trey Velard,” Wolffe interrupted in the most authoritative tone he could muster while still speaking in a whisper, “I am your commanding officer, and I am ordering you to go.”

            Trey reflexively stood at attention with an automatic “Yes sir”; then, blinking in surprise as if just realizing what he had done, he dashed off into the woods in the direction Wolffe had indicated.

            As slowly as he dared, Wolffe reached for his blaster, giving Trey a good fifteen seconds before firing off a couple shots several degrees west of the direction the trooper had taken. Only a few moments passed before Chaucer and Nomad dashed up to him.

            “Sir! What happened?”

            Wolffe slowly inhaled, still staring in the direction of the blaster shots. “TK 1927 has apparently decided to desert rather than risk facing a court martial for treasonous statements against the Empire.”

            The two troopers hesitated, clearly surprised. “Should we follow…?” 

            Wolffe shook his head. “We won’t be able to find him – not in the dark. And I’m not going to risk anyone in that forest, especially since the nearby residents aren’t exactly… friendly. We’ll send out a search party tomorrow. In the meantime, let him take his chances.”

            The TK trooper and the CT trooper glanced at each other before saying in unison, “Yes, sir,” and moving back to their watch position; and Wolffe steadily made his way back to camp, steeling himself for the explanation he would need to give to the rest of the team.

            His doubts about the Empire were making him uncomfortable – but he couldn’t afford to think about that right now. He didn’t have the luxury of teasing out whether the Jedi or the Empire were right or wrong. He had to focus on the one thing that undoubtedly felt right to him: protecting his men.

            And that meant following orders.

            Besides, the Jedi couldn’t have been right.

            Could they? 

Chapter Text

            Hunter had stopped wearing his armor entirely unless he was on a mission away from Pabu; but for the past two months he had been wearing his old wrist comm again on a daily basis. He didn’t really need it – he always carried two handheld units just in case Batcher chewed through one of them – but it was always good to be prepared. 

            He was not going to miss Echo’s next transmission.

            And so, sixty-five days after Echo had dropped the life-altering news, Hunter – sensitive as always to electromagnetic frequencies – picked up the incoming transmission almost before the comm unit had a chance to beep, and eagerly greeted the ARC trooper.

            “Echo?”

            “Hunter, the contact came through. I have a location. Tech and the other clone were transferred to the Imperial hospital and medical science research center on Coruscant.”

            Hunter sat abruptly on one of the kitchen chairs, grateful that he was home alone at the moment. He had been waiting for this update for over two months, sometimes imagining how the conversation might play out, what plans might be made, occasionally even daring to hope for the best while also preparing for bad news…

            Now that the update had come, he had no idea how to react.

            He hadn’t believed Echo at first when Echo had said he thought Tech was alive. Only the firm knowledge that Echo would never make a cruel joke or uninformed comment about that topic allowed Hunter to remain composed enough to stay around and hear Echo’s reasoning. But as Echo had laid out the facts leading him to that conclusion, Hunter had found himself starting to believe; and as he considered what he knew of Hemlock’s personality, he found himself becoming ever more certain that the possibility was real. Besides, none of them had even bothered trying to return to Eriadu to retrieve the body: there was no time, it was too dangerous, and even if they did – well, based on what Hemlock had said, what would be left for them to retrieve? But Hemlock’s remarks about Tech’s fate fit perfectly with what Hunter had experienced firsthand of the Imperial’s cruel, manipulative personality; and Hemlock was certainly the kind of twisted scientist who would jump at the chance to take a clone like Tech to use for his own ends.

            And so Hunter had calmly accepted Echo’s explanation before seeing both him and Rex off, and had been immensely grateful that Wrecker had offered to talk to Crosshair while Omega and Phee fell into deep discussion, for it meant he could walk back to the cabin by himself, shut himself in his room, and weep without anyone witnessing it.

            The idea of having the entire squad – all his brothers – back together again had been almost too much to hope for, was still almost too much to hope for. When Crosshair had turned on the team and then chosen to stay behind on Kamino, Hunter had recognized the real possibility that his squad would never be together again; but he had also clung to the hope – slim though it may be – that Crosshair might change his mind and return, that the squad would someday be whole again.

            Then Eriadu had happened, he had heard the blaster shot that severed that slim hope from reality, watched that hope fall out of sight, never to return again. He had forced himself to become accustomed to the fact that his family was permanently splintered, had forced himself to face the reality that Tech – brilliant, steady, loyal Tech – was gone forever, had forced himself to grow around the gnawing ache of bereavement, just as Crosshair and Wrecker and Omega and even Echo had needed to. But now… now that slim hope had returned, now there was hope for all of them to be reunited, and – oh, the pain was almost unbearable.

            The pain of hope, and the fear. Tech was apparently on life support. What if they found him, what if they got him back, only for him to never wake up?

            “Sorry it took so long,” Echo said apologetically, breaking Hunter out of his silent reverie. “Even with Avi Singh’s referral, it took me two weeks to get in contact with the source and another three weeks to convince her I wasn’t going to out her to the Imperials.”

            Hunter shook his head slightly, bringing himself back to the present. “Nothing to apologize for,” he said. “You’ve…” he cut himself off as he felt his throat close up with the threat of tears.

            “Hunter? Are you still there?”

            Hunter quickly cleared his throat. “Yes. Sorry. What’s the plan?”

            “I want to move as soon as possible, but right now it’s only me and Rex available…”

            “And me, and Crosshair, and Wrecker, and Omega,” Hunter interjected. “Oh, and Phee,” he added. Phee had made it more than clear that she wanted to help and Hunter didn’t want to consider what the consequences would be if they left her out.

            Hunter could sense Echo’s hesitation. “Are you sure?” the ARC trooper finally said. “It’s on Coruscant…”

            “Well, like Omega said, we don’t look like clones,” Hunter pointed out with a sigh. He didn’t like to admit it, but it was true.

            “Pretty sure it’s considered a crime for anyone to break into a hospital and kidnap two patients, whether you look like a clone or not,” Echo commented drily.

            This got a chuckle out of Hunter. “Yes, but at least we won’t be charged with desertion on top of it. At least not right away. Besides, good luck convincing Omega not to come. I already tried.”

            “In that case, you’re a braver man than I, Hunter,” Echo said solemnly. “Well, if you’re sure about this, Rex and I will be on Pabu by tomorrow. We can draw up a plan then.”

            “Copy that. Oh, and Echo?” Hunter took a deep breath. “Thank you. Thank you for finding him.”

            “He’s my brother, too, Hunter,” Echo said in a low voice. “I just wish…”

            “There was no way we could have known,” Hunter said firmly, pushing away his own fears of what may happen when they found Tech and the other clone. “But we can save him now.”

            Even through the comm, he heard Echo take a deep breath. “Until tomorrow, then.”

            “Until tomorrow.”

            Hunter ended the transmission, closing his eyes just long enough to take a deep breath as he prepared to tell the others the news, just long enough to come to terms with the knot of apprehensive anticipation that had settled in his chest and would remain there, he knew, until the mission was over.

            Hope might manifest as a painfully bitter ache right now, but he could handle it.

            After all, he had a brother to bring home.

*****

            Howzer, sitting in the communications room in the base on Predonia, doggedly pored over some intel he had acquired regarding the layout and security of the Imperial prison on Coruscant that was reportedly holding some clone dissidents. Howzer still didn’t understand why the clones weren’t being held at the military prison, but that point was irrelevant. If this information was correct, the TK trooper he had met had been right: the prison was all but unbreachable. Everything – and that meant everything – was accessible only by specialized clearance codes that Howzer knew they would never be able to acquire, and if there was any attempt to slice through the codes, even by a droid, the entire system would automatically lock down – and trap anyone who attempted it. There were some indications that the guard detail inside the compound could be easily managed; but that would do the underground no good if they couldn’t get in…

            Suddenly he heard Senator Chuchi’s voice, and he turned to see a holotransmission of her greeting Backlash.

            “Is Captain Rex available?” she was saying.

            “No, Senator,” Backlash said, “he’s with Echo on a mission and probably won’t be back for another few days. Is there something I can help you with?”

            “I hope so. My guard Noam tells me a soldier contacted my office on Pantora asking to speak to me about Captain Rex.”

            Backlash furrowed his brow. “Was this a clone soldier…?”

            “No, he’s a TK trooper. When Noam insisted we know nothing about Captain Rex, the soldier said something about being in trouble and mentioned being referred to us by his clone commander, named Wolffe. Noam says he looked rather… desperate.”

            Howzer started to shake his head, but he couldn’t help but wonder…

            “It’s a trap,” Backlash told the senator. “Commander Wolffe and his team have been on several missions to capture deserters…”

            “Wait,” Howzer suddenly heard himself interject. “Did the TK trooper give his own name?”

            Senator Chuchi glanced to the side for a moment. “Trey Velard,” she replied.

            Howzer grew still. “That’s the trooper who warned us about the trap for our last extraction on Coruscant.”

            Backlash was staring at him, wide-eyed in disbelief. “You can’t seriously be thinking…”

            “I want to know what this is all about,” Howzer returned. “Gregor can come with me. If there’s any sign of trouble, we’ll leave.” He stood up and approached so the senator could clearly see him. “Senator, where is Trey now?”

            “Noam says the transmission was coming from a town called Yero on the moon Shekos, in the Dinari system.”

            Howzer nodded. “Would you ask Noam to contact Trey and tell him someone will be coming to speak with him in a few days?”

            Senator Chuchi nodded. “Of course. Thank you, Captain Howzer.”

            Backlash was still staring at him when the transmission ended. “Howzer…” he started.

            “Hey, we’re not sending Rex,” Howzer countered. “I’ll know if it’s the same trooper or if this is all some elaborate plot.”

            “It could be both, you know. It could be that the same trooper is being used to set up an elaborate plot.”

            “He didn’t last time.”

            “Last time you were smart enough to not fully trust him.”

            “I don’t fully trust him now,” Howzer said. “But he helped us out last time, and I want to return the favor if he really is in trouble.”

            “How will you know if he’s really in trouble?” Backlash called after him as he started to leave the room in search of Gregor.

            “I’ll know when I get there. If Gregor and I call for an emergency extraction for ourselves, you’ll know, too,” Howzer quipped, waving to Backlash as he turned the corner into the hallway.

            He didn’t think this was a trap, though. If Trey said he was in trouble, then he must be in trouble; and the probability was high that the “trouble” involved desertion. What Howzer didn’t understand was why Commander Wolffe would have advised Trey to try to find Rex, of all people, to get out of trouble. Come to think of it, why would Wolffe let Trey go at all?

            It didn’t matter. First things first: he had to establish whether this mystery stormtrooper was actually who he claimed to be.

            Unsurprisingly, Gregor was eager to go on a mission to verify the identity of a TK trooper who had quite possibly deserted from the army. Clone deserters there were aplenty; but this would be the first time Howzer or Gregor had ever encountered a non-clone deserter.

            And so, it was less than twenty hours later that the two clones landed on Shekos and headed into the dusty, overcrowded town, watching for the TK trooper. They hadn’t given any word when they would be arriving or who would be coming, yet Howzer spotted him in next to no time, sitting on a bench just outside the main hotel, wearing civilian clothes and warily watching the passersby. Howzer nudged Gregor and indicated with his chin where the target was located, before sauntering over to the soldier.

            “What’s going on, Trey?” Howzer said when he was within ten feet of the trooper.

            Trey looked around, startled; but when he caught sight of Howzer, his face lit up in recognition despite the hood the clone was wearing. “It’s you!”

            Suddenly realizing the potential for mistaken identity, Howzer decided to clear things up right away. “I’m not Captain Rex.”

            The trooper shook his head. “I know that. I saw Captain Rex once. I know what he looks like. You’re not him.”

            Howzer blinked – he wasn’t sure he had ever heard anyone comment on how the clones looked different from each other, even with all the effort the clones went to for the sake of distinguishing themselves in appearance as individuals.

            “I don’t know your name, though,” Trey continued. “Sorry.”  

            Seeing Gregor open his mouth but unsure what he was about to say, Howzer hastily jumped in. “And you’re not going to know it until you tell us what’s going on,” he said, gesturing at Trey with an expectant look.

            Trey seemed to shrink in on himself, looking uncomfortable. “I… said some things relating to the Empire that shouldn’t have been said out loud.”

            “Ooooh, what did you say?” Gregor asked eagerly. 

            “He just said it shouldn’t be said out loud,” Howzer pointed out drily, before regarding Trey again with a serious expression. “But we do need to know more. We need to know if we’re on the same side. What happened?”

            Trey glanced around at the crowded street, clearly debating whether it was safer to speak where other noise might cover up their conversation, or where fewer people were present who could potentially overhear. Gregor looked meaningfully at Howzer, and he took the hint.

            “Come on,” he said to Trey, “we have somewhere we can talk in private.”

            Trey quickly stood, indicating his agreement, and followed the two clones back to the ship parked on the outskirts of the town. Howzer realized that bringing the TK trooper onto their ship was already an indicator that both he and Gregor trusted him; still, Howzer wasn’t going to reveal any names, relationships, or anything else about the clone movement until he knew exactly where Trey stood.

            “Alright,” Howzer said when they were all standing on the flight deck of the ship. He took down his hood before crossing his arms as he faced Trey. “Talk.”

            Trey still looked incredibly nervous. “Uh…” he gulped before going on in a rush, “I said the Jedi might have been right.” He looked fearfully back and forth between the two clones, as if wondering if even saying the term “Jedi” would make them pull their blasters on him.

            Which actually wasn’t an unreasonable fear, Howzer realized. Still, this response was not at all what he had been expecting; and, stealing a glance at Gregor, he knew his friend was equally astonished.

            “What?” he said blankly.

            “Look,” Trey tried to explain, “the Empire was ordering us to do some… uh, dubious stuff before, but then my team was assigned to some missions with an Inquisitor and it was…” The young man faltered, unable to say any more; but the nauseated look on his face said it all. Taking a deep breath, Trey went on, “Anyway, my team was saying the Jedi must not have wanted the Empire to be formed. I don’t know… but I thought, well, if that’s true, maybe they were right, you know, to not want an Empire to rise.”

            Even Gregor looked dazed at the trooper’s audacity. "And you said that out loud?"

            Trey, looking increasingly uneasy, glanced over his shoulder as if weighing his chances to escape. "I didn't mean to, I just muttered it. I didn't even say as much as I told you. But what I did say was overheard. So Wolffe told me to find Rex."

            Howzer and Gregor exchanged glances - Gregor now looked awed, but Howzer felt more than a little disconcerted. All the clones in the underground, at least, recognized now that the massacre of the Jedi was uncalled for, an overreaction to a select few purportedly trying to assassinate then-Supreme Chancellor Palpatine. Some of the men had come to that realization even before their inhibitor chips had been removed. And most, if not all, of them understood how oppressive the Empire was, not just to the clones but to the galaxy at large. But this was the first Howzer had ever heard someone speculate that, perhaps, if the Jedi had been trying to stop Palpatine from creating an empire, they would have been right. It was an interesting theory, but a dangerous one - even around the clones who recognized how much of a threat the Emperor himself was.

            This wasn’t some elaborate trap, Howzer knew that as firmly as he knew his own name. Trey had witnessed his own share of unjustifiable atrocities and, just like so many other clones, had finally decided to stop participating in them. And he, just like so many other clones, needed help.   

            "I'm surprised Wolffe let you go,” Howzer finally said. “He could have shot you for treason right then and there."

            "You can't be more surprised than I was. I didn't know anyone had heard me. Commander Wolffe will do just about anything to protect the team, but he's been very strict about obeying orders to the letter, ever since Teth."

            "You were one of the soldiers on Teth?"

            "Yeah,” he said quietly, “that's how I know who Captain Rex is."

            Gregor was looking at Howzer now, his own opinion evident by the bright interest in his eyes; but he was obviously wanting Howzer to take the lead in answering the trooper. With a small sigh, Howzer acquiesced.

            “Well, Trey, I can tell you that we work with Captain Rex, and all of us here are in agreement that the Empire is dangerous. I can also tell you most people don’t believe that. Not even all the clones believe that. Some of the clone deserters left the army not because they think the Emperor is a threat, but just because they didn’t like the idea of being decommissioned. I guess what I’m saying is…”

            “Keep my mouth shut?” Trey said bluntly.

            “Yes. Or at least, if you do open your mouth, be prepared for the consequences.”

            Trey sighed heavily. “Trust me, I learned that the hard way.”

            Howzer nodded, and Gregor spoke now.

            “So, where do you want to go, kid?”

            Trey bit his lip for a moment, before blurting out, “Can I join you?”

            Given the current rate of unexpected disclosures, the kid was going to make Howzer’s brain short circuit. “What do you mean?”

            “You’re trying to free the clones, right? I want to help.”

            One look at Gregor told Howzer that, as usual, he would have to be the responsible one. Of course, Gregor wanted the underground to have any and all help they could get; but there were other factors to take into consideration. “What about your family, kid?”

            The expression that crossed Trey’s face made Howzer’s heart break a little in sympathy; but Trey quickly replaced it with a bland look as he shook his head. “What about them? I can’t get them involved, and they wouldn’t understand anyway.”

            He wasn’t about to push for details; Trey had said enough. Howzer understood – he, as a clone, may not have parents, but he understood what it was to have brothers with irreconcilable differences of opinion.  “Well,” Howzer said slowly, “if you’re sure…”

            “I’m sure. I really want to help. It’s like I told you before: the GAR were heroes.  You deserve better.”  

            Gregor didn’t wait for Howzer’s approval; with an enthusiastic “Welcome aboard!”, he stepped forward and gave Trey an enthusiastic friendly shoulder bump that almost knocked the former TK trooper over.

            Howzer sighed as he reached out to steady Trey. He knew Gregor’s exuberance was meant to make Trey feel more at ease, but there was significant risk of it having the opposite effect. “Calm down, Commander. You’re going to scare the kid off.”

            “ ‘Course not,” Gregor guffawed as he slung an arm over Trey’s shoulders. “You’re not scared, are you, kid?”

            To his credit, Trey looked only mildly petrified. “N-n-no, sir,” he stammered back.

            “My name is not ‘sir,’ it’s Gregor,” the other corrected with a grin.

            Rolling his eyes at Gregor, Howzer returned his attention to Trey. “Guess you get to know our names now. I’m Howzer.”

            “Nice to officially meet you both,” Trey said weakly as Gregor abruptly removed his arm from the young man’s shoulders, the sudden release making Trey stagger again.

            “Do you have any belongings you need to bring with you?” Gregor asked him.

            “Uh, yes, I managed to smuggle my armor here, it’s at the...”

            “Good, I’ll come with you,” Gregor spoke over him, gesturing for Trey to lead the way; and the trooper gamely complied.

            Howzer gazed thoughtfully after them as they left the ship. He had met plenty of non-clones who respected the clones, of course; but growing anti-clone sentiment across the galaxy had been taking its toll, and he had to confess he was surprised to find that even a TK trooper might hold some level of camaraderie toward the clones. Trey was genuine, though, had been since Howzer had first met him – there was no doubt about that now.

            With a small sigh, he turned toward the ship’s controls to comm the base – and then he almost laughed at a realization that struck him.

            Trey clearly just wanted to help a group of people he respected and admired. He wasn’t doing this for the sake of having a family of some sort. But he’d be getting one anyway.

            A family of brothers. Lots and lots of brothers.

            “Are you calling for an extraction?” was Backlash’s greeting upon accepting the transmission.

            Howzer laughed a little. “No, we’re clear. Just calling ahead so you all know to expect the new trooper that’s joining us.”

            “You found another clone deserter? I thought…”

            “No, the TK trooper wants to help free the clones.”

            There was an extended pause, one that dragged on so long Howzer almost thought the transmission had ended. Then – “You trust him?”

            “Yes, Backlash, I trust him. And so does Gregor.”

            “Well, then, let him know he’s welcome.”

            Howzer chuckled again. “Don’t worry. Gregor’s got that covered.”

Chapter Text

            Something had gone wrong with the surveillance systems on the first floor.

            He wasn't supposed to have access to the surveillance systems, of course. There was a lot of information he wasn't supposed to have access to. But he had realized very early on that it would be best if he knew when Dr. Leman was coming to visit him - he needed the time to hide his other projects. 

            Frowning slightly, he had just begun tracing the source of the fault when he noted that several of the electronic security systems had been overridden as well. The source of the disturbance appeared at first glance to be coming from the security office, but he had a feeling...

            There. The disruption was actually coming from a console in one of the operating suites. How anyone had managed to tap in from there... But it didn't matter. He sat forward in his chair, considering his options. He should figure out a way to get the systems back online, but how to do it without anyone being able to trace the source of the repair back to this room...

            The implications for the faults caught up to him. Was someone breaking into the hospital? And if so, why? Likely for medical equipment, that was the only reasonable explanation. Back to the matter at hand...

            A sudden noise from above drew his attention to the ceiling. Before he could blink, a vent cover creaked open before being removed altogether, and something dropped to the floor. His eyes could barely move fast enough to keep up with this object of interest as it executed a skillful roll on the floor to right itself, but once it popped to its feet...

            "Omega," he said blankly. 

            She had grown several inches since he had last seen her and her thick hair was long enough to be pulled back into a ponytail, but the blonde hair and kind eyes and beaming smile - there was no doubt, this was his sister standing before him, staring at him with an expression of hope, shock, and utter disbelief as tears filled her eyes. Apparently, she still recognized him despite the new spectacles and the deep scars crossing his face. 

            "Oh my... word... Tech... It's... You're alive, you're really alive," she whispered, her breath coming in short bursts as she stood rooted in place, still staring wide-eyed at him as if afraid he would disappear if she looked away, if she even blinked. 

            "Yes, Omega, it's me," he replied calmly, still trying to make sense of this astonishing development.   

            Suddenly she launched herself forward, and Tech felt his chair scrape backwards a few inches as she plowed into him before he found himself encased in a tight embrace, Omega's face buried in his shoulder as she let out a shuddering sob. 

            "It's you, it's really you," he heard her whisper. 

            Recovering from his surprise, he gently patted her back, the warmth of her affection bringing a small smile to his face. And it was then that he realized that since he had woken from his long coma, he hadn't had many reasons to smile - until now.  

            A comms unit pinged, and Omega abruptly straightened, the unit appearing in her hand quicker than thought. "I found him," she said in a low voice into the comms. "It's Tech, I found him!"

            "He's alive??" Wrecker's voice boomed through the comms before someone in the background urgently shushed him.

            "Yes, and he's awake! Wrecker, we'll come to you." 

            "Omega," a dry, rather gruff voice now sounded, "I know this is a big deal but save the hugs for later." 

            "Echo's right," another familiar voice chimed in. "You need to move. We need to get out of here, now." 

            "Is that Rex?" Tech queried. 

            Omega nodded at him in response, a tear escaping from her eyes as she blinked hard and sniffled in an obvious attempt to control her emotions. "Copy that," she replied to Rex, before clearing her throat and stepping toward Tech. "Before we go, do you know where the other clone is? Echo said there was another clone being kept here."

            "There was another clone on life support transported here, but he didn't survive the revival process," Tech replied levelly, though his heart sank as he recalled witnessing the catastrophic attempt. Weeks later and this was still a sore spot for him. If Dr. Leman had just let him help...

            Omega's face fell in her disappointment; but to her credit she remained focused on the more pressing objective, and she abruptly straightened while clearing her throat. “We can't stick around," she said, her tone becoming more urgent as she grabbed his hand. "Come on, let's get out of here," she urged, trying to tug him toward the door. 

            Tech didn't move from his seat. "I can't, Omega."

            She turned toward him, nonplussed. "What do you mean?"

            "I'm paralyzed."

            She dropped his hand and stepped back in shock, her eyes giving him a quick once-over. "What?" she gasped. 

            "I'm paralyzed," he repeated patiently. "Apparently the fall on Eriadu left me with a spinal cord injury. I have just enough muscle function left in my legs that I can stand with arm support, but I cannot walk. And the Empire has not seen fit to provide me with any means for mobility over any significant distance." 

            "They haven't even given you a wheelchair?" Omega asked, indignation apparent in her tone. 

            "My bunk is just there," he said, gesturing with his chin to the cot two feet away, "and my work station is here. According to the doctor, that is all I need." 

            Omega glanced around the room again, a range of expressions crossing her face before she settled on outraged disgust; but she clenched her jaw only briefly before speaking into the comms unit again. "Tech can't walk, he's... paralyzed. Wrecker, we'll need you here after all. " 

            "Understood." Tech recognized Echo's voice now. "It'll take a minute, I need to shut down the systems on the secondary route to your floor..."

            "I'll loop the vid feeds, it will be faster and won't draw as much suspicion," Tech countered, fingers already flying across the controls. "And it's done."

            "I never could keep up with you," Echo quipped through the comms. "Wrecker's on his way."

            "I won't be able to disable the door from here in a timely fashion," Tech informed him. 

            "I can do that. Wrecker will let me know when he's in position."

            Tech didn't know what "secondary route" Echo was referring to - though he guessed it didn't involve the ventilation shafts - but given that Tech was being kept hidden away out of sight on the third floor of an otherwise currently unoccupied research wing, he assumed it would take less than two minutes for Wrecker to find his way...

            He heard the noise outside the door, and stiffened. 

            "Omega, hide," he hissed. 

            She didn't hesitate - perhaps she had heard the footsteps too. Scampering across the room, she pressed herself against the wall next to the door, remaining absolutely still as the door slid open to admit Dr. Leman. 

            Tech kept his eyes on his captor. "Is there something I can help you with, Dr. Leman?"

            The doctor's gaze began to work its way around the room. "There's been a security..."

            The unmistakable sound of a stun shot being fired, and Dr. Leman froze before toppling to the floor, unconscious. 

            Omega lowered the blaster and looked anxiously at the still-open door. 

            "No need to worry," Tech said matter of factly. "No one else will come. There has been no need for guards - they know I can't get very far on my own." 

            Omega's jaw clenched again as she glanced over at him. "Is that why you couldn't get to us before now?" 

            "Yes. I attempted to reach you all on the Marauder's comm channel, but the channel was dead." 

            She shook her head sadly. "The Marauder was destroyed." 

            He nodded. "I considered that as one possibility." He meant to continue on, express how relieved he was that other possible explanations for their silence were not the case, but the words caught in his throat. 

            Omega was speaking through the comms again. "Echo, don't worry about the door, it's open. Wrecker, how much longer..." 

            Footsteps sounded in the hallway again, heavy but slow - Tech instantly knew it was Wrecker trying to be stealthy, and within moments his giant of a brother appeared in the doorway, his armor rather more worn than Tech remembered but still with the signature design on his helmet. 

            Tech had wondered what Wrecker's reaction would be upon seeing him again; but apart from slightly hesitating in the doorway and taking a deep breath, Wrecker apparently had taken Rex and Echo's warnings to heart, and stayed focused on the mission. "We gotta move. Phee's distracting the aircraft for now but someone's gonna notice our ship soon." 

            "Phee's here?" Tech asked, brows drawn together in surprise.

            "'Course she is," Wrecker guffawed as he began stalking across the room. 

            Omega gave a short laugh. "We couldn't have kept her off this mission if we tried." 

            Tech had no time to process his feelings over this announcement: Wrecker had already picked him up out of his chair and hoisted him over his shoulders in a fireman's carry, and was making a beeline for the door. 

            "Omega, bring the datapad on the table," Tech called back. She readily complied, grabbing the device and catching up to them before they had stepped out the threshold. 

            The view upon leaving his confinement for the first time was about as thrilling as he had expected it to be: that is to say, it wasn't thrilling at all. He had already anticipated the maze of hallways outside what had functioned as his prison cell would be austere and monotone - he was in a hospital, after all - and seeing everything from a sideways angle over Wrecker's shoulder didn't improve the view. The chance of freedom, however - more than that, the chance of freedom with his loved ones by his side, that was an exhilarating prospect; and the hope for a brighter future that now rose within him was almost painful in its intensity. 

            He knew Echo, Wrecker, Omega, Rex, and Phee were alive; he was about to ask after Hunter and Crosshair when Omega's voice pierced his thoughts.  "We have to get back to the main building," she was reminding Wrecker. 

            Wrecker had stopped and peered around a corner before ducking back into the hallway as hurried footsteps passed by. "They know we're here," he whispered. "We can't go out the way we planned." 

            The guards might be aware of a breach, Tech though, but obviously they did not know what the intruders were after nor where they were heading; otherwise, he and his siblings would have been caught by now.

            "Where is our target destination?" Tech asked. 

            "The ship's parked on the roof," Wrecker replied. 

            "You actually managed to land a ship there?"

            "Like I said, Phee's causing a distraction." 

            "We won't be able to get to the lift without being seen," Omega informed them, peeking around the corner again. "There are too many guards now, and taking another route will take too long..." 

            "We'll have to climb," Tech said. "There's a maintenance shaft with a ladder that leads up to the roof." He strained his neck around to figure out where they currently were, before pointing to the left. "I believe we will find an access door in that corridor." 

            Wrecker huffed. "Shoulda guessed you'd have the building layout memorized." 

            Of course he did - it had been one of the first things he had committed to memory once he had been granted access to a computer. Escape might have seemed impossible at the time, but he would be prepared for the impossible. Always. 

            There was no time to explain this now, however: they had to get out. Omega had hurriedly relayed the change in plan to Echo, and was now leading the way forward per Tech's direction. "Echo and Rex already got to a lift. They'll meet us up top." 

            The access point was precisely where Tech thought it would be, and without any hesitation Omega scrambled through and started climbing the ladder. Wrecker took a moment longer - he stood at the base of the ladder and stared up towards the top, thirty floors above them, and Tech heard him gulp. 

            Ah yes. He should have known his brother would still be afraid of heights. 

            "Come on, Wrecker," Omega called down softly from where she had stopped fifteen feet above them. "Just don't look down."

            Wrecker shook his head. "We're okay," he said, more to himself than to Omega or Tech. "We're okay," he repeated. 

            "Wrecker, I'll need to adjust my position in order for you to climb," Tech pointed out. 

            "Oh, uh, right," Wrecker stammered, carefully releasing his hold on Tech's legs and maneuvering himself so Tech could hold on tightly from the back with both arms over his brother's shoulders. 

            "Ready when you are," Tech prompted when Wrecker still hesitated.

            "I'm not gonna let you fall, Tech, I'm not gonna let you go," Wrecker said abruptly. 

            These words sent a needle of apprehension through Tech as he realized just how high they would be climbing, remembered how long he had been falling, falling... But he ignored the unease, for they had to get out. He was alive. His family was alive. He was not going to die a slave to the Empire.

            These musings were pushed aside as the thought abruptly crossed his mind that maybe the source of Wrecker's current hesitation wasn't limited to his phobia of heights. 

            "I know you won't, Wrecker. I trust you," Tech said, stating the simple truth. 

            These words seemed to bolster Wrecker's resolve, and he started climbing, Omega's worried face lifting with a small smile as she watched them for a moment before continuing upward herself. 

            Everything was quiet as they made the climb. Tech kept his ears peeled for any sign of pursuit but heard nothing concerning. If all continued going this smoothly, this would go on record as the easiest extraction he had ever experienced with his squad - but he wasn't going to count on things continuing to remain this easy. 

            They were a little more than halfway between the access doors marked for the twenty-second and twenty-third floors when the door to the roof opened above them. Either Echo and Rex had caught up with them, or...

            Wrecker's head blocked Tech's view, but there was no way to mistake the shout of "We found the intruders!" as a friendly greeting. 

            As he had predicted. Things never remained easy. 

            A stun shot passed dangerously close to them. The guards must have orders to take them alive. Obviously, the guards didn't grasp the concept that stunning targets who were precariously clinging to a ladder more than three hundred feet off the ground would very likely lead to a similar outcome as using blaster bolts. 

