Work Text:
Legacy
by Lady JaRuc
“Hello!” called a male voice from beyond Omega’s plaza gate.
She roused from her drowsy state, sitting in the morning sunshine. A wide smile of surprise lifted her lips.
“I thought you two were leaving today,” she called back as a young man and woman entered the plaza and headed toward her.
“Wrong day, Auntie Megs,” Daram called, bending over to kiss her forehead.
“We leave tomorrow but wanted to talk to you first,” added Kamilan as she too kissed her aunt and hugged her narrow shoulders carefully.
“Where’s Uncle Cross?” Kami asked, her favorite uncle not on the plaza as expected.
“Napping. As usual,” Omega said, her voice raised a little. As she spoke, she cocked her head toward the open door and winked at the twins.
“Am not. Your eyes don’t work so well anymore, kid,” came a grouchy voice from inside. A grunt followed by the thump of a stick across the floor came immediately. Within a few seconds, Crosshair stood in the doorway, a tall staff in one hand and the other resting on the door facing.
“Morning, Daram, Kami,” he nodded in their direction, pleased to know they visited but certainly not giving Omega a chance to smile at the notion.
“We’d like to talk to both of you…if that’s all right,” Kami said, a bit of hesitancy in her voice.
“All right by me,” Omega answered as she took her time rising stiffly from the padded chair. Though she wasn’t old, a few too many injuries while flying for the Rebellion had left her joints stiff at times. Using her cane, she moved next to her brother. “You good with that, Cross?”
“Fine by me,” came his answer though the other three could tell he’d rather not. It wasn’t that he preferred solitude or as much as his sister would allow him, being as they shared a home, but he didn’t want to deal with people and their pity.
These two though, they were family and knew about all the brothers. They’d grown up, offering no pity to anyone, instead offering help where wanted. Hunter raised them right. Just as he took the lead in raising Omega.
Omega reached out and took Crosshair’s left hand, and they began a slow walk to the other side of the plaza where several high-backed benches stood in the shade of a weeping Maya tree. Not only was the area cooler but smelled wonderful with blossoms adorning each branch.
Once seated on the first bench that Hunter ever carved, Cross propped his staff up in the corner while Omega leaned her cane on the bench, resting it down beside her leg. Daram and Kami, twins of Hunter and his wife, took chairs at a small caf table.
Kami took out a data pad and opened it before turning to her aunt and uncle.
Omega waited for the young ones to speak. Time wasn’t going anywhere for her or Cross so no need to rush them. Besides with the twins about to graduate, she feared she would see less and less of them in the coming years. Years she would have but her brother would not. As it was, he was pushing further into old age than any other clone they’d ever heard of.
Crosshair, on the other hand, hated waiting. So, he pulled out his usual gruff sounding statement. “Out with it before you bust a blood vessel.”
Daram coughed a laugh and held out a hand to his sister. She placed several credits in his palm and grinned. “I win,” he said.
While Omega chuckled, figuring out what the bet was, Crosshair must have been about a split second behind her. “Who won the bet?”
“Daram,” Kami answered. “Sorry, Uncle Cross, but you’re an impatient man, and we knew you’d not be able to wait for us to speak.”
Cross huffed and crossed his arms over his narrow chest. “Well, get on with whatever you came here to talk about.”
“You act like you’d rather we hadn’t come,” Kami observed. Sadly, perhaps because she knew this man well and knew he enjoyed their visits.
“Uh, no. It’s not that. I’m just…” Cross stopped and bumped Omega’s side. “Tell ‘em.”
Though she grinned at him and winked at the twins, she sympathized. He was curious, but, in his normal way, he wasn’t about to jump in and start a conversation when he had no idea where it might go. Curiosity and caution were ever this brother’s way. She had no reason to explain. “They understand, brother,” she said softly, patting his leg beside hers.
She nodded at Daram and gestured for him to speak.
Daram, his brown hair with curls touching the back of his neck and teasing his ears and brows, looked so much like Hunter that Omega’s throat closed with emotion. His skin radiated a deep tan that Hunter acquired after the family settled on Pabu. He was built like a clone, resembling Rex in that manner. But Daram inherited his mother’s deep blue eyes. He also inherited his parents’ calm manner of approaching life and its challenges.
Kamilan, two minutes his junior, bore many traits of her mother. Black hair, blue eyes, and a wide smile. However, she was her father’s daughter, adept at using weapons mixed with a deep empathy for others and their situation. Her greatest trait though was her mind. She was a genius so like her Uncle Tech.
Before Daram could speak, Omega shook her head and gave a little huff. One hand eased over and slipped into Cross’. Their fingers twined as she remarked, “Daram, you remind me so much of Hunter. And Echo as well. Your drive and passion to help others. In your case,” she gestured to him, “you’re going to heal people. Both men would be so proud.”
