Work Text:
99 told the children they were going to meet a brother today. Last time, seven new brothers had arrived at the same time. They were told they were part of the same set, just like how the two older ones, as well as the three dead ones they remembered, were part of their own set. Why was there only one this time?
Their questions were not answered when the kid who was very unwillingly nudged into the room by the Kaminoan looked to be around the developmental equivalent of a three-year-old human. He wasn’t unnaturally short like Pip was; he just looked younger. Like the baby regs they had seen around. Even the way he walked looked babyish, all stubby and uncoordinated. The last batch were the developmental equivalent of five years old when they came, and now six in the present day, so he wasn’t one of them, right?
But the new kid was defective like the rest of them. He had brown hair and lighter skin like Doc. At least that part made sense; only defectives were supposed to be introduced into their group like this.
“This is 9912,” the Kaminoan informed them as she pushed the boy toward them. 9912 seemed to recognize 99 and wordlessly scurried to him for protection.
“He’s Twelve?” Nine gaped. Since they had learned about numbers, they had realized that there was a number 12 missing from their lineup of 9 through 16. They were only told that he was “gone,” just like most of the numbers in the batch of 1 through 8 were. The older kids had assumed that 12 was dead, but that apparently wasn’t the case.
“No he’s not. He’s too small,” Sixteen said confidently.
“9912’s maturation was delayed out of necessity for the particular needs of his brain development,” the Kaminoan explained.
Pip and Doc were able to grasp that. The others stared blankly.
“They held him back so his brain could grow better,” 99 translated.
“So he’s a reta-”
“Fourteen,” 99 admonished.
“What? It’s a good word.”
“It’s against the rules. Behave.”
Fourteen pouted. In previous admonishments, 99 had the generosity of explaining that some civvies didn’t like that word, and that part of the clones’ training was to learn manners so that the civvies would like them. Apparently, the word was used to make fun of a certain “disability” that some humanoids were born with, kind of like the defects that ninety-nines had. But no one on Kamino was born with such a disability, so why should it matter to Fourteen?
Well, maybe it was possible for a defective to have whatever that disability was. Regs certainly couldn’t be born with it.
“I will leave you to introductions.” The Kaminoan made herself scarce, seeming unimpressed by the exchange.
Twelve looked up at 99 with big curious eyes. “I didn’t know that word was against the rules. I didn’t see it when I read the regulations.”
Okay. Those weren’t words to come out of a toddler’s mouth.
“You know what word they’re talking about? And you read the regulations?” Doc prodded suspiciously.
“Yes and yes. I think that word is accurate to describe me, technically speaking. I learned about it when I looked up autism spectrum disorder on the holonet.”
“He gets to go on the holonet!?” cried Thirteen.
“That’s not fair!” Eleven chimed in.
“How come we don’t get the holonet?” Ten demanded.
Twelve shrunk in on himself, eyes flicking cautiously from one face to the next. 99 let out a knowing and tired sigh. “He’s not supposed to. None of you are old enough for the holonet.”
It was honestly a sad state of affairs in 99’s eyes. When he was first tasked with taking care of the young clones, he did his own looking into what human children were supposed to be like and what kinds of things parents did for them. He did everything he could to emulate the exemplar adults he could find stories of, but 99 was scarcely five years old himself, despite already appearing middle-aged, and with his poor oversized malformed brain, he couldn’t possibly truly embody the wisdom of someone who had a childhood at all, let alone a life well-lived. And it broke his heart a little bit every day to see that the children, especially Twelve, seemed so different from their developmental equivalents despite his best efforts.
The fact that Twelve was able to slip right under his nose and use a terminal to access the holonet without instruction and without him finding out until later was proof of how inadequate their arrangement was. 99 wouldn’t be surprised if in a couple years, the kid would start jailbreaking training equipment and accessing the holonet that way, and there would be nothing he could do to stop him.
The tension in the room was clueless to 99’s reverie and broke easily when Pip, the only one of the group smaller than Twelve, trotted up with a smile on his tiny face. “You’re a smart toddler.”
Twelve nodded. “Correct.” Then, with a searching look, “Are you a toddler?”
“Nope. I was made to be small. I’m four years old, developmentally ten, just like Doc over there. I’ll only be a little bit bigger by the time I’m an adult. That’s why I’m named Pip, because it sounds small.”
The toddler stared with interest. “That’s cool.”