            With a gasp, Omega pulled out her own weapon and began returning fire. The enemy fire slowed, but with the need to keep up the cover fire she wouldn't be able to climb up to the door on the twenty-third floor. Wrecker, breathing heavily, tried climbing down a few rungs in an obvious attempt to get to the door below, but with his attention divided between moving downward and keeping track of incoming shots to dodge them while carrying the extra weight of Tech on his back...

            Well, they were trapped. 

            Tech, reflexively hunching closer to Wrecker as another stun shot passed by less than an inch away, almost smacked his spectacles into the back of Wrecker's helmet. Rolling his eyes at the inconvenience of this situation, he said tersely, "Wrecker, do you have a blaster?"

            "Yeah, but..."

            "Give it to me."

            "But..." 

            "You just make sure you keep holding on." 

            The command applied just as much to him as to Wrecker, Tech realized as Wrecker carefully shifted to balance his weight while removing his right hand from the rung to retrieve his blaster and pass it to Tech. The life support chamber had mitigated atrophy of the muscles, even those weakened by the spinal cord injury, and he had made it a point to regain what strength he could while confined to a cot and a chair, but there had been little opportunity for him to properly regain his stamina; and he willed his arms not to shake as he boosted himself up a bit higher on Wrecker's back to gain better purchase with his left arm across Wrecker's chest. Taking the briefest of moments to ensure he was steady as Wrecker rocked to the right to dodge another stun shot, Tech took aim while calling up to Omega, "I'm going to cover you. Get to the next door." 

            Omega's body went taut in anticipation as she stopped firing milliseconds before Tech took his shot. Taking the cue, she scrambled up the rungs and hit the control panel...

            "It's locked."

            Of course it’s locked, Tech thought to himself with mild irritation. He kept firing at the topmost door to keep the guards at bay as he calculated the most efficacious course of action... 

            A guard daringly peeked over the threshold despite the continuous fire and sent several more stun shots their way. Omega let off hitting the controls in favor of clinging more closely to the ladder. Tech reflexively boosted himself up again as he took another shot; unfortunately, he moved at the precise moment Wrecker swayed away from another stun shot, and he wasn't properly prepared. Like dominos falling in rapid succession, the unexpected movement disrupted first his equilibrium, then his concentration, then his strength - and before he knew what was happening he was sliding off Wrecker's back, he had no hope of reaching around Wrecker to grab the ladder with his left hand, the blaster in his right hand also making it impossible to grip the ladder, and as his mind instantaneously processed all these details gravity was beckoning with nothing to stop its inexorable pull, he was falling...

            A tug at his shoulder joint, and he found his downward journey abruptly halted: Wrecker now had a vise-like grip on his right forearm. Tech had no idea how Wrecker had managed to maneuver so quickly, but he had done it.

            "Let go... of the blaster... Tech," Wrecker panted. 

            Of course, why didn't I do that in the first place, Tech thought to himself as his wits abruptly came back to him. He dropped the blaster, peripherally registering the sounds of the weapon clanging off the ladder below along with the sounds of more shots being fired above, though these shots sounded more distant. Dismissing the noise - other considerations had to take priority now - he grabbed a hold of the rung with first his right then his left hand, and let out a breath of relief - right before spasms began to work their way through his lower body. His legs, already useless to him in this situation, were now outright acting against him.

            Of all times for the spasms to kick in... he thought miserably, gritting his teeth so tightly against the pain he almost expected to crack a tooth, knowing that at any moment he would lose his tenuous grip on the ladder.... 

            But no, Wrecker still had a firm grip on him, an arm wrapped tightly around his back keeping him pressed solidly against the ladder, protecting him from the force of gravity that still called to him. The spasms finally passed, leaving Tech utterly exhausted as he briefly rested his head against the cool metal of the ladder, and still Wrecker held him up, supporting him. 

            Omega's voice pierced his exhaustion. "Tech! Tech? Wrecker, should I go get some rope? With Tech in that condition I don't think our grappling guns alone will help..." 

            The guards had stopped their attack... He wondered why...

            "Do you think you can make it?" Wrecker was calling back to Omega.

            They weren't going to leave him behind. He knew that. No matter what happened, they would refuse to leave without him. If he wanted them to escape, to be safe, he had to go with them, now. No, they didn't have time for Omega to find rope to help support him. He had to help them, he had to help himself, he had to move. 

            Taking a deep breath and summoning every last ounce of strength he could muster, he looked up at Omega. "I'll be okay. Just get to the top. Wrecker," he looked at his brother, able to vividly picture what Wrecker's expression currently was underneath the helmet, "help me get on your back again. We're getting out of here." 

            Wrecker nodded at him before nodding up at Omega as well, who hesitated only briefly before turning forward and resuming her climb. Wrecker carefully angled himself and helped Tech as best he could while Tech, heart racing even as he willed himself to stay calm, released the bar with his left hand and swung his arm over Wrecker's shoulder before doing the same with his right.  

            "You ready?" Wrecker asked.

            "Ready." 

            Wrecker's breathing was becoming even more labored, yet he managed to almost sprint up the rest of the ladder, very nearly catching up to Omega before she scrambled through the still-open door leading onto the roof. As Wrecker followed her out into the bright Coruscant daylight, Tech caught sight of two guards lying still next to the doorway, a transport ship he recognized as having belonged to Echo now positioned roughly one hundred feet away, and a familiar-looking figure standing on the ramp of the vessel aiming a rifle at three other guards who had just reached the rooftop from another access point – three guards who, within the blink of an eye, were no longer a threat as they fell to the ground and moved no more.

            The ship was so close - so close - but his arms were trembling from exhaustion, his palms were slick against Wrecker's breastplate, and sweat was beginning to drip into his eyes. He closed his eyes and grimaced, determined to hang on until they reached the ship, determined not to say a word about his discomfort... But he didn't need to say anything. Without a word, Wrecker knelt down, slid Tech off his back, and then scooped Tech up in his arms while standing back upright and dashing to the shuttle. 

            "Come on, come on, come on!" Omega urged once Wrecker had carried Tech up the ramp into the blessedly cool and relatively dim interior of the ship. It took Tech a moment before realizing she must be calling out to someone else - sure enough, by the time Wrecker had deposited Tech onto one of the empty passenger seats on the flight deck, Echo and Rex had sprinted up the ramp and the ship was taking off. 

            "Phee, we've got him. Disengage. Let's get out of here." That was Hunter sitting in the pilot's seat and speaking through the communications array; Tech, seated directly behind him, had yet to see Hunter's face, but he'd recognize his sergeant's - his brother's - voice anywhere. 

            "You've got Tech. On board. With you. You're sure?" Tech almost smiled - Phee's voice and the somewhat brash, stubborn personality that came through clearly with it hadn't changed one bit.

            "Yes, we're sure," Hunter said, sounding a touch exasperated now even as he smoothly directed the ship toward Coruscant's atmosphere. 

            "I'm going to make sure these fighters stay off your tail," Phee said. 

            "Phee..."

            "I’m not losing any of you again," she said firmly. "I'll catch up with you all later." 

            "Be careful." 

            Complete silence settled over the ship as they traveled toward the freedom of the open blackness of space over Coruscant and the hyperspace route that awaited them there. Tech's thoughts whirled in the silence. His family was alive. His friends were alive. He wasn't breathing as heavily anymore but his arms still felt like they weighed a ton. He was out of the medical suite, his personal prison cell - finally, a change of scenery after months of stark white and shiny silver. He had forgotten how good of a pilot Hunter was - Hunter had always let Tech do the flying. He wondered if Dr. Leman was still unconscious on the floor of his cell. 

            They finally made the jump to hyperspace, and everyone let out a collective sigh of relief - it was as if everyone had been holding their breath, frozen, just waiting for something else to go wrong. But they were all here, and he was here with them. Nothing else had gone wrong. And with the adrenaline now fading away, everyone slowly unfroze and began to move. 

            And only now did Tech realize Wrecker had been standing next to him, keeping a hand firmly on his shoulder the entire time. Perhaps that was why his right arm felt so heavy.

            "Wrecker, it's okay now. You can let go," Tech observed drily, straining his neck to look up at the tallest of his brothers. 

            Wrecker, startled, looked down at his hand as if he had forgotten it was there. "Oh, right, sorry," he stammered, moving his hand and taking off his helmet. Tech eagerly took in Wrecker's features, glad to see his brother’s face was fairly close to what he remembered; but when he saw the tears begin to stream down Wrecker's face, he remembered his brother’s apprehension at the bottom of the ladder, and he frowned slightly. 

            Wrecker was turning away, as if to hide his tears; Tech slightly miscalculated the distance and almost lost his balance as he reached out to grip Wrecker's arm. Recovering quickly, Tech peered up at his brother as he turned back to face him. 

            "Wrecker," he said firmly, "you didn't let me fall last time, either. I will always trust you. Every time.”

            One could have heard a pin drop in the startled silence that followed; then - 

            Perhaps reassuring him was a miscalculation, Tech thought as Wrecker abruptly burst into sobs and pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. Still, it was nice to receive such a fervent indication that people still cared about him, and this embrace was slightly less painful than some of Wrecker's enthusiastic shoulder punches. 

            "I'm... so glad... you're... back," Wrecker choked out between sobs, still holding Tech tight. 

            "You can say that again." With some difficulty, Tech turned his head to see that Hunter had risen from the pilot seat and had approached the pair, the smile on his face almost hiding the trembling of his jaw. "Echo told us he found out that you might be alive, but... I can hardly believe you're... real," he continued, and he slowly reached out to take Tech's free hand, as if worried one touch would make Tech melt away. 

            This was quite a bit more physically affectionate touch from his brothers than Tech was accustomed to… but this was a special occasion, and they had thought he was dead for nearly eighteen months. He could indulge them in their apparent need for physical contact; and Tech squeezed Hunter's calloused hand. "I'm real," he replied before clearing his throat, abruptly realizing he had to impose some limitations to their touch. "Real enough that I am perilously close to sustaining several cracked ribs if Wrecker doesn't loosen his hold." 

            "Oops," Wrecker said, coughing slightly and releasing Tech. He was aiming to help Tech back onto the seat, but missed; and Tech scrambled to grip the back of the chair and lower himself onto the seat as his legs refused to support his weight.

            Barely registering the near mishap, he cast his eyes over the people who had gathered around him, and thought he caught a glimpse of another person he most wanted to see hovering on the edges of the group; but before he could verify his suspicion, Hunter's smile had turned to a concerned frown. "Echo relayed something about you being paralyzed?"  

            Tech nodded. "Yes." 

            Omega stepped forward, her face streaked with fresh tears though her voice was steady. "It's a long trip, Tech. Maybe we should help you lie down." 

            Tech wanted to protest; but between the amount of energy he had recently expended and the adrenaline now wearing off, he was exhausted enough that he knew he would fall out of the seat if he stayed upright much longer. Adding a head injury to the mix wasn't exactly advisable. "I... would not say no to that," he admitted. 

            "Come on," Echo said briskly, gently shooing Wrecker aside as he stepped up beside Tech, Hunter following Echo's lead and taking up position on the other side. "We'll get you down to the crew quarters. Don't worry, Wrecker," Echo continued as he and Hunter draped Tech's arms over their shoulders before lifting him up in a seat carry position, "you've carried him far enough today."

            They carried him out of the flight deck and down some steps to the crew quarters, Rex and Omega leading the way with Wrecker hovering close behind.  It wasn't until they settled him on the edge of one of the cots that Tech took the opportunity to grip Echo's shoulder, drawing his attention, and say, "Thank you for finding me." 

          Echo's eyes bore a conflicting mix of relief and regret that strongly reminded Tech of Rex's expression when they had discovered Echo on Skako Minor; but he offered Tech a smile as he briefly patted Tech's back in return. "Welcome home," he said, before straightening and stepping back. 

            It was then that Tech finally caught clear sight of him, and the last knot of anxious apprehension melted away as the answer to the last of the most important questions was confirmed.

            He hadn't been mistaken in identifying the sniper on the ramp. 

            Crosshair was alive. 

            Tech leaned forward on the cot, pinning his last brother in place with a frank gaze while saying, “Crosshair. It’s good to see you.”

            Crosshair stayed frozen where he stood just inside the threshold of the crew quarters, arms crossed tightly over his chest, his expression rather like that of an irling caught in a light array as he returned Tech's stare, not blinking even as the others exchanged furtive looks before silently filing out of the room, leaving the two of them alone. Tech didn't break eye contact with Crosshair for another few seconds, waiting for his brother to say something, anything; but when another wave of weariness crested over him, he gave in and leaned back against the wall with a small sigh. 

            Crosshair had always been reticent. That much, apparently, hadn't changed...

            The sound of a sharp intake of breath drew Tech's eyes back to his sniper brother, whose voice was so shaky and low Tech barely managed to catch the words: "Don't you ever die on me again." 

            Tech blinked, unimpressed, and idly straightened his spectacles. "I wasn't planning on making a habit of it, no." 

            Somehow, that statement was enough to break the tension; Crosshair rolled his eyes and let out a quiet guffaw, but Tech couldn't miss the sheen of tears that appeared in his brother's eyes. Slowly, Crosshair stepped across the room and gingerly sat next to Tech on the cot, keeping his gaze averted for a few moments before suddenly following Hunter's example and taking Tech's hand. 

            "You're really here," he said quietly, staring down at their now-linked fingers. 

            "Yes, Crosshair, I'm here. And so are you." 

            Silence reigned for several seconds, long enough for Tech to notice that Crosshair’s right hand was missing; but before he could inquire about it, his brother took another shuddering breath. "Tech, I..."

            He knew what Crosshair was going to say, and he didn't want to hear it, didn't want it to be said. He knew Wrecker and Hunter and Echo were all feeling some measure of remorse, even guilt, over what had happened on Eriadu, and he didn't quite understand why - they had done what they needed to do, just as he had done what he needed to do. He knew Crosshair was feeling even more guilt, for personal decisions and circumstances beyond Eriadu, but that guilt would serve no purpose now. Crosshair had returned. That was all Tech had ever wanted.

            "You're here," Tech interrupted Crosshair before he could say any more. "That's what matters." 

            Crosshair stared at him for a moment before looking away, running his right forearm across his eyes. He didn't relinquish Tech's hand, and Tech certainly wasn't about to pull away. With a sigh, Crosshair now joined Tech in resting his back against the wall, leaning sideways so their shoulders met, one more point of contact that Tech knew served as reassurance to his brother of the reality of the situation, the reality of his return. 

            And as they sat in companionable silence, Tech's heart filled once more, and he couldn't help the smile that crossed his lips. 

            He was home.  

Chapter Text

            Riyo sat calmly in her repulsorpod as she waited for the deliberation on the current topic – whether systems should make chain code scans compulsory not only for interplanetary travel but also for public transit options on individual planets – to wrap up. After months of careful preparation, her petition for the Senate to launch an investigation of the Imperial military’s clone decommissioning program was finally on the agenda. If she could convince the Senate to approve the motion, formal discovery processes – including those to validate the evidence that had been submitted – could begin immediately. 

            She had to get an investigation started. She had to get this evidence made public. Not only would it draw much needed attention and support for the clones' cause as she continued to advocate for their recognition as galactic citizens along with the associated rights and privileges, it would also provide a necessary launching point for her plan to push for closer inspection of the Emperor's dealings. Untold atrocities were being committed across the galaxy by Imperial leaders, and Riyo knew much of it was sanctioned by the Emperor himself; but with evidence being suppressed, witnesses being silenced, and lower-ranked Imperials being scapegoated for any charges of misconduct and criminality that did come to the surface, the top Imperial administration was ensuring they would never be dealt justice for their crimes – nor would they ever be compelled to change their ways.

            She glanced around, the sight of her allies calming what nerves had started to rise. Bail Organa was in the repulsorpod a few yards away from her, giving her a reassuring nod. She smiled at him in return. Bail had a young daughter at home, was staunchly defending Alderaan’s interests while quietly investigating reports in the Outer Rim territories of military excesses that both the military and the sectors’ own senators were dismissing out of hand, and had still found the time to not only tacitly support the clone cause but also give Riyo much needed advice regarding the petition. Senator Polorio and Senator Tenko were not only vocal supporters but had also countersigned the petition after reviewing the evidence Riyo had collected. Senator Pamlo, Senator Gutchi, Senator Tal, Senator Mothma, and several others hadn’t provided specific aid in building this motion, but had all promised to vote in favor of it and had lobbied their allies to do the same, and all were present here today.

            The opposition was almost equal in number to Riyo’s allies, but wouldn’t be enough to stop the petition from passing. Planning further ahead, Riyo was confident the evidence would be enough to convince some of the undecided senators to join her in endorsing more rights for the clones once the decommissioning program was finally stopped.

            Admiral Dumize had recently arrived and was seated with two TK troopers in a repulsorpod near Mas Amedda. Riyo gazed at him for a moment, noting his usual collected smugness. The admiral was clearly relying on stall tactics in response to the petition, though for the life of her Riyo couldn’t understand what Dumize or the Empire would gain by this. Regardless of when the petition was granted – and it would be granted eventually, Riyo and her allies would make sure of it – the evidence that would be made public would subject the Imperial military and other governmental bodies to intense scrutiny. Postponing the inevitable wouldn’t prevent it from occurring.

            The Grand Vizier had already long since turned the floor over to Senator Fimo’lya to oversee the proceedings for the day; and now, the Senator brought the chain code discussion to a close. "The next item on the agenda is Senator Chuchi's motion for the Senate to launch a full-scale inquiry into the clone decommissioning program, starting with allegations of misconduct against the clones found on Tantiss base.”

            "Before we begin deliberations,” Riyo quickly put in, “you will see the addendum I submitted for the item in question.”

            “Yes, Senator,” Fimo’lya said shortly. “For the record, how does this addendum relate to the petition?”

            "The clones were discarded by the military, but were told the decommissioning program would meet their needs. Not only do we know the clones on Tantiss were imprisoned, tortured, and killed…”

            “We know nothing of the sort!” someone shouted; but Riyo carried on without hesitation.

            “… many without any justification for imprisonment in the first place; but new evidence has come to my attention of the deplorable, inhumane conditions the men on so-called work assignments are subjected to."

            Senator Fimo’lya waved a hand. “Your evidence, please.”

            Riyo pulled up the grainy, poor-quality holorecording, that nonetheless somehow clearly depicted the fear and desperation on the clone’s face, even as he stood at attention while facing toward the recording device.

            “I am called Fel, CT-81-4981...”

            “What is this?” Admiral Dumize interrupted forcefully, sending an outraged glare at Riyo.

            She briefly paused the recording to answer him – the senators needed to hear the full testimony. “If you listen, you’ll know what it is. Furthermore,” she went on when Dumize opened his mouth again, “this particular evidence has already been approved to be submitted into evidence, Admiral. You’ll gain nothing by preventing it being shared here. And may I remind you that I still have the floor.” Not waiting for his response, Riyo continued the testimonial.

            “I am making this statement because I don't think the Senate is aware of what is going on in the decommissioning program. We - the clones - were told we would be on work assignments, that we would have all our needs met and have regular work schedules and be able to come and go” – a cough interrupted him briefly – “as we pleased when we were off shift. That's not what's happening - at least, not here, not in the Farsi mines.” At this, Riyo noticed Senator Dukata, the Farsi representative, stir in apparent surprise; but she did not pause the message. “Instead, we are - well, we aren't allowed to leave the facility, we aren't allowed contact with anyone” – the clone coughed again – “outside the facility, we are kept under constant guard, we have limited rations, we have no medics or medical supplies. But it’s more than that. Look, the thing is, we don't mind working, we want to serve - but we aren't given the equipment we need to work safely. Mining praxium here sometimes releases pockets of toxic air, and we don't have the necessary filters to keep ourselves safe. We breathe in the fumes and once we start coughing - well, we can't stop, and... I've been here about eight months and at last count over two hundred men have died from the poison air in the mines. We won't be allowed to say any of this when the senator comes to visit tomorrow, so” – the coughing fit lasted longer this time – “I'm saying it now and - well, I don't know if it will make any difference, I don't know if anything will change for my brothers, but I hope it will.” He sighed. “That’s all. I – thank you, to anyone who hears this, thank you for your consideration of this matter.”

            Riyo knew the other senators, knew the appeal likely wouldn’t affect them nearly as much as it had affected her; but she did notice the shocked silence that reigned for several moments in the chamber, and she was glad for it.

            Admiral Dumize, of course, was the first to break the silence.

            “It’s a fabrication,” the admiral protested so abruptly two of the representatives gave startled jumps. “Where did you get this information?”

            “If you are concerned about its authenticity,” Riyo said mildly, “perhaps you can check the identity the witness gives against the military records for CT-81-4891.”

            “If the clone is indeed who he says he is, then you admit that you accepted material from a clone during a tour I allowed you to go on, wherein it was made abundantly clear that passing material was forbidden.”

            “Are the clones on these work details considered prisoners, Admiral Dumize?” Bail Organa interjected before Riyo could respond.

            “Of course not,” Dumize scoffed.

            “Then why would they not be allowed to speak freely and provide material evidence to Senator Chuchi? Further, why do we, the Senate, not know the location of any of the work programs? Why is this recording the first we are officially hearing from any of the clones currently in the program?”

            “We are straying from the point…” Senator Fimo’lya started to say.

            “Indeed,” Senator Polorio added, speaking over Fimo’lya, “it is not a good look for your program, Admiral Dumize, that this clone’s testimony matches, in the basics, the rumors that have been going around from other clones who reportedly left a work assignment on Bornash.”

            “Whatever happened to the other clones there? All of them were replaced shortly after the escape. It never was revealed where they were sent,” Senator Tenko mused aloud.

            Dumize’s face had grown progressively redder with each comment. “That is classified information,” he said shortly, continuing on before anyone could press for reasons why this information was classified. “Besides, what has this to do with Tantiss?”

            Riyo very nearly rolled her eyes, but managed to control herself. “The motion, Admiral Dumize, is for an investigation of the Empire’s treatment of decommissioned clones.”

            “As I have said before, Tantiss has no connection with the decommissioning program.”

            “I have submitted evidence that decommissioned clones were sent to Tantiss,” Riyo returned stiffly. “The cases are therefore connected.”

            “Senator Chuchi,” Senator Fimo’lya interjected more forcefully this time. “I allowed you to present this evidence today since the addendum was already approved. However, since Admiral Dumize has assured us that Tantiss base was not considered a work site for decommissioned clones, and since all the evidence you have submitted has been in relation to Tantiss base, any inquiry, should it be granted, will be limited to that case alone. A separate motion will need to be filed should you wish for the Senate to investigate other Imperial work programs.”

            “What,” Riyo exclaimed, casting a dismayed look first at Bail, then at her other allies. All of them had expressions in varying states of shock and mild outrage – they had not known of this change. She pressed on. “As the initiator of this petition, I am the only one who can authorize amendments to it!”

            “I cannot make amendments to the motion, no; but the committee head does reserve the right to interpret the defining aspects named in the motion. Based on Admiral Dumize’s testimony, my interpretation will stand.”

            It didn’t escape Riyo’s notice that Admiral Dumize’s word alone was enough to sever any link between Tantiss and other Imperial atrocities against the clones, while the word of multiple clones and supporting evidence were all disregarded as suspect. And her ire grew.

            “You have said multiple times that the Senate’s time and resources are precious, Senator Fimo’lya. I fail to understand how redefining the terms of the motion as you have will ensure efficient use of this body’s resources.”

            "Ah yes, Senator Chuchi, to that point. I advised you several weeks ago that your key witness, Dr. Emerie Karr, would need to be present during this session for us to determine whether to grant the inquiry.”

            “And as I reminded you at that time, Senator, this is a preliminary hearing. It is highly unusual to require the presence of material witnesses when an investigation has yet to be approved.”

            “Given the significance of this motion, exceptions must be made. Is Dr. Karr here today?"

            “She is not,” Riyo stated firmly. “She was the target of an assassination attempt just recently. For her own safety, I decided against bringing her here to Coruscant.”

            “How convenient,” Senator Vormol drawled.

            An eruption of protests met this remark, carrying on so long and so loudly it took the Grand Vizier all of three minutes to restore order; but the damage was done. The seed of doubt over just how far Riyo would go to force through this motion and whether her evidence was reliable in the first place had been planted in the minds of the currently neutral senators – she knew it, she could see it on their faces.

            “Order!” Mas Amedda shouted once again; and the chamber finally quieted. With order restored, the Grand Vizier gestured to Senator Fimo’lya to continue. With a nod, Fimo’lya turned to Riyo again, and her heart sank.

            "Senator Chuchi, as you so astutely observed, this chamber's time and resources are precious. You are accusing the Imperial military, and by extension the Emperor and his administration, of myriad abuses against the clones. These are serious claims. If you cannot or will not bring even one witness for us to cross-examine to determine whether the outrageous allegations that have been made against the Emperor and the Imperial military hold any spark of truth that would warrant a full investigation, we cannot move your motion forward. This will be tabled for the next full session; but if you can provide no new concrete evidence of the accused’s direct involvement in the affairs on Tantiss by that time, we will have to dismiss your motion entirely."

            Next full session. Three more months. Admiral Dumize was smirking. The vast majority of the clones who hadn’t managed to desert and avoid capture were in labor camps or prison by now. Fel’s testimony…

            Suddenly all the details came together and realization struck like a lightning bolt. Why hadn’t she seen it before?

            Of course stalling was Admiral Dumize’s tactic. Stall long enough, and with the conditions the clones were being subjected to, the decommissioning program would be at an end anyway. No doubt the Empire would point to the clones’ accelerated aging as the reason why they died off so quickly; and there would be no investigation into the true reasons for the clones’ demise since the clones themselves wouldn’t be around to demand justice. The Empire wasn’t seeking only to replace the clones, it was seeking to eliminate them; and since mass executions would attract far too much attention, the clones were instead being shuttled off to labor camps and prisons to die out of sight and out of mind.

            How many had died already that the Senate didn’t know about? How many more would die in three months?

            Riyo leaned forward over her podium, righteous indignation coloring her voice. “This cannot wait until the next session! The clones are in dire circumstances, they are dying! We need to help them now!”

            “Perhaps you should have thought of that when you decided to ignore the request to bring Dr. Karr to this meeting,” Senator Fimo’lya responded flatly.

            “A witness’s life is in danger, and rather than discuss ways to ensure her safety, you…” Riyo began heatedly; but she was interrupted.

            “This discussion is at an end. Senator Chuchi, you will yield the floor.”

            “But…!”

            Riyo suddenly found her microphone cut off as Senator Fimo’lya stubbornly pushed ahead. “The next item on the agenda…”

            Riyo sat down abruptly, barely registering her worried guards inquiring into her current physical state, as she realized there was no way the clones could win. They had been created to be expendable, and the Emperor and his Imperial lackeys would make sure they stayed that way. And while the clones had to fight tirelessly for the mere opportunity to potentially have their grievances heard, all Dumize had to do was set up a few obstacles and wait for the case to literally die.

            The clones were lost; she was lost; there was nothing more she could do…

            Rex’s face suddenly flashed across her mind, and she sat up a little straighter. After everything he had done for her, during the war and after… she couldn’t let him down. She thought of all the other clones, all of them who had sacrificed so much and only wanted a chance to live. She thought of the clones who had put everything on the line to help with this fight: Echo, Emerie, Howzer, Vik, Omega, Fel, countless others – she couldn’t let any of them down.

            She had to save them.

            Steadily, she stood and reached for the controls to guide the repulsorpod back to its docking port and exited the chamber, her guards following close behind.

            “Is everything alright, Senator?” Norash asked again.

            “Yes, I’m fine,” she replied calmly. “I need to send a message from my ship. Would you ask Tora to sweep for listening devices?”

            “Right away, Senator.”

            She continued through the Senate building, reviewing her next plans. She had three months to find concrete evidence regarding the administration’s dealings on Tantiss. How she would manage that, she did not know; but she had three months to exhaust all avenues. The priority now was to save the imprisoned clones. She had been hoping an investigation would be enough to prompt Admiral Dumize to, if not outright free the decommissioned clones, at least improve the conditions of the camps; but there was no time to wait. The men needed to escape, now. They might need to remain in hiding until the status for their existence was legally sorted out, but at least they would have a better chance at survival.

            She reached her ship and wasted no time initiating the secure transmission. Within moments, her transmission was received; and despite the disappointing news she had to share, her spirits rose at the sight of the captain’s thoughtful, open, determined face.

            “Captain Rex. Does your network have a plan for surveilling Farsi yet?” She had asked the underground to wait until Fel’s testimony had been publicized in the Senate before acting to gather more intel on the Farsi mines; the men, understanding the vital importance of Riyo maintaining at least some semblance of plausible deniability regarding prison breakouts, had readily agreed.

            “Yes, Riyo,” he replied. “Just waiting on you to give the go ahead.”  

            “You’ll need to move as soon as you can,” she said. “We need to get those men out of there, and we need to find the other labor camps. There is no time to lose.”

            Dumize, riding high on his victory over Riyo Chuchi, wanted to ignore the senator calling out to him as he left the Senate hearing; but when the man and his three guards were three feet away from him, he could no longer feign deafness.

            “Ah, Senator Dukata,” he said with a forced smile; though the senator didn’t return the greeting.

            “Admiral,” Dukata said, “you neglected to inform me that the Farsi mines are being worked by clones.”

            Internally, Dumize sneered; outwardly, he remained placid. “Does it matter?”

            Dukata apparently wasn’t interested in standing on ceremony; he let all his emotions – currently a mix of indignation and bemusement – show on his face. “Of course it matters! In case the Empire has forgotten, we stopped mining praxium because our mines are unsafe for organic lifeforms, and the cost for adequate air filters or, alternatively, droid upkeep became unsustainable during the war. That is the only reason why Farsi allowed the Empire to take over the mining operations. We were assured the investment would give Farsi enough time to recover economically before reassessing the situation with the mines.”

            “How does clone labor change any of that?” Dumize returned quizzically. “The praxium mines are yielding a profit, and Farsi’s economy is improving. The Empire is granting your planet a favor, Senator.”

            But Dukata wouldn’t back down. “And what are you going to do when you run out of clones? My people have heard the rumors about Tantiss. They thought the Empire was using droids in the mines. If they find out the Empire is still using people without granting any protection, they're going to think they'll be forced back into the mines again under the same conditions.”

            Dumize couldn’t help it. “You're up for reelection soon, aren't you?”

            “What does that have to do with anything?”

            Dukata looked genuinely confused; given this, Dumize decided to drop the insinuations and instead return to the main point. “Senator, the mines are under military control. They are no longer your concern.”

            “They are very much my concern,” Dukata countered. “I represent the people of Farsi, and if they discover conditions in the mines are as poor as Senator Chuchi claims, they will protest.”

            Dumize very nearly scoffed outright - any protest could be put down in short order. Besides, while the Empire needed praxium, planets like Jorbeth and Dilo IV mined sufficient amounts to go on with already and didn't have problems with underground toxic gas pockets, either. No; for the Empire, the praxium mines on Farsi were merely a stepping stone to gaining control of the much more lucrative darbinium deposits. Farsi had astutely written off their praxium mines as not affording sufficient return on investment during the war, yet they had gladly accepted the Empire's offer to restart the mines and, with it, had allowed the Empire to infiltrate and build a substantial military presence that they otherwise would have protested.

            But he remembered the warnings he had received when he had made his proposal for the Farsi mines to be manned with clones, and these warnings gave him pause. Moff Viliay had made it very clear Farsi had enough powerful allies that any action taken without their consent would lead to drastic negative consequences for the Empire. If the Emperor's agenda was to be advanced in a timely manner without undue complications, angering the Venetay Consortium must be avoided at this juncture. And that meant not alienating Senator Dukata or the Farsi people.

            In many ways, this scenario reminded him of the difficulties he was running into in dealing with the clone problem, and he groaned inwardly. He was getting tired of needing to play nice with politicians... But if all went well, soon the Emperor would have enough undisputed control that the military wouldn't need to concern themselves over inconveniences like public opinion.