Not forgetting Kami, Omega chuckled and squeezed Cross’s hand. She and her brother had discussed the young woman since she’d been old enough to talk. “Kami, you might be Hunter’s daughter but I swear I think the Maker slipped a bit of Tech into you at birth. You talk all the time and make sense, and you’re brilliant like your Uncle Tech. Going into medical research to discover cures for diseases that plague the galaxy at this very minute. Tech would be so excited. You’re an inventor, he’d say, only you’re inventing cures rather than gadgets.”
“You miss them, don’t you?” Daram asked quietly, leaning forward, his arms resting on his knees just as his father sat so many times.
“Oh yes, every day in every way,” Omega affirmed even as a tear slid over her lashes and rolled slowly down one thin cheek.
“Come on, Megs, you’re gonna get all sappy before they can even tell us why they came,” Cross admonished. His way of keeping his sister from losing her emotions.
“We came to visit you two, of course,” Kami said emphatically. “But,” she added in a softer tone, “I love hearing about Dad and the uncles.”
Cross hummed a soft note, missing his brothers more and more each day. “Nu jyr’ adyc, shi,” he said quietly. Not gone, merely marching far away.
“Yes, sir.” Daram and Kamilan both spoke Mando’a. Their Uncle Rex taught them when he visited Pabu and often did holovisits so he could add more words and phrases. This particular one both knew well as they sat before their last clone relatives.
Silence fell for a moment, Omega lost in memories of rowdy dinners on this very plaza and a gentle Lurca hound that followed her and Cross everywhere. Gone. All gone now.
Kami cleared her throat and pulled her data pad closer. “Auntie Megs, Uncle Cross, we both have one last assignment before graduation. Our classmates think it’s ridiculous, but we talked about it, and it’s a serious task. Once our papers are approved, we’re certified doctors. Daram will head to Coruscant to the Temple hospital, and I’ll go to the research facility on Corellia.” She looked at her twin and sighed. “It’s gonna be strange being away from Daram. We’ve never been apart.” She reached over and took her brother’s hand with a touch of sadness in her expression.
“So, what’s this assignment,” Cross asked, bringing them back to the reason for their visit.
This time it was Daram who cleared his throat as if what he had to say might be hard. “As doctors, even those going into research, we heal others or do our best to. If they can’t be healed then we are to ease their passing so they don’t suffer. It’s not an easy life. We both understand that, but it’s one our family has touched on so much in our lives. Helping others. Easing life into the Force.” He laughed gently at that. “Dad might lift an eyebrow about that. He never really understood the concept of the Force, but Uncle Rex knew about it. Believed in it. Auntie ‘soka is a Jedi after all. Her life revolves around that concept. So, helping others isn’t so strange to us. Doctor Hanson asked us to write someone’s legacy. What they contributed to the galaxy. It’s their story. Their bequest.”
“An unusual assignment,” Cross commented, a frown on his face, his head tilted as if thinking.
“I agree,” Daram said. “We talked with Mother, thinking we might interview you two, but she said that someone else would write your legacy.”
“Who did she suggest you write about then?” Omega asked, curious now.
“Auntie Phee and Uncle Rex,” Kami supplied.
“Excellent choices,” Omega said with a smile. “Two fabulous people, accomplished, compassionate, dedicated, loving, caring—”
“Enough, Megs, you’re giving me a sugar high with all that sweetness,” Cross complained.
“But you agree with me, don’t you?” she asked quietly, turning to watch his face as he stared off into the distance.
“Yeah, I suppose,” Cross admitted reluctantly, his voice quiet, his head down now.
“So, we wanted to read our papers to you and see if you agree or have anything to add,” Daram said, pulling his own data pad out of his jacket pocket. “Mother said this might not be a good idea. Said you might not want to hear what we wrote. It might be too hard.”
Though Omega agreed with her sister-in-law and knew Cross would have a hard time hearing what they wrote, it needed to be done. When the young ones left, the two of them could cry without others seeing.
“First, define legacy. And what does this doctor of yours expect you to get out of this assignment?” Cross asked, his head still down.
“Good catch, Uncle Cross. That’s exactly what we asked. Doctor Hanson said we would leave behind a legacy as doctors. We all do, no matter what we do in life. We might not always be healers, but whatever we move on to do we should be mindful of what others will say about us when we’re gone. That’s a legacy…the experiences and achievements of a life. The values a person held and how they used it to make life different or better. A legacy, he also pointed out, isn’t always a good thing. Look at that Sith Lord Vadar. And the man who rose up through the Republic’s Senate then became Chancellor and then crowned himself Emperor. What a legacy he left behind! He played a long game, and none of it wound up being any good. But he is remembered. He’s remembered as a person no one should ever grow up to be like.” Daram spoke elegantly but emphatically.
Cross nodded and lifted his chin. “Go on then. Read what you’ve got.”
The twins looked at each other, knowing their words would hurt these two by bringing back memories that might make them laugh but more likely make them cry.
* * * *
“What are you doing,” Cross asked as he entered the kitchen to begin their simple mid-day meal. Despite his disability, he knew what he was doing and was a far better cook than Omega ever was. Or ever wanted to be. She was too restless, too curious to stay in one place for long.
