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I’m the second youngest of our batch, but the most by-the-book one. The most dogmatic of us, according to my batchmates. It’s annoying to me when my brothers disobey orders, but I still love them, because they are the only ones that don’t really mind my way of being, who don’t mock me for that.
The other squads are wrong, they don’t understand. They don’t understand our purpose. We should be loyal. We should do things by the book, accept our orders without hesitation. So when we are ordered to report on landing deck 4A, in full armour, I’m ready to go mere minutes after the order is given.
"CT-6922, relax. We have plenty of time to make it to the platform. No need to rush like that." Our oldest brother, their ori’vod, Cabur, says to me. I stop a few steps short of the door, my shoulders stiffen. I’m well aware that for the others, he’s like the oldest brother, someone who’s there for them, a comforting presence. I don’t feel this way, no matter what’s happening.
"No, we-we have our order. We need to go." I say and leave the room, without looking back. I hear Cabur’s sigh before the doors close, three of my batchmates and one brother finally follow me. I suppose that they are used to the way I act and treat our orders, but it hurts me that they don’t seem to understand. Well, Tup does. He understands, but he too doesn’t do things like we should.
"Dogma, wait for us, please! We’re coming, vod!" I hear Tup calling me, so I stop, waiting for them. I hear laughter to my left and turn to find it’s source. Two clones from the group decanted alongside us are standing by the wall, whispering something, smiling mockingly at me.
"Yeah, Dogma. Wait for your squad. Maybe then, they’d follow your ways." One of them calls to me and I feel my chest tightening. I told Tup how I wish they’d call me yesterday evening. It suits me, I think. I am dogmatic, but I am proud of it. That’s how we clones should be like.
"If your commanding officer told you to kill yourself, you would obey, wouldn’t you?" They continue, and I feel tears stinging in my eyes. I stifle a sob, I can’t show them that I care. I see Tup catching up with me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders.
"I don’t want to be reconditioned again." I whisper brokenly.
"Hey, vod. It’s okay. You won’t be, I won’t let it happen. Don’t mind them, they don’t know you." He soothes me. I nod and Tup tightens his grip on my shoulder.
"That’s it, Dogma. Let’s go see what’s that about, shall we?"
And so, as the others reach us, we continue our walk to our destination. Though, Puncher seems to stop to land a hard hit on one of the clones that mock me. He really proves his name, his hits are ones of the worst. But I still can’t understand why he even bothers.
Despite growing and training alongside them for nine years, I still can’t really call my batchmates 'brothers'. CT-5382, Tup, is the only exception, however. But that’s probably because we share our growth tube.
I didn’t laugh at him when Tup told me about his plans for his distinguishing changes in his appearance. I think that his plan is really good, that long hair, pulled into a bun really suits him and softens his face.
I shake myself off the deep thoughts when we arrive at the landing deck 4A, as instructed.
There are already few squads waiting for us, along with group of older troopers. I take a glance at their armour paint to determine from which unit they are, but the beautiful shade of blue tells me nothing.
"Triangle Squad, is it?" One of the troopers, an ARC with interesting armour paint asks us, and I find myself nodding.
"Yes sir. I’m CT-6922." I say without really thinking about it. "Why were we called here?" Tup asks, his eyes wide.
"You’re being deployed, troopers. Our battalion sustained heavy casualties during our last battle. You’re going to fill the gap, according to your trainers you’re the best of the squads, the most advanced in training." He replies. For a while, we stand in the rain, shocked. Then, it comes to me.
"But sir, we’re nine. According to the reg manuals, we are bound to receive ten standard years of training before we are deployed." I say hesitantly. Though, it was to be expected soon. Last week, a batch of nine and a half years old was deployed, and since we were given our armour few days ago, it came even later than I thought.
The ARC removes his helmet, revealing a kind-eyed face, neatly trimmed goatee and a 5 tattoo on his right temple. There’s a hint of sadness and grief in his eyes, but it quickly dies down as he sighs.
"Yeah, I know, kid. But we need to go. We’re needed on our next campaign." He says, so we follow him to the gunship that’ll most likely take us to the Jedi commanded Venathor.
*****
After we arrive on the Venathor, the ARC takes us to the barracks. I carefully place my helmet on the top bunk in the rack, and Tup settles on the one below mine. We always sleep like this.
"Welcome to 501st, shinies." The ARC tells us, his eyes sparking.
"I’m Fives. This is Jesse, Hardcase and Kix. Your squad’ll bunk with us." He introduces himself and three other clones in the room. Then, he leans closer to Tup and I.
"A little advice: if Kix threatens you to come to medbay, or he’ll drag you there and keep restrained for a week, don’t check if he means that. He DOES." Fives tells us and I must make a very surprised face because every clone in the room, even my batchmates, starts to laugh. I flush a little, uncertain of how to react. CT-6834, my middle batchmate, smiles softly.
"Don’t mind Fives, kid. But yes, I will do that." The clone with medic insignia and lightning bolts shaved in his hair says with a soft smile. I relax slightly, though I still feel uneasy. I know 501st’s reputation. One of the most chaotic battalions in whole GAR. My other batchmates, even Tup, will fit here perfectly. But me? I suppose I’ll have to fill in the form for reassignment. It’s clearly a mistake that I ended up here.