            “That recording was either a fabrication or a conspiracy,” Dumize asserted now. “Senator Chuchi visited the mines and had no complaints to make herself.”

            Dukata stubbornly shook his head. “The senator told me she wasn't allowed in the mines themselves, only in the surface level buildings. Besides, she wouldn't know what to look for in a praxium mine. And the military hasn't allowed any administrators from Farsi anywhere near the mines since acquiring them.”

            Dumize gave a long-suffering sigh. “I really don’t know what you expect me to do, Senator. I suppose I can discontinue the mining operations and assign the clones to work elsewhere, but I am not sure what effect that would have on the progress your economy has made…” He trailed off delicately, waiting for Dukata to interject and say that such action was unnecessary; but the senator simply studied him silently, leaving Dumize feeling rather awkward.

            “What I expect you to do, Admiral,” Dukata finally said, “is ensure the complaints made in that recording are indeed false. Because the people of Farsi will be watching the situation closely; and if it is discovered that the situation is even half as dire as that clone worker claimed, Farsi and all its allies will back Senator Chuchi in her demands for justice for the clones.”

            “Of course, Senator,” Dumize managed to say coolly before the senator strode away; though internally he was seething.

            He had left the Senate hearing assured of his success in averting an inquiry that would garner sympathy for the clones and lay bare Imperial secrets that must be kept hidden at all costs; but now, because of one imbecilic clone, the situation was still threatening to spiral out of his control. He would not let that happen.

            The camps and prisons would continue as they were, and the clones would cease to be a problem long before the next Senate session took place.

            He would make sure of it.

Chapter Text

            Cody, hearing the ships passing overhead, looked toward the sky and spotted four Lambda-class shuttles on approach to land outside the eastern wall of the town. He suppressed a sigh. The man beside him, however, didn’t try to hide his distaste.

            “Again?” Torpin muttered. “They already established a garrison here, why do they keep randomly sending extra troops?”

            Cody said nothing, simply started making his way home. When the Imperials had first arrived here a month ago, more than two months after Cody had arrived, he had toyed with the idea of leaving, trying to find another planet like Sorgan with no Imperial presence, but had ultimately decided to stay – at least for now. With his hair now grown longer and a trim beard obscuring most of his face, the people here on Saleenas hadn’t mentioned once how much he looked like a clone; the Imperial garrison was primarily stationed in the larger capital town on the other side of the planet; and the few patrols who came through the small town hadn’t given him a second glance. He just needed to keep his head down, not get involved, and stay out of sight. Besides, as he had learned on Sorgan, Imperials could show up anywhere at any time. What was the point of leaving?

            Bits and pieces of whispered conversations, news flying like wildfire of the Imperials who had just landed, met his ears as he wended his way through the cobblestone maze of streets to his home on the northwestern side of the town. The homes were all built connected to each other, long single-story rows with individual abodes delineated only by doors and front windows set at regular intervals. Perhaps the uniformity was what made Cody feel so inclined to stay here on Saleenas as long as he could: not only did it remind him of the simplicity of the early days before the war, but it also aided him in being able to blend in so well despite the Imperials.

            If the whispers he was hearing now had any basis in fact, however, he might not be able to blend in much longer.

            According to those who had seen the Imperials disembarking, an Inquisitor was here, following up on a rumor that a Jedi was on Saleenas. Cody knew better: there was no Jedi here. Visitors there might be aplenty on the planet, but he was the only newcomer to take up residence in this town since before the war had ended.

            But then he remembered the rumors he had heard trickling in from other planets: the Emperor had expanded to seeking out anyone who might be able to use the Force the way the Jedi had, whether that person had been trained by the Jedi or not.

            And, with a start, Cody realized he knew exactly who the target would be here.           

            All thoughts of keeping his own head down had long since gone by the time he passed the door to his house and continued up the street. He had thought it would be enough to leave the military, to refuse to follow questionable orders. He had thought he could live with himself if he didn’t do anything himself that would bring harm to others. That was why he had eventually decided to stay on his own rather than seek out other clones, after all: he couldn't risk contributing to any of his brothers getting caught, and their survival currently relied on scattering. But now he knew the only way he could live with himself was if he did do something, anything to help these people who were being hunted down on the orders of a paranoid psychopath who somehow wasn't satisfied with the murder of tens of thousands of Jedi. For some reason the Emperor wanted all Force wielders who weren’t completely under his control to be eradicated; and Cody wouldn’t stand for it.

            He wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

            Cody had betrayed his Jedi, shot down one of his best friends in cold blood. He had tried to make up for this betrayal in some small way by helping the Jedi on Sorgan, but he had failed – and even if he had succeeded, would saving one Jedi be enough? No. He had to do more. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t let this individual fall into the Inquisitor’s hands, not if he could help it.

            Stopping at the home two doors up from his, he rapped smartly on the door. Within moments, the door opened to reveal the politely puzzled face of his Nogratu neighbor.

            "Yes? Oh, hello, Colby,” the woman greeted him, before frowning slightly – perhaps due to the expression on Cody’s face. “Is something wrong?"

            Cody wasted no time. "More troopers just landed right outside town, and they brought an Inquisitor with them this time."

            She blinked, her brow furrowed in worry. "Oh, well, thank you for the news..."

            "They're coming for Dyson."

            She paled, but managed to keep both her composure and her slightly puzzled expression. "What would they want with Dyson?"

            Cody shook his head, lowering his voice but speaking more forcefully. "Come on, Leena, I've only been here a few months and I can tell there's something special about him. If I can tell, others who have been here for years can tell, and so can an Inquisitor."

            By now, Leena seemed to forget to feign ignorance, and her eyes widened in terror. "You don't really think anyone would..."

            "I don't know." The people seemed accepting enough - they hadn't turned him in, after all, hadn’t even made a single insinuation of his background - but people would do things they never thought they would when they were facing a blaster, more so a lightsaber. "What I do know is that an Inquisitor is here, and they don't come unless they believe their information is good."

            "What can we do?” Leena asked, wringing her hands. “They won't let anyone leave until the search is over. We can't escape."

            "Well, you can't stay here,” Cody replied decisively as he made up his mind. “Come on, I'll hide you all."

            She hesitated, nodded, turned to re-enter her home, then just as abruptly turned back. “Max isn’t home, he’s at work…”

            “We’ll worry about Max later. Right now we need to get you and your children safe.”    

            She nodded again, less hesitantly this time, and grabbed his hand to draw him inside so she could shut the door while making her preparations. “Shohna! Dyson!” she called out as she hurried into the kitchen.

            “What’s going on, Mama?” Shohna, Leena’s oldest child who was about eleven years old, wandered into the front room and stared openly at Cody.

            “Soldiers are coming, and they aren’t nice soldiers,” the mother said. “I’ll explain more later. Oh, Dyson, there you are. Wait with your sister by the door. Colby is going to help us.”

            The worried tension exuding from Leena was apparently enough to make her children realize this was not the time to question their mother, and they silently obeyed.

            Cody nodded solemnly at the children, his gaze lingering on Dyson, the eight-year-old boy currently clutching a stuffed meelur toy and watching his mother hurry through the house. Cody felt a wave of indignant fury toward the Emperor and the Inquisitors rise within him. This child knew less about the Force than even Cody did, and certainly didn’t know how to use it – he wouldn’t even be able to defend himself. And there was next to no one left who could teach the child how to use the Force as the Jedi had – Cody and the other clones had made sure of that. Yet this child was being hunted on the orders of the galaxy’s top ruler himself. Why?

            Leena hurried back to them, carrying a sack with a few extra clothes, a couple of toys, and some snacks. Cody didn’t even realize he had raised an eyebrow until he caught Leena’s flat look.

            “You’ve never had to keep children completely quiet for any length of time, have you?” she remarked.

            “No, ma’am,” he admitted, before putting a finger to his lips and turning to open the door. He ensured that the street was clear with no nosy neighbors peeking through the windows, then hustled them to his own abode.

            The home, with its front room, kitchen/dining area, and three bedrooms, was rather larger than Cody knew what to do with; yet despite the size, there wasn’t much in the way of good hiding places, especially since Cody only kept the bare essentials. No way to conceal anyone under the table; no space under the beds; no furnishings or extra crates to duck behind; nothing in the closets to hide the family even if they could all fit – and Cody knew better than to try to split them up. The relatively small basement that served as a pantry and storage space was their best option, especially since the staircase offered at least some sort of coverage; and without further ado, Cody opened the hatch on the floor and gestured to Leena. “In here. Stay in the shadows, out of sight of the opening. And keep as quiet as you can.”

            It was a huge risk to trust him, he knew – and he saw in her eyes that she was having doubts. He had largely kept to himself in the months he was here, quietly going about his work in the meat factory, never socializing beyond learning the names of the townspeople and cordially greeting the neighbors who happened to pass by. But the tromp of Imperial troopers making their way through this quiet residential section of town was enough to convince the mother to take a leap of faith; and with a nod, she hustled her children down the steps, with Cody closing the hatch behind them.

            He considered rearranging the room, but quickly realized it might seem more suspicious if he arranged furniture over a hatch that most residents would enter at least once daily. There was nothing more he could do at the moment. And so he sat in the single chair near the table, and waited.

            It was with the same eerie sense of resigned calm he had been accustomed to feeling in the lead up to a battle that he now listened to the troopers drawing closer, listened to the loud rap on a door less than a hundred feet away, listened to the door being forced open, listened to a loud, clear, impatient voice demand, “Search every home. Find them. I will wait near the ship yard in case they try to make a run for it. The family isn’t important, but we must find the boy.”

            He indulged in a sigh of relief that the Inquisitor wasn't going door to door - if the Inquisitor decided to read minds, they were all done for - but remained on alert as he heard the muffled commands for the troopers to split up and begin the search. He heard some soldiers knock at the house next door, breaking in to that house as well when the tenants didn't answer. And still he sat and waited, waited as the footsteps on the other side of the thick wall left the neighboring house and approached his door...

            The face of the unnamed Jedi who had sacrificed herself on Sorgan dominated his thoughts as the sharp rapping on his door cued him to stand and approach the entrance. He wished he could wear a helmet to ensure his expressions remained concealed - but no, armor would give away his identity almost as quickly as his own face did, and he hadn't worn his armor in months.

            He hit the control panel, and the door slid open to reveal a pair of TK troopers. Keeping his expression level, he asked, "Can I help you?"

            "Name, citizen," one of the troopers demanded gruffly.

            "Colby Sconderi."

            The other trooper, the uniform and helmet rendering him identical to his partner in every way aside from being slightly shorter, had tilted his head, and now spoke slowly with suspicion dripping from every word, "You look like a clone."

            Cody sighed. "Yeah, I get that a lot," he replied with the slightest hint of exasperation.

            The trooper was still suspicious, but didn’t press the matter. "Is there anyone else in the house with you?"

            "No, sir."

            The "sir" did the trick nicely: both troopers now seemed more at ease, and the other trooper spoke again. "We're looking for the Tamm family. Man, woman, two children. Have you seen them?"

            Cody raised his eyebrows. "Well, they are my neighbors. That's their house two doors down, right?"

            "That's right."

            "Yeah, nice family. Weird kid, though. Anyway, I haven't seen them recently. Heard they left the planet a few days ago, went on a trip of some sort. Visiting a sister somewhere, or something."

            It was taking more effort than he had bargained for to walk the fine line between dropping casual details, which would make him seem cooperative, and sharing too much "information," which would make him seem suspicious. Rarely had he needed to do this kind of thing when facing down droids. Still, he kept his expression even, and the troopers didn't seem overly wary.

            "We're going to need to search your house," the shorter trooper said now.

            "By all means," Cody said cordially, stepping aside and waving them into the house.

            Perhaps it was because he was successfully convincing them he had nothing to hide, perhaps it was the bare set up of the home that made clear he had nowhere to hide anything even if he wanted to, perhaps it was a combination of factors; either way, the soldiers' inspection of the house was almost casual, and Cody had just started to hope when...

            "What do you keep through here?" the taller TK asked, pointing to the hatch in the floor.

          "Oh, that's for storage," Cody replied as he sauntered casually to the controls, desperately hoping Leena was hearing all this and was aware of the impending danger. "All the homes have them. There's not much down there," he continued as he pressed the button to open the door, "but if you need to take a look..."

            The trooper glanced disinterestedly into the well-lit basement, considered the sparsely laden shelves built into the walls and the two bags of meal on the floor for all of two seconds, and shrugged. "All clear here."

            “Is there anything else I can do for you?” Cody asked, itching to close the hatch immediately but recognizing the vital importance of continuing to play it cool.

            “If you see that family again, report it immediately,” the other trooper put in. “Contact the garrison in Saleenia City.”

            “Of course,” Cody nodded, only now hitting the panel to close the door to the basement. He let the troopers see themselves out, waiting until the door had closed behind them before walking steadily back to the table and nearly collapsing into the chair.

            He waited almost an hour before he dared to venture outside, casually standing in the doorway surveying the street for a few minutes as if he didn’t have a care in the world. The street was mostly deserted; no troopers remained, and only one or two nearby residents dared to peer out their windows. It wasn’t until Moshan came walking along the road, evidently coming from the marketplace, that Cody nodded solemnly to the neighbor and ducked back inside the house. He opened the hatch to the storage room and walked down the stairway to the basement, taking the precaution of closing the hatch behind him, before he spoke.

            “I think they’ve gone, but I’m going to go to the market square to check. I’ll see if I can find your husband while I’m there.” Leena’s frightened face peeked around the back of the staircase as he continued, “You can use the refresher upstairs if you absolutely have to, but I recommend you stay hidden for now. Once we know everything is clear, we can work on getting you off world.”

            “Where can we go?” Leena asked fearfully. Dyson poked his head out from his hiding place, just as quickly disappearing again.

            “I know a few places,” Cody said noncommittally. Really, he wasn’t convinced about any of the planets he had in mind – a trained Jedi would have managed on a planet like Merialis, but an inexperienced young family…?

            “Thank you for your help, Colby,” the Nogratu said now, interrupting Cody’s thoughts. “I don’t know how we can ever repay you.”

            Cody shook his head as he made to ascend the stairs. “Don’t mention it. Just make sure you aren’t caught now. I’ll be back soon.”  

            He took the long way to the market square, intrepidly looping around by the ship yard to ensure the Inquisitor was no longer there before heading toward the shop where he knew Max worked. Despite there being no sign of any additional troops or Inquisitors, the atmosphere in the town remained tense, with far fewer pedestrians, conversations taking place in muted tones and several businesses closing much earlier than usual.

            He reached the housewares shop, relieved to see it was still open, and walked in to find the octogenarian who still owned the store sitting at the counter. This was unusual - Gerri Tualu never worked the counter anymore; he hired other people - like Leena's husband - to do it.

            "Well whaddaya know, it's Colby," Gerri called out when he spotted Cody.

            "Evening, Gerri," Cody greeted the other as he approached the counter. "Where's Max? I thought he was working today."

            "Max?" Gerri hedged. "Nah, Max and his family went on a trip a few days ago. Didn't you know? Aren't you neighbors?"

            Cody vacillated for a moment – he wasn’t sure who to trust, but a story like this definitely sounded like Gerri was covering for his employee. Realizing there was little reason for Gerri to have somehow – miraculously – come up with the same sort of tale Cody had told the troopers unless he was trying to keep Max safe, Cody took the leap. "Yeah, I told the troopers the same thing. Thing is, Max's family is now wondering if Max took a trip with the Imperials."

            Gerri peered intently at Cody through his thick-lensed spectacles before abruptly hopping off the chair he was perched on. The shop owner might have once been average height for a human male, but age had shaved a good four inches off his height, to where he almost disappeared behind the counter when he wasn't seated on the high stool. He soon reappeared at Cody's side.

            "Those troopers might be gone now, but better safe than sorry," he whispered. "Come with me."

            Cody obeyed, following Gerri into a small office in the back of the store. He was momentarily startled when the old man locked the door behind them, before deciding he had very little to fear from the wizened shop owner.

            "I take it you made sure Max's family is safe?" Gerri now said in a business-like tone as he sat on a low sofa and gestured to Cody to take another chair.

            Cody nodded. "And I take it you made sure Max is safe."

            "Of course." Gerri turned toward another door. "Max, you can come out now."

            The Nogratu slowly emerged from what appeared to be a supply closet, looking wary and almost on the verge of tears. Gerri appeared to notice this and said gently, "Colby made sure your family was hidden."

            "They're safe, Max," Cody said. He was going to say more, but was interrupted by his neighbor launching forward to shake his hand.

            "Thank you, thank you," Max repeated, tears now brimming in his eyes. Cody, unsure how to handle this level of gratitude, remained silent but allowed Max to continue shaking his hand, until Gerri took pity on him

            "He gets the point, Max. Go to the back and get some food. This isn't over yet, and you'll need your strength."

            With one last thank you, Max complied. Cody watched him go, waiting until the door had closed behind him before he spoke again.

            "I'm surprised the Inquisitor left before turning this town inside out to find them."

            Gerri shrugged. "Uncanny that you and I both gave the same story about them being off on a trip. That's probably why the Imps figured that was the real story. They'll be back, though; that Inquisitor is expecting the Tamms to return."

            Cody nodded. "I know. I wouldn't be surprised if they left some sort of surveillance device in the house." He sighed. "Which is why I have to get them off world for good."

            Gerri stared. "You just moved here a few months ago. You barely know these people."

            Cody stared back, puzzled by the observation. "So?" When Gerri didn't respond, Cody pressed on. "Anyway, I have to get back. Tell Max he can't go home under any circumstances. Tell him to meet me at my ship tomorrow morning, 0500." Cody couldn't get them out tonight - if anyone left the planet too soon after an inspection like this, it would rouse suspicion. The Imperials believed the Tamms were off world. They had to keep believing that.

            With nothing else to say, Cody rose and made for the door, deciding to stop by one of the food vendors on his way back home to get dinner for the family. The kids couldn’t be expected to be satisfied the entire night with the few snacks Leena had brought…

            "I was a contact for Quinlan Vos for years, during the war too." Cody stopped short in surprise, and heard Gerri give a soft snort of amusement behind him. "Figured most clones would have heard that name before."

            At this last remark, Cody did turn around, and Gerri laughed outright. "Oh come on, you should have realized that every resident here knows full well you're a clone, but has anyone said anything? Don't worry. We look out for each other here - not sure about the capital or the other towns, but here in Saleen, we've got each other's backs.”

            “Then how did an Inquisitor know about Dyson Tamm?” Cody asked almost coldly.

            Gerri shook his head. “Wasn’t any of us who told. The Jedi came to ask for Dyson to join them, oh, maybe five, six years ago. Leena and Max said no. The Empire must be looking at any records the Jedi kept of these kids. Anyway,” he continued as Cody absorbed this information, “as I was saying about Quinlan - he came to me a few months after the war ended..."

            "Quinlan Vos survived?" Cody spluttered in shock.

            "I'd be more surprised if he hadn't, to be honest. Man has five hundred lives. Anyway, Quinlan came to me to ask if I could help with some sort of process or pathway he was setting up to get people like him – Jedi – to safety. He needed someone to man a waypoint here, to help get people through this sector safely.  I would have helped - I wanted to help - but I'm old, slow, and mostly blind."

            "You're telling me this, why?"

            Gerri snorted again. "You already know why. You should do it. You have a ship, you can pilot, but most importantly, you have a good head on your shoulders and an iron will and even experience with combat and concealment. The people here look out for each other, but I can guarantee if anyone else had tried to hide Leena and the children, they would have been caught. No one's going to tattle on anyone, not if they can help it; but no one else would have a clue how to help with a job like this, not like you do."

            Cody frowned. "Why would you ask me?"

            "I just told you."

            "But... I'm a clone."

            "So?" Gerri said, and Cody couldn’t miss the subtle reference to the reply he himself had given the old man earlier.

            "I..." The panicked terror of the unnamed Jedi upon recognizing Cody was a clone came to mind. He couldn't blame her for her reaction: three words uttered, and his kind had killed her kind without a second thought. Now, the fact that Leena had trusted him at all struck him as doubly remarkable: not only had he been a relative stranger telling her to hide with her kids in his basement, but he was one of the clones, who were known to have killed people like Dyson.

            He didn’t need to finish his sentence; Gerri knew where he was going with his train of thought. "Well, whatever you did then, you aren't doing it now, are you?" the old man interjected, waving his hand almost impatiently. "And you want to help, don't you?"

            "Yes," Cody admitted in a low voice. Yes, he very much wanted to help. He had already planned out an escape route from his home to his ship months ago when he had first arrived, should he ever need it. And now, almost against his own better judgment, he found himself already considering that he could start "renting out" the extra rooms he had no need for, as cover for the visitors he might bring in...

            "Like I said, I'm old and slow and can't help with much at all, but I can give you clearance codes that will get you on and off this planet without being questioned by the Imperials. And I know a place where you can take the Tamms, and the name of someone you can leave them with."

            Cody stood still, staring at the shop owner, fully understanding the even greater danger he – a deserter – would be putting himself in if he agreed…

            “Tell me about this contact,” he said.

Chapter Text

            Tech settled back on the bench in the back yard of his new home, lifting his gaze momentarily to the view of the ocean beyond before returning his attention to the datapad he had taken from the medical center. The Imperial files he had downloaded onto the datapad had become unreadable ever since leaving the hospital, given that the pad was now off the Imperial network. Of course, this made the data of very little use to anyone; and so, Tech had been working on decrypting the files in his spare time. The work was fairly simple – for him – but it was tedious and time-consuming. Still, he should be able to finish tonight.

            He had been here on Pabu for almost two weeks, spending the first few days settling in, growing accustomed to the modest but roomy cabin that had become his family’s home, slowly being filled in on events he had missed and sharing the few experiences he had had after waking. Rex had needed to leave for another mission the day after the rescue, but Echo had decided to stay for a while. Many things were different, but his family was still his family; and adjusting to the new dynamic, far from being overwhelming, had been pleasant, because he was home.

            He hadn’t seen Phee until three days after his return to Pabu, when Shep and the other residents had hosted a feast to welcome him home. She had found him when the feast was already well underway, and, sitting down in the recently vacated chair next to him, had said without preamble, “You know, Tech, when you last left Pabu, I warned you against running off with pirates or smugglers. I didn’t think I’d need to warn you against running off with mad scientists.”

            Tech’s heart had skipped a few beats when he had seen her approaching, informing him that he did indeed still have feelings for her that might run deeper than he had ever admitted aloud; but since she had started the conversation, he had quickly regained his composure. “I didn’t run off with anyone. It would be more accurate to say I fell into Hemlock’s hands,” he had offhandedly pointed out.

            A resident named Yani who was sitting nearby had let out a strangled snort, almost choking on her drink right after his pronouncement. He had wondered why Yani had then looked at him guiltily before Wrecker drew her attention, but hadn’t pondered over the matter for long: Phee had chuckled slightly while rolling her eyes, and had said, “Good to see you kept your unique sense of humor.”

            “I was merely stating a fact,” Tech had corrected.

            “Of course you were,” Phee had agreed with a smile.

            “Thank you for your assistance with my rescue,” Tech had ventured after a short pause. “I had thought I would see you to express my gratitude as soon as we reached Pabu.”

            “I figured you should have a few days just to settle in with your family, get adjusted, without dealing with a bunch of other visitors,” she had shrugged casually. “Now that I see you’re coping well with all of this” – gesturing to the crowd of happy, celebrating residents – “I’ll stop by more often. In fact,” she winked with a cocky smile, “you’re going to have a hard time getting rid of me.”

            “Why would I want to get rid of you?” Tech had asked with a puzzled frown. “I was under the impression we are friends.” She had said as much before, after all. Then again, he had been presumed dead for well over a year, and perhaps things had changed…

            Phee’s eyes had softened, an expression he remembered well from some of their previous discussions together, and his heart had picked up speed again as she had leaned forward to rest her hand on his arm. “Yes, we are. And with that still being the case, guess I’ll be visiting you every day now.” A hint of amusement had lit her face. “Just remember, you asked for it.”

            Tech had tilted his head in bemusement, caught between observing that he had not, in fact, asked for it, and admitting he would be looking forward to her visits; and in the silent pause as he debated what to say, she had chuckled lightly as she had patted his shoulder and stood, stepping away to make room for Omega, who had just come dashing up to Tech to bring him a plate of food.

            Phee had been true to her word, visiting him every day since then; and Tech had been pleasantly surprised to note that falling back into their old friendship was quite as natural as reestablishing his relationships with his siblings.

            If only adjusting to himself could be as natural.

            According to the tidbits of information he had been able to piece together from the records he had discovered from Tantiss, after Dr. Hemlock had insisted on accompanying Tarkin's team and recovered Tech's body on Eriadu, the scientist had ordered extensive bacta baths for him, completed skin grafts and other necessary surgeries to heal fractured bones and injuries to multiple internal organs - injuries far too numerous to name, and ultimately inserted the spinal implants when the emergency treatments didn't fully heal his spinal cord. Somehow, Tech hadn't sustained any permanent brain damage: his helmet had done a decent enough job protecting his brain, though the helmet and his goggles crumpling on impact had left quite a few scars on his face. But even after all these procedures had been complete, Tech still had to be kept on life support and had been kept in storage until Hemlock could prioritize... well, whatever experiments he intended to use Tech for. 

            Tech remembered none of this, of course. If Hemlock hadn't been saving him for some diabolical scheme, Tech might even be grateful to the scientist for going to such lengths to restore him. But, while Tech was happy to be alive especially now that he was reunited with his family, he felt nothing but disdain for Hemlock and the Imperials who, like the Kaminoans, had considered him to be nothing more than a science project. Hemlock had wanted to preserve Tech only to enslave him, and Tech would never, ever forget this fact.

            And, alive though he may be, he still had to come to terms with the reality that he would very likely never again live and function normally – at least, what he had always considered to be normal. 

            He hadn’t found any need to ponder this fact very much while he was in captivity – he had been far too invested in the higher priority of finding his family and somehow, someway, escaping. Now that he had achieved both of those objectives, however, he was left with too much time to recognize the extent of his physical limitations.

            He had always been self-confident, not only in his intellectual capabilities but also his physical abilities as a highly-trained soldier. He and his squad had always been at high risk for decommissioning, and his brain power alone wouldn't have saved him if he had had any other physical deficiencies beyond the need for visual correction - that defect alone had very nearly been enough to warrant immediate decommissioning. Of course, he wasn't at the Kaminoans' mercy anymore. Nor was he at the mercy of the Empire - and even the Imperials had apparently considered his genius alone enough to warrant preserving him. His mind was still fully intact; he didn’t need to reach his prior level of physical capabilities as well.

            But… he wanted to. At the very least, he wanted to be able to walk again – perhaps not for as long or as quickly as he used to be able to, but at least be able to walk somewhere.

            He couldn't complain. At any rate, his residual injuries weren't nearly as extensive as Echo's. He didn't have cybernetic implants burrowed through his skull, or electronic pulses permanently wired throughout his entire body, or clunky metal prosthetics replacing limbs. 

            Of course, since his injuries were nothing like Echo's, it also meant he wasn't quite sure how to fix himself. He had extensively studied prosthetics and cybernetic theory as it applied to cyborgs in order to best help Echo as needed once the ARC trooper had joined the squad, and his efforts had seemed to pay off with his brother eventually reporting far less pain and displaying ever improving mobility skills. But the treatments that should have helped him with his spinal cord injury had only made things worse, and he – well, after what Dr. Leman had put him through, he wasn’t exactly looking forward to trialing anything else.

            He shuddered at the recollection of Dr. Leman repeatedly testing the spinal implants over several days, the hardware sending what felt like fire coursing through not only every single peripheral nerve but also straight up his spinal column to his brain. He hadn't been able to formulate a coherent thought, hadn’t even been able to breathe while in such agony; he certainly wouldn't have been able to walk. Thank the Force or any other universal power that may exist that he had eventually succeeded in convincing Dr. Leman to discontinue testing the implants, even though she wouldn't be convinced to remove them altogether. If she had, perhaps he could have studied the implants further and figured out a way to improve them; though ultimately this may have been pointless. Dr. Leman wasn’t interested in surgeries, she never would trust him around any medical droid, and he could hardly perform spinal surgery on himself.

            The pain treatments hadn't been much better - all they had done was barely mute the pain while leaving his mind addled, and it hadn't taken long before he refused them too. On balance, he could handle the pain from the spasms and neuropathy better than he could handle the dampening of his mental faculties – if he couldn’t have his body, he insisted on at least having his own mind intact.

            He had been rather perplexed at first that Dr. Leman hadn’t protested this decision, until he had realized the doctor likely hadn’t cared much to investigate, beyond the most basic of treatments, how to help Tech regain his physical function. After all, keeping him physically limited only aided the goal of holding him captive; and the Empire had little use for his body anyway. What they had needed him for was his mind.

            Recently, some pain treatments suggested by AZI and the medically-trained female clone by the name of Emerie, whom Crosshair had introduced him to, had actually been helping – not by much yet, but it was a relief to not be in such constant discomfort. But neither Emerie nor AZI had specialized knowledge of implants such as those Hemlock had had inserted into Tech’s spine; and Tech knew he would need to tackle the problem himself.  

            Now, sitting in the backyard of his new home on Pabu, Tech switched the datapad he was holding to his left hand, idly stretching his right arm over his head before squeezing his hand into a fist a few times to get rid of the growing tingling sensation. The lingering effects of what he suspected to be a brachial plexus injury were minor, barely worth mentioning, especially compared to the spinal cord injury. At least the stretch injury hadn't been severe; his right arm was now very slightly weaker than his left, but casual observation would reveal no difference. The important thing was, he had enough upper body strength and dexterity that he could propel his own wheelchair most places on his own now.

            He could have constructed himself a repulsorlift chair, of course, especially now that he had free access to components that Dr. Leman had denied him; but he wanted – no, he needed the exercise of propelling his own chair. Still, it hadn’t quite registered before just how steep the hills were here on Pabu until he now found himself chairbound. And with how many times his siblings had needed to help him up some of the hills, he was starting to wonder if he should give in and use a higher-tech chair. It might be more practical; it was rather ridiculous that he was so loath to make the switch. And yet, he knew wouldn’t be able to do everything he wanted to do in a repulsorlift chair either.

            He glanced at his wheelchair now, sitting mere inches away where he had left it when he had transferred himself to the bench, and frowned at it stubbornly. He might be confined to a chair, but he wasn’t going to be confined to the same chair all the time.

            He wanted to get better, wanted to believe he could get better. He was now with his family, people who would stop at nothing to acquire any equipment he might need to function more normally. And he was nearly certain that if he could figure out how to fix the spinal implants, not only would the spasms subside, he might even be able to walk a little bit. While in captivity he had set the problem aside to be addressed if he was ever able to escape, but now he had ample time to consider the problem and two medical staff who, while not having extensive experience with spinal implants in particular, would still be more than willing to help.

            And so, for the past two weeks, he had been considering the problem. But for the first time in his life, he thought he might fail. He had been so confident, so sure he could help Echo when the ARC trooper had first joined them - and he had succeeded. But it was… different… to try to fix someone else's long-term health problems compared to tackling his own.

            What if he couldn’t fix this?

            Moreover, he was afraid of failing, not because of how disappointed he would be if he didn’t succeed, but because he couldn’t stand the thought of disappointing his family. Again.

            All that time they had thought he was dead; and when they finally found him, he was broken.

            The back door opened, and Batcher bounded out just ahead of Crosshair, who was carrying a bowl of fruit. The lurca hound barked happily at the sight of Tech and ran over to him, plopping down heavily on the ground in front of him and resting her heavy head on his knees until he gave in and, with a small smile, offered her a few dutiful pats.

            Crosshair slid onto the bench next to him and held out the bowl of fruit. “Want some?”