The sound of paper—real paper—rustled in the silence.
“I want to do some writing. And use this paper,” Omega said with a chuckle. “I remember Uncle Cody giving Rex a hard time about using paper instead of a data pad to do his reports.”
“I always hated reports. Glad Hunter did them. Tech did them sometimes, but it drove Cody crazy when he received one because Tech included everything,” Cross drawling out the word. He opened a cabinet and started pulling out spice jars, feeling the indentions across each jar in order to get the ones he wanted to use.
Omega rearranged a stack of papers on the table and pulled a pen closer. She sighed because what she wanted to write would be long and often painful. But after listening to the twins’ papers about Phee and Rex, she reasoned that she should be the one to write the legacy of the Bad Batch.
* * * *
A legacy is a gift that a person leaves behind when they pass on or as the clones always said, not gone, merely marching far ahead. Credits and property left behind don’t count.
Rather, a person’s life story is what they leave behind. Good or bad or a combination of both. I was told someone would eventually write the story of my brothers. I can’t write my own legacy, of course. That’s for others who live after me to do. No one else but my last surviving brother or me can tell the full story of this squad because only the two of us know it. Others know bits and pieces but not all. I can only write what I know, what I experienced with these incredible men. Am I prejudged? Absolutely, but I know others would agree with what I write. So, I’m going to plunge right in and tell the story of these men that I love.
Her introduction complete, her meal behind her, and the kitchen cleaned, Omega wanted to walk to the family cemetery and speak to Hunter.
“I’m going to visit the family. You wanna come?”
Cross hesitated. Plainly, he wanted to, but something held him back. “What are you working on, Megs?” He sat in his recliner in the big front room, in a patch of sunshine that hit that chair for an hour each afternoon. Hands laid out along the arms of his chair, his face pulled into a slight expression of anxiety, he was a long and lean old man.
“Well, I thought I’d begin writing our family’s legacy…one man at a time.” She too hesitated simply because her efforts might imply that Cross was getting old and might die soon.
“You gonna include me?”
“You’re not dead, little brother. So, no. Someone else can do that when we’re gone,” she huffed with arms crossed over her chest and a snort to her tone.
That seemed to satisfy him. “Can I hear what you wrote when you’re finished?”
“Certainly,” she answered honestly.
“Fair enough,” Cross said as he pushed the recliner back so he could take a nap in the sun’s warmth. He hated being cold.
His hearing wasn’t as good as Hunter’s, but he still knew that she’d not left yet. “What?” he asked in a grouchy tone, his hands clasped across his stomach and his eyes closed.
“I was just remembering when we returned to Pabu after leaving Tantiss. How thin you were then. Even at your age now, you’ve never been that thin ever again, and I’m so thankful,” Omega said quietly. She used her cane to ease up beside his chair and lay a hand against his cheek. No soft silver hair covered his head now. She missed that. Bending over carefully, she kissed his forehead.
Cross huffed, his eyes still closed. “Say hello to the brothers for me, Megs.”
“Sir, yes, sir,” Omega whispered as she straightened, saying nothing about the single tear she saw coursing down the side of his face.
* * * *
Hunter’s last project—a bench that could withstand weather—stood in a grove of tall wide trees. The island council granted the family this space as their final resting place. Over the years, the brothers and little sister had added quality to the islanders’ lives as well as saving so many practically from the first day they arrived. Thankfully, the site wasn’t far from Omega’s and Crosshair’s home so walking took a while but not that long.
When Omega arrived, the sun shone through leaves and branches enough to warm the air and provide a pleasant afternoon. Birds flitted through the branches, and a salty smell flavored the air. She surveyed the surroundings, making sure nothing was disturbed, that no branches obscured the markers before her. Her emotions calmed as she sat in silence, not yet ready to speak to her oldest brother. She might have drifted off to sleep except for a persistent breeze that kept flipping her hair in her face and tickling her ears.
Before her lay two rows of markers. Few last names. Only names that meant something to her and the family.
To her far left in the first row was a marker with the full name of Hunter’s wife, still alive. She and the twins survived Hunter’s passing, but grief almost took them down. Slowly the three realized the tracker wouldn’t want his loved ones to mourn…to merely exist. So, they returned to life, with the intent to honor the way he lived.
Next to hers stood a marker bearing the name Hunter. Only one date marked the stone. Omega choked up even reading his name and the date of his passing. Emotions wrapped a firm hand around her chest and held her still. Clones never knew when they were conceived within a tube on Kamino, but their passing…oh yeah, that someone knew. So many thoughts swirled through her mind and memory just looking at the stone and the soft grass that grew there. She’d put all those into his legacy. He’d be first.
Next to his marker was an ordinary-sized one for an extraordinary-sized brother, Wrecker. So many times since his passing had Omega longed for his humor and gentle understanding. For a man versed in demolition, who loved blowing up things, he was the most tenderhearted of her brothers. To help the big man adjust to the Ever After, they buried his Lula tooka with him. Omega quirked up one side of her mouth and hummed. There were a few times since Wrecker’s passing that she wished the tooka doll was still available to cuddle. But the big guy needed it more than she or Crosshair.