But, I’m still willing to give it a try.
"So, shinies, do you have names already, or do you need help to find them?" The clone with a large Republic Cogwheel tattoo on his face asks. "Yeah, everyone, except for me." CT-6834 says sadly.
"Eh, don’t bother. You’ll find the best name in no time, ask any brother." Fives reassures him with a wink. I once again feel the pang in my heart, telling me that I don’t belong here, not fully at least.
"I need to rest. Don’t mind me." I mutter and after taking my armour off and locking it into one of the empty crates I climb onto my bunk, turning my back to the rest of the room. Before falling asleep, I hear some of their hushed conversation.
"What’s with him?" One of the older clones asks. Judging by the voice, the batchmate that replies him is Tup.
"Dogma? He’s fine, just…confused, probably. Perhaps worried about how he’ll be treated here because of…the way he is. He had a hard time on Kamino." It’s definitely Tup. No one else speaks about me in such fond way. My eyelids are heavy. I drop listening to others’ talking and fall asleep.
*****
The battle’s raging. It’s nothing like all the simulations that the kaminiise put us through, telling us that it shows how battle works. Clones are scattered across the field, some of them crouch behind occasional debris, others are out in the open, or lay down, wounded or dead.
The planet’s surface offers nearly no places to hide, it’s just an endless grassy field, most of it scorched or on fire. I’m shooting the droids, like I’m ordered. I’m a good soldier, after all. And with Tup, and the others by my side, it should be alright.
I should know better. One second, everything is fine. Next moment, a commando droid appears in front of me, swinging his vibrosword, and I just…freeze, unable to move, or even raise my blaster. Suddenly, every drill, every order, every year of training is gone. In this moment, I know I’m about to die.
Or, I would die. If it isn’t for the trooper in plain white armour, just like my own, jumping between me and the droid, shielding me with his own body. I can’t tell which one of us is screaming, maybe it’s me, maybe it’s Puncher, who goes down, deep cut in his torso that starts on his collarbone and ends on his thigh. I finally manage to raise my shaking hands and shoot the droid. Then, I collapse to my knees at Puncher’s side. I don’t care that the battle’s around me, that even a moment of distraction can kill me. All I care for is my batchmate, my…brother, who’s dying on the ground, instead of me. I gently remove his helmet, our eyes lock. I see the pain in Puncher’s eyes as the puddle of blood grows below him. His breathing is ragged and shallow. Puncher smiles through the pain, reaching out with his hand. I grab it and squeeze tightly, determined to stay with him, even though I know that it won’t fix my mistake that was distancing myself from them.
"I’m sorry…vod…" I choke out when Puncher stills, his eyes glazed over and unseeing.
I gently place his limp hand on his chest and get up. I know I have to leave him now. The protocol is clear: troopers are collecting the bodies of the fallen once the battle is over.
*****
The battle’s finished. We managed to destroy all the droid forces and the casualties aren’t that high. I notice an armour with medic insignia, armour that I think belongs to Kix. Sure enough, it’s him, commanding the troopers to look for the wounded.
"Dogma, it’s good to see you alive." Kix says in greeting, though he sounds distracted. "Sir, how can I help?" I ask, straightening my spine. Kix’s sigh is audible through his vocoder.
"Well, all unharmed are looking for the wounded. You can go help them." Kix answers already turning to run to stabilise one of the wounded men.
I turn as well and return to the field where battle took place. I want to help, to be useful for Kix before asking for reassignment. I just hope that Tup isn’t among the dead or injured.
*****
I’m back at the medical tent after bringing a few wounded here. I found none of my batchmates, none of them alive, anyway.
Cabur, Puncher - are dead. I don’t know where Tup, or CT-6834 are, but I fear the worst.
So when I see one of the older clones that I share barracks - Jesse, I think - running to me, my heart skips a beat. He’s hauling a body behind him. The wounded clone doesn’t have his helmet on, so I can see his long hair.
"Tup…" I whisper, dread settling in my stomach at the sight of large blaster wound in Tup’s abdomen. I take a quick glance at his triage marker - red. Tup’s face is too still, too pale. I sink to my knees. I don’t want to watch medics trying to stabilise Tup, but at the same time I can’t look away.
A call from the tent’s entrance takes my attention from Tup. Clones bring CT-6834 inside, his condition even worse than Tup’s.
There’s a large shrapnel wound in his side, as well as a burn on his left thigh. My eyes widen when I see the extent of his injuries.
When the wounded are being moved to the medical bay aboard the Resolute, I breathe a sigh of relief. With the supplies there, Tup will be fine. CT-6834 too, hopefully.
*****
I’m sitting by Tup’s side since we board the Resolute. Well, after quick refresh and changing into fresh set of blacks. Fortunately, CT-6834 is in the bed next to Tup’s, so I don’t need to walk across whole room to see him. I hold Tup’s hand in mine, waiting for him to wake up.