            Tech glanced between the datapad in his left hand and the hound demanding constant attention from his right hand, and quickly made up his mind. Carefully laying the datapad down on the chair, he kept patting Batcher’s head while accepting a piece of fruit from Crosshair. “Thank you,” he told his brother.

            Crosshair nodded and silently took a piece himself.

            After a few moments, Batcher decided Tech had done his due diligence, and, with a yawn, slid her head off his lap and rearranged herself to curl up at his feet. Tech hid another smile as he took another bite of his fruit. He had always been fascinated by animals of all sorts – he had shared this fascination with Wrecker, though Wrecker tended to prefer domesticated types – and had entertained a curiosity since childhood of what it would be like to own a pet. Now he knew, and it was even more comforting and entertaining than he had imag…

            Batcher looked up at him with a small whine when the spasms kicked in, spasms that painfully bent his legs further under the bench. Tech braced himself on the bench, gritting his teeth with his mouth still full of fruit, refusing to make a noise, refusing to show any other sign of his discomfort.

            The spasms passed, and Tech slowly exhaled through his nose before swallowing his bite of fruit. Only then did he notice Crosshair staring openly at him, eyebrows raised but with worry evident in his eyes.

          “It’s okay to admit you’re in pain, you know,” Crosshair observed.

            Tech shook his head. “I’m fine. I’m not the one who was tortured for months and relieved of my hand.”

            Crosshair glanced down at his right arm stump before fixing Tech with an unimpressed scowl. “You were tortured for months. You’re also the one who fell to your death and was held prisoner for almost two years. And now you’re paralyzed, and it’s painful.”

            “I still have my mind,” Tech argued back mildly. “That’s enough…”

            Another wave of spasms interrupted him, and he quickly bit his lip, but not quickly enough to contain a muted yelp of agony. He closed his eyes – he didn’t want to witness Crosshair’s reaction – and when the worst of the pain subsided he opened his eyes to see Crosshair stepping through the doorway again, donning his right prosthetic hand with a small frown of concentration on his face.

            Before Tech could say anything, Crosshair had gently pushed Batcher out of the way and sat down on the ground in front of Tech, positioning himself so he could stretch and massage Tech’s left leg. It wasn’t until Crosshair proceeded to do the same with the right leg that Tech managed to speak.

            “I’ve intended to inspect your prosthetic hand.”

            Crosshair glanced up at him, one eyebrow raised. “Why?”

            “I’m sure there are ways to improve its comfort and functionality so you can wear it more often.”

            Crosshair slowly shook his head as he continued massaging the lingering cramps out of Tech’s lower leg. “It’s not that it doesn’t work. I don’t wear it because I need the reminder.”

            “Of what?”

            “That I’m more than what used to be my sniping hand.”

            Unsure how to respond to this, Tech elected to say nothing; and both of them remained silent while Crosshair finished one more stretch, then rose to sit next to Tech again on the bench. Batcher, who had been dozing, opened one eye and gazed lazily at them for a moment before closing it again, electing to remain where she was.  

            “Thank you,” Tech said sincerely. Both the stretching and the massage were helpful in reducing the pain that lingered after the spasms hit; unfortunately, Tech was currently limited in how effectively he could perform the stretches himself, and he didn’t like to ask his siblings to do it when they were doing so much for him already.

            Crosshair shrugged. “Phee asked Emerie if we should help you with the stretches.”

          “It does seem more effective when another person assists with them,” Tech found himself admitting, even as Crosshair’s remark adjusted Tech’s line of thought. “Where is Phee?” he asked now. She hadn’t visited yet today, and it was already late afternoon.

            “Somewhere plotting with Echo,” Crosshair said drily. “I think she’s decided to join Echo’s rebellion full time. I’ve never seen her so riled before you came back. If Hemlock wasn’t already dead, she’d hunt him down and kill him twice over. Pretty sure she’s just as upset that she didn’t know about Dr. Leman before leaving Coruscant, she would have hunted her down too.”

            Tech’s own disgust toward Dr. Hemlock and Dr. Leman aside, Crosshair’s comments didn’t track with what Tech remembered of Phee: she would defend herself, of course, but she never really sought out a fight. He frowned slightly. “Phee never struck me as the particularly violent type before.”  

            Crosshair rolled his eyes at Tech. “Exactly. She still isn’t. That’s the point.” A pause, then he added softly, “She cares about you, you know.”

            “Yes,” Tech replied somewhat stiffly due to the awkward nature of this topic, “I am… aware.” He was silent for a moment before continuing matter-of-factly, “I am also aware that you all care about me, which is fortuitous given that I now require more physical assistance and care than I ever thought I’d need.”

            Crosshair was staring intently at him now, eyebrows drawn close together. “Is that why you won’t talk about the pain? Because you think you’re a burden?”

            Crosshair could be surprisingly perceptive when he wanted to be, Tech mused. A candid observation like that called for a candid answer. “I don’t think I am. I know I am,” he said, nonchalant as he always was when stating the obvious.

            Crosshair fell silent, turning away and staring out across the yard. Tech was grateful that the subject was closed. He knew his family wanted him to talk about it, knew Echo in particular wanted him to talk about it; but Tech wouldn’t, not about this. In most cases, sharing all known information was crucial to achieving a desired outcome. This, however, was one topic where talking would change nothing.

            He now heard the front door open, heard Wrecker entering the house and Hunter now exiting his bedroom, heard the two brothers talking to each other, their conversation not quite loud enough to be intelligible. And still Crosshair and Tech sat silently next to each other on the bench, staring out at the ocean beyond the low backyard wall.

            “Crosshair?” Wrecker’s voice called out. “You here? I’m about to make dinner, I could use a hand.”

            Tech’s lips quirked up – Wrecker frequently asked for Crosshair’s help in the kitchen, insisting the sniper was the best at food prep despite Crosshair predictably grumbling about it every time. Now, Crosshair idly checked that his prosthetic hand was still attached properly as he stood with a weary sigh. Before he went inside, however, he paused, turning halfway toward Tech and then fixing his gaze on the ground.

            “You’re more than a number, Tech,” Crosshair said in a low voice. “You’re worth more than what you can or can’t do.” And he quickly entered the house, leaving Tech staring after him, wondering what could have elicited this remark.

            He was still staring at the doorway when Hunter appeared a few moments later, selecting the slightly narrower bench positioned opposite of Tech’s and nodding toward the house. Tech, guessing that Hunter had heard at least part of the conversation, waited for him to speak first.

            “Before Crosshair defected from the Empire,” Hunter said now, “a reg named Mayday befriended him, saved his life a few times. Mayday was a good soldier and a great brother, but when he got injured, the commanding officer just let him die.”

            Tech turned to look at the door through which Crosshair had recently disappeared. “He didn’t tell me about that,” he said slowly as understanding dawned.

            “He didn’t tell any of us about it for a long, long time,” Hunter replied.

            So that was why Crosshair was so bothered by the idea that Tech realized how much of a burden his physical limitations were placing on the family: Crosshair knew how easily clones were discarded by the Empire when they were no longer considered useful. But Tech wasn’t overly concerned about his uselessness meaning he would be discarded by his family or left behind; he was concerned about how much he was holding them back, how much they would give up to stay behind with him. And if the knowing look Hunter was now giving him was anything to go by, Hunter had overhead Tech’s remarks about being a burden and had misinterpreted them as Crosshair had.  

            “I know none of you would ever do that to me. As I told Crosshair, I know you all care. I’m not trying to garner sympathy,” he said tersely, his hands tightly gripping the edge of the bench as he considered how best to get his point across.

            Hunter chuckled lightly as he shook his head. “Yeah, that’s the problem.”

            This was not the direction Tech had anticipated this discussion would go. “Explain,” he demanded.

            “You’re so determined to not be a burden, you won’t ask anyone for help.”

            His brothers really did like stating the obvious – while still not answering the question. “I fail to see how that is a problem.”

            “Has it ever crossed your mind that maybe we want to help? Why would accepting it be such a bad thing?”

          Tech fell silent as he turned this response over in his mind, trying again to organize his thoughts in a way he could accurately explain them…

            For some reason, the recollection of that fateful day on Eriadu sprang to mind. He vividly remembered dangling beneath the rail car, staring up at Wrecker and Omega, acutely aware of the impossible situation they had landed themselves in with blaster fire flying in all directions and more Imperial vessels incoming and the broken rail car that was their only viable escape option sliding ever further off the track. He vividly remembered considering all the variables, concluding what must be done, pulling his blaster as he realized not a single one of his siblings would ever do what he was asking them to do, aiming his blaster as he knew he had to shoot the connecting strut himself. He remembered the momentary panic that had risen against his will, bile in his throat – he couldn’t do it, his survival instincts were roaring at him, he couldn’t bring himself to sever his last frail connection to life… And he remembered the resigned resolve that overwhelmed his panic, as he accepted that either everyone else could live, or no one would live – and his need for them to live drowned out his own illogical need to stay connected to a falling rail car.

            He remembered that he had accepted his death as he had pulled the trigger on the blaster. And he also remembered what his last flicker of conscious thought had been before waking up months later in the medical wing: the thought that while he accepted his inevitable death, there was still a slim chance he might survive.

            He had been prepared to die. He had even been prepared to survive. He had NOT been prepared to survive like this.

            He was grateful to be alive, to know that his sacrifice had paid off and his family and friends were also alive and well. But his sacrifice for them shouldn’t mean they had to make sacrifices for him.

            He wanted to help Omega fix the dilapidated second-hand ship they had recently acquired and fine tune her flying skills. He wanted to help Wrecker and Crosshair with the cooking and fishing – without needing to remodel the entire kitchen so his chair would fit. He wanted to join Hunter and the others with the missions they took on to help Rex and the clone underground network. He wanted to help Shep improve the emergency ladder system and the roads leading down to the docks. He wanted to help Phee with her artifact acquisition travels, to be able to stand and talk to her on her level rather than her needing to stoop down to his. Most of all, he wanted to help Echo save the rest of the clones, just as Echo had helped save him and everyone else on the squad.

            Some of these things he could find a way to do in a wheelchair if he had to; but many things he could not. The worst part of all, though, was that his family was already limiting the activities they did because they were worried about him.

            He would try to fix this, but he couldn’t go on assuming he would inevitably improve. The chances of failure were too high. And if he did remain chairbound, he wouldn’t allow his family to get used to giving up what they wanted to do just to accommodate him.

            “I want to be useful, Hunter,” he said, still trying to put all these thoughts into words.

            Hunter outright snorted. “Tech, you are useful. You managed to work up a plan for planetary shields and revamp the entire power grid with its limited resources in two days to make the shields work. Prima and Jaxon had been working on that problem for months.”

            Tech shook his head stubbornly. “I was only able to do that because Wrecker carried me around everywhere, and Omega and Deke tagged along to reach all the places I couldn’t.” He sighed. “I can’t help with any of your missions while I’m like this. I’ll only be a liability. And I know that as long as I am physically incapable of traveling with you, you’ll give up your plans and stay behind with me.”

            Hunter tilted his head thoughtfully before he replied. “You know, as a squad, we always relied on each other’s strengths to cover our weaknesses. I don’t see why that has to change.”

            Tech, surprised, sat up straight as he absorbed Hunter’s meaning. “I… I never thought of it like that,” he confessed.

            Perhaps Crosshair had correctly assessed the situation. Tech knew he wouldn’t be cast aside, but he had let his view of his own self-worth be influenced by his physical abilities, he had become overly concerned about what he couldn’t do now compared to before his injuries, and he had somehow come to the conclusion that the only way he could start to fix things and decrease the load on his family was if he did it all himself.

            But… he had never done it all himself. All the squad’s best plans were carried out when they were all working together. He had always relied on his brothers to cover his six or create distractions while he was reprogramming droids or slicing through locked doors or commandeering equipment. Moreover, when Omega had joined the squad and was learning how to defend herself, had it ever crossed his mind that she might be considered a burden? Of course not, because she wasn’t.

            Why, then, did he persist in the illogical belief that he was a burden if he couldn’t do everything on his own?

            Hunter smiled now, and Tech knew his brother had somehow realized Tech’s perspective had shifted.

            Perhaps… no, certainly he would succeed in finding ways to heal, and he wouldn’t have to do it alone.

            Echo appeared in the doorway at this juncture, nodding to Hunter and Tech as he crossed the yard and leaned against the wall overlooking the broad swath of land leading to the steep cliff trails and ocean beyond.

            “Are you staying for dinner before you head out?” Hunter asked him by way of greeting just as Omega came outside as well, grinning broadly at everyone and patting an excited Batcher before settling on the ground at Tech’s feet, continuing to pet the lurca hound. Omega was making a habit of sitting close to Tech whenever she could, and Tech certainly didn’t mind.

            Echo nodded. “Might as well. Rex and the others have got the next op covered, and there aren’t any other pressing matters at the moment with the underground since we still can’t get our hands on any new intel.” He sighed. “At any rate, Wrecker’s skills with making sushi have been getting even better. Oh,” he addressed Tech directly, “Phee will be here soon. She had to finish up a repair on her droid.”

            Tech nodded, reaching for the datapad and making one final modification before looking up and proffering the device to Echo. “Since you will be leaving tonight, I should give this to you now.”

            “What is it?” Echo asked as he took the datapad.

            “Imperial military information I gathered during my imprisonment.”

            Hunter, Omega, and Echo all stared at him with looks of surprise on their faces, before Echo commented in a dry tone bordering on familiar exasperation, “You sliced into an Imperial military database and got away with some of their intel, and you’re just now telling us this?”

            “I’m so glad I didn’t accidentally drop the datapad,” Omega whispered to herself.

            “I had to convert the information to a readable format first,” Tech replied. “Otherwise I would have given it to you earlier. I didn’t have time to organize it since you’ll be leaving tonight, but you still might be able to get some use from it.”

            The corners of Echo’s lips quirked up briefly before he started perusing the datapad, and Omega turned to look up at Tech.

            “How did you manage to slice into the military records?” she asked in awe.

            Tech shrugged. “Once I was granted access to the computer system, it was relatively simple. I suspect the military and hospital databases are connected since the medical facility is affiliated with the Imperial military base on Coruscant. Otherwise I likely would have been much more limited in the records I could gather. I cannot access military data from here or with any other device, for instance…”

            “Echo, what’s wrong?” Hunter suddenly asked. Tech looked at the ARC trooper and wondered what could have caused the wide-eyed, frozen expression of shock on his face. Had he, Tech, inadvertently locked or deleted the data or something…? No, he knew he was too skilled to do something like that…

            Echo looked up, almost in a daze, and blinked before locking eyes with Tech. “Tech,” he said slowly, “I don’t know how you managed it, but this is exactly the information the underground has been looking for to help the clones.”

Chapter Text

            Samuel sat in the silent mess hall, steadily finishing his breakfast despite not having much of an appetite. The men sitting around him were eating as well – it would do no good to let the rations they were given go to waste, especially with a long day of work ahead – though Samuel knew they didn’t feel any hungrier than he did.

            Fel had been executed thirty-seven days ago, and the entire camp had yet to recover from the shock of it. Of course, the official word was that Fel had passed from the usual sickness that claimed most of the men; but Samuel and all the other workers knew better. Fel hadn’t been that sick, not quite yet, and he had been accused of passing something to the visiting senator, only to later be escorted out of the mess hall – fit as any of the older miners could be – later that night after the senator had departed. Samuel didn’t know what bothered him more: the fact that one of them had been executed and leadership was lying to them about it, or the fact that Fel, of all people, had done something to warrant execution. Fel was one of the most obedient, loyal clones Samuel knew. Some of the other men might cause trouble, but Fel?

            And if Fel could be executed, what did that mean for the rest of them?

            Even more unbelievable were the rumors circulating about what Fel had passed to the senator. Some of the men were saying Fel had been witnessed recording testimony of the true conditions of the work camp, particularly the lack of protective equipment that was leading to the rapid deterioration of the workers’ health. What could possibly have possessed Fel to do something so risky, and what could he have hoped to gain by it? The Empire certainly wouldn’t be moved by his appeal.

            The bell rang to signal the end of mealtime, and the clones all rose to set off for their assigned duties – well, most of the clones did. Samuel’s attention was drawn to the table in the far corner, where a small group of men had gathered around a clone who remained seated. Curiosity getting the better of him, Samuel joined a few of the others who approached the group.

            “Come on, Mason,” Neetchi was urging the seated man. “You’re gonna be late.”

            Mason stubbornly folded his arms across his chest. “You all can go on without me if you want. I’m not going into that mine again without a filter of some kind.”

            All the men grew quiet at this pronouncement, the silence lingering for some time until Shade finally spoke. “We don’t get filters. You know that already.”

            “Yeah, well, we should be,” Mason insisted. “And Lieutenant Gorsig knows it. You heard all the questions Senator Chuchi was asking us. She specifically asked six of us if we had all the protective gear we need to keep ourselves safe in a praxium mine. Every one of us lied and told her we had what we needed, because we had been ordered to. Fel was the only one of us who had the guts to get the truth to her.”

            Samuel could hardly believe his ears – the rumors couldn’t be true. “What are you talking about? What did Fel do?”

            “He recorded a statement about what conditions are really like here. That has to have been what he passed on to the senator.” Mason snorted. “Come on, you know exactly what I’m talking about, I know that rumor’s been going around. And it’s true.” 

            “How did he manage that?” Samuel asked skeptically.

            Mason shrugged, coughing lightly. “Doesn’t matter. But I saw him do it, and you know what he told me? He said we deserve better. And we do. And they killed him for it. Well, they’re not going to kill off the truth that easily. I won’t let them.”

            Suddenly there was movement in the crowd as Clicks stepped forward, plopping down on the bench next to Mason.

            “What are you doing?” Neetchi asked, dumbfounded.

            “He’s right,” Clicks replied. “Nothing’s going to change unless we change.”

            At this, four more clones sat down at the table next to their brothers, leaving the standing clones exchanging looks of shock.

            “It won’t make any difference!” Neetchi insisted now.

            “Yeah, well, we won’t know that until we try.”

            “They don’t care,” Clap said fiercely, leaning forward as if to emphasize his point.

            “Then why are we so loyal to them?” Mason retorted. “Why do we stay in line?”

            Samuel stood there, knowing he should leave, should follow the few others who were avoiding the confrontation and quietly leaving the mess hall, he really should stay uninvolved, should follow that slight intrinsic pull to stay loyal and follow orders…

            But he couldn’t do it. He just couldn’t walk away.

            Mason was right. What good was loyalty if it wasn’t reciprocated? Shouldn’t he, Samuel, show loyalty and solidarity with his brothers rather than to an Empire who had made the clones fight and bleed and die in the war before casting them aside?

            Still, what good would it do to stick his own neck out?

            And yet, doing nothing would guarantee that everything would stay as it was…

            As he stood there, frozen in place, mind swirling with indecision, this last thought struck him the hardest, and he realized: maybe that was why Fel had decided to take the risk. Maybe Fel had realized that even if nothing changed, at least he had tried.

            Samuel’s deliberations ended when five TK troopers led by Lieutenant Gorsig entered the mess hall and began shoving through the crowd of watchful clones, somehow intuiting that the seated clones were the problem.

            “What’s this?” the lieutenant demanded when he reached the clones sitting at the table, their number now grown to nine men. He glared at Mason – how he knew Mason had started it all, Samuel would never know, but Mason levelly returned the look. “Are you refusing to work?” Gorsig said now. 

            “No, I’ll work,” Mason replied. “If I have the proper equipment.”

            “You have all the equipment you need.”

            “No, we don’t,” the clone said even as he clearly tried to suppress a coughing fit. “We need air filters. Give us helmets, give us something!”

            Gorsig drew up to his fullest height, his face reddening with fury. “This is insubordination,” he threatened.

            The watching clones collectively inhaled at this threat; and this seemed to remind the TK troopers that there were more men here than just those sitting at the table. Turning to face the standing clones, the TK troopers started pushing them back, away from the confrontation, ordering them to leave; but all the men, including Samuel, were slow to comply, and the continued argument between Mason and the lieutenant could still be heard loud and clear.

            “This is not insubordination,” Mason was saying. “This is asking for the equipment we need to do our jobs safely. Apparently, people think we have everything we need here. We don’t. If you want us in the mines, you need to give us filters.”

            “I’ll have you know the punishment for insubordination is execution,” Gorsig persisted.

            Mason scoffed at this, his eyes flashing with newfound fury. “Us workers aren’t in the military anymore, Lieutenant. And this isn’t a prison camp, or at least that’s what you keep saying. So how can you be allowed to execute us?”

            In lieu of replying, Gorsig snapped his fingers, and immediately the TK troopers left off trying to herd away the rest of the men, instead converging on the seated clones and selecting Mason as their first target.

            “You need to come with us,” one of the troopers said as he grabbed Mason by the arm. But Mason resisted.

            “You need to give us proper protection,” he insisted even as he was dragged up to stand. “I will come with you when…”

            Another TK trooper suddenly hit Mason in the gut with the butt of his rifle, causing the clone to cough even worse than he already did, hugging his abdomen as he knelt on the floor.

            “Hey!” Blane spoke up indignantly, stepping in front of Mason before the TK trooper could strike again. “Leave him alone! He hasn’t…”

            Lieutenant Gorsig gave a small nod to one of the troopers.

            The sound of a blaster shot cut Blane short; and he fell face first to the ground as the TK trooper shot him again for good measure. 

            Stunned silence reigned for several long seconds… then all pandemonium broke loose.

            Samuel, witnessing all of this, was consciously aware that he should be feeling unsettled, even afraid, by the chaos now surrounding him; but instead, he felt remarkably calm as a strange sense of déjà vu settled on him. It was as if he had been transported back to the battlefield, where allies and enemies were clearly distinguished from each other, awareness of his surroundings was heightened, and the only considerations standing between him and death were his training and a healthy dose of luck. 

            And he fully understood his primary objective: get his brothers out of the line of fire.

            Within seconds, Samuel had started herding those closest to him toward the mess hall doors, urging them to get out to the more open spaces and scatter. They were fish in a barrel here; they had to get out. Several other clones had apparently had the same idea, and Samuel now felt himself being propelled by a wave of clones toward the small opening and then bursting out the doors into the weak light of the early morning sun…

            Other TK trooper reinforcements were already descending on the mess hall, already shooting at those who were fleeing – shooting not only at those who were now exiting the mess hall, but also at those who had left far earlier in a futile effort to separate themselves from the conflict. The TK troopers didn’t care to find out who had actually been involved in the fight: right now, all clones were the opposition and needed to be put down. 

            Samuel slowed as he wildly glanced around and tried to think of what to do, his thoughts now a jumbled mess, his vision filled with the sight of dust and never-ending plasma bolts and the dead and dying, he was deaf with the noise of screams and blaster fire and shuffling feet and shouted commands, but the commands were not for him. He ducked around the far corner of the building, pressing himself against the wall, he didn’t know what to do, he was trained to fight but he had always had a commanding officer directing him… Clicks suddenly appeared next to Samuel… somehow he had gotten a blaster rifle off a TK trooper and was now taking out some of the TKs…

            Now Clicks was hit, dead on the ground…

            The shock of the death shook Samuel out of his indecision, and he grabbed the rifle, focusing again on his primary objective: get his brothers out of the line of fire, by taking out the fire.

            The Republic-turned-Empire was no longer the entity that deserved his loyalty. TK troopers, marching toward him in armor alarmingly similar to clone trooper armor – they were the enemy, the Empire was the enemy, this was a battle, and he had to get his brothers out.

            He chose his targets with care – he had always been the best shot on his squad – taking out the assault weapons lining the front gate, not flinching when the enemy’s fire passed within inches of him. He didn’t know how, but he still hadn’t been hit.

            A healthy dose of luck.

            One of the assault weapons exploded, taking out a sizeable chunk of the wall and toppling the gate; and Samuel paused just long enough to shout hoarsely at his brothers, any who could or would hear him, ordering them to get out, get out while they could…

            Men, clones and enemy alike, were surging toward the breach; enemy soldiers were shooting at the clones, the few clones who had gotten their hands on weapons were shooting back; men were falling, dying all around him; and still Samuel remained where he stood, taking down the enemy in a desperate attempt to give his brothers a chance to escape…

            Shade was pulling at him now, hefting a blaster in one hand while dragging Samuel a few steps forward with the other. “You’ve done what you can,” he said. “Let’s go.”

            Samuel hesitated only for a moment before following Shade’s lead, joining his brothers and still taking a few shots at some of the enemy as he dashed toward the opening, he was through the opening, Shade was down but Novak was now running beside him, running toward the nearby reddish and grey sand dunes, he had no idea where he and what brothers remained should go after that but that decision would be made later.

            And he fully understood his new primary objective: do not stop running.

*****

            Lucky, anticipation coursing through him in a wave so strong it made him feel lightheaded even though he was laying down, waited until Buck had been snoring a full fifteen minutes before he dared move. Tonight was the night. He had to make sure he wasn't caught. 

            He waited another four minutes until the guards passed all the way through the barracks, then slipped out and hurried directly to the refresher, relieved to find the far door into the showers was still unlocked. Somehow, Rain had managed to come through.

            It was good to have backup, to know who to trust. Wyatt had been right: most of the men here didn't want to be involved, but now that the opportunity was presenting itself, many of them wanted to take the chance to escape. Having four other men who had wanted to be involved in the entire process - enough to help him with his project - had made the past few months much easier to bear. And it made the project a success.

            He had intended to send out the message two weeks ago, but the timetable needed to shift when another clone had told Lieutenant Triyto that Lucky was up to something and was keeping contraband in the supply closet. Lucky had gotten another week in solitary confinement for that - he knew he would have been executed and the other clones punished, if the lieutenant had actually found the comms device. But Jed had somehow managed to smuggle it out of the supply closet and hide it in a small vent shaft in the opposite hallway just outside the shower room. The showers were usually kept locked on the barracks side at night, but with the door being open it was simple to cross over to the other door, retrieve the device, and duck back into the shower room to send the message.

            Lucky took a deep breath to steady himself before preparing to send the transmission, preparing to fulfill his promise.

            He had been there in 79s with Heddy, Veeto, and Milo when Senator Chuchi had made the case for the clone troopers to think about their futures, to consider life beyond serving as soldiers. It had been a life-changing moment, frightening yet exciting, to think about the possibility of not being in the army, of not fighting all the time. Experiences away from Kamino had taught the clones that they were individuals, and the Jedi – whether they had indeed been traitors or not, Lucky still wasn’t sure on that point – had encouraged independent thinking and the value of self-worth that had redefined the clones’ view of themselves as being more than mere products; but it had been Riyo Chuchi who had planted the idea that they could be more than just soldiers, that there could be purpose in more than just fighting. Lucky had been fascinated by the idea; and, already questioning some of the things the Empire was telling the army to do, he had found himself hoping that Senator Chuchi’s advocacy would pay off in securing more rights for the clones.

            And then everything had gone wrong. The Emperor had neatly sidestepped all Senator Chuchi’s demands while ensuring the clones would be replaced. And before Lucky, Heddy, Veeto, and Milo could act on their rather impulsive plan to go AWOL, the squad had been decommissioned. They had been told that decommissioning wasn’t a demotion, that the work program was a means for them to continue being useful while still enjoying the resources and privileges they had been granted as soldiers of the Empire. Lucky had believed none of it. He knew the Empire too well by that point, knew it was trying to be different than the Republic though it claimed to be the same, and the fact that they weren’t given any details as to the work that would be required nor the location of the site did not bode well.

            And so, he and his brothers had taken the first chance they got to escape from the holding facility – only for the attempt to go wrong. On the verge of being caught, Lucky hadn’t hesitated: with a hurried directive to Heddy to find the rumored clone underground that was helping clones in distress, and reassuring Heddy he'd send a message out when he knew where he was, Lucky had turned himself in, providing just enough time and distraction for the others to escape.

            “It’s okay, Heddy,” Lucky had said. “It’s better this way. I can work from the inside, convince some more of our brothers to see what’s really going on. You get to that clone network, you find Captain Rex, and you be ready to get me out when I call you.”

            “You won’t have comms…” Heddy had started to protest; but Lucky had cut him off with a grin.

            “I’ll find a way, you know me. I promise.”

            He had known Heddy didn't want him to do it alone, but he had no choice; and he had determined to make the best of the situation. He would find out where the work site was and get a signal out somehow to call in assistance, and he would bring as many brothers with him as he could.

            He hadn't anticipated that it would take him months to get to this point. Considering how many other men had died here, however, he supposed he should count it a blessing that he was alive to do this at all.

            The device powered up, and Lucky adjusted the frequency before tapping away, tapping out the coded message he knew Heddy would understand.

            As long as the message went through.

*****

            Based on the silence in the Predonian base’s command center, one might have assumed the room was empty.

            One’s assumption would be wrong.

            Of the twenty-five full time members of the clone underground, sixteen of them were currently piled into the command center, all of them completely silent as they concentrated on the task before them. Rex had been called away by an urgent plea for help from a recent deserter; Howzer and the others were helping with pick ups or on various supply runs; but the current assignment being carried out here in the command center was the underground’s main priority.

            Gregor leaned back in his seat, not bothering to conceal his yawn, and rubbed a hand over his face before staring blankly at the screen in front of him.

            They had been prepping to make an imminent move on the clone labor camp on Farsi almost three weeks ago when word had come through: the men in the labor camp had started their own uprising, and it had been quelled with disastrous results. The Empire was spinning the story that the clones had gone on a murderous rampage against the guards for no known reason, and the guards had needed to defend themselves and contain the threat; but the twenty-two clones who had managed to escape the carnage were telling a very different story, and their testimony, according to some public statements by Senator Dukata, lined up with the testimony one of the workers had given to Riyo Chuchi, who had shared it with the Senate. The population of Farsi apparently didn't know which story to believe, but enough citizens sympathized with the clones that the escapees were being well hidden until they could make it off world. To that end, Kade had gone with Codex and Liam to pick up the survivors. The rest of the underground was now focused on pinpointing the locations of the other camps.

            The good news: the recently rescued Tech from Clone Force 99 had brought a ton of military data with him, which included information about the decommissioning program and the work sites.

            The bad news: the recently rescued Tech from Clone Force 99 had brought a TON of military data with him, all of which needed to be sorted through to find the information about the decommissioning program and the work sites. Even with R3’s help, it had taken them over two weeks to organize it all. 

            Tech had at least managed to decrypt everything before turning the data over to Echo, and Gregor couldn’t blame Echo for deciding against bothering Tech with specifications on how to organize the data, given that the Bad Batch member really did need some time to recover from being all but dead for over a year. Besides, it was better for the full-time underground members to look through the reports since they knew exactly what to look for.

            If only the underground had more full-time members to share the work.   

            The first priority, when Echo had first come back from Pabu with the treasure trove of a datapad, had been to start extracting the reports that served to establish the Empire's intimate knowledge of and direct involvement in activities carried out on Tantiss well before Hemlock's demise. This evidence would help bolster Riyo Chuchi's efforts in the Senate, and to say Riyo was thrilled by the development would be an understatement.

            However, with what had recently occurred on Farsi, Senator Chuchi herself had urged the underground members to shift their focus, telling them that locating the labor camps had to take precedence – and the men agreed. The situation was escalating; Admiral Dumize would interpret a scandal like this as a reason to double down, not capitulate. The clones needed the opportunity to escape before it was too late.

            Gregor idly looked to the man sitting directly next to him, and grinned at the sight of Trey sitting there, eyes glued to the screen, lips soundlessly moving as he read another military report to himself. The former stormtrooper had only been with the underground for a few weeks, but already every member of the movement considered him a brother, and Howzer had taken him under his wing with a protectiveness that belied the fact that there was only about a decade age difference between them. Gregor, for his part, had known from the moment he’d met Trey that the non-clone had potential, and working with the clone members of the underground had already started helping Trey discover his heretofore untapped skills that had been suppressed by the strict regime that was the Empire. It certainly helped that Trey, unlike the vast majority of the non-clones Gregor had once been ordered to teach, actually respected the clones and wanted to learn from them. He was a rare ally for the network, being both a non-clone and a soldier, and Gregor could tell that trusting him to join the underground would pay off in big ways.