Beside him lay his wife. They never had children. She was disabled when they met, and the Maker never granted them kids. To be honest though, Wrecker had many kids on the island …not biologically his, of course. But he loved kids, and they loved him. He was a kid magnet as Crosshair always said.
Next to the biggest brother’s wife lay a smaller brother though Hunter technically qualified as the shortest one. Tech was slender like Crosshair but taller than Hunter. He lived a full life and enjoyed his family though for a number of years, no one knew he’d survived a horrendous fall. He’d lived without memory of that sacrifice until family located him by accident. Perhaps of all the brothers—except Crosshair—he had the most unusual life. When he died, he was ready though he’d not have said it in such a way. By that time, his son already lived across the galaxy, using his intelligence to carry on his father’s passion for inventing and flying. The flying part also came from Phee.
Omega always smiled when she noted the marker next to Tech’s. Phee Genoa, erstwhile pirate and liberator of antiquities, completely overwhelmed her husband with love every day of their life together. She knew he could get lost in his own mind and whatever project he was involved with, so she always reminded him that she loved no one else but him and their child. As it happened, they died together. Omega often thought the Maker did a good thing, the timing working out so well.
Once more Omega turned her head to the left to the back row. Here her sighs were heavier. The first marker was her husband’s, Mikhail Kallus. Oh, that had been a day. The day when not only her brothers but Rex found out who she loved and planned to marry. Mik’s brother, Alex, had worked for the Empire as an agent until, like Crosshair, he realized the Empire was wrong. With that understanding, he joined the Rebellion and even became one of the agents known as Fulcrum. The family assumed Mik was guilty by association with his brother. Omega thought she’d be grounded from ever seeing another male when that news got around the family. However, Ahsoka vouched for Alex, saying the former agent for evil now served as an agent for the betterment of the galaxy and that Mikhail was a doctor and had never served the Empire.
Being a doctor on the island was a full-time job for Mik. Omega helped him, loving every minute of their working together as well as their private life even though they lived with Cross in the original home they’d settled into when they arrived on Pabu. Life, however, never played fair and took Mik far too early, leaving Omega with only memories and no child. A storm and a missing child. Men out searching. A tree with loosen roots due to the fury of wind and hours of rain. One stout wind and the tree came down, killing Mikhail. She’d cried so many tears over the years that she ran out, the memories bittersweet at times.
Next to his marker was a place for her. Her name there but no date, of course. As a clone like her brothers, she had no idea of her birth date. She shook her head. If the Maker worked as usual, she might be the last of the Batch buried in this place. Crosshair grew more feeble every day though he swore he didn’t feel bad at all. Perhaps not. He had other things to deal with besides a few aches and pains.
The next marker was for her grouchy dear brother Crosshair. A name and no date like hers. How much they’d suffered. Him far more than her, but the trauma they endured made each strong but stronger when together.
A smile crossed Omega’s lips when she saw whom Cross would rest next to for eternity. Echo…Cross’s partner in crime as Hunter used to say. Both could deliver snarky comments though Echo’s were not intended to hurt where Crosshair’s usually were. They played off each other in the funniest and strangest ways. His wife was assassinated for her clone rights advocacy work. She lay buried on her native world, Pantora. Echo died in a separate battle, going down protecting others. Doing what he thought was right. Omega knew his legacy would be easy to write.
Two more spots remained. One without a standing marker, just a simple stone lying flat over the designated burial spot. This would probably be the last person in the family cemetery. That would be for Ahsoka Tano someday. Her ashes. Jedi—which she insisted she wasn’t one—were cremated so their souls could join the Force. Therefore, when her last day came, she said she’d accept being here, next to a man to whom she’d devoted a majority of her life. No marriage, of course. An unbreakable Force bond stronger than any wedding vow held them together.
Rex—Captain Rex of the 501st Clone troops—died in battle as well though not the same one that killed Echo. He was part of the Batch’s family and agreed to come here when he was finished with fighting. He was older than Omega’s brothers, heavier with a beard, mustache, and bald head at the end. But his spirit rivaled that of any soldier. He refused to come here to rest for Eternity though unless Ahsoka came as well. Again, one of those unspoken things between the two. When she agreed, he relented. And so, the former captain rested here.
The stones indicating the wives bore nothing but names and dates. The others, however, bore symbols that meant something to each in life. An Aurebesh symbol for 99—two red rectangles with a red line under each—marked stones for Hunter, Wrecker, Tech, Echo, and Crosshair as well as hers. A medical symbol marked Mikhail Kallus’ stone while Jaig Eyes in blue paint marked Rex’s stone, the emblem on his helmet given to him by Mandalorians for honor and service. Double white marks with diamonds on Ahsoka’s stone symbolized her facial markings, used as a code for Fulcrum. Fulcrum was the code name she used as the first agent for the Rebellion.