Pip blinked. Never in his life had anyone reacted to that information with a sincere “that’s cool.” What was cool about it? If he was lucky, people would find it to be a neutral fact at best.
“Wait, so do you know all the words in the regulations?” Doc pressed. He was still reeling from that part of the exchange.
“No… not all of them.” For some unfathomable reason, this weirdo prodigy toddler seemed ashamed at the fact that he couldn’t quite read legalese. “The scientists said my brain will grow more soon, and then I will be able to memorize the dictionary, but I can’t right now.”
Multiple jaws dropped. “Memorize the dictionary?”
The toddler blinked. “Did I say something wrong?”
Fourteen pouted again. “He’s too smart. How come we don’t get to be that smart? If we get held back, can we be smart, too?”
99 interjected with a chuckle. “No, it’s because of Twelve’s enhancement. His brain is way more powerful than average, which is also why it needs more time to grow. Imagine if they tried to make you memorize the dictionary in the same amount of time.”
“I would just die.”
Thirteen came to the front to get a better look at the kid. He must’ve been five times as tall as Twelve and three times as wide. It was intimidating to see him approach and bend down to scrutinize him.
“Naw, this is a good thing. I’ll put him on my shoulder. I’ll do all the reaching and lifting for him, and he’ll do all the thinking for me.”
Doc scoffed. “You’re not that stupid. You don’t need to carry around an external brain attachment to survive.”
“Actually, I like that idea,” said Twelve.
Thirteen made a laughing cheering noise that sounded kinda crazy. “I win! He agrees! I’m Thirteen. Nice to meetcha.”
Twelve relaxed a little. Pip and Thirteen seemed nice, and 99 was here, so it was probably fine. He looked forward to having Thirteen reach and lift things for him. Maybe he’d “have time” for such things, unlike the scientists.
His eyes scanned the group of kids as he filed all the new information. “Why do some of you have names and others numbers?”
“Getting a name is something that happens naturally while you spend time with your brothers,” 99 explained. “The older kids have had more time, so more of them have names.”
“I’m sure you’ll get a name soon,” Pip grinned. “I can think of a few words for you already.”
Fourteen could think of a few words for him, too, but none of them had the bite that his favorite banned word did, and he didn’t feel like he could use that word for Twelve anymore. Why’d the toddler have to be so smart that he couldn’t even jokingly call him stupid?
“Do you have a specialization?” asked Driver.
Doc was incredulous. “Mate, he’s like one year old.”
“But he’s a smart one-year-old.”
“Actually, I’m two years and five months old, just like most of you. And I’m not ready for specializations yet.”
“You’ve got plenty of time before you have to worry about all that,” 99 said warmly. “Only a few of the boys here have specializations, and that’s mostly because their enhancements were made with those specializations in mind.”
“Which ones?”
99 gestured toward each cadet as he listed them out. “Doc is gonna be a medic-”
Doc corrected him with wounded pride. “Physician. Surgeon.”
“-and Fourteen’s gonna be a sniper, and Driver’s probably gonna be a ship mechanic and pilot.”
Twelve squirmed his way past Thirteen to study Driver. Particularly his hands. His fingers were incredibly long, and there were eight of them on each hand. Driver fidgeted, then put his hands behind his back defensively.
“What are you looking at?”
The toddler didn’t understand the question. “I was looking at your hands, but now I am looking at your torso, since you hid your hands. They are fascinating.”
Nine came between them and put a hand on the toddler’s shoulder to guide him away. Twelve jumped at the contact, but didn’t otherwise protest. “Wanna take a look around the nursery? You’re gonna live with us now, so you gotta get to know the place.”
Twelve nodded. “Okay,” he said easily, already glancing around with curiosity.
There was a vague feeling of disturbance somewhere in Nine’s mind. As the (barely) eldest of his batch, he took it upon himself to be the mature one for the others. But if Twelve was meant to be part of the batch he was self-appointedly responsible for, how was he supposed to treat him? Certainly not like a baby? Was he meant to treat him the same as the rest of them?
What was he going to do if the older regs picked on Twelve? He was good at standing up to them, but not that good. He could sense how his batchmates were doing through the scents their bodies gave off, but he needed time to acclimate to Twelve before he could do the same for him.
Perhaps he would just have to trust that the toddler would be fine. He was a Fett clone like the rest of them. Surely he had the same toughness. And their group could certainly stand to have a few more brain cells.
Yeah. This arrangement was okay. Nine was a big boy. He could look after one more brother.