            Gregor’s gaze slid over the others on this side of the room – Echo, Tippit, Gambit, Winn, Hyde – before landing on Heddy, who was staring at a map of Hinta with a frown.

            Heddy had been even more impatient and tense than usual lately, to no one's surprise. His squadmate Lucky was in one of these camps, had turned himself in to give the others a chance to escape and had promised Heddy he would muster the other decommissioned clones and call for an extraction. Heddy had been desperately searching for intel on the locations of the labor camps ever since; and now they had finally gotten their hands on the information they had been looking for. 

            But the records indicated there were at least four labor camps still in operation, not to mention two prisons dedicated solely to holding clone insubordinates and deserters, and the underground did not have nearly enough manpower to lead a breakout for all the camps simultaneously. What’s more, there was no way of knowing whether Lucky had been assigned to the camp on Farsi, the one in which almost all the clones had just been massacred.

            Adding to Heddy’s agitation was the fact that he was getting by with armor donated by a deserter who had decided not to join the network, since Heddy’s own armor had been taken from him before he had been moved to the holding facility for decommissioned clones. Heddy had reprogrammed the comms unit to make sure it picked up the frequency he knew Lucky would use – at least, he thought he had successfully reprogrammed it, but Gregor knew the worry still lingered that, perhaps, he hadn’t done it right after all…

            A beeping noise suddenly sounded from Heddy's comm unit, and Gregor watched as he glanced down at it, flicking the button to receive the transmission, the blood draining from his face when a coded signal came through. He half rose from his seat...

            "It's him. It's... Lucky, it's... It's him!" his voice building from a low whisper to a barely contained shout, before he dropped back into his chair and concentrated on the signal.

            Everyone had paused their work and was looking at Heddy with interest; but it was Niner who first spoke up.

            “Heddy, maybe you should try responding,” he suggested drily. “That’s the fourth time they’ve asked if you’re receiving them.”

            “Oh, uh, yes, right…” Heddy stammered before tapping out a reply. Gregor instantly recognized the old clone code: Receiving you, what is your location?

            We’re on Xantilia. I have about a hundred men who want out. We have the exit strategy. We just need a pickup. Shift ends at 2100 local time.

            Heddy looked up at the others, worry and anticipation warring on his face. “When can we go? How long will we need?”

            Gregor immediately jumped into action. “Trey, bring up maps for Xantilia. Echo, see if you and R3 can find any information on the layout of the facility. Gambit, check with Rhys Canto to see if we can borrow his freighter – we’ll need the room. Heddy, ask if they can give us five days.”

            “Five days?” Heddy repeated incredulously. He obviously wanted to get there faster; but even Gregor knew five days was a rush job. Gregor was just as eager as anyone to free more clones – and potentially convince them to join the fight – but no good would come from unduly risking lives. Heddy had to get his head on straight if this op was going to work.

            “Do you want to just show up for a fly-by or do you want to get them out?” Gregor said pointedly before Echo, who had opened his mouth with a frown directed at Heddy, could say a word.

            Heddy took the hint and nodded, though he still let out a small sigh as he signaled back, Be ready to move in five days. Will communicate when leaving the base.

            Copy that, came the reply. Over and out.

            There was a momentary lull in the activity in the room once the message ended, Heddy still staring at his comms unit as if he couldn’t believe what had just happened after having waited months for it, the other men staring at Heddy with expressions indicating they knew just how important this development was for him.

            “Well, good to know which camp we’ll be hitting first,” Hyde suddenly said; and the rest of the men nodded before returning to their new assignments.

            Heddy was starting to look almost shell-shocked; and Gregor stood and walked across the room, putting a hand on the other man’s shoulder.

            It was as if Heddy had just been waiting for permission to speak. “What if we don’t get there in time?” he whispered.

            Gregor patted his shoulder as he said firmly, “No thinking like that, Heddy – and that’s an order. We’ll get them out.”

            Heddy shook himself before offering Gregor a weak but thankful smile. “You’re right. We’ll get them out,” he repeated, then resolutely turned his attention to the maps Trey had just pulled up on the computer. Gregor joined him, already considering potential strategies to pick up the prisoners.

            He truly had no doubt this particular mission would be successful. With the men in this camp apparently already ready and waiting to leave and with the means to communicate, this extraction would likely run much more smoothly than others.

            The question remained: with so few resources, so few forces, would they be able to get to the rest of their brothers in time? 

Chapter Text

            After months of being in captivity as well as confined to a chair, Tech now had more than just sheer stubborn determination to regain at least some portion of what he had lost of his physical independence. Now, he had full confidence. He had hope.

            In far less time than even he could have anticipated, he was finally starting to reach his goals - and he didn't have to do any of it alone.

            The day after Echo left to return to Predonia with the data Tech had downloaded, Omega enlisted the help of Mox, Deke, and Stak to distribute to all the Pabu residents the list of components Tech had calculated would be necessary to repair his spinal implants. Tech let her do it because she was so eager, despite knowing he would have to find a way to construct or modify the parts himself, a task which would likely take weeks given the relatively limited technological resources available on the planet.

            Needless to say, he was pleasantly surprised when, by nightfall, the community had found and donated twelve of the fourteen parts, and Phee had already left to find the last two components. She returned victorious less than three days later.

            He didn't know how or where Phee had managed to locate a Vernesi bioelectrical interfacing microcircuit on such short notice, much less acquire it, and she still refused to tell him.

            “Plausible deniability, Brown Eyes,” she would say every time he asked about it.

            “On Pabu?” he’d return skeptically.

            “With Hunter here? Yes," Phee would say emphatically. "He’ll never let me take Omega anywhere ever again if he finds out what I did to get this. Maybe you wouldn't tell him," she'd add when Tech opened his mouth to respond, "but I also know from experience that your brother can hear things."

            And so that particular adventure still remained a mystery.   

            It required multiple excruciating experiments, experiments he had been dreading and had forced himself to undergo only because he knew they were necessary, experiments he had tried – and failed – to warn Omega and his brothers away from witnessing given that he knew how he would react to the inevitable agony. His siblings refused to let him face the agony alone, however; and he found he was glad, for their presence granted him an extra measure of fortitude to continue on. And after two weeks of rewiring and recalibrating and reworking with the technical assistance of Emerie and AZI, he managed to fix the spinal implants.

            The day Emerie turned on the implants without Tech feeling even a flicker of the typical overwhelming burning pain was a momentous occasion. It took him a few moments to realize that not only was there no pain, but it was if… he could feel the muscles in his lower body start to settle – not perfect, most of them still very weak, still trembling a little; but with the implants now working as they were supposed to, providing input to the muscles and forming a bridge connecting the nerves to their proper pathways all the way up to the brain, the muscles could now accept volitional signals and sensory feedback, and could now properly build strength and control.

            He left the thunderous cheering to his brothers and sister; for his part, he insisted on standing immediately, testing himself to see if he could stand with less arm support, and within two hours he proceeded to practice taking faltering steps with bilateral canes and Hunter holding him up. And with the help of his ever-supportive family and the community on Pabu, he persistently trained enough to reach an even more exciting milestone a week later, when he was able to walk across the front yard with no other assistance than keeping a hand on Wrecker's arm.

            He still had occasional spasms and some episodes of nerve pain, but as the frequency had already been reduced by eighty-two percent, he was optimistic that further improvements were possible.

            Always wanting to stay busy, Tech hadn’t limited himself just to focusing on his physical function; and, with the help of his brothers, he completed another task he had set his sights on: helping Omega repair and upgrade the recently acquired spare freighter. This, too, had taken far less time than Tech had anticipated, especially after the spinal implants were working properly and Tech was not so frequently interrupted by bouts of pain. And Tech found himself looking ahead with even more confidence: perhaps, someday soon, he would be able to take Omega out for more flying lessons. She had proven her skill and adaptability, of course; but there were still a few maneuvers yet to teach her.

            And so, when Echo reached out a few days later to inform them the network was gearing up to start moving on the labor camps, and to request their assistance in finding and surveying potential locations for what would hopefully be a significant number of freed clones to settle without drawing the Empire's attention, Tech eagerly joined his siblings in saying yes. Phee, who had stopped by to bid goodbye as she was heading out on a short trip to Velos III, was present during the conversation and shared several additional ideas for places to explore.

            “You should just come with us, Phee,” Wrecker remarked when she named a fifth planet for them to check out.

            Phee paused, considering, and saw Omega and then Crosshair nodding at her before she said slowly, “You know what, I will.”

            “Don’t you have an urgent trip to Velos III?” Tech asked, puzzled. He was thrilled by the prospect of Phee coming with them, but…

            Phee waved a hand. “It can wait. This is definitely more important.”

            “Are you certain…?”

            “Tech, if you’re going, I’m going,” Phee returned with finality. “Gotta keep you in my line of sight, just in case you get any more ideas about running off with mad scientists.” She then turned to the others with an authoritative frown. “Same goes for the rest of you, too.”

            “Yes, ma’am,” Wrecker said solemnly, while Omega smiled sheepishly, Hunter shrugged, and Crosshair rolled his eyes but, surprisingly, didn’t argue.

            Echo needed to end the transmission shortly thereafter; but the rest of the family discussed the mission for several hours longer, with Tech completing a rough itinerary long before they finished talking. He wouldn't be able to do much of the physical recon, of course - he needed to get stronger and much more agile before he could even consider attempting any of that. But now that he could take care of all his own basic needs himself; walk short distances on his own – sometimes with a cane, sometimes without; and manage a blaster with either hand, he was certainly capable of keeping watch on the ship and providing intel during the mission. It didn't nearly reach the level of involvement he was accustomed to; but he wasn't holding his family back, and he would even be able to contribute in some small way to the mission and to Echo's cause. And for now, that was enough.

            Two mornings later marked the time of their departure, and they were just about ready to go. Wrecker had already loaded Gonky onto the newly repaired freighter and was just about to take the last two crates of supplies.

            “These ready?” he asked Tech, who had tasked himself with inventory.

            “Yes,” Tech nodded, setting his datapad aside on the sofa where he was sitting, and stretching his legs out in front of him. He had been sitting a little too long – he needed to stretch before he tried standing up. He wanted to offer to help Wrecker carry the crates to the ship, but he knew better than to do so. He wasn’t quite ready for that. Yet.

            Omega dodged around Wrecker as he exited the front door, and glanced quickly around the room. "Is that it?" she asked.

            "I believe Batcher is the only consideration left,” Tech replied just as Phee walked through the open door.

            “I’ll get Batcher,” Omega volunteered, crossing to the back door while Phee approached Tech.

            “Looks like we’re just about ready to go,” Phee said as she cast her eyes over the comfortable front room. 

            “As soon as Hunter and Crosshair get back from Ray’s,” Tech agreed. He stood to greet her, and she took his hand with a smile. She had been holding his hand a lot more often recently, even when she wasn't helping him with his walking practice, and Tech didn't mind in the slightest - in fact, he quite enjoyed it.

            One of these days, he might even be audacious enough to initiate the contact himself. In the meantime, he contented himself with lacing his fingers between hers and returning her smile.

            “So you decided to bring the chair too?” she asked. “I saw Wrecker loading it onto the ship.”

            “Yes, it is better to be prepared,” he replied, though he frowned a little. He did not want to take the wheelchair, he hadn’t needed to use it at all for several days now, and he’d mostly be staying on the ship anyway; but what if something happened? He still didn’t want to be a burden, but he also didn’t like to think of regressing…

            She must have sensed his inner conflict, for she lightly bumped his shoulder with hers.

            “Hey,” she said quietly, “being prepared doesn’t mean you’re giving up. I have a feeling we’ll get back to Pabu and you won’t have needed to use the chair at all. You’re getting stronger every day, and you know your limits. It’ll be fine. We’re all working together on this, right?”

            Her words reminded him of what Hunter had said, and his doubts faded away as her confidence bolstered his. “Right,” he said. The squad had always been at its strongest together – even more so now that the squad was growing – and he was still part of the squad. He wouldn’t be a burden on them, for he would be adding his strengths to theirs.

            He could hear Omega calling for Batcher, and now, based on the increase in noise outside, he knew he and Phee wouldn’t be alone for much longer. Sure enough, Hunter and Crosshair walked in with Wrecker through the front door just as the lurca hound bounded into the house from the back.

            “You know,” Omega said as she followed Batcher into the house, “maybe Phee should take her ship too. Just in case something happens to one…”

            Hunter shook his head slowly. “It’ll be safer if we stay together. And we’ll be less conspicuous that way, too.”

            Omega shrugged. “Suits me, just thought I’d mention it. I’ll meet you all at the ship after I get Batcher over to Lyana’s,” she said, now whistling to the lurca hound and hustling the beast ahead of her out the door.

            It wasn’t until Omega was well out of the house that a mischievous smile crossed Phee’s face. “No, no, I like Omega’s idea,” she addressed Hunter. “Tech could ride with me and the rest of you could take your own ship.”

            Crosshair stared her down. "You. With Tech. Alone."

            Phee patted Tech’s arm affectionately with her other hand, making his heart skip a beat. "Don't you trust me by now, Crosshair?"

            Crosshair glanced at Tech, his expression unreadable, before returning his attention to Phee. "No."

            "I trust you, Phee,” Wrecker said solemnly; but he couldn’t quite stop a small smile from playing around his lips.

            Tech, mentally calculating the extremely high probability that stating his own preferences in this matter would lead to incessant teasing from his brothers for at least the next four months, wisely held his tongue, though he did gently squeeze Phee's hand and was rewarded with her warm smile. There would, perhaps, be opportunities in the future for him to travel alone with Phee. In the meantime, he needed to focus on getting stronger, and this mission was the perfect opportunity for him to test and even push his current limits without unduly jeopardizing the others.

            “The matter’s already been decided,” Hunter interjected, though the fact that he wasn’t even trying to hide his smirk made Tech even more resolved to keep his thoughts to himself on this topic. “And we shouldn’t delay any longer,” Hunter continued, “Echo and Rex need this information as soon as possible.” And with that, he led the way out the door, with Wrecker and Crosshair following close behind.

            Phee shifted to link elbows with Tech, subtly affording him more support for the somewhat lengthy trek to the ship, and walked with him as they brought up the rear, closing the door behind them. They walked in companionable silence for some time, and were halfway to the ship before Phee spoke.

            “You’re planning on staying with your brothers and Omega here on Pabu when all this clone business is over, right?”

            “That is correct.” Tech suspected Echo would find another cause to fight for that would keep him from settling on Pabu; but he knew that apart from helping Echo and Rex when needed, his other brothers had decided they had been full-time fighters for long enough and that Omega needed a real home. He was inclined to agree with them. Long before Eriadu, he had already found himself seriously contemplating the benefits of making a home on Pabu, joining a community, and being of assistance to others on a much smaller scale; and now, he knew that even if he was still in peak physical condition, he was reaching the same conclusion he had then: the optimal choice for his brothers and especially Omega was to find some semblance of stability. There were many ways to fight back against the Empire, after all; and perhaps this was one of them.

            Besides, there was also Phee…

            Phee was nodding at his response. “Good choice. I’ll have some more artifacts to liberate; but Pabu is home for me, too.” Her voice, still casual, seemed to hitch ever so slightly. “Maybe, once all this is over, you can come with me on some of the trips. If you want to spend any time away from Pabu, that is.”

            Tech couldn’t hide his smile. “I had a similar idea.”

            Phee stopped, regarding him with a look of surprise that quickly turned into a delighted smile. “Did you now?”

            “Yes,” he affirmed.

            Her eyes took on a gentleness and warmth at a level he had never witnessed before, and she slowly leaned closer. Tech stood stock still, mind racing with all the possible explanations for her behavior…

            “If you’re going to do it, Phee, do it in private,” Crosshair’s sardonic voice carried to them from some distance away.

            Based on Crosshair’s comment, Tech mused, his leading theory regarding Phee’s intentions was correct. Perhaps she did feel similar attraction toward him as he felt toward her…

            Phee had let out a low groan at the interruption and was now glaring daggers at Crosshair. “If you turned around and kept walking, this would be private!” she yelled at him.

            Hunter had turned around now, his expression apologetic, his attention fixed on a point somewhere behind them. “Sorry, Phee, but…”

            “What needs to be private?” Omega queried cheerily as she suddenly appeared on the path behind them, apparently having finished dropping off Batcher much more quickly than expected.

            Crosshair was grinning triumphantly. “You see?” he said, leaving Omega looking more confused.

            Phee turned to Tech with an exasperated look. “Do you have anything I can throw at him?”

            Tech thought for a moment. “If you are seeking ways to retaliate for the interruption, I have a few ideas that Crosshair will be less capable of dodging.”

            A knowing grin suddenly blossomed on Omega’s face as she traipsed ahead to walk with her other brothers, in what Tech could only assume was a deliberate attempt to leave him and Phee alone.

            Phee, meanwhile, laughed out loud at Tech’s response as they resumed walking together. “I knew I liked you, Brown Eyes,” she declared.

            Given how tongue-tied he always became when such topics were broached, he still couldn’t find the precise words to say to let her know he reciprocated her feelings; but based on the affectionate look on her face when he smiled at her in response, he knew she understood.

*****

            Emerie waved to the Bad Batch and Phee as they approached the plaza by the Archium. Knowing they were departing today, she had decided to meet them at the ship to bid them farewell.

            “I was just coming to say goodbye,” she said when they drew nearer. “I may not be here when you return.”

            Omega stepped closer. “So you are going to Rex’s base,” she said quietly.

            Emerie nodded in response. “It’s where I can help the most right now.”

            The Senate hearing had not gone well; and despite multiple reassurances from Senator Chuchi and other clones that the outcome would have been the same – if not worse – had Emerie gone to Coruscant, Emerie still sometimes wished she had insisted on going. There was nothing she could do to change that now, however. And since it would be months before the next attempt could be made to push the petition through to investigate Tantiss, the clones who had been in cryostasis had regained full health, and Tech was doing remarkably well, Emerie had a new personal goal in mind.

            “Thank you again for your assistance in my recovery, Dr. Karr,” Tech said now. 

            Emerie gave him a small smile. She knew the trek here from their cabin was quite some distance and he was leaning rather heavily on Phee’s arm at the moment, but he was regaining his strength and endurance and coordination far faster than she would have predicted.

            For years, her scientific and medical knowledge had been turned toward nefarious purposes, without her realizing that was the case – she hadn’t let herself realize it, she had told herself there was a reason for these experiments and she was simply doing her job. But recently, she had been able to use her knowledge and skills to restore people – including her brothers – to health, and it felt wonderful. This was what she wanted to use her skills for; this was the type of work she wanted to devote her energies to.

            “I am very happy I could help,” she said sincerely.  

            Hunter and Wrecker wished her luck; Omega gave her a warm embrace; and then Crosshair stepped forward with his left hand extended.

            “Take care of yourself, Emerie,” he said in an unusually sincere voice.

            She accepted his hand and shook it firmly. “You too, Crosshair.” She stepped back and nodded once again to all of them. “And thank you, to all of you.”

            She waved again as the ship lifted off, barely catching sight through the viewport of Omega returning the gesture; and then, they were gone.

            “Are you leaving today, too?” a familiar voice said behind her; and she looked back to see Vik and Clay, another one of the clones who had survived Tantiss, walking up to her.

            She nodded. “Howzer said he will be here in a few hours.”

            “Yeah, he told us too. But… well, aren’t they a little busy there at the moment? How will you…”

            “Yes,” Emerie interjected, “which is why I won’t be initiating any procedures right away. I need time to observe and gather data before attempting any intervention, anyway. However, since you all are leaving today as well, I might as well save them another trip.”

            Vik shook his head. “I still think you’re taking an awful big risk.”

            “So does Howzer,” she replied somewhat ruefully. “But it must be done.”

            She may not be able to testify anytime soon about the horrors that had been committed on Tantiss; but there remained another wrong Hemlock had done in that laboratory that could still be made right.

            None of them knew how many clone operatives were left nor where they were right now. But she could try to save the one; and, perhaps, if she could figure out how to reverse Hemlock’s conditioning procedures, she could save the other operatives when they were found.

            There was no guarantee of success, but it was worth trying.

            Meanwhile, several of the clones who had been rescued from Tantiss – Vik, Clay, Beats, and Diver – had heard the news about the clone underground ramping up to attack the labor camps and set the prisoners free, and they insisted on joining in on the efforts. Rex was reluctant to let them anywhere near the line of fire – these clones who had witnessed the horrors on Tantiss firsthand needed to stay alive should the petition to investigate ever go through – but agreed to let them come on the condition that they remained on base and primarily helped extract the evidence from Tech’s data that confirmed the military’s involvement in Hemlock’s experiments, as this task had needed to be set aside in order for the rescue ops to take priority. Vik and the others had agreed; and at any rate, they would also be present as backup should the underground need it.   

            “The rest of the men want to see you before you leave, you know,” Clay said now.

            She smiled at this. Vik had been right: most of the other clones who had been rescued from Tantiss had borne her no ill will, and meeting them and apologizing to them in person had done wonders to clear the air. Tempo hadn’t forgiven her yet – she couldn’t blame him for that, and so she tried to stay out of his way – but the others had accepted her heartfelt apology and now welcomed her as a sister and comrade. She had always wondered what it would be like to be part of a family. Now she knew.

            More than that, knowing she had been forgiven had granted her a sense of freedom that she had never imagined was possible, a freedom that couldn’t be diminished even if her movements still had to remain restricted.

            “Of course, I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye,” she assured Clay now. “Have they gone out for the day yet…?”

            “No, and they’ll stay put if you’re coming round soon.”

            “I’ll head over there shortly,” she promised. She had to say goodbye to Sami and Eva and Jax and Bayrn first.

            Vik nodded at her. “Well then, we’ll let them know.”

            “I’ll see you all soon,” she said as she began walking toward the homes near the docks, where Sami’s family had taken up residence.

            She considered her plans again, and she released a contented sigh. This wasn’t what she had initially had in mind in terms of making amends for her countless mistakes both on Tantiss and before; but this still felt right, and she was making a difference.

            And that was what mattered.

*****

            Admiral Dumize read the latest intelligence report from Farsi, a brief recounting of a rumor that twenty-two clones from the mines had been sheltered by Farsi residents for days before being smuggled off world by unknown agents, likely clone sympathizers.

            Dumize didn’t realize he was clenching his left fist until a hint of pain registered. He idly looked down at his hand, where his fingernails had left deep imprints on his palm.

            He couldn’t even blame Senator Chuchi for this. The massacre at the mines had been a purely internal affair. And he couldn’t try to spin it any other way: the Farsi government had remained well away from the mines even after Dumize’s confrontation with Senator Dukata, and there hadn’t been even a hint of evidence to support the notion that any outside agitators or insurgents had played any role in this debacle.

            Oh, he had still managed to blame the workers for their own demise, had even managed to feed into the anti-clone propaganda by painting them as vicious, ungrateful miscreants who had turned on their protectors unprovoked. But apparently the propaganda wasn’t working as well on Farsi itself as it should have. By all accounts, the vast majority of the citizens weren’t buying the Imperial story – mostly because a few of the clones had managed to survive to tell their own version of events, with Senator Dukata thereafter coming out to support their claims.

            And now those survivors were on the loose in the galaxy at large. And their story would corroborate CT-81-4891’s story. And the Farsi citizens would remain in an uproar over how the mines had been managed. And if Senator Dukata and Farsi’s allies decided to formally side with Senator Chuchi’s movement…

            Dumize gritted his teeth as he considered the consequences. He had finally decommissioned more than ninety percent of the clone troopers. He should be celebrating his own success. But no – decommissioned clones were proving to be more of a scourge than they had ever been when they were in the army, something Dumize had never thought possible.

            Why wouldn’t they just give up and die like they were supposed to?

            He stared at the report a moment longer before dropping the datapad on his desk and standing to pace around his office as he pondered the matter. He had tried the diplomatic approach long enough. There was little point trying to placate the Senate about the clone issue.

            But other Imperial leadership wouldn’t accept his stance here. They still found it necessary to keep the Senate pacified. Leaders such as the Emperor and, by extension, Tarkin, would never endorse him taking the steps necessary to deal with the clone problem once and for all, no matter how much they wanted the clones to be eradicated too.

            There was no way to get rid of the clones in an efficient manner without severe ramifications. Even with the clones’ accelerated aging, they were too strong, too resilient; it would be decades before most of them died.

            Unless…

            A wide, calculating grin stretched across his face as the idea came to him. It would take some time and extreme caution to carry this out – he would have to plan down to the slightest, most seemingly insignificant detail – but once he succeeded, the clones would cease to be a concern.

            They would not be set free.

            They would not be allowed to win.

Chapter Text

            Cody, having just finished his shift, walked through the main marketplace. He didn’t need any supplies at the moment, but it was the quickest route home; and he waved to a few of the shopkeepers as he passed by, not intending to stop.

            But Theea wouldn’t let him pass quite that easily: her beckoning to him was far too deliberate for him to ignore.

            “Hey, Colby,” the seller remarked offhandedly as he approached, “I saw someone not twenty minutes ago who could be your twin.”

            “I don’t have a twin,” Cody replied automatically, mostly for the benefit of any strangers who might be in earshot.

            “Oh, I know,” she said, still as casual as ever even with the meaningful look she was giving him, “but he looked a little lost, and – well, you know how some of the Imps… I mean, Imperials treat people who look like you.”

            It had been weeks since he had found himself agreeing to head up some secret operation to get Jedi through this sector and on to safety, weeks since he had gotten the Tamms off world, weeks since he had found five other families waiting for transport on the planet Gerri had directed him to, and had learned with no small amount of relief that this was not an elaborate ruse to get these potential Force users into the Empire’s hands. This Path he had agreed to become a part of was legitimate, and his resolve to help had strengthened – which was good, because there were far more so-called Force sensitives in the galaxy that he had originally thought.  

            A different Inquisitor had come to the town a few weeks after Cody had come back from that first trip, and had been less than pleased to discover the Tamms had not yet returned. With increased Imperial activity the past few days, Cody suspected they would be having another visit from an Inquisitor soon – meaning he needed to get his most recent guests off world as soon as possible.

            So the news that a clone deserter was wandering around Saleenia was a most unpleasant complication.

            Cody could play off his appearance that was strikingly similar to Fett clones as an unfortunate coincidence when he was the only clone on Saleenas. If there was another clone the Imps could compare him to, however, he doubted he could get away with his ruse for very long, and he couldn’t afford the extra scrutiny anyway. Not now. Not when others were counting on him to keep them safe.

            He debated his options only for a moment before coming to a decision. “Where did you see him last?”

            “Heading away from the port, toward the hotel.”

            “Thanks, Theea.” And with this information, Cody set off.

            This clone was actually fairly skilled at keeping a low profile, Cody would give him that; but it still took Cody only forty-two seconds to spot him, skulking casually through the far edge of the marketplace. Without further ado, Cody strode up to the newcomer.

            “Welcome to Saleenas,” he said. “Do you need a place to stay? I have an extra room to rent out.”

            The stranger, startled by the attention, began stammering his excuses as he glanced up at Cody – and then he fell silent, gaping for a moment. He obviously hadn’t been expecting to run into a fellow clone here.

            “Of course you can take a look at the room before you make a decision,” Cody blithely continued on as if the stranger hadn’t just tried outright refusing him.

            Thankfully, the deserter knew better than to argue, and meekly nodded before following Cody out of the crowded marketplace, dodging an Imperial patrol as they turned onto a currently deserted side street.

            Still walking purposefully down the street, Cody hissed in an undertone, “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

            The deserter faltered for a moment. “You… you aren’t with Rex?”

            Cody stopped short at that, momentarily forgetting the need to act casual. “Is Rex coming to get you?” he asked.

            “Yes,” the other clone said quietly, “he said to find someplace to lay low and send him my location.”

            Cody bit his lip, hesitating as he thought about Inquisitors, about the Jedi currently in his home… “You didn’t happen to get your inhibitor chip out, did you?” he asked abruptly. What he was considering doing posed enough of a risk already; he didn’t need the chance of a clone freaking out over a certain order on top of everything else.

            “Uh, yeah, I did,” the clone nodded. “Rex said I had to have it taken out if I want to help them fight the Empire for our brothers. Not sure what difference it makes to have it out, but…”

            “Trust me, better safe than sorry,” Cody interrupted, now starting to walk down the street again as the deserter hurried to catch up. “What’s your name?”

            “I’m Ward.”

            “Well, Ward, you can lay low at my place. Tell Rex he can find you in the residential district, housing block 2, number 7.” Cody glanced at the man who was tripping along next to him, sizing him up before he continued, “There are some others who are laying low there too, not clones. That’s all you need to know. You got any problem with that?”

            Ward hurriedly shook his head. “Of course not.”

            “Good. Let’s go.”

            The interior bell sounded, indicating a visitor at the front door. From his position in the kitchen, he had a clear view of all the back rooms, their doors currently open. Cody saw the former Jedi padawan and one of the youngest Force-sensitive children look warily toward the front door, and he gave them a small smile and a wave to indicate they had nothing to worry about. The child immediately returned to her game; the padawan regarded him gravely for a moment before looking away.

            Ward was currently hidden in the basement, mostly so that Cody wouldn’t have to explain his presence if the Imperials got it into their heads to do a surprise inspection for some reason. The cover story that Colby Sconderi was renting out rooms to travelers in order to supplement his meager income had been holding up admirably well, but Cody wasn’t going to take any risks should the Imperials decide to ask more questions.

            The bell sounded again before Cody got to the door, and he paused right before hitting the control panel, taking a deep breath to compose himself. 

            The door slid open, and Cody was confronted with the captain he hadn’t seen since before the Siege of Mandalore, the captain he had once thought was dead. Rex, however, reacted first.

            “Cody,” he said blankly, swaying as if about to take a step back.

            “And here I thought the beard was a good enough disguise,” Cody quipped as he crossed his arms and stared at the other.

            “I’d recognize you anywhere regardless, but your scar is a dead giveaway. Maybe you should grow your hair out more,” Rex returned.

            Cody scoffed good-naturedly. “You, on the other hand, haven’t changed a bit.”

            Rex chuckled as he ran a hand over his shaved chin. “Yeah, beards just aren’t my thing.”

            Cody chortled again as he gave Rex another once over. He had known Rex was coming, had thought he was prepared to see him. He was wrong. Unable to find any words to describe how much of a relief it was to see Rex alive and well, he stepped forward to embrace his old friend. Rex readily returned the gesture, saying in a gruff voice, “It’s good to see you, Commander.”

            Cody kept the hug brief: they weren’t secure here. “Come inside,” he said as he stepped back, gesturing Rex over the threshold. “We can’t stay out in the open.”

            Rex wordlessly accepted the invitation, stepping past Cody and turning to look at him again as Cody closed the door behind them. “Crosshair said you went AWOL, but…”

            This was almost a bigger shock than seeing Rex. Cody faced Rex, eagerness and incredulity warring for dominance in his expression. “You’ve talked to Crosshair?”

            “Yeah, he defected from the Empire a long time ago. He’s back with his squad.”

            “They’re all still alive?”

            Rex nodded. “Yes. Well,” he amended, “we all thought Tech was dead, for over a year, but then Echo found him. They’re all safe now. Or at least, as safe as they can be with everything that’s going on.”

            Cody blinked rapidly as he processed this news. He wanted to hear more about what had happened to Tech and Crosshair and the rest of the Batch, but there was no time; and besides, the important thing was that, incredibly, the Bad Batch had all survived and were free of the Empire. “That’s good to hear.” He shook his head in amazement, even let out a short laugh. “Really good to hear.”