One last stone stood a little apart. Islanders might have thought it odd to include a pet’s grave with those of humans, but Batcher helped save hers and Crosshair’s lives and became a beloved part of the whole family. The family chose to remember her, having her close.
Taking in a large breath, Omega finally got down to what she came for. Gratitude, grief, hope, and love filled her mind. Talking to Hunter, the man who was her brother but the closest thing to a father figure she’d ever have, was her mission now.
“Hunter, your kids came by this morning talking about legacies. They had to write a term paper about someone and what they left behind. Kami wrote about Phee while Daram wrote about Rex. Their mom told them not to write about the 99s. Someone else would do that.” Omega shrugged and jerked a thumb at her chest. “I guess I’m that someone. Cross can’t do it and wouldn’t even if he could. It’s going to tear me up, but I think it would be a final straw for him if he had to relive all those years.”
She stood and walked to her brother’s grave, laying a hand on the stone. “Is that all right with you? Do you think the brothers would object?” She waited for a sign, but none came. “Can I be honest about our lives? Not sappy as Cross says but tell anyone who reads my words how human we are …were…and our mistakes as well as our victories.” She wanted to kneel, asking his permission, knowing her knees would bend down but perhaps refuse to unbend. Her numerous injuries during her years with the Rebellion often left her feeling as old as Crosshair. She’d be stuck. Instead, she leaned over and ran her hand over his name. “What do ya say? I won’t make you all look like heroes though you are to me. You’re men. Regular men who fought hard, lived hard, and loved your families fiercely. Crosshair and I miss you all very much.”
The wind sighed, carrying voices that she’d not heard in so long. Omega lifted her face and closed her eyes, using her heart to listen for an answer.
“It’s all right. Tell our stories. Be brave. Be kind, but be honest. We might be far away, Megs, but we’re waiting for you and Cross. See ya soon,” came the voices only her heart heard.
* * * *
Holding You Close. Letting You Go.
Hunter
Clone. Raised on Kamino. From a little to a cadet to an elite soldier. Always seen as odd. Defective. As a cadet, he and his batch mates were moved to an isolated barracks. Hunter was born more attuned to the world around him than other clones. The Kaminoans recognized this—as well as the other batchers’ talents—and sought to enhance them. So, unlike regular clones, he endured hours of experiments obviously intended to enhance his abilities. Those hours left him with severe headaches and a burning desire to leave Kamino. However, he wasn’t leaving without his brothers…his batch mates. So, the torture continued until the final test when they were deemed worthy of going out into the galaxy and fighting for the Republic. Fighting hard. Dying hard.
That’s cut and dry…the beginnings.
Over the years, the brothers shared a few stories about growing up with me. Some were funny. Most squeezed my heart because they suffered. Eventually each brother found a place where he fit into the squad. Later they adopted another clone, unenhanced but special.
The shortest Batcher named Hunter became the leader of the band of brothers. His hair was long. Longer than regulations allowed. Perhaps the Kaminoans realized the longer hair helped protect his hearing. The bandana he wore from the time he was a little until he passed away was his thing. Those are simply facts.
But his greatest accomplishment, as far as I’m concerned, was his decision to take me away from Kamino.
Hunter was my brother, the man who convinced others to follow him and rescue me. Saving my life. He brooded all the time, his way of trying to figure out his brothers and their moods. Trying for figure out how to raise a child. In quiet moments, he planned strategies, but he also learned to loosen up, and most importantly, he learned how to love. Not just me but his brothers. Truly love them for their good and bad sides. Yes, he hesitated to take one brother back after being the target for assassination, but he also learned to listen not with his exceptional hearing but with his heart.
He protected me, made me feel safe. But then he protected anyone who needed that. He wasn’t that way when he was a soldier necessarily. A mission was a mission, and all he could handle was one mission at a time. Protection and safety he left to those coming behind.
Was Hunter perfect? Oh no. He made mistakes, but he owned up to them. Early on, he gave me a sergeant’s dressing down for not staying in a safe zone. Others taught him that children will get in trouble, and it’s his job as a brother to handle it as a brother/father figure/mentor rather than as a sergeant. He hesitated to rescue of a brother who once served the Empire but who became a prisoner of that regime. That hesitation was fatal. He never got over his decision even when years later that loss was rectified.
His greatest strength wasn’t muscles or brains. It was his heart. He was my safe spot. The one person who understood or at least let me talk myself out so he could understand. His arms comforted me. His voice soothed my ears. His words eased my heart.
His story…our story together…the way he was with me…was how he became once he realized being a soldier was in the past. He created a new life for himself and his brothers and me. Those traits that meant so much to me he passed onto those who lived on Pabu. His comfort. His willingness to help and mentor others. His creativity in finding solutions.
The best of him he passed onto his children. Holding them close and keeping them safe as they grew, but, like he did when I left to fight in the Rebellion, he learned to let go.
He let me fight my fight. But he held my heart. And always did.