Instead, I hear the long, deafening whine of heart monitor. It’s not Tup’s. It’s CT-6834’s.
My head shoots up, and I can just stare in disbelief, still holding Tup’s hand, as a medic runs to my brother, desperate to save the crashing vod. Furiously, he’s trying to do CPR on the clone. At first, I don’t understand why he lets up with the compressions, turning the monitor off. But then he approaches me with grief ridden eyes.
"He was your batchmate, wasn’t he?" The medic asks quietly. I nod, realisation sinking in. "I’m sorry." He says and looks at Tup’s still body on the bed, before leaving to other wounded. I stifle a sob. I tried so hard to keep my distance from them, and in the end, it doesn’t matter at all. They were brothers too, I know that now. And Tup is the only one I have left.
"Dogma…what’s…what’s happening?" A hoarse voice asks and my eyes land on Tup. He’s awake, even if slightly confused and dazed, probably from painkillers. "Where are the others?" He asks next.
I can’t hold back my tears at that, I just can’t. I know I shouldn’t show my emotions, my weaknesses. It’s against everything the Kaminoans taught us and against all regulations.
"Th-they are…" I start but I can’t even explain it. It’s too much. But Tup understands. His eyes fill with tears too. "All of them?" He whispers shakily. I nod, trying not to look back where I know CT-6834’s body is being taken away.
*****
When the night cycle begins, I return to the barracks. I want to stay with Tup, but after a fourth comm from worried Fives, I gently apologise to Tup and go to the barracks. As I’m getting closer, I hear a whispered conversation inside, so I stop at the door and just stand there awkwardly.
The door opens. Right, motion sensors. I shouldn’t stop so close to the door. Maybe if I retreat quickly, they won’t notice. I turn around. Maybe I’ll go back to Tup, or just hide in a maintenance closet. Anywhere, but not here, with the others.
"Dogma, come in, vod. You shouldn’t be alone tonight." Fives calls after me and I stop mid-step. With a sigh, I come into the room, wishing I had my helmet on. I see Fives’s worried expression, Jesse’s concern and Hardcase’s uneasiness. Kix is nowhere to be seen, he’s probably still in the medical bay. I try to keep my body straight as I make my way to my bunk.
"How are you holding up, vod’ika?" Jesse asks gently. I force myself to calm before replying.
"I’m fine." I say hoarsely, unwilling to continue with the conversation.
"That’s a banthashit, Dogma." Fives says. I sigh.
"It’s fine. Don’t pretend you care. No one but Tup does." I say and climb on the bunk, curling up on myself.
I involuntarily start thinking about Tup, which leads to images of Puncher’s, Cabur’s and CT-6834’s bodies appearing in my mind. I’m aware that now I’m sobbing, my body trembling violently, both from the cold and emotions. I’m angry at myself for showing it.
I feel someone climbing up to me and I try to move away, closer to the cold, metal wall. I shudder when I feel a warm hand touching my shoulder, and stroking my hair.
I look up, to see which clone is up here. Fives. He’s oddly quiet, his eyes seem to be elsewhere, like he’s thinking about something else. It doesn’t take long for the repetitive movement to soothe me to sleep.
*****
It’s been a week since Tup and I are the last ones left. Yesterday, he came back into our barracks. I’m relieved to see him here again, because I’m not sure if I could handle being alone for any longer.
And once he comes back, Fives approaches us, his eyes shine a little.
"We have something for you." He says, and gives us two buckets of blue paint. There’s a hint of grief in his voice when he speaks again. "You’re shinies no more." I hesitantly accept the paint and the brush. I didn’t really think about my armour design before, but now, I have an idea.
On my chest plate, I paint a large triangle, for 'Triangle Squad’ and on my arms, I paint long, thick blue stripes, I see most of 501st having those, so I hope it’ll make it easier for me to fit in with the battalion. On my helmet, i paint a thick V and and a small red triangle above it. I heard that there’s a clone tattooer on Resolute, and I plan on making a V tattoo on my face as well. On my legs, I choose to paint the stripes similar to ones on my arms, so it wouldn’t look so blank and unfinished.
When I’m finished, I see that Tup choose the same pattern for legs and arms, except for a teardrop on both of his shoulders. His chestplate is bare, and the only thing painted in his helmet is a thin stripe above the visor, and a teardrop on the right, below the visor.
*****
Tup and I just came back from the clone tattooer, and we sit on Tup’s bunk, each of us having some distinctive mark. I have a V, intersecting my eye, ending on the forehead, and going over my nose. Tup settled with a teardrop, in the same spot that it’s on his helmet.
"Dogma…what do you think is coming next?" Tup asks quietly. I stop brushing Tup’s hair for a moment before continuing to tie it into a bun as he asked me to.
"I don’t know, Tup. But as long as we stay together, it shouldn’t go wrong." I say, deciding not to say what I think:
If we follow all our orders and protocol, we’ll live and be promoted.
Even Tup doesn’t understand that others died because of unfollowed orders and regulations. It could have been avoided.
Two days later, we are given our new order: 501st is going to Inner Rim planet Iloh. And I make up my mind. I will not let any more orders be ignored, or regulations bend.