            The soft tones of a whispered conversation between some of his guests in the back rooms returned his attention to the matter at hand. Much as he wanted to catch up with Rex, now was not the right time to do so. “Anyway, you’re not here to talk. Let me get your… package for you,” he said, starting to step across the room to the basement controls.

            Rex was regarding him thoughtfully. “We’re still fighting to free the rest of our brothers. Ward is joining us. You could too.”

            Cody paused where he stood in the middle of the room, hesitating as he turned the offer over in his mind. He knew what Rex and the others were trying to do. He knew how dire the circumstances were for all clones, even those who were loyal to the Empire. He knew the clones deserved better. He knew… ah, he knew Obi Wan would have wanted the clones to have better. Obi Wan’s compassion had known no bounds, after all.

            But he also knew how dire the circumstances were for all the surviving Jedi, for all those who merely had the potential to use the Force like the Jedi had. He, Cody, had betrayed Obi Wan, and it had taken him a long time – far, far too long – to realize the Jedi didn’t deserve to be hunted and killed, that Obi Wan hadn’t deserved death. He couldn’t change what he had done to Kenobi, he couldn’t even beg Kenobi’s forgiveness – oh, Force, if only he could go back and stop himself from pulling the trigger – but he could help what Jedi crossed his path now.

            Both the clones and the Jedi needed help. Cody, limited as he was, could only choose one or the other; and the clones already had plenty of talented, stalwart brothers fighting for them. He, Cody, had a different underground to run.   

            “You’re taking good care of our brothers, Rex,” he said slowly, looking over his shoulder at his friend. “I… I have other… things… I have to take care of.”

            Rex glanced now at the back rooms and their occupants: the teenage boy, the married couple, the little girl and her mother…

            “Visitors,” Cody explained quickly as he turned around to face Rex. “Travelers. They’re renting out the rooms.”

            Rex silently turned his gaze back on Cody, and Cody knew before he spoke that the captain had figured it out.

            “Jedi?” Rex said quietly.

            Cody didn’t dare answer, not out loud. He had heard that Rex had been the one to spread the word about the inhibitor chips in the first place; he knew Rex could be trusted; yet he still couldn’t bring himself to take the risk of saying the truth out loud.

            But his silence was answer enough.

            “You know,” Rex continued, his eyes soft with understanding, “if you ever want an extra hand, I might know someone who would be very interested in helping you out with a mission like this.”

            Cody, looking for a way to graciously refuse this offer that he knew Rex was extending for his sake, found himself asking, “Can I get a name?”

            “You wouldn’t know him. Name’s Winn.”

            Today was just full of surprises. “Did you find him on Coruscant with another clone named Hyde?”

            Rex stared at him for a moment before chuckling, shaking his head in amusement. “It really is a very small galaxy.”

            He remembered well the two clones, one who had spoken so openly about his horror over Order 66, one who had kept his pain carefully hidden deep – so deep Cody considered it almost miraculous that Rex somehow had found out about it. Remembering them, however, didn’t change the fact that Cody didn’t want to bring anyone else into this operation, much less another clone. Having backup would be a relief, but the situation was already tenuous; the risk of expanding the network was far too great.

            And yet… Winn apparently felt about the Jedi’s plight much as Cody did.

            What would Obi Wan have done?

            “Tell you what,” Cody said, “if you manage to sort things out to where us clones aren’t automatically arrested just for existing, send Winn my way. I could use the help.”

            Rex flashed a grin. “Deal.”

            Cody nodded as he finished walking over to the controls and opened the basement. Ward had been waiting long enough.

            “I’m scheduled at the port to depart in thirty minutes,” Cody said as Ward, looking immensely relieved, appeared at the opening and finished clambering out of the basement. “I need to go. Maybe you can come with…”

            “No,” Rex negated him.  “If Ward and I are caught, I don’t want you or your guests linked to us. You don’t need any trouble. You go, we’ll leave in the next half hour. If you’re okay with us staying here a little longer, that is.”

            Cody shrugged. “Sure, just don’t open the door to any strangers. And go into the basement if any Imps come knocking. And don’t move anything.”

            Rex snorted as he sardonically saluted Cody. “Sir, yes sir.”

Chapter Text

            Wolffe, receiving the ETA update from Striker, strode over to the ship’s comms and signaled the Inquisitor. This one wasn’t quite as… thorough as some of the other Inquisitors the Recovery Strike Team had worked with had been, but his impatience and quick temper still made him a significant threat, and it took all Wolffe’s fortitude and sense of duty to talk to the Inquisitor himself rather than assigning the task to one of his men. Unlike others in authority, he was not going to jeopardize his men for the sake of his own comfort.

            “Yes?” the Inquisitor queried shortly upon accepting the transmission.

            “We will reach Saleenas in the next half hour,” Wolffe informed him. “Shall we call ahead for them to secure the ports?”

            “No. The other two Inquisitors sent here failed to find the targets. Perhaps the port closures alerted the traitors of my counterparts’ impending arrival. We will allow everything to continue operating normally until our arrival, catch them unawares.”

            Wolffe nodded. “Understood.”

*****

            Rex and Ward knew something was amiss the moment they stepped out of Cody’s home. Despite the townspeople passing to and fro on the street, it was too quiet – watchful and quiet, as if the town were waiting for a storm to burst.

            “I don’t like it, Captain,” Ward said uneasily as they started down the street in the direction of the port.

            Rex paused. When he felt uneasy, he took note for potential action; when a fellow clone felt the same way, it was confirmation.

            When Ward’s plea for assistance had reached the underground, right after Rex had returned to Predonia from helping some other contacts relocate a clone who had deserted a few months prior, the clones were in the thick of planning an extraction on Xantilia. They couldn’t ignore this deserter, however; and so Rex had decided to come on his own. Echo and Gregor had protested, but Rex had insisted: all the other men who weren’t helping with the extraction were needed to man the base. Besides, he had pointed out, he could keep a lower profile if he picked up the deserter alone.

            Now, he wished he had some sort of backup, even though it likely wouldn’t have made much difference and only would have put more men in jeopardy.

            He also wished he hadn’t left his armor in the ship… He dismissed this thought just as quickly as it had come. Wearing clone armor around here would have been a surefire way to draw the wrong kind of attention to himself. No, he had done the right thing by wearing civilian clothing.  

            An old man poked his head out of his home window and hissed at them, “I’d get inside if I were you. An Inquisitor landed a few minutes ago.”

            And that decided it.

            “Let’s split up,” he told Ward. “You know where my ship is at the port. We’ll meet there.” He didn’t like to think about the possibility, but a heartbeat later, he added decisively, “If anything happens to me, or if I’m not at the ship by the time the Inquisitor leaves, you have to leave without me. Use the ship comms and get a message to the ARC trooper named Echo. Is that understood?”

            Ward gulped. “Yes, sir,” he said, then turned and dashed back the way they had come, making a right turn at the closest intersection. Rex counted to ten before calmly and deliberately walking ahead to the farther cross street, and making a right.

            Outside the residential district, the streets were more crowded; and in order to avoid the increased trooper patrols, Rex took as circuitous a route toward the port as he dared without getting lost – he had never been to this town before, after all, and was running on a rudimentary mental map of the town’s layout. He decided to try entering the port from a side entrance, but it was no use: Imperial troopers not only had every entrance covered, but had practically set up a perimeter.

            Now that the Inquisitor was here, the Imperials apparently didn’t want anyone leaving. Rex could only hope Cody had made it out in time.

            He now saw that the troopers were checking everyone who passed within ten feet of the port, and he frowned slightly as he thought. He didn’t want to implicate Cody at all if troopers started going door to door for some reason; but it was not safe out here. He turned and started walking away from the port. Perhaps he should try to find Ward so they could lay low at Cody’s house until…

            “You there!” a soldier called out.

            Rex kept walking, hoping the TK trooper was talking to someone else… But no such luck. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and it took every ounce of self-discipline he possessed to calmly come to a stop rather than engage in a fight or a chase.

            “Yeah, you,” the trooper was saying now as he roughly turned Rex around. “What are you doing here?”

            “I’m a visitor here,” Rex replied, pitching his voice a bit higher than usual as one of the trooper’s compatriots drew closer. “I was about to leave, but it looks like the port is a bit busy at the moment…”

            He could tell the TK trooper, behind the helmet, was peering at him intently; and he knew his hat, civilian clothing, and altered voice pitch was not enough to disguise him from this level of scrutiny.

            “You’re a clone,” the trooper said decisively.

            Maybe Cody was onto something by growing a beard.

            “A deserter,” the other trooper added before Rex could say a word in response. The soldier stepped closer, shifting his hold on his rifle in a subtle intimidation move. “Not what we were told to look for, but…”

            “We’ll be taking you in,” the first trooper said as he grabbed Rex’s arm more securely and pulled out binders.

            He could fight. He could run. Even without his armor and weapons, he had a good chance of getting the upper hand and escaping. And yet… somehow he knew that if he caused a ruckus, it would make things immeasurably worse for the people here in this town, and that would make things impossible not only for Cody himself but for the people he was trying to help.

            And so Rex remained calm and compliant as the troopers yanked his arms behind his back, secured them, and marched him away.

            He caught sight of Ward standing on the edge of a crowd of villagers who were gawking at the display, and he knew Ward wanted to help him escape. He shook his head at the clone; Ward looked conflicted, but reluctantly nodded his understanding before disappearing into the nearby marketplace.

            Rex was hustled into a small room in a building that had apparently been turned into a temporary holding facility nearby, and was pushed onto a small chair and told not to move. With his hands being behind his back, the position was quite uncomfortable; but he arranged himself as best he could and waited.  

            And waited.

            He really hoped Cody had been able to make it off world. He really hoped Ward had been able to find a safe place to lay low.

            The changing light in the room told him the sun was setting before he heard footsteps outside the door, and he slightly adjusted his position on the chair as the door swung open to admit a tall, masked humanoid male clad entirely in black. The stranger didn’t need to introduce himself; Rex knew him instantly to be an Inquisitor.

            The Inquisitor apparently didn’t want any introductions either; without preamble, he strode up to Rex and bent forward, his face mere inches away from Rex’s.

            “What do you know of the Tamm family?” the Inquisitor demanded.

            Rex didn’t need to pretend to be confused; he was genuinely bewildered. “Who?”

            “The Tamm family,” the Inquisitor replied harshly. “Parents, daughter, son.”

            “I have no idea. I’ve never been here before. I arrived just today.”

            The Inquisitor stared at him for a moment longer before straightening with an aggravated sigh. “You’re of no use to me, then. Commander?”

            Another soldier walked into the room – and with a jolt, Rex recognized the armor: it was Commander Wolffe.

            “Yes, sir?” Wolffe addressed the Inquisitor.

            First Wolffe had been sent after his brothers; now he was working with Inquisitors?

            The Inquisitor was talking again. “Your team has dealt with deserters before, yes?”

            “Yes,” Wolffe said as a few other clone troopers and two clone commandos stepped into the room with him.

            “Take this one and deal with him,” the Inquisitor said. “The Tamms are long gone. Saleenas isn’t worth my time anymore, and I no longer require the services of the Recovery Strike Team. I have other matters to attend to.”

            And with that, the Inquisitor was gone.

            Rex couldn’t tell for sure since Wolffe had his helmet on; but the commander seemed to stare at him for a long moment before his head turned slightly to the left as if he was looking at the TK troopers still guarding Rex. Only then did he speak.

            “You two, we’ll be taking the prisoner off your hands.”

            “I’ll need those binders back,” one of the TK troopers, the one who had arrested Rex, said.

            Wolffe nodded. “Very well. Nomad, bind the prisoner,” he said, before seeming to do a double take and adding almost as an afterthought, “Bind him with his hands in front. It’s a long trip back to Coruscant.”

            Rex held his peace, staying silent as the change was made; and after ensuring Rex was securely bound again, Wolffe turned to leave – only to have one of the commandos pull him aside and whisper urgently to him. Rex couldn’t hear what the commando said, but he did hear Wolffe’s decisive reply.

            "Remember your duty, Striker. Our loyalty is to the Empire.”

            And with that, Wolffe stalked out of the room, leaving the rest of his team to escort Rex out of the holding facility and toward the transport.

            The thought crossed Rex’s mind that perhaps he should be worried; but he wasn’t. If the Inquisitor was leaving, it meant Cody and the Force sensitives hadn’t been found. If no other prisoners were being escorted off the planet, it meant Ward was safe. And the underground was in more than capable hands with Echo, Gregor, and Howzer still free.

            The clones who were currently escorting Rex, though – they weren’t safe. Wolffe and the rest of his team would face decommissioning sooner rather than later, if they didn’t get killed in action first.

            And Rex settled on his next mission objective.

            He was going to save Wolffe.

Chapter Text

            The message had said the clones had an escape plan and only needed a pickup.

            Based on the flashing lights of blaster fire, the blaring alarms, and the floodlights making the interior of the compound's open courtyard and the skirmish taking place inside clearly visible to the ship’s occupants despite it currently being the middle of the night here, Howzer guessed the plan had met with some complications.

            "Bring us in closer. They'll need help," he directed Forge, who nodded solemnly and swooped into the open space a hundred yards away from the front gate. The fighting inside the facility was taking almost all the guards' concentration and the anti-aircraft weapons were currently unmanned; but the situation could change very quickly, especially as their approach had not gone unnoticed. Winn apparently realized the same thing: within seconds of the ship's ramp opening, he had grabbed the missile launcher and dashed off the ship without waiting for instructions. Hyde, guessing what his friend was going to do, ran after him to help.

            Howzer, deciding to let them have at it, turned to the rest of the team. "Alright: Forge, Gregor, Tippit, Eli, Zane, you all are staying on the ship. The rest of us: let's go get that gate open and get our brothers out."

            There was no cheering; the men simply nodded solemnly as they followed Howzer and Echo down the ramp. Howzer couldn’t blame them; with the number of missions they had run to rescue clones such as these, he, too, felt no exultation over their objective now, only a resolute determination and desperate hope that he would succeed in freeing some of his brothers from the clutches of the Empire so they could find new lives for themselves.

            Whatever “new lives” might mean.  That was a topic he still wouldn’t let himself think about.

            Winn and Hyde had already launched one of the missiles and taken out one of the turret guns, and were now working on the second one. This served as more than enough distraction for the rest of the party to make it to the front gate undetected, especially given the lack of lighting on this side of the wall. Echo quickly located the control panel and scomped in to open the gate just as their presence attracted the attention of two guards standing on the wall. Heddy noticed them just as quickly, however, and they were soon no longer a threat.

            "We're in, stay alert," Echo warned as the gates opened to reveal a close-up view of the skirmish taking place between the workers and their guards.

            As expected from the blueprints Tech had found, the courtyard was where most of the work took place, and as such was filled with various pieces of heavy machinery and equipment. Many of the clones held random bits of metal and other material from the yard to defend themselves; and while one might initially think such weapons would be useless against the blaster fire of the troopers, one might change their mind upon witnessing one of the clones knock out a TK trooper with a wrench. A few of the clones had managed to take blasters off some of the fallen troopers; but there were far more clones than TK troopers lying motionless on the ground, and Howzer knew how this fight would inevitably end if the workers didn't get out now.

            An explosion to his distant right told him Winn and Hyde had successfully taken down the second anti-aircraft gun.

            "Men! Brothers!" he shouted to the clones closest to him. "We are here to get you out! Let's move!"

            The clones needed no further encouragement; and as they started to move toward the open gateway, the other workers noticed and understood.

            Echo joined Howzer as he stepped inside the yard and stood to the side of the entrance, covering the escaping clones. He peripherally noted Heddy taking up position on the other side, while the rest of the men in the network shuffled the workers on the other side of the gate toward the waiting ship, keeping a close eye on any threats on the top of the wall.

            "No chance the gate will close on them?" Howzer queried.

            "No, I was able to jam it. It'll take them a good hour to get it closed again," Echo replied.

            "Well, that's..."

            "Lucky!"

            Howzer glanced over at Heddy just in time to see him almost drop his blasters in shock as a clone in worker garb dashed up to him. The worker, apparently the long-lost Lucky, was grinning as he hefted a rifle he had obviously confiscated from a trooper.

            "Told you this would work out," Lucky said as he turned back toward the melee and took out another trooper who was harassing some of the clones.

            "This is your definition of things "working out"?" Heddy replied sardonically.

            "Well yeah, I kept my promise and you kept your promise, everything's great."

            Howzer permitted himself a small smile - the exchange reminded him so strongly of Trap and Gunner, two CTs who had been under his command for years... His heart ached as he remembered what had happened to them, and he turned his full attention back to the situation at hand.

            So many, gone far too soon, all because of the Empire’s careless disregard for the clones, for people in general. He couldn’t allow himself to get distracted. He had to help these others escape.

            A blaster shot passed far too close for comfort, and Howzer shot down the source of the fire as he glanced around the yard again. At least thirty clones had made it through the gate, but some were still pinned down behind the equipment. Howzer looked around again, prepping himself to retrieve them; but Lucky was the first to make a move, darting forward and angling himself to target the TK trooper who was laying down fire from the top of the wall. With the loss of their comrade, the two other TK troopers on the ground who were closing in on the trapped clones were distracted, and without hesitation one of the workers sprang up and brought down one of the troopers with a well-aimed blow with a pipe, while Lucky shot down the other.

            "Move!" Lucky urged the clones, frantically waving them forward and glancing around to ensure no other immediate threats arose. Howzer stepped forward to herd the six workers through the gates while Echo shot at another TK trooper who was threatening three other clones in the far corner of the yard... Just a few more men to be evacuated and they'd all be out of here...

            A soft pained noise made Howzer turn, and he saw Lucky hit the ground at the same instant Heddy shouted "No!" and ran toward his friend, apparently not seeing the clone worker with a hard, determined expression on his face turn the blaster from Lucky toward Heddy...

            A TK trooper on the wall shot the worker before Howzer could shout a warning to Heddy; just as suddenly, a blaster shot from the other side of the wall caused the TK trooper to topple over. Heddy was at Lucky's side, trying to get him up. Howzer started forward - they needed to get out of here, and Heddy would need some help...

            "Howzer, get down!" someone shouted, and Howzer, startled, caught a glimpse of a heavy chain swinging toward him just before everything went dark.

            Echo watched in horror as the boom arm of the relatively small but heavy crane, having been subjected to one too many stray blaster shots, gave in to the strain and began toppling toward Howzer.

            "Howzer, get down!" he shouted, giving Howzer just enough time to dodge so the equipment didn't crush him, but still taking an ugly blow to the head.

            A clone worker was already running forward to help Heddy with his friend; now they just needed to get Howzer out.

            "Niner, Codex, get Howzer," Echo ordered as he simultaneously shot yet another TK trooper while waving two more workers out the gate. "We need to leave." One last escaping worker was shot down mere feet away from him; Echo automatically checked the clone for life signs before stepping away from the dead man and noticing even more guards appearing in the yard.

            It hadn't escaped his notice that some of the TK troopers were lobbing grenades at the clones outside the enclosure, and evidence indicated smoke bombs had been used at some point during the fighting; but no thermal detonators had been used inside the compound.

            The Imperials here might want to minimize damage to the equipment, but property damage didn't concern Echo in the slightest. And so, after ensuring the last of the clones who wanted to escape and the rest of his men had made it out the gate, he calmly pulled a few grenades from his pack, placed them on nearby equipment, and set the charges before dashing out the entrance himself.

            Ten seconds later, the blaster fire raining down on the escaping men came to an abrupt halt as a loud boom split the air.

            "Go go go!" Echo urged the stragglers who, startled, had turned to look for the source of the explosion; and, while they quickly heeded his advice and redoubled their pace, several of these were injured and were moving slowly. Knowing the enemy would regroup in short order, Echo turned and walked backwards toward the ship, bringing up the rear with blaster in hand. Liam joined him, and together they covered their brothers who were nearly to the ship...

            A whining noise registered to Echo's ears a split second before Liam warned, "Incoming!" The attacking vessel, undeterred by the blaster shots being directed toward it, let loose some return fire of its own before flying onward to prepare to loop around for another pass. Liam let out a groan, clutching his side, but they had no time to slow down; grabbing his arm, Echo dragged Liam the last thirty feet onto the ship and, taking one last look to make sure no one had been left behind, shouted to Forge, "We're in! Get us out of here!"

            "Gregor, I need you," Forge said as he immediately closed the ramp and began to lift off.

            One of the rescued clones stepped to the front of the rows of men spilling out from the hold into the main hallway. "How can I help?" he asked.

            "Get on the guns," Gregor called back in response; and the clone didn't hesitate, stepping up to the mount and concentrating on returning fire on the three Imperial ships that had been scrambled to intercept them.

            Echo didn't have to wonder why Eli wasn't still on the guns: Eli had training as a medic and was likely helping the injured. Echo, looking over Liam's injury, wondered if he should offer help to Forge and Gregor first to quicken the escape... but no need: they had already made it through the upper atmosphere and were now jumping to hyperspace.

            "Don't think we sustained too much damage..." Echo heard Forge say, as Echo retrieved some medical supplies from his pack and dressed Liam's wound. It thankfully wasn’t a direct shot from the attack ship – such firepower would have been fatal – but the rocks and debris that had been kicked up by the shots and essentially turned into projectiles themselves still left concerningly deep wounds.

            "Stay still," he ordered the other once the dressing was in place. "You'll be fine, but you'll still need better patching once we land." He paused and glanced again at the crowded ship before adding, "Sorry you have to stay on the floor..."

            Liam let out a weak snort. "Believe it or not, I'm quite comfortable here."

            "Uh huh," Echo deadpanned, patting Liam's shoulder before standing and making his way toward the hold. He needed to check on the men and get a head count.

            Chaser hadn’t made it out. Neither had Stitch. Echo had seen both of them lying dead on the ground on the way out to the ship. All the other men who were part of the network were alive and accounted for, Echo saw now as he did a quick check; and sixty-seven decommissioned clones had made it out. Many of them were injured, but most of the injured seemed relatively stable.

            Unfortunately, Lucky wasn't one of them.

            Echo found Heddy doing emergency first aid on his friend, but it was pointless - Echo knew it, and Echo knew Heddy knew it. Lucky apparently knew, too; for he now grabbed Heddy's arm and moved it away.

            “Heddy, you’re wasting your time,” Lucky said weakly. “It’s okay – I accomplished my objective, and so did you. I got them out, and you got me out.” He looked beyond Heddy now, to the group of rescued clones who were watching him in varying states of shock, disbelief, and grief; and, somehow, he managed a reassuring, almost cheerful smile. "I won't live to see the day all of us are free, boys,” he told them, “but you will. You will."

            Echo saw Heddy’s jaw start to tremble, despite his best efforts to mask it; and he knew Heddy and Lucky needed to be afforded some privacy. He stepped away; and with one meaningful look from him, the other clones backed away too.

            Trying not to think about how much he still wished he could have been there for Fives when he had died, Echo walked further into the hold to find Howzer, soon spotting him in the far corner with both Eli and Codex working on him. Howzer’s helmet and breastplate had been removed, and while the armor had obviously done its job in taking the brunt of the impact, the captain did not look good.

            “How is he?” Echo asked, not quite sure if he wanted the answer. What would he tell Trey? The former stormtrooper looked up to Howzer like an older brother.  

            Eli heaved a sigh. “He’s still alive – for now. If we want to keep him that way, he needs full medical facilities. I already commed Forge that we need to stop on Delaridium first.”

            Echo thought of all the other injured men, and nodded. “That’s a good idea. Is there anything he needs right now?”

            “Not anything we can give him.” Eli hesitated a moment, seeming to summon his courage, before adding, “How many did we lose this time?”

            “Stitch and Chaser,” Codex answered before Echo could respond. “I saw Liam going to check on them, I think he hoped they were just injured, but…” Codex trailed off, and he looked away.

            “How much longer are we going to have to do this? How many more brothers are we going to lose?” Eli muttered in an undertone; and Echo, recognizing it to be a rhetorical question, held his peace and instead quietly put a hand on Eli’s shoulder before turning away.

            He started back across the hold just in time to see Heddy close Lucky’s eyes, gently rest him on the floor, and stand up. As if sensing Echo’s approach, Heddy looked over his shoulder, the grief still raw on his face yet mixed with an odd sort of acceptance.

            “We have to move on the other camps,” Heddy said to Echo. “The Empire isn’t going to stand for a mass breakout like this without imposing consequences. Just look at what happened on Bornash.”

            Echo nodded. “We do, and we will.” Then he sighed. “But we can’t rush into this. It will take some planning. And with our limited forces…”

            “I’ll help you.”

            Echo looked at the speaker, a rescued clone with a thick scar running across his nose and cheeks. The man’s face was set with determined resolve; but the look in his eyes somehow told Echo that despite the brave words, this clone wasn’t looking forward to another fight.

            “None of you have to join us if you don’t want to,” Echo said. Numbers were an important factor; but if the men weren’t motivated and didn’t want to be present, they would likely end up doing more harm than good. “We didn’t rescue you just to add to our numbers.”

            The volunteer straightened, his eyes becoming steely with newfound purpose. “I’ll help you,” he repeated, taking a deep breath before adding, “I’ll help them. For Lucky.”

            At this, the other rescued clones started exchanging startled glances with each other; and soon enough, three other clones had stepped forward, one of them placing a hand on the first man’s back.

            “For Lucky,” they said.

            All the uninjured workers were stepping up now; even two injured clones were saying they wanted to volunteer. Echo looked at Heddy, who was regarding the volunteers with a rare look of surprised appreciation, and started to think that maybe they could gain the advantage in saving the rest of their brothers after all…

            “Echo,” Gregor’s voice suddenly sounded over the ship’s intercom. “We need you up here. Now.”

            There was no mistaking the urgency in Gregor’s tone; and Echo’s stomach dropped as he made his way out of the hold and toward the flight deck. Something was wrong, something was very wrong…

            “What happened?” he asked as he walked up toward the pilot seat.

            Gregor turned to him. “Vik just transferred a transmission that was sent to the Remora by a clone named Ward.”

            Echo’s brows furrowed for a moment as he tried to place the familiar name… “That’s the man Rex was going to pick up from Saleenas.”

            “Yes,” Gregor affirmed. “They ran into troops and an Inquisitor. Ward made it out. But he says Rex has been captured.”

Chapter Text

            Wolffe sat stiffly on the flight deck, where he wouldn’t have to see or hear anything that would remind him of the prisoner currently under guard in the crew’s quarters.

            Unfortunately, out of sight wasn’t enough to keep Rex out of Wolffe’s mind.

            He scowled as he forcibly reminded himself of his responsibilities as a clone commander. He had to follow orders, he had to protect his men who remained. The men all wanted to stay in the military; they didn't want to be decommissioned, sent to some work prison.

            Because there was no denying now, with the rumors and senatorial statements flying around, that the “work assignments” for decommissioned clones amounted to nothing more than imprisonment in labor camps. And that begged the question: Why were the decommissioned clones, the loyal soldiers, being treated like criminals?

            There had to be a good reason for it, Wolffe reminded himself. And Wolffe wasn't dealing with a loyal soldier now; he was dealing with a deserter, a traitor. Much as he had admired Rex, he couldn't admire him anymore. He, Wolffe, had been born and bred to fight enemies of the Republic - now the Empire; even now, he could still feel that nagging sense that all those who believed the Empire was wrong in any way, including in the matter of how clones were treated, were traitors.

            Unbidden, Plo Koon's voice echoed across Wolffe's mind, a snippet of a conversation when Wolffe had protested the general joining the men in the thick of a battle, thinking such action wasn’t worth the risk. The general had reiterated the value of each man before saying, “It’s an honor to fight alongside such men as you. And it is an honor to fight for you.”

            Wolffe shook his head, willing the memory away... Only to have General Koon's voice replaced by Trey's muttered postulation: Maybe the Jedi were right.

            The Empire considered the clones to be expendable.

            The Jedi had not.

            Who was right?

            Striker’s remarks now replayed through his head, the whispered conversation between the two of them just after receiving their dismissal from the Inquisitor.

            “You know Rex will be charged with treason,” Striker had said.

            “Yes,” Wolffe had replied in an undertone.

            “All Rex is doing is trying to help our brothers live,” Striker had insisted. “Why are we against that? Why is the Empire against that? How is that treason?”

            All of Striker’s questions were valid, of course; but Wolffe had no answer, and had only been able to give Striker a feeble reminder of their duty. Their duty to arrest their brothers who had already been cast aside and were only asking for their freedom.

            The ship dropped from hyperspace to approach Coruscant, and Wolffe glanced around at the team. Striker had removed his commando helmet and was now blankly staring at it, while Hilo had kept his on the entire time. Both of them commandos; both of them with such different opinions on the clone question. He looked at the other soldiers, clones and non-clones alike, who had started out so united in purpose, dedicated to working together to serve the Empire, but with that unity and camaraderie fraying at the edges as their standards and loyalties were repeatedly tested by the Empire's demands, bringing significant differences of opinion to the fore.

            He recalled his conversation with Admiral Dumize after the admiral had reviewed the reports from Teth, and his resolve was strengthened. He had to set an example for them. They had to obey orders. No room for personal interpretation or higher standards, no room for questions. Their lives depended on it. It didn't matter what the Jedi had thought. What mattered was the here and now; and he couldn't fail his team.

            The ship was granted clearance to land in the prison courtyard, and Wolffe ordered the majority of the team to remain on standby guarding the ship while Wolffe, Striker, Hilo, Ethan, and Noah descended the ramp, escorting Rex in their midst. This prison had specifically been requisitioned to hold clone deserters and insubordinates, and the guard detail surrounding the prison and covering the main entrances was intimidating even for Wolffe. He knew that the prisoners held inside were never let out of their cells, however, so the interior guard detail was slightly more relaxed. After all, the guards could always call in reinforcements from the host of TK troopers outside should anything go wrong, and the system was designed to automatically lock everything down at the slightest hint of unauthorized access.

            Wolffe knew Rex was watching carefully, noting what he could of the guard and weapons positions surrounding the prison, the sets of three nearly impregnable durasteel doors they had to pass through to get to the offices on the first floor, and the fact that this first floor housed the warden's and other administrative offices but no prisoners. Some of the guards looked up expectantly when the team walked in, and each of them looked relieved when they recognized the team.

            “Got another one, then?” one of the guards, a TK trooper named Jon, said in greeting.

            Rex was silent, but Wolffe didn’t miss the way one of his eyebrows raised; and somehow this silent judgment made Wolffe experience some difficulty finding his own voice. “Yes.” 

            “We got all the basic details from the information you transmitted earlier,” Jon went on matter-of-factly. “If you can just verify…”

            “I know the drill,” Wolffe interjected as he stepped to the console used to process new prisoners. The warden, for whatever reason, had decided the team that captured any given deserter was also in charge of completing processing and escorting the prisoner to their cell; and the Recovery Strike Team was responsible for capturing quite a few of the deserters now imprisoned here.

            Wolffe suddenly wondered if any of the deserters had received their promised trial yet.       

            He wondered nothing aloud, however, instead turning to the others on the team and saying, “I’ll take it from here.” He took Rex by the arm before adding, “Wait for me here. No need for all of us to try crowding into that tiny lift.”   

            Hilo stepped forward. "Are you sure it's wise to go alone, Commander?" he asked doubtfully.

            Wolffe looked pointedly at Rex. "He's secured and unarmed, there's no way out, and if he tries anything the guards have standing orders to shoot to kill. I'll be fine."

            Slowly, Hilo nodded and stepped back in line with the others; and Wolffe guided Rex forward, surprised and, for some reason, a little disappointed when Rex didn’t offer any resistance.

            Did Rex want to be imprisoned?

            They entered the lift, and it wasn’t until the doors closed that Rex spoke. “You don’t have to stay with the Empire, Wolffe. You’ve seen what they’re doing to the clones, even the ones who stay loyal. They’re going to cast you aside too.”