* * * *
I’ll Teach You Everything
Tech
Tall, slender, goggles bigger than he was. Soft spoken but deadly with a blaster in each hand when necessary. With a somewhat wicked sense of humor that he rarely let loose. An exceptional pilot that maybe has one equal in the Rebellion. An engineer who held the Havoc Marauder together somehow on our worst days. An inventor. A tinkerer who sought to improve the lives of those around him, like his adopted cybernetic brother. A genius who saw the world in a way none of us ever could. Teacher. Brother.
I always thought that Tech wasn’t sure about the idea of rescuing me from Kamino. Life for all the clones changed after Order 66—the command to kill all Jedi and those who were force-sensitive. Life for the Bad Batch changed, and I often wondered if Tech believed taking on a child was something they didn’t need to do. However, he acquiesced to his leader’s plan.
Tech rarely showed emotions. Seldom even cried. His brilliance left no room for softer thoughts…feelings. We had a difficult talk once when another brother left to fight with the rebelling groups of clones after the war ended. I accused Tech of not caring about anything, about a brother leaving. He explained that he processed things differently. He cared, but showing such was hard for him. Eventually he showed he cared in his soft voice, his occasional hugs. The way he often ruffled the top of my hair. He took excellent care of my health. Offered words of praise where warranted.
The greatest thing about Tech was his curiosity. His quest for knowledge for the sake of just knowing something. He often tried to explain situations, events, or whatever to his brothers, but they rarely wanted to know what he knew. Only one often listened. I listened as well. Tech was a walking fount of information, and he took the time to teach me. He was an excellent instructor.
In the later years of peace, finding the love of his life and expanding his family with a child, he realized that he could share information without boring or offending his listener. At that point, he truly became an exemplary teacher. He helped his wife raise a son who is caring, thoughtful, and, like his father, quiet and curious.
When my brothers slept aboard the Marauder and only Tech remained awake in the pilot’s chair, he often held me and let me cuddle back to sleep in his arms. He may have been disconcerted the first few times it happened, but he learned that a child doesn’t judge and simply looks for comfort and safety.
He wanted to teach me everything. That was impossible, but he taught me that the world is bright with overwhelming sunlight, and if his knowledge could allow him, he would have rearranged the stars just for me.
* * * *
I’ll Defend You
Wrecker
The kindest, biggest man I’ve ever known was also my brother. My little brother. I am technically a few years older than the Batch. I age like a natborn while the Kaminoans juggled the clones’ DNA to age them twice as fast. So, while Wrecker was twenty when I met him, his body had only lived ten years. His sense of humor kicked in when I would call him little brother. While some equate large body with small brains, my brother was no di’kut (idiot). His warmth and love were those of an innocent, but he was wise in the way of emotions.
He was born to be a soldier, and he was a great one as well as an expert demotion engineer. But his mind never soaked up the Kaminoans’ ideas of kill, kill, kill. His heart was pure for those he loved. And, bless his heart, he loved everyone until they proved his trust wrong. He was joy with a playful attitude. He was enthusiastic and loved adventuring with me. He often made mistakes like when he and I became separated. I went one way, thinking he was following, and he went the other, thinking I was right there with him. Scared us both.
He knew his size intimidated people, but when others realized how great a person he was, he forgave their fears. He gave such great hugs.
Wrecker cried easily because he had a huge heart. He carried his emotions wide open for all to see. His Lula doll was a symbol of his caring. He shared willingly because he knew when someone was hurting. When in combat mode, he would be the one concerned about consequences to those left behind. But he followed orders and got the job done.
Once he moved to the island, it seemed his inner child let loose and lived life to the fullest. He laughed and mingled, never meeting a person he didn’t like. He married but never had children of his own. However, every kid on Pabu knew Mr. Wrecker and knew he had a story to share or a shoulder to lean on or one good ear that he’d use to listen when no one else would. He was the sunshine of my youth. A kindred spirit that always enjoyed life with me as much as I enjoyed it with him.
When Wrecker was around, I was always safe. I knew he’d defend me until his last breath. As he did when he and my brothers came for me on Tantiss. He came as close to dying that day as I ever wanted to see. Nothing made Wrecker madder than someone who wanted to hurt me or take me away.
He was a people person, caring, and willing to listen when you wanted to unburden your mind or heart.
For those he loved, he would fight to the bitter end to keep them safe. That was how the big guy was made despite what the Kaminoans wanted him to be. His muscles were big, but his heart was bigger.
* * * *
I Will Soften the Edges
Echo
Echo joined the Bad Batch not as an enhanced soldier in the manner that my brothers were. He was so severely injured at the Citadel that he was declared dead. Not a body left to claim even if the 501st had had time to look for him. Engineered by the Techno Union into a cybernetic person, he spent a year in a cryo-chamber. His mind held strategies of the clone troop plans. The Union sold that information to the highest bidders so they could plan counter measures. Thousands of clones died because of it, and Echo never forgot that.
Those deaths followed him. Haunted him. Drove him to be the man I knew. He wanted to help his brothers. Those held hostage. Those abandoned. Those unsure how to survive when their military service was no longer needed. He was a gentle soul with the fierce heart of a warrior.
Echo saw the bigger picture of the galaxy and often chided the squad leader about missions that he felt were too small, too inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. The mission helped only a few where he thought the Batch could be doing more. I suppose I heard that so often during my life that it became part of my own mantra.
He was an excellent thoughtful leader, and he and Hunter often planned missions together. But he wasn’t perfect. He was driven to help others and wanted to go out with blasters hot and blazing to fight injustice. He could be cutting and snarky, but he could also be witty and charming. He could also be quite stubborn.
He was also the nicest man. Warm and friendly. A loving brother. The first time I hugged him, he acted as if a plague carrier had arms around him. Eyes wide. Mouth in a large O shape. Arms wide, afraid to touch me. I never thought much of it. I was glad to see him and wanted to welcome him as I would any of my brothers. I never saw him as different. Once he got used to being hugged, he always opened his arms as I bounded toward him. He gave good hugs.
When I joined the Batch, I knew nothing of the world beyond watery cloud-hung Kamino. Echo often explained the wider world to me in simple terms that softened the edges of my ignorance. While my genius brother might go off on a rambling explanation, Echo compacted the essence of what I needed to know into easy-to-understand terms. He did it quietly so as not to hurt his brother’s feelings. He could be strict, but he was also a mother-type of person. Caring and warm. Gentle and firm. Strict and sympathetic.
As he softened the harsh edges of the world so that I could fit in, he reminded me that he would always be there for me. I knew him as a man, not a man-machine. I loved him as a man, as a brother, and that, for him, made all the difference.
* * * *
With the legacies of her missing brothers finished, Omega sat for a while, thinking. Making up her mind, she picked up her pen again and started writing.
“I shouldn’t add this in, seeing as Crosshair isn’t gone. But I want to write this down because no one knows this man as well as I do. Even my brothers never saw him as I do. They loved him, admired him, valued him. All the things he never saw in himself. So, I’ll add this but won’t read it to him.
* * * *
I’ll Do Better
Crosshair
While one brother sacrificed himself to save his family, Cross walked away, not to save his family, but to garner attention for himself. Like a cat that he’s often compared to, he sought a place with those who talked of value but cared nothing once he refused their ways. I think he wanted to be a hero, but he looked for validation in the wrong place. He grew up like his batch mates, exposed to criticism and experimentation that amounted to torture. His passion for living was contained within. Emotions held in check. His soul seems to prefer the hidden side of life. Far from being hardhearted, he’s stubborn and sassy. He warms up to others so slowly that you might feel like he hates you forever. Eventually he grows more comfortable with you.
I admire the way Crosshair can sit by me without speaking yet know just how I feel and what to say when I eventually ask. In some ways, he’s very much like Hunter with an instinct that demonstrates the same patience he used as a sniper to deal with me. He can be blunt, but he can also be gentle.
Cross is the least perfect of my brothers, yet he is also the one I am drawn to the most. Torture and our time on Tantiss created a bond that the Jedi might call a Force bond. One that unites soul to soul. His words can cut as sharply as Hunter’s knife. His lithe body can hug me as warmly as Wrecker’s best hugs. His sharp mind sees through me better than Tech’s brilliance ever could. Like Echo, he seems to understand with only a few words. He may like you or even love you, but he’ll rarely say that aloud. He’s told me that he loves me but says it’s best to keep that between us. He never wants anyone to know he feels emotions, much less shows them. He values self-control too much.
Crosshair started rough and remains that way. But his life went from love to loss, making its way back to love. He never realized the love until it was gone. He’s implied by action since he returned to his family that he will do better. Will he ever say that aloud? Never! He’d rather bite off his tongue first. But he loves me, and he loved his brothers. And in the end, he knew that was all that mattered because he had done better.
* * * *
Back to current day:
My brothers are gone now but for one, Crosshair. I call him Cross as he is known here on Pabu. Many call him Mr. Cross, a name that took him by surprise a number of times early on.
The efforts the Kaminoans put into enhancing what was probably natural talents in my brothers’ lives eventually turned on each man. Hunter lost his hearing, that talent that allowed him to know who was about before anyone else, saving lives more times than anyone could count. Saving the lives of many on Pabu when a sea surge sent a strong tidal wave over lower Pabu. Echo became slower, his cyber connections eventually playing out. Being slow gets one killed, as it did in his last mission. Tech was perhaps the worst. His brilliant mind betrayed him. He gradually forgot, became confused, lost within himself. Thankfully, the Marker saw fit to take him and his wife Phee before one was left without the other. An accident in Tech’s lab, where he shouldn’t have had chemicals, set off toxic fumes. Phee found him collapsed and tried to get him out the door to fresher air. But the fumes overcame her as well. They died in each other’s arms. Wrecker had a heart attack after saving several children from drowning, his massive strength not enough to continue the beating of a tender heart. As the best sniper with the sharpest eyesight, Cross’ talent failed him, leaving him blind. He lives in darkness now, carefully, and alone but for me. He says he tolerates me out of pity. Such a liar.