            Wolffe stayed silent, staring straight ahead, not daring to look at Rex. This particular lift really was very cramped – whoever had designed this prison had apparently decided the risk of prisoners piling into the lift to escape warranted extensive consideration. The guards had a larger lift available should the need arise to move large numbers of troops between floors, but special access was required, and prisoner escorts always used the smaller lift.

            The facility consisted of the top floor built above ground and five additional floors built underground, each capable of holding up to one hundred prisoners, though Wolffe knew the facility was currently only at half capacity.

            “Wolffe…” Rex tried again.

            The lift seemed to be closing in on him somehow. “This prison holds the clones who questioned orders,” Wolffe interrupted abruptly. “You'll fit right in.”

            Rex let out a small sigh just as they reached the bottom-most floor.

            The lift doors slid open, and Wolffe gratefully exited to the wider space of the corridor, nodding to the four guards at the station.

            “New prisoner?” one of the TK troopers asked – with the helmets on, Wolffe didn’t recognize the trooper.

            “Yes,” he replied. “I’ll take him to his cell. Looks like you all have just finished your sweep.” Typically at least two guards remained at the station while the other pair patrolled the floor, rotating out every fifteen minutes after a sweep was completed.

            “Yep,” one of the other troopers said now, “everything’s secure.” Suddenly he looked at Rex, and based on his tone Wolffe could well imagine the hard expression on the trooper’s face. “Have you warned him we shoot to kill?”

            “He knows,” Wolffe said.

            “Well, if he gives you any trouble, you know where we are.”

            Wolffe nodded again before pushing Rex ahead of him down the hallway. His gaze strayed to some of the prisoners in their cells as they strode through the maze of corridors, and he quickly looked away. He recognized two of the clones he had brought in over eight months ago, and they weren’t looking too good. Why were they still here? Why hadn’t they gone through their court martial yet? Not that a court martial guaranteed leniency, of course; but if these men had anything resembling a fair trial, they should at least have had a chance to be moved to more comfortable conditions if they were sentenced to continued imprisonment.

            Most concerning to him: why hadn’t he bothered to check on their status? No - he knew why. While he hadn’t let himself think about it before, now he knew that despite telling his brothers they would receive a fair trial, he knew this was all a farce, and he had been trying to distance himself as much as possible from this fact.

            There was nothing he could do about it, anyway.

            Now that they were alone, Rex was speaking again. “Wolffe, please. You see what is happening. You know better than most what the Empire is doing. Does none of it bother you? The Empire throwing us all away, killing our brothers?”

            Wolffe glanced at the cams as he approached the last corridor – the cell was halfway down the next hall. Random details crowded into Wolffe’s mind: the cams didn’t pick up audio; but there were precious few blind spots in this prison; but Wolffe couldn’t afford to be caught in a blind spot for any length of time anyway, he’d be accused of conspiring with prisoners…

            Rex was still talking. “What the Empire is doing, Wolffe, it’s wrong. And not just what they’re doing to us, to the clones. You’ve seen what the Empire is doing to all the citizens in all the systems we fought so hard for. We were fighting for their freedom. They aren’t free anymore. Look around you. The Empire wages constant battles and calls it peace. They use extreme methods and call it order. It’s wrong.”

            Wolffe took a deep breath, steeling himself for the question he didn’t dare ask, but had to ask. “Just tell me one thing, Rex.” His voice lowered even further almost of its own accord. “Were the Jedi our enemy?”

            Rex stopped short; Wolffe turned toward him and, as much for the cams as for anything else, gripped Rex’s arm again. Rex didn’t even seem to notice; he was staring intently at Wolffe as if he could see straight through the helmet. A few heartbeats that each felt like an eternity passed before Rex answered.

            “No, Wolffe, they weren’t. But I think you already know that. And even if you won’t admit it, I think you’ve already figured out who the real enemy is.”

            Wolffe pressed his lips together before turning away, still holding onto Rex’s arm and now dragging him along behind him across the short remaining distance to the empty cell. Wolffe pulled out his data rod with his free hand to open the cell before speaking in a rapid undertone as he guided Rex forward.

            “I’m going to walk you into this cell. I’m going to turn away. Somehow” – he released Rex’s binders – “you’re going to get out of these binders and subdue me before I finish securing you. You’re going to take my blaster and my data rod. You might find that using my data rod at the command center on this floor will allow you to release the rest of the prisoners, and give you control of the administrative lift. You might also find that my data rod will grant you access to the exit on the northwest side of the building on this floor, the exit that leads into the sewers. Sorry in advance,” – they were Coruscant sewers, after all – “but it’s your only option to get out.”

            Rex was regarding him with a look of such brotherly compassion and concern, Wolffe almost shrunk away. “Come with me, Wolffe,” he urged. “We can get out together…”

            “No,” Wolffe adamantly shook his head, even as he abruptly resolved that he could at least get the rumored inhibitor chip removed. Such action was long overdue. “I must protect my men for as long as I can. Just like you have to protect the others. You have to get the men out of here.” Suddenly the full weight of the entire clone situation dawned on him, and he spoke more urgently. “And you have to get them out of the labor camps. Something happened on Farsi. I’m not sure exactly what – you probably know more about it than I do – but Admiral Dumize is under a lot of scrutiny. He’s afraid, and… well, when Imperials are afraid, they like to cover things up.” He took a breath. “Don’t let them cover us up, Rex. Don’t let them make us expendable. Not again.”

            Rex nodded, his hands still in a position to where no one could notice his binders were unlocked. “You have my word.”

            Wolffe gave him one small nod before straightening and turning away. He heard the faintest noise behind him and tried not to brace himself…

            “Commander! Sir! Commander Wolffe!”

            The urgent voice broke through the blackness, and Wolffe groaned as he blearily opened his eyes to find Hilo crouched beside him, helmet off and eyes narrowed in concern.

            Wolffe groaned again as he looked around, taking in his surroundings. He was laying on the floor of a cell; he and Hilo were alone. “What happened?”

            “We were hoping you could tell us,” Hilo returned. “The first floor was suddenly locked down and we couldn’t raise you or the guards. By the time we were able to get through to the other floors, we discovered the guard stations on each floor had been locked down too and the prisoners had all been released. We’ve just barely got comms back online to call in reinforcements.” Almost as an aside, he added, “The warden told us it’s up to our team to sort out this mess and file the report, by the way.”

            “Wait.” Wolffe sat up, shakily removing his helmet and rubbing the back of his neck. “How long have I been out?”

            “I don’t know. I just found you. Things got locked down almost an hour ago.”

            Rex had not been playing around when he had taken Wolffe up on the offer to knock him out. Wolffe closed his eyes for a moment as Hilo went on, “What happened to you, Commander? Everything was shut down using your credentials…”

            Wolffe was still regaining his bearings, but had enough insight to make a show of patting his armor. “They must have taken my data rod.”

            “Who did?”

            Wolffe shrugged, now struggling to his feet, Hilo following his example and standing upright too. “Don’t know. They came from behind.” Oh, getting up was a mistake – he staggered to the wall and leaned against it, resting his forehead on his hands. Kriff, what had Rex done to him??

            Hilo stared. “I can’t believe someone would get the jump on you, Commander.”  

            “No need to remind me that I’m not as young as I used to be, Lieutenant,” Wolffe replied drily, his voice somewhat muffled against his hands.

            “You really don’t know who?”

            “Nope.” Taking a deep breath, Wolffe opened his eyes and let his hands drop to his sides, though he still leaned against the wall for support.

            “There’s another odd thing,” Hilo said, more slowly now. “We can’t find any records for Rex being processed – we can’t find any data from the original transmission or anything.”

            “Must have been a system glitch,” Wolffe said shortly.

            A pause, then – “Right,” Hilo said.

            “Where are the prisoners now?” Wolffe said, as much to turn Hilo off pondering how such a glitch might have occurred as to satisfy his own curiosity regarding the success of the escape. If Rex had managed to get out…

            “Gone. Even the sick ones escaped. Most of them, at least – some of the stragglers were shot down. A few of the guards were killed during the escape, too.” Hilo shook his head. “Probably wouldn’t have gotten out if Striker hadn’t decided to help them.”

            Given the shock of this news, Wolffe forgot entirely how woozy he was feeling, and he stepped toward Hilo. “What?”

            “Well, we don’t know for sure what happened; but when we finally overrode the lockdown, Striker and Noah went with some of the guards to intercept the prisoners. The others got knocked out somehow, and when they came to Striker was gone. I think… I think he might have run interference and left with the prisoners.”

            Wolffe should have seen this coming, and truth be told he was rather happy for Striker for finally making up his mind and taking action after so many months feeling conflicted about the clone situation. Still, the potential consequences of such a desertion not only for Rex and the other clones, but also the Recovery Strike Team, crossed Wolffe’s mind, and he met and held Hilo’s gaze.

            “You mean Striker was killed in action while trying to prevent a prison break. We are unsure whether he was hit by friendly fire or not.”

            Hilo’s dark eyes stared at him steadily, his expression inscrutable, before he replied levelly, “That’s what I said, Commander.”

            “Just wanted to make sure I understood you properly, Lieutenant.”

            Hilo nodded before gesturing toward the opening of the cell. “Are you feeling well enough to move, Commander?”

            Wolffe sighed and started toward the opening, wondering if he could find a doctor who would check him over and remove an inhibitor chip at the same time. “Yes.”

            Hilo followed him. “Well enough to fill out an incident report?”

            “Never.”

Chapter Text

            Howzer opened his eyes, blinking up at the high ceiling for a minute as he tried to get his bearings. He vaguely remembered something about waking up before in the same place, Echo and Trey had both been with him, Echo had said something about wanting to make sure Howzer was on the mend before joining the others to break the rest of the clones out…

            He bolted upright on the cot, ignoring the sharp increase in the throbbing of his head. Were the others really going to break out the rest of the clones? On their own? With less than two dozen men who would fight? Didn’t they know that was suicide? Was that why they had left him behind?

            “It’s good to see you awake, Captain, but if you want to stay awake might I suggest you lay back down?” a bright, lyrical voice with a very familiar accent met his ears. “You are looking very pale.”

            Soft yet strong hands coaxed him back into a flat position on the cot, and within a few moments the room had stopped spinning enough that he could more clearly see the face of the Twi’lek woman standing over him.

            He wondered if he was still dreaming.

            “Vela?”

            The universe was either very kind, or very cruel.

            “So you do remember me!” she replied with a bright smile – the kind of smile that had always seemed to imprint on his soul. And still did so now, apparently. But then her expression became stern. “No, that will not be enough to convince me to clear you for duty.”

            “But…”

            “No buts. I’m the medic here and you will do as you’re told. I know how stubborn you are.”

            He was having a very difficult time keeping up with this conversation, given that he was still trying to process the fact that Vela was standing there, right in front of him, after all these years. But one thing she had said commanded his attention. “You’re a medic?”

            “Yes. Why else would I be here?”

            “How did you…”

            “Caught wind a few months ago of the clone underground from Gordon Hibrid on Coruscant,” she said, walking around to the other side of the cot to check some of the monitors. “You and your men saved my family, and I wanted to help you save yours. The way the Empire has been treating you has been horrible – well,” she amended, “the way the Empire has been treating just about everyone has been horrible, but you clones have gotten the worst of it. I figured you could always use more medical assistance with what you’re doing. I’ve been here ever since.”

            “But… Where is here?”

            “The primary hospital on Delaridium.”

            Ah, that’s right – Senator Polorio had, unofficially and strictly off the record, disclosed to Senator Chuchi that the top floor of the hospital on Delaridium would be under construction and off limits for an unspecified amount of time, potentially until such time as clones could freely seek medical attention elsewhere. Howzer had never needed the hospital’s services for himself, of course; but he had brought some deserters here, those who had been found in a bad way and needed more medical amenities than what the base on Predonia or the temporary shelters on Portavis could provide. He should have recognized the hospital; then again, with Vela here, everything seemed… different, to him.  

            He blinked – he had allowed himself to get distracted from the main concern: rejoining his brothers to help them free the others. The Empire would enact punishments on the other camps in no time, of that Howzer was sure. The underground would need all the help it could get – including his. But first he had to understand what had happened that he had ended up here. Last thing he remembered, they had been storming the facility on Xantilia...

            “What happened? Why am I here?”

            “May I?”

            It took him a moment to realize she was asking permission to sit on the side of his bed while she talked to him, given the lack of chairs on the rather overcrowded floor. Shoving down the sudden feeling of butterflies that had erupted in his stomach, he nodded.  

            “Thank you,” she said, perching on the corner of the cot; the way she exhaled made him wonder how long she had been on her feet today, but she remained professional as she spoke. “From what I was told, you were hit in the head when a crane fell on you. Your helmet took the brunt of the impact, but you still sustained significant head trauma. Your brothers did a remarkable job keeping you alive until they got you here. They had to leave right away since Captain Rex was captured…”

            Howzer almost sat up again. “Wait, Rex was captured?”

            “ ‘ Was’ being the operative word,” she explained patiently. “He has since escaped and brought all the other clone prisoners from that prison with him.”

            Howzer groaned in frustration. “I get knocked out for ten seconds and…”

            Vela laughed lightly. “Oh, no, dear, you were unconscious for six days. And then you woke up long enough to talk to Echo when he and that other soldier, Trey, returned with some of the sick prisoners, and then you passed out again for another three days.”

            Oh, he definitely had to get back to the others. Now.

            “Well, Vela, thank you for your help getting me back to normal. Now, if you’ll just return my commlink, I’ll be…”

            Vela was fixing him with the sternest glare he had ever encountered. The old trainers on Kamino could have taken notes. “What did I tell you, Captain, about you being cleared for duty?”

            He frowned at her, momentarily distracted. “Why do you keep calling me ‘Captain’? You stopped calling me that months before you left Ryloth.”

            Her expression was still stern as she repeated herself with the correction. “What did I tell you, Howzer, about you being cleared for duty?”

            “I have to get back,” he insisted. “I should… I need to be there to help.”

            Vela tsked. “Ah, you sound like him.” And she gestured to a cot a few feet away, on which lay a fitfully sleeping clone who looked like he had only recently been convinced to stop knocking on death’s door.

            Howzer furrowed his eyebrows. “But… Look at him, he’s in no condition to fight.”

            “My point exactly,” she said, giving him a pointed look. “That’s Whiplash. He’ll want to talk to you when he wakes up – he’ll be happy to know you made it. He’s been worried about you.”

            “I haven’t met him before.”

            “No,” she agreed, “but he was still worried. Perhaps it was because he lost so many other brothers, even here. So many were sick and severely malnourished – we haven’t been able to save them all. And then there are the men from the mines…” Worry and sorrow filled her eyes. “They wanted to help too, but most of them have the worst cases of sidoxide poisoning I’ve ever seen. I don’t know how they’ve survived this long.”

            He wanted to comfort her, but wasn’t sure how – not when the news of even more losses cut him so deeply. “Do you think they’ll make it?” he asked quietly.

            She seemed to realize she looked worried, and she blinked, rearranging her features into a reassuring smile. “I hope so. Dr. Constine has some ideas for treatments. Anyway,” she said resolutely, “as I was saying, all the men who were strong enough wanted to help with the other rescue missions. So don’t worry, Rex and Echo and the others have plenty of people to fight now. Last I heard was, oh, around two hundred?”

            Two hundred clones, all working together to free their brothers. Gregor must be ecstatic right about now, even more enthused than usual.

            Gregor, ecstatic. Even more so than usual. That was a scary thought…

            At any rate, knowing their forces had substantially increased was a relief; but it didn’t change his own obligations to his brothers.

            “I still need to help,” he said stubbornly.

            “Relax, Howzer,” Vela said softly. “You have done nothing but help them, and it has made a difference. They have a different mission than you right now. Your mission is to get well.” She held up a hand to stop him interrupting her, and added decisively, “We don’t need another casualty on our hands.”

            Howzer held on to his stubborn resolve for a few more seconds before sighing and giving in. She was right. He couldn’t even sit up without feeling at imminent risk of passing out; he would be absolutely no use on these rescue ops. If anything, his presence would make everything worse.

            Intuiting that he had finally seen sense, Vela smiled and patted his arm before standing and walking between the rows of cots, making her rounds on the patients. When she turned a few minutes later and saw Howzer watching her, she tilted her head thoughtfully at him before moving back to the computer a few feet away from his cot, and proceeding to input some notes.

            “So, what is your plan when all this is over?” Vela asked conversationally once she was done.

            Howzer was silent, considering how to respond. It had been getting to know the Syndullas that had made Howzer first start to consider the possibility of soldiers creating families of their own. It had been getting to know Vela that had first awakened in Howzer the unspoken, never revealed, but still deeply cherished and annoyingly persistent idea of him having a partner of his own – a very specific partner, too.

            He had never told her his feelings, of course. As far as she or anyone else was aware, they had only ever been good acquaintances, maybe good enough to be considered friends. And then at the end of the war, Vela had quietly left Ryloth, and Howzer had never bothered asking about her - he had too much to do to restore Ryloth under the Empire, and besides, she deserved more than a clone as a partner, and clones couldn’t have any families besides their brothers anyway…

            “Howzer? Are you okay?” Vela’s voice, tinged with concern, broke into his thoughts.

            “What? Oh, yes,” he said, abruptly deciding to go with the safe answer, “yes, I’m okay. I was just… I don’t know what I’m going to do.” He frowned a little. “I always figured I’d stay with my brothers. I guess I’ll just do whatever they decide to do when they have their freedom.”

            Vela was giving him a rather unimpressed look. “There’s more. What aren’t you telling me?”

            “What do you mean?”

            “You have the same look on your face as you did when there were fifty battle droids waiting to ambush us outside our only escape route and you didn’t want to tell us.”

            Howzer immediately shifted his expression to what he hoped was one of flat naivete.

            “That’s not going to work,” was Vela’s response. “Go on. Tell me. Or,” she added, “if you really don’t want to tell me, admit it and I’ll stop prying.”

            This was why he had started to fall in love with her in the first place, he remembered: she was direct and observant and intuitive, and so kind.

            “It’s not you,” Howzer admitted, “I’ve never talked about this with anyone.”

            “I’m happy to listen,” Vela prompted.

            With part of him wondering what in the blazes he was doing, he found himself saying, “If I had a choice, I would like to have a family of my own – wife, children, that kind of family.”

            Vela was regarding him with a thoughtful frown. “Why wouldn’t you have a choice?”

            “Well, clones can’t have families,” he stated. “Or at least, our brothers are our family. That’s all.”

            Her frown had turned from thoughtful to puzzled, and she sat on the edge of the bed again – he suspected she didn’t even realize she had done it. “Why can’t clones have families?” she asked.  

            “Have you met any clone who has gotten married? Has kids?” Howzer asked. “Because I haven’t.”

            “Why does that mean you can’t, though?”

            He stammered for a moment. “Because – how could we? We’re soldiers, that’s all. We are created to be soldiers, we are raised and trained to be soldiers, we live as soldiers, we are supposed to die as soldiers. We have our brothers – and I suppose I have some sisters too” – he added as an afterthought, he hadn’t even known he had any sisters until after the war ended and the fact sometimes slipped his mind – “but we don’t have mothers or fathers, and we don’t have children of our own.” He paused a moment to collect his thoughts, trying to make Vela understand. “We were only taught about those things so we’d have a rudimentary understanding of the people and cultures we were fighting for, not in a way that would apply to us. We’re only supposed to know how to fight.” He sighed before quietly admitting something he had barely acknowledged even to himself. “Even if I could be a husband and father, I don’t have the faintest idea how to be one.” Outside observation of others’ parenting and partnership styles could only go so far, after all.

            Vela’s puzzled expression had melted into a kind smile, the compassion in her eyes so strong Howzer couldn’t bring himself to look at her – it made his heart feel like it would burst. She sat in silence, considering him for a minute or two before she spoke.

            “I saw how you treated your men, Howzer,” she said softly, “how you treated the people on Ryloth, the children and families.” She took his hand and gently squeezed it. “You care. When it comes to families, any kind of family, that’s a great place to start.” She smiled again as she released his hand and stood. “At least, that’s something I’m looking for in a partner, though I suppose I can’t speak for everyone,” she shrugged.

            Her touch had electrified him; but her words sank deeper, reaching the spark of his barely-acknowledged desire and fanning it with hope. Maybe it didn’t have to matter what other people thought of the clones and the culture they had managed to scrape together for themselves. Maybe it didn’t have to matter that the clones hadn’t been raised by traditional means or with parents.

            Maybe, maybe…

            “You’ve given me a lot to think about, Vela,” he said slowly.

            She chuckled. “Good, maybe then you won’t go against your medic’s orders and try to escape.”

            And suddenly, the full implications of one of Vela’s last comments finally hit him, and he wondered if maybe, maybe…

            “No,” he agreed, “I don’t think I will.”

Chapter Text

            Gregor surveyed the scene with barely-contained glee. If all went well, within the next 24 hours the clone underground would have extracted all the decommissioned and imprisoned clones who cared to be rescued from Imperial servitude and gotten them well on their way to one of several planets the Bad Batch had identified as suitable locations to lay low. And by the time the Empire caught up to them, Senator Chuchi would hopefully have driven Admiral Dumize into a corner to where the decommissioning program would be officially discontinued anyway.

            Lucky had had more of an impact that he might have ever imagined he could have: not only did every single man from Lucky’s camp who hadn’t been seriously injured – fifty-three in total – volunteer to help with these missions, but their example had influenced almost three-quarters of the relatively healthy prisoners who had escaped with Rex to join in as well. Between these influxes of volunteers, the underground had nearly two hundred men to carry out these extractions, and Gregor had never seen Rex or Echo so hopeful for an absolute win before. He had never been so hopeful for an absolute win before. 

            Echo had taken the operation on Hinta. Heddy was heading up the mission on Noruda III. Gregor was leading the extraction on Dorano – he had wanted to be the one to help Rex with the prison break, but at least the Dorano mission would still be exciting.

            Striker had gone with Rex on the mission to infiltrate the Crucible, along with thirty clones who were waiting on standby in the four rescue ships in case they needed back up. Striker was the one with the necessary access codes anyway – no one had any idea why the commando hadn’t been classified as MIA or AWOL during Rex’s escape, but it was fortunate for multiple reasons. For one thing, clone deserters and prison escapees couldn’t reasonably be charged with kidnapping a clone commando, as they likely would have been had Striker been listed as MIA. For another, Striker, as a commando, had been granted the same level of access as Wolffe, and the prison access codes that Striker had memorized likely hadn’t changed as they would have if Striker had been classified as a deserter himself; all of which meant it should be relatively simple to infiltrate the prison, especially with Rex borrowing Echo’s TK armor.

            Gregor, in contrast, got to take the direct brute force approach here and come face to face with some stormtroopers – and he couldn’t be more thrilled.

            All the missions were dangerous, of course; but the mission here on Dorano was the trickiest of all the labor camps. Getting onto the planet was easy – there was next to no orbital surveillance – but that was likely because the difficulties in accessing the compound itself were so significant. The labor camp was a quarry built into the base of a mountain, with two of the entrances located in ravines that would essentially be death traps for any invading force. That left the third entrance as the most accessible, and this was a narrow path hemmed in by various cacti leading up to the main entrance. Additionally, the nearest place to land a ship was a mile away from the compound, which posed an increased risk of the men being shot down during their escape. The rescuers themselves could sneak up on the base by carefully making their way around the plant life, but it wouldn’t be practical to expect the escaping clones to sprint through a cactus field, and they would be easy pickings if they sprinted down the open pathway with no cover.

            The rescuers couldn’t just find a way to get the workers to run, they needed to subdue the guards.

            Which was why Trey had infiltrated the base two days before as a TK trooper and, even without having official credentials for the assignment, had managed to set himself up both with access to the armory and outside communications, all while not getting noticed as being out of place.

            And so, when Trey finally commed to let them know everything was ready, Gregor and three dozen other clones had landed and made their way toward the base. Half the men split off to enter through one of the back entrances that Trey had agreed to keep clear and open for them, while Gregor and the other men carefully navigated the field of cacti and approached the main entrance.

            “Samuel, are you all in position?” Gregor commed when they were halfway to their destination.

            “We’re in,” Samuel replied after a short pause. The clone still had to take treatments for the next few months for sidoxide poisoning, but had been deemed fit enough to not have to stay in the hospital for the treatments – and had interpreted this to mean that he could insist on joining the underground on these missions. “Give us five minutes to get the situation under control here.”

            “Received and understood,” Gregor replied. Their timing was perfect.

            And in five minutes, the clones emerged from among the cacti onto the main pathway just a few yards in front of the entrance, surprising the guards.

            “Lay down your weapons,” Gregor called out cheerily. “We have you surrounded.”

            The TK troopers were helmeted, of course, but Gregor didn’t need to see their faces to know exactly what their expressions were. All of them had their weapons drawn, but none of them bothered firing; and one of them scoffed.

            “You’re kidding, right?” the trooper said.

            Gregor tilted his head. “Now why would I be kidding?”

            Another trooper shifted impatiently and hefted his rifle higher. “Enough of this. Lay down your weapons and…”

            The trooper abruptly stopped talking at the sound of the entrance ponderously opening behind them. Gregor watched patiently as all the guards tried to keep an eye on both the intruders in front of them and the door behind them that was opening for no apparent reason that they were aware of. It was only when the entrance had lifted high enough to reveal the armed clone workers standing on the other side that Gregor spoke again.

            “Like I said,” he repeated casually, “we have you surrounded.”

            The guards glanced at each other, clearly uncertain what to do, until one of them shook his head, threw down his weapon, and raised his arms in surrender. The rest quickly followed suit; and in short order the troopers found themselves locked in the workers’ dormitory with the other guards, the two lieutenants, and the dozen clones who stubbornly refused to leave the Empire.

            One hour, and the entire base was theirs.

            Efficient, and highly amusing.

            Four clones had been killed and a dozen injured during the initial confrontation with the guards inside the base. Still, Gregor knew the casualties would have been far, far worse had they attempted to take the base with less manpower.  

            It was so good to have so many brothers working together for a common goal again.

            They didn’t hang around long – the Imperials were sure to notice the lack of communications from the base before too long – and the presence of overground transports on base made the return to the ships a lot faster than they had previously anticipated. When they had safely made it back into hyperspace, Gregor wasted no time contacting the others – well, everyone except Rex, who had made it quite clear he would be the one to break comm silence on the Crucible mission. They had all coordinated to breach the compounds on the same day so as to minimize the chances of the Empire figuring out what they were doing and increasing security forces on the other bases; and if all had gone well, Echo and Heddy would be finished about now.

            “Echo, Heddy, status report.”

            Heddy came through first. “We’re out,” he said. “Seven casualties among the clone workers, and we lost Omen. But all the men wanted out.”

            It took another minute before Echo jumped on the conversation. “We’re done too. We had two clones kicking up a fuss at first, but when they saw everyone else was leaving, they didn’t want to be left behind. We've got five that are pretty badly injured, so we'll be stopping off on Delaridium before heading to the rendezvous.”

            “Any word from Rex yet?” Heddy asked now.

            “No,” Gregor said.

            “Nothing for me either,” Echo replied. “His op was bound to take the longest anyway, though…”

            “Echo, Gregor, Heddy. Do any of you copy?” Rex’s voice suddenly came through the comms.

            “Hey, you made it!” Gregor exclaimed cheerily over Echo’s audible sigh of relief.

            “Barely. We lost one of the ships, but we managed to get everyone out with only three injured. Still can’t believe Striker’s codes worked.”

            “Just be grateful they did,” Echo put in.  

            “So are we still rendezvousing on Seelos?” Heddy asked.

            “Yes. The men can decide from there where they want to go until we receive word from Senator Chuchi about the Empire’s next moves,” Echo affirmed.

            “Copy that,” Rex replied.

            “Until then,” Heddy said.

            “Gregor out,” Gregor said, closing out the transmission before swiveling around and regarding the rescued clones with a grin. Most of them still looked rather dazed by their new circumstances; but Gregor wasn’t concerned. Their shock would wear off soon enough.

            “Strap in, boys,” he told them. “We’re heading to freedom.”

*****

            Riyo strode into the admiral's office, her confidence so apparent even the arrogant Dumize looked rather stymied as she approached.

            "Senator Chuchi," he said as he stood and gestured to the seat on the other side of his desk. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

            Rex’s recent capture had made her path forward clear: she had to confront the admiral now, before the next Senate session. Of course, with the evidence currently in her possession, winning the motion was all but guaranteed even without Dr. Karr's in-person testimony; but at the rate it had taken for the petition to get this far, Riyo knew a full investigation would take years to complete, if it was ever concluded at all. The clones didn't have years; and with the conditions in the labor camps combined with the ever-escalating efforts to arrest any clone who wasn’t already imprisoned, the clones didn't even have the few weeks left before the Senate hearing. Rex – having thankfully escaped capture – and the clone underground were taking care of getting the imprisoned clones out; but as things stood, the rescued clones still ran the high risk of being apprehended and sent right back to prison.

            Riyo had to get a deal before it was too late.  

            "The petition for a full inquiry into the clones' treatment on Tantiss base is still on the agenda for the next Senate session. I wanted to ensure you are prepared for the motion to pass."

            The admiral offered her a brittle smile. "The Empire has nothing to hide, Senator. And because of this, any investigation is not necessary; it’s simply a waste of resources. The motion will not pass."

            "You still assert the Imperial military and certain members of the Emperor's own administration were completely unaware of all questionable operations carried out in that lab?"

            "I do." His smile nearly turned into a smirk. "Even if you do decide to bring Dr. Karr to testify, it will not be enough to change the fact that Dr. Hemlock is solely responsible for anything related to Tantiss."

            "Oh, we don't need Dr. Karr's testimony anymore, Admiral," Riyo said coolly. "We have the Empire itself as a witness."

            His smirk turned into a frown so rapidly Riyo wouldn't have been surprised if he'd pulled a facial muscle. "What do you mean?"

            She tilted her head, as if considering her options. "I could wait until the Senate is back in session before allowing you to see the evidence I have accumulated; but since you have been gracious with your time, I will show you what I mean."

            She had no qualms about doing this: if Ralf Dumize did anything to her, Bail Organa had agreed to file the evidence in her stead. She held out her hand, and Norash immediately gave her a datapad, which she passed to Dumize along with the warning, "This is not the full extent of the evidence, Admiral."

            Dumize, still frowning, glanced at her before turning his attention to the datapad, which currently displayed a signed order from Governor Wilhuff Tarkin requisitioning a clone shadow operative directly from Tantiss base under the supervision of Dr. Royce Hemlock. Riyo had the immense pleasure of watching the blood drain from Dumize's face, though she didn't allow herself to gloat - at least, not openly. Not yet.

            “Where did you get this? This is classified!" Dumize breathed, looking up at Riyo and fixing her with a hateful glare so potent most other people would have shrunk away.

            But Riyo was not like most other people, and she levelly met Dumize's gaze as she replied, “Oh, so you admit the military was indeed aware of Hemlock’s experiments involving clones being converted into these specialized assassins.”

            Dumize clearly hadn't been expecting this response. “What?”

            “To answer your original question, Admiral," Riyo continued as if he hadn’t spoken, "since you signed a sworn affidavit that all military intelligence regarding Tantiss base was submitted to the Senate, it follows that I must have found this information there.”

            She could all but see the gears turning in his mind, how he could weasel out of this. He wouldn’t get very far with the claim that the documents were forgeries: somehow, in a technical feat that had yet to be paralleled as far as Riyo knew, the original digital signatures had been preserved and proved beyond any doubt the authenticity of the records. Accusing Riyo of theft of classified documents would only confirm the validity of the documents and incriminate the admiral of deliberately withholding evidence.  The Empire had gone to great lengths to keep this information from going public, and if this was still their priority, she had the bargaining power.

            And so naturally, Admiral Dumize tried to change the subject and go on the attack.