Those who knew these people mourned their loss deeply which only proved, as Cross told me long ago, that they were loved quite deeply. Those of us left try to carry on, to honor each person’s memory. Carrying on sounds easy, but it’s not. Ask me. Ask the last brother. Ask the sister-in-law and the children. The older we get the harder it is to fill our lives with new experiences that fill that void left by the passing of those we loved, cherished, valued.
I will pass on to the far-away march with my brothers someday. I look forward to it. Someone else will write my legacy. As much as this life has filled my world with wonder, joy, and love, I look forward to the hour, the minute, I can rejoin the Bad Batch and those we accepted as our family. The Mando’a word solus means united. We will be joined as one once again soon.
With love,
Omega
* * * *
Crosshair knew the way to the family cemetery. He often went there to hassle the brothers. Mainly to vent about something but just talking to them—even in spirit—made him feel better.
This day he came to the same bench where Omega sat a few days before. He carefully propped up his cane and laid a small data pad beside him. He had a plan and wanted to record his words.
Despite the darkness he now lived in, his sniper senses still took note of the world around him. A bird chattered in a low spot off to his right. The soft padding of small feet indicated a tiny animal scurried among the branches. The wind today lay still and moist, perhaps a storm coming. Hunter would have known with his acute awareness of electromagnetics. The smell of greenery hung thick around him. He knew the layout of this place as well as anyone, having set up the stones for those gone ahead and for those yet to pass on.
“All right, you guys can laugh all you want. I can’t hear you so it doesn’t count,” came a low but sassy comment as he reached for the data pad. Before he switched it on, he added, “Omega designated herself as the person to write your legacies. She’s not writing one for me. I’m not dead, she said. Huh! I bet she wrote something anyway. The kid can’t help herself.”
The kid…after all these years, he still referred to his sister by that name more often than not. Not all the time but often enough to piss her off. But a lot of times more out of habit.
“I’m gonna record her legacy. Megs will never know. But I’ll tell someone so they can find it when the time comes. Ahsoka’s gonna be last to get here so I suppose we can’t march too karkin’ far ahead without leaving Rex behind. If you believe in that sort of thing,” he added as he pushed a button on the pad.
Unimaginable Light
Omega
I saw Omega on Kamino when we returned after Order 66. I hated returning to that place and hated everyone there. Hunter had some sort of fixation on this kid though. The only female in the whole karkin’ place. A pain in the sheb.
When we returned to rescue her—Hunter’s idea—we’d finished a job for the new Empire. Actually, we never finished it. Hunter refused to follow orders, to kill the people we were sent to eliminate. So, I sent in a report saying so. Not my smartest move, but that realization came to me much later. They left. I stayed. Logistics didn’t work out. They couldn’t get me and leave safely. I finally understood, but it took a long time before I did.
When the Marauder took off with the squad and the kid the second time after Kamino fell, I didn’t go. It wasn’t in my nature. Good soldiers follow orders. That had been drilled into me from birth. To make a long story short, I became an osi yaim (despicable person). I followed orders even when I shouldn’t have. Call me needy. Whatever. Eventually I realized the Empire could care less about me or any other clone. We were expendable, so I shot a man and was taken to Weyland, to the Tantiss base there. I returned to where I started—a subject for experimentation.
And that’s when I met the kid again—Omega. She’d been captured too.
She came to my cell at the risk to her own safety. She talked about her day, about her brothers—my brothers. She’d become part of Clone Force 99 more than I felt I ever was while I was gone. She was integral to those men. I won’t say she was a kriffin’ ray of sunshine each time she popped up at my cell, but eventually I looked forward to seeing her. Even when she told me that Tech sacrificed himself for the family’s safety as they searched for information to find me.
Never once did she blame me for his death. I blamed myself enough.
She encouraged me to stay strong, saying she wasn’t leaving Tantiss without me. She gave me everything of herself. Kept me alive with hope. A desire for something positive to happen, a trust that I never earned but she gave willingly.
We escaped and met up with Hunter and Wrecker. I’ve never been so scared in my life, but she held my hand and vouched for me. Saying she trusted me and that I helped her escape when in reality, she did all the work. Like I had accused Hunter of not that long before, I followed the kid.
I learned to trust her as much as she trusted me. Our nightmares were the same. Our bond was like nothing I’ve ever experienced. She exuded Hunter’s empathy, Wrecker’s heart, Echo’s determination, and Tech’s brilliance all in one tiny golden-haired fireball of power.
With her annoying sunny disposition and exasperating energy, she pulled me into the land of the living.
What I know about Megs…Omega…is how my family—me—radiate around her. She is the center of our world. That indescribable light that leads us home. I will defend her to the end. Rearrange the world to make her happy. Teach her all I know. Listen with my heart. Never let the darkness touch her again. She holds me to the best I can be. Someday I will go ahead of her, but I’ll wait for her because she is loved.