            “I know you were involved in all the clones deserting from the work assignments,” he hissed.

            Riyo blinked innocently. “Deserting? They’re decommissioned. By definition they can’t desert. And you told the Senate the clones aren’t prisoners. Are you certain they weren't granted leave all at once?” She gave the admiral only a second to try to process this before she continued, "But we were discussing the Tantiss case. I have shown you a mere fraction of the evidence against you. It is now up to you to decide how you will respond."

            A subtle nod to her guards, and Norash collected the datapad from the admiral, who handed it over almost in a daze. Riyo, having said her piece, got up to leave, and had almost made it to the door when Dumize called after her.

            “What do you want?”

            She turned to look at him, one brow raised questioningly. “Pardon?”

            “For the clones. What do you want in exchange for withdrawing the petition?” He swallowed, looking almost nauseated. “I can guarantee nothing, but I must know your demands in order to come to a decision.”

            She took a step forward, folding her hands in front of her as she began listing off the expected concessions, and was pleased to see the admiral was actually taking notes. “All clones who have been arrested on charges of desertion or insubordination are to be pardoned and released.” Dumize glanced up at her at this, but she certainly wasn’t to give him any indication that she was well aware the prisoners had already released themselves. “The decommissioning program is to be discontinued immediately, with all clones – both those who were previously decommissioned and those who will be in the future – being honorably discharged and formally released from service. The clones will be granted citizenship status along with official Senate representation, and will be afforded retirement benefits in recognition of their service to the Empire.”

            Dumize made his final notation and looked up. “You will have my answer by tomorrow.”

            She held his gaze as she replied, “I look forward to it.”

            He hadn’t acted fast enough.

            As soon as word had reached him about the debacle at the Farsi mines and the resulting uproar, Dumize had known the situation had spun well out of his control. He had been on the verge of disregarding any Senate or clone sympathizer considerations, instead planning on taking his chances by executing the clones and shutting down the work sites before anything else could come out – but he had been too cautious, deciding to dedicate time to formulating a foolproof plan to make the mass of simultaneous clone deaths appear to be an accident or a design flaw in their genetic engineering.

            But before he could put any plan into motion, practically all the clones had escaped not only the work sites, but the prisons too.

            And then, just when he was organizing how best to locate and apprehend all these rogue clones, Riyo Chuchi had flounced into his office with damning evidence she had no business having – he still could not fathom how she had managed to get her hands on such documents, not unless Governor Tarkin himself was a rebel spy – and he had known the game was up. If anything happened to the clones at this juncture, Chuchi wouldn’t hesitate to release all the Tantiss evidence. The Senate would have a field day, public opinion would likely be swayed toward the clones, and the Emperor would have Dumize’s head.

            How? How had everything gone so wrong in just a few short weeks?

            With a calmness that belied the gravity of the situation, Dumize sent a message to Governor Tarkin’s offices to request an urgent meeting. Only a few moments after the secretary had taken the message, Governor Tarkin responded.

            “What is so urgent, Admiral?” Tarkin demanded, his cold and domineering presence not lessened in the slightest by the fact that he was currently a holo. “Apart from the fact that you somehow just lost hundreds of clones.”

            “Senator Chuchi has valid evidence of the military’s involvement and knowledge of Tantiss operations.” 

            Apparently, unpleasant surprise made Tarkin’s features harden even further, his gaze become even icier. That was not something Admiral Dumize had ever wanted to discover for himself, but life was full of unanticipated lessons.

            “How did she come into possession of this evidence?”

            “I have no idea,” Dumize replied. “There was no way to trace the source. She claims the information came from evidence we have submitted to the Senate.”

            He didn’t need to say any more: he knew Tarkin already knew that if they claimed the evidence was stolen, they would be accused of deliberately orchestrating a cover up.

            “Why did Senator Chuchi reveal any of this to you?” Tarkin was asking now.

            “She made certain… demands,” Dumize said, before detachedly listing them off for the governor to consider.

            And all the while, Dumize’s near-acceptance of his fate was steadily turning into fierce irritation.

            Why did the clones have to be such a nuisance? Yet again, he wished he could have simply executed them all. And perhaps there was still a chance…

            “Governor Tarkin,” he ventured in the long silence as Tarkin absorbed the news, “if we spin the escaped clones as being insurgents, openly rebelling against the Empire, then we would have grounds to execute them as soon as we find them…”

            "No,” Tarkin said decisively. “There is already too much publicity as is what with that embarrassing display on Farsi. As it stands, most citizens are apathetic about the clones; but the clones will start saying they escaped deplorable conditions, and if we execute them for it, there will be an uproar. Suddenly everyone will sympathize with them, remember their service in the Clone War, and demand their rights. Chaos will erupt. No; the only way to deal with the clone problem is to let them go, let them fend for themselves. They don't have much longer to live, anyway."

            “Let them go…” Dumize faltered. “So you are saying…”

            “Far less than you will be saying, I assure you,” Tarkin interrupted. “In exchange for the petition to investigate Tantiss to be withdrawn and all evidence kept sealed, you will concede to Senator Chuchi’s first two demands. You will tell her it is not within the scope of the military’s authority to grant citizenship or retirement plans, and she must go through the Senate’s legislative channels to secure these requests. Your last act as admiral will be to announce to the Senate that the decommissioning program is permanently discontinued due to poor management that was not sanctioned by the Emperor. You will announce that all clones, regardless of their status – commissioned, decommissioned, AWOL, what have you – are hereby released from military service with no legal repercussions. And you will announce that you are stepping down from your post as admiral.”

            For a wild moment, Dumize considered appealing to the Emperor – but no, that would only make things worse. He had seen what had happened to Rampart. He wouldn’t make the same mistake.

            “As you wish, Governor Tarkin,” he replied stiffly.

            “I look forward to hearing your speech,” Tarkin retorted before ending the transmission.

            Dumize sat there in his office for hours, long after the sky outside the windows turned dark and the interior lights automatically turned on, long after several of his lieutenants had checked in on him and he had ordered them all away.

            He had never liked clones, had never cared for the Republic relying on them to bolster the military’s forces, had never agreed with vast resources being shunted off to those vat-grown lab experiments. He hadn’t liked them when he had served in close proximity to them during the war, either – they had been set up on a pedestal by the military leaders and Jedi alike, told they were the best of the best merely because they had been born and raised to fight, and this praise had obviously gone to their heads. Now they were acting even more entitled, demanding rights, as if they deserved any more privileges and resources than they had already received.

            He, Ralf Dumize, had needed to fight for everything he had ever received all his life. He had had to scrape himself up through the ranks of the military on his own hard work and merits, with no carefully manipulated genetic advantages or specialized life-long training or ancestral reputation to rely on. He had made admiral, not because he was born for it, but because he earned it – and now the clones, those arrogant flesh-droids who had been cared for and hero-worshipped all their lives for fighting in a war they had no personal stake in, would still end with the upper hand over him.  

            And there was nothing he could do to stop it.

            He sat there in his office for hours more, long after the interior lights automatically turned off, long after the sky outside the windows turned blue in the sunlight.

Chapter Text

            The clones were free.

            Well, as free as they could reasonably hope to be, given the circumstances the galaxy found itself in at the moment.

            After Admiral Dumize had spelled out the bargain the Empire was willing to make, Riyo had relayed the terms to the underground before giving Dumize her final answer. The clones should be the ones to make the decision, after all.

            They had accepted the terms immediately, even gratefully; and that had made Riyo sad. She hadn’t been expecting all of her demands to be met, of course, and Dumize’s excuses for not granting certain stipulations were surprisingly reasonable; but after years of sacrificing and dying for the galaxy, the clones were now being offered the mere pittance of not being automatically imprisoned and worked to death simply for existing – and they were grateful for it.

            She couldn’t stop thinking about this fact now, as she walked arm in arm with Rex through the gardens of the senatorial estate on Pantora. The deal had been officially signed two days ago; and with Admiral Dumize insisting on being the one to present the agreement to the Senate, Riyo had decided to visit Pantora before the Senate session began next week. Rex, no longer needing to remain in hiding, had asked if he could join her, and she had gladly said yes.

            “You’ve been quiet for a while,” Rex commented. “What’s wrong?”

            She sighed. “All that work, all those months – no, years, all those lives lost for a basic right you men should have been granted from the very beginning. We didn’t advance the clone cause; we brought it to where it should have started in the first place.”

            Rex smiled. “Considering where we were, though, being at the starting point is still an advancement, relatively speaking.” His smile faltered as he watched her closely. “You aren’t happy with the deal.”

            She knew Rex and the others counted this as a clear win, and she hated diminishing their enthusiasm over it, but she knew he’d want her to be open with him. “Not quite,” she admitted. “I wanted you all to have a pension plan…”

            “We’re happy to be able to move freely and work openly, on our own terms,” he countered.

            “And representation for the clones in the Senate…”

            “You practically are our representation in the Senate.”

            “And Avi and I were going to use the Tantiss evidence to build a case against the Emperor.”     Rex shook his head. “The Emperor is committing plenty of other atrocities. You don’t need Tantiss for that.”

            “It was the only one we had solid evidence for,” she reminded him.

            “For now. We’ll find more evidence soon enough.”

            Riyo stopped and looked at him narrowly. “We?”

            He hid a smile, though his eyes were still lit with amusement. “I seem to recall a request being made for my services on your security detail once I could move more freely.”

            Now remembering the conversation, she chuckled before sighing again. “I still don’t think it would be the best idea for you or any of the clones to be on Coruscant.” Deal or not, anti-clone sentiment was still high in some areas, and the Empire didn’t seem at all inclined to stop stoking the flames with negative propaganda. The clones might technically have their freedom, but they would still need to lay low if they wanted to survive.

            “No,” Rex agreed as they began walking again, “and your guards on Coruscant are among the best; but you’ll need as much protection as you can get elsewhere.”

            She briefly leaned sideways into him with a small, teasing smile. “I suppose it would have been too much to hope that you would actually take a well-deserved vacation.”

            “I’ll rest when you do.”

*****

            Palpatine stood in his chambers on Coruscant, gazing out over his city, contemplating his next moves.

            The surviving Jedi were slowly but surely being hunted down and eliminated. Not only that, but untrained Force sensitive beings were also being captured and destroyed. Darth Vader and the Inquisitors were doing an acceptable job with this; Palpatine had no concerns with this matter.

            His cloning projects were a failure – for now. He had hoped that the little that had been salvaged from Royce’s work on Tantiss would be enough to regroup and advance Project Necromancer within a few years; but then, somehow the specimens had vanished. All of them. Even the specimen Dr. Leman had revived to do her work for her had disappeared – oh yes, Palpatine had known about Dr. Leman’s plans there, but he hadn’t cared one way or another. What he did care about was that the specimens were now gone, and Dr. Leman’s efforts had proven to be an abject failure. Now she needed to be replaced, which would delay the project even further. Still, there was time to see that project through to fruition; and with the tissue samples that the scientists on Derma Prime had somehow had the foresight to gather before the specimens had disappeared, Palpatine knew that the cloning experiments would eventually meet his stipulations.

            He unfortunately agreed with Wilhuff’s assessment that the administration needed a much firmer grip on the galaxy before other goals could be achieved – goals such as finally dissolving the pesky Senate and consolidating all authority in his own hands. It was for this reason that Palpatine had made it very clear to Wilhuff that absolutely no evidence of his administration’s involvement on Tantiss could become public: he could not yet afford to have most of the Senate and the associated systems turn on the regime. Several promising plans had already been put into motion to address this, however; he, Palpatine, simply needed to remain patient for a little longer.

            He did not share Wilhuff’s indignation over the clone situation itself. Admiral Dumize’s zeal had become his downfall, as expected, and he had made himself the perfect scapegoat for the entire debacle; but the admiral had managed to pare down the clone population more than enough that the relatively few survivors would pose no danger to the Emperor, and that had been Palpatine’s main goal in the first place. The remaining clones had been a nuisance, but they hadn’t been unreasonable; indeed, as expected, they had gladly taken the meager offer they had been given and could now be counted on to hide themselves away where they wouldn’t cause any trouble or draw any further attention to themselves. No; the clones had been a major concern immediately after the war, but they were a threat no longer. Wilhuff had wanted all the clones to be killed off already, but there was no need. Better to let them out into the galaxy with no resources and a reputation that was now less than stellar given the continued anti-clone propaganda efforts, and let them die off that way.

            Meanwhile, with the deal signed and Admiral Dumize set to make the announcement and take the fall in a few days’ time, the Senate would consider the matter of the clones to be settled, clap themselves on the back for a job well done, and ignore any efforts even from their own to secure further rights for the clones. As a matter of fact, Riyo Chuchi had unwittingly done Palpatine a favor: with all the recent furor surrounding the clones the past few months, the Senate hadn’t noticed Palpatine’s careful initial maneuverings and investigations on Jedha, and Lothal, and the Unknown Regions. Already he had made a very promising discovery about a well-kept secret hidden on Lothal; and with the planet’s resources, it was the perfect place to install a military presence and factories for military equipment to hide his true purpose of finding and accessing the Jedi temple concealed there.

            Of course, the fact that the clone uproar had played right into his hands didn’t mean Senator Chuchi would escape the consequences of her meddling. She had become far more than a mere irritant – she was a danger. Palpatine saw all the signs: she was beloved not only by her own people but by other peoples in the galaxy as well; she was becoming extremely popular in the Senate; she had managed to win over several senators who were at first almost aggressively apathetic about the clone situation; and she had kept the nameless clones in the public consciousness long enough to actually advance their cause. She was a leader who knew how to motivate and unite; she was a force to be reckoned with; and she would need to be dealt with soon. Not quite yet – any misfortune befalling her now would be highly suspect – but soon.

            In the meantime, with all the other projects coming together nicely, he would soon be able to crush any and all opposition without any fear of reprisal or consequence.

            The galaxy would be his to command.

            Forever.

*****

            Omega answered the door and stared in shock for a full three seconds before launching herself at him. “Echo! We weren’t expecting you!”

            He returned the hug with a grin, waiting until she released him to speak. “I wanted to give you all the good news in person.”

            “Riyo did it? The clones are free?”

            “Let him in first, Omega,” Hunter called out, amusement in his voice.

            “Right,” Omega said, grabbing Echo’s hand and eagerly dragging him inside while adding, “You came at a good time, we’re all here.”

            They were, indeed, all here: Hunter, Crosshair, Wrecker, Tech, Omega, Phee, Shep, Lyana, Mox, Deke, and Stak were all present. It looked like Shep was teaching Wrecker a new recipe in the kitchen, with Crosshair observing closely; Lyana was playing with Batcher out back and talking animatedly with Phee and Tech; Hunter must have been teaching the younger clones some advanced knife tricks, given the way they were handling some short pieces of wood. Echo only caught a glimpse of all this, though, before finding himself plopped down in the seat of honor next to the back door, while the others piled onto the sofas in the main room or pulled up chairs from the kitchen table, sitting to face him and avidly awaiting his report.

            “So? Are the clones free?” Omega repeated once everyone had settled.

            Echo nodded. “All the clones are being honorably released from the military, the labor camps are being discontinued, and they won’t be arresting deserters anymore. It’s not much, but it’s a lot more than we had.”

            Omega, Lyana, and the former cadets erupted into cheers; Shep stood to step forward and shake Echo’s hand with a warm “Congratulations”; Wrecker, seated between Hunter and Crosshair, clapped both of them on the back with such unrestrained enthusiasm they almost fell out of their seats. Crosshair, recovering quickly, gave Wrecker a disgruntled look before fixing his attention on Echo.

            “You’re not done with your news yet,” Crosshair said, prompting the others to calm down again. “So, what are the men going to do?”

            “The network still has some work to do,” Echo admitted. “Most of the clones we freed already want to stay where they’ve settled, on the planets you all found for them. But the clones who are still recovering from injuries will need help relocating once they get well. And – well, most of the clones who have just been discharged from the military aren’t exactly happy about being forced out now, but some of them have reached out to us for assistance in finding places to settle.”

            “You’re going to help them too?” Crosshair asked skeptically. Echo understood where he was coming from: what had these clones done to convince the Empire to keep them around this long? Could they be trusted at all?

            “I understand your reservations,” Echo replied, “but – well, one of the clones who asked for help is the one who helped Rex escape prison and get all those other prisoners out.”

            He didn’t need to explain further – Crosshair slowly nodded, and Echo knew he understood.

            “Are Vik and the others going to come back to Pabu?” Mox asked.

            “Eventually. They’ve been assisting Emerie for a few weeks, since the extraction ops were pulled off; but now they want to help get these other men settled before they return to Pabu themselves.”

            “Any clones who want to come here are more than welcome,” Shep offered; but Echo shook his head.

            “You take in enough refugees already,” he said. “Besides, the more clones who settle here, the higher the chances the Empire will notice you. You’ve stayed off the radar this long. We want to keep it that way.”

            Shep hesitated a moment, before looking at his daughter and nodding.

            "What about Rex and Gregor and everyone else? What will they be doing?” Hunter asked.

            "Almost everyone will be staying on base to help out until Emerie is done, but they’re talking about moving to Pantora afterwards,” Echo explained. “Howzer will be heading back to base, too, but that won't be until after the medics on Delaridium get all the clones fixed up."

            Omega looked worried. "Isn't he better now?"

            "Oh yes, he's fine now; but Vela - she's one of the medics - won't leave to go to Predonia with him until all the sick clones are taken care of."

            "Howzer too, huh?"

            At Crosshair’s wry remark, Echo glanced at the sniper and followed his gaze to where Tech was sitting on the couch with Phee nestled next to him, her head resting on his shoulder as she listened closely to the update, his hand comfortably holding hers as if this was the most natural thing in the galaxy. Echo hid a smile. The clones were finally free to choose what to do with their own lives, and he was fairly certain Howzer and Tech wouldn't be the only ones of his brothers who decided, much like another clone deserter he had met long ago, to expand their family circle.

            “Yes, Howzer, too,” he affirmed; and while Crosshair gave a small snort and rolled his eyes, Echo could tell the sniper was fighting to hold back a pleased grin.

            “Does Emerie require any additional assistance with her efforts to restore the clone operative?” Tech asked now. Phee moved her head slightly to glance up at him before refocusing on Echo.

            Echo shook his head. “Not at the moment. Vik and the other clones have already given her plenty of information about Hemlock’s processes.” He didn’t miss the fact that Crosshair’s shoulders slumped in relief upon hearing that his own services in recounting the torturous experiments likely wouldn’t be necessary, and he knew Hunter had noticed Crosshair’s reaction too; but Echo pressed on without drawing further attention to it. “The other clone medics and even Vela will be helping with the procedures themselves, so Emerie should have all the help she needs. I’ll be sure to let her know to reach out if that changes, though.”

            “Very well,” Tech nodded in response.

            "So, what about Rex?" Hunter asked again.

            "And what about you? Will you stay on Pabu?" Wrecker chimed in.

            Echo was silent for a moment as he weighed how to respond. He had seen early on the reality of what the Empire was doing and the tactics they were relying on. Their need for control was insatiable and was manifesting as cruelty and injustice. The clones had scored a victory, but their freedom was tenuous - and they all knew it, which was why, even now, the survivors were trying to keep out of the Empire's sight. Meanwhile, there were so many other people and planets the Empire was attacking. And as long as there was injustice being committed against one group of people, it would inevitably spread to everyone - including the clones yet again.

            "The Empire is still a threat,” he said slowly, “to more people than just the clones. There are people leading up a movement to stop the Empire from gaining even more power, before it's too late. I need to help them. It's the only way to make sure we all stay safe. Rex will be helping Senator Chuchi; I'll be helping Senator Singh." 

            "Can we help?"

            Echo smiled - he would have expected no other response from Omega, and he wanted to indulge her wishes. And yet... He could see the care-worn look in her eyes, lurking there behind her innate optimism and compassion, and he knew why Hunter wanted her to stay on Pabu for now. She was already well-versed in how to be a soldier. The cadets her age had undergone brutal training in preparation for war; she, on the other hand, had received her training on the battlefield itself, while living a war, and it had taken its toll. Even after surviving Tantiss and saving so many clones, she and her brothers of Clone Force 99 hadn’t slowed down, and had stepped up to help whenever they were asked.

            Echo and so many other clones had never had a chance at anything resembling a typical human childhood; but Omega could have that chance. The clones, her brothers, now had the opportunity to explore other lifestyles and ways to find purpose besides being a soldier; he would not take that opportunity from her, not now. This is what the underground and all its allies - including Omega - had fought for, after all.

            And this way, if the day came that she did have to join a bigger fight, she would know exactly what she was fighting for, the full extent of all she would be trying to save.

            He didn't say all this, however; instead, he told her solemnly, "You know you'll be the first I call when I need help. I think we’ve got everything covered for now. In the meantime, you can help by staying here on Pabu and keeping all your brothers out of trouble."

            Omega looked around the room. “All of them?” she said, the twinkle in her eyes and the smile on her lips belying the dismay in her voice. Clearly, she knew full well that she could create more chaos than all of her brothers combined if she needed to.

            "No pressure, Omega," Stak grinned.

            Shep was chuckling. “That’s a tall order, Echo.”

            “Aw, Omega can handle it,” Wrecker averred, leaning forward to tousle her hair.

            "At least Auntie Phee can help you out with Tech,” Lyana offered, nudging her friend with a sly smile and making Omega giggle.

            Crosshair opened his mouth, but Phee grinned and spoke before he could. "Nah, I'm more likely to get him into trouble."

            Crosshair shook his head. "Beat me to it by one second."

            "Oooh, never thought I'd have to tell the sniper he has to work on his reaction time."

            “Yeah, that’s because Tech says it for you,” Crosshair said with a frown.

            Tech shrugged, clearly unfazed. “You shouldn’t have asked for my suggestions if you didn’t want an objectively accurate answer.”

            “I didn’t ask!”  

            “Yes, you did, Crosshair,” Omega said candidly, to which the sniper gave a disgruntled “Hmph!” but subsided, chomping on his toothpick in a vain attempt to hide his lips twitching in amusement.

            Hunter was smiling as he watched this exchange; now he looked back at Echo with a piercing gaze. “So long as you know, Echo,” he said, “that if you ever need us, we will still be there.”

            Echo nodded solemnly – Hunter and the rest of the Bad Batch had already fulfilled that promise many times over.

            “You already have been. Thank you all,” Echo said, looking around the room and locking eyes, one by one, with each person sitting there, in an effort to convey his sincere gratitude. “None of this would have been possible without all of you.”

            “And we won,” Omega reiterated with immense satisfaction.

            Echo thought of all the brothers that had been lost, of the long – far too long – list of names on the memorial wall on the base on Predonia. He thought of the brothers who were still alive, no longer in imminent danger of being arrested but still preferring to stay in the shadows, keep out of the Empire’s way, remain unnoticed. He thought of the fact that all the clones still weren’t completely safe, that they still weren’t considered citizens, still had very few rights, still had no voice in galactic affairs beyond one brave Pantoran senator who was willing to take on the additional burden of speaking for them. He thought of the fact that Omega and the rest of Clone Force 99 were still in danger if they ever left Pabu, that it was only by a stroke of sheer luck that Pabu hadn’t remained permanently on the Empire’s radar.  

            They hadn’t won entirely, not by a long shot.

            But it was a start, and that was good enough for now.

            “Yes,” Echo said with a smile that matched Omega’s. “We won.”

Chapter Text

***YEAR: 6 AFE***

            Rex stood on the edge of the Pantoran graveyard, some distance away from the crowd. He had kept his distance during the funeral, too; several of the Pantoran guards had tried to convince him to join the inner circle, telling him he had more than earned his place there, but he had adamantly declined.

            He couldn’t stand to see her empty body, devoid of life. Not again.

            He had lost so many brothers and friends, far too many to count, and each one had felt like a knife wound to the chest; but the loss of Riyo somehow hit… differently. She was unique, soft and kind yet with a streak of unyielding determination that emboldened her allies and caught her opponents off guard. She was the best kind of friend, the best kind of ally, the best kind of confidant, the best kind of fighter. She had been relentless in her pursuit of protecting the clones as well as her own people, and he had decided years ago to fight for her just as fiercely as she had fought for him and his brothers.

            And now she was gone.

            He was supposed to have guarded her for the rest of his life. He had been prepared to protect her from any threats, shield her from any harm, remain by her side as she continued fighting for the causes she held most dear, until he succumbed to old age or accident.

            He hadn’t been prepared for her to get sick.

            She wasn’t supposed to have died first.

            He still wondered if her death hadn’t been of unspecified natural causes… but he had no proof, only his own unfounded suspicions. The doctors had humored him and checked for poisons, but they had found no evidence for it, just as they had found no cause or diagnosis for her illness in the first place; and anyway, what kind of poisons would take months to kill their intended victim?

            Months, watching her steadily decline. Months, watching her become weaker and weaker until those last weeks when he had needed to carry her everywhere – she couldn’t stand to stay confined to her room. Months, watching her lose her appetite but still make an effort to eat not for her own sake, but to try to appease her friends and family who were worried about her. Months, watching her valiantly fight until the Supreme Chairman insisted on releasing her from her senatorial duties. Months, watching her desperately trying to hide the fear in her eyes as her body slowly failed her.

            Most of his brothers hadn’t died this way. Most of them were injured, dead and gone almost before one fully realized what had happened. The sudden, unforeseen losses were unspeakably tragic; now, Rex also knew the lingering deaths were their own kind of hell.   

            At least he had been able to stay by her side, all the way through to the end. He had thought that perhaps the doctors wouldn’t allow anyone but immediate family to be with her in her final moments; but she had wanted him to stay, and her father and sister had made no objection. And so he had been there with her, been one of those to hold her hand before she died.

            He wasn’t sure whether that made the loss more bearable or not.  

            He felt rather than heard Echo approach to stand beside him now, here at the edge of the cemetery; but it was several minutes before he could find his voice to speak.

            “First Senator Singh. Now Riyo.”

            Echo sighed softly. “We have all the evidence she accumulated. Veradu, Thora Dino, Estel, the people on Jhyadi – we have to push back for their sakes. For her sake.”

            Rex shook his head, slowly but decisively. “That fight has ended, Echo. She was the unifying figurehead. With her gone…” He paused as a wave of grief crested again, letting it settle before he continued. “Look, Senator Organa thinks that if things keep going the way they are, soon there won’t be anyone left to fight back. I agree with him. There can’t be an organized rebellion right now. It’s not the right time.” He wasn’t sure there would ever be a right time… but he couldn’t tell Echo that.

            “I can’t give up, Rex. Not yet.”

            He couldn’t have expected any other response from Echo. “I know.  But the clones here want to leave Pantora. Wolffe, Gregor, Liam, Heddy, Wyatt – all of them. The new senator isn’t exactly…” He trailed off. Echo knew all this already. “Anyway, I need to get the men settled. Right now, taking care of them is my job. We’re looking at Seelos.”

            Echo nodded. “I understand.”

            “I’m sure Howzer would want to join you,” Rex added, “but with the baby…”

            “No, it’s fine, I understand,” Echo repeated. He smiled wryly. “With Trey and Kade and Gambit and Vik and Whiplash, I’ve got plenty of men to keep in line already. Especially Whiplash. That man is even more stubborn than me.”

            Rex nodded and tried to return the smile, but unlocking his facial muscles to form any expression apart from detached stoicism threatened to unleash the tears, and he couldn’t allow for that. Not here, not now.

            He looked away, only to turn back when Echo placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Rex,” Echo said quietly; and Rex knew he was referring to Riyo.

            He attempted a shrug. “She meant a lot to all of us,” he replied, trying, as usual, to mitigate the pain by minimizing his own bond with her.

            “Yes, but she meant the most to you,” Echo returned candidly. So much for letting Rex minimize how he felt. “Of all of us, you knew her the longest and the best.”

            Rex was silent for some time, staring unseeingly at the crowd still lingering around the grave, before facing his friend again. “We save the ones we can,” he said simply. And that was why he had to get his brothers to Seelos.

            Echo, intuiting that Rex was closing the conversation, nodded and stepped back. “If you need anything, Rex, let me know.”

            “Same goes for you.”

            Echo paused and tilted his head, as if unsure whether Rex had taken his offer seriously. “I mean it, Captain. Anything.”

            “Well, since you’re offering, I’ve always wanted an AT walker of my own,” Rex commented sardonically.

            “I’ll get right on that,” Echo replied, in that way he had where Rex couldn’t be sure whether he was serious or not... But before Rex could figure it out, Echo saluted. “Goodbye for now, Rex.”

            Rex, still trying to hold back the tears, allowed the ghost of a smile to show on his face as he saluted in return. “Goodbye, Echo.”

            And with that, the ARC trooper was gone.  

            Rex turned back one more time to survey the scene before him. Some of the mourners were departing now, moving in the direction opposite of where Rex stood. He couldn’t linger – he knew Riyo’s father and sister needed the time alone to mourn at the graveside, and despite his distance from the proceedings, he didn’t want to intrude in any way.

            Just before he turned to leave, a shift in the crowd granted him a glimpse of the headstone, a tall and graceful slab of stone commemorating the Pantoran senator’s life and service. Parting words formed and left his lips before he even realized he had spoken, quiet words carried on the breeze to his beloved senator’s final resting place.

            “Rest well, Riyo.”

*****

***YEAR: 10 AFE***

            Cody landed at the rendezvous point on Tessen and waited patiently for the transport to show up. His contacts hadn't been sure when they would make it here, but from what he could tell, the situation was urgent. He hoped they had made it out...

            There. Good, they weren't as delayed as he had been led to believe. But he frowned as the transport drew closer. It was looking to be in pretty bad shape.

            The transport settled next to his ship, but when no one exited right away, Cody decided to make the first move. He was outside and approaching the other vessel before the other's ramp started lowering, and he greeted with a wave the man who was now descending the gangplank.

            "Hey there, Roken."

            "Oh, Colby. Good." Cody didn't think he had ever seen Roken look so relieved. "You got our message. Wasn't sure if that was you at first. Our comms are down."

            Cody glanced at the transport again. Looked like a lot more than just the comms were down. "Yeah, not a problem. Winn was able to cover for me so I could get here."

            "I thought he's working off Gabinn now."

            Winn had been exceptionally helpful when he had joined Cody in working the Path; but, even with the clones being officially discharged from the military, having another clone on Saleenas had started to bring a bit of heat from the Imperials stationed there. For similar reasons, no one else who worked the Path knew Cody by his real name, or even knew he was working under an alias at all. It was safer that way.

            "He is," Cody replied.  "But he just got some people through there so he didn't have much to do," Cody continued before nodding at the ship. "I'm surprised you made it off Jabiim in that."

            "Well, it didn't exactly look like this when we left Jabiim." Roken turned to look at the transport and grimaced. "Not this bad..."

            Cody shrugged. "Plenty of time to tell me all about it on the way to Jobesh. Come on, let's get these passengers loaded up. We can't stay here long." This was a remote location, but the transport had clearly been targeted recently. No need to push their luck.

            Roken, nodding in agreement, went back up the ramp to urge the passengers off the transport. Cody, meanwhile, started guiding the nervous travelers onto his ship. Most of the people were quiet and rather withdrawn, likely due to whatever ordeal they had just been through. Two young teenagers, however, were among the few who were chatting excitedly to each other.

            "I still can't believe we got to meet a real Jedi," one of the teens said with barely contained enthusiasm.

            "Yeah," his friend agreed, "and not just any Jedi, either. My mom was telling me Kenobi was one of the best generals during the Clone War."

            That name, that name he thought of every single day but hadn't heard spoken in years – the world stopped, and Cody almost forgot where he was, what he was doing...

            The teens had almost passed by him to head up the ramp before he came back to himself. He reached out and tapped the young boy on the shoulder, his heart picking up speed when the boy turned to look at him questioningly.

            "Hey kid... Did you just say you met a Jedi named Kenobi?"