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kybercrystals94 · 2 months ago

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The Defender (ch.12)

Febuwhump 2025 | Day 12 | Prompt: Used as Practice

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Rated: G | Words: 2635

Character Ages

Omega (8)

The Batch (Chronological: 4.5 / Biological: 9)

A/N: hello…it’s been awhile 🫠 But I’ve missed this story! (And I’ve missed the Febuwhump deadline, but we won’t talk about that…) I am excited to jump back in…maybe incorporate some Summer of Bad Batch prompts when the time comes 😉

“Cross wouldn’t want ya to do this,” Wrecker says, breath still hitched and wobbling from crying.

Hunter hates that he hesitates, hates that he wants to use what Crosshair would want as an excuse not to go through with it. But Crosshair isn’t here to say what he would or wouldn’t want. No, Crosshair is in a medical bay somewhere on Kamino, maybe dying, and no one is giving them any information. When they went to medical and asked, they were sent away, ordered to stay in their barracks until their scheduled training or meals dictated otherwise. They’d gone back to their barracks to come up with another plan, another solution. Wrecker had begun crying again, the same awful sobs Hunter had walked in on when he returned from training to find Crosshair missing again.

That is when the idea had formulated in Hunter’s mind, so quickly and so clearly that Hunter knew it would work. It had to work. “I’m going back to medical,” he’d announced.

Tech had regarded him critically, pushed his goggles back up. “I do not believe you have the ability or authority to make them change their minds, Hunter.”

“I won’t be going back as CT-9901,” Hunter said with a grin. He reached up and raked his fingers through his hair, pushing the thick curls back demonstratively. “I’ll go back as a reg.”

Tech’s frown deepened and Wrecker had choked out, “You’re gonna cut your hair?”

“It’ll grow back,” Hunter said, trying to sound dismissive; however, the regret chased by shame snuck in just then as he let go of his hair, letting it fall back into place.

“Surely there is another option,” Tech argued.

“With a regulation cut, I look just like a reg,” Hunter said. “It’s the perfect disguise.”

“Yeah,” Wrecker agreed, sniffing and wiping his sleeve across his nose, “but that’s why you grew it out in the first place, isn’t it. It just seems sad to mess up all your hard work.”

It had been hard work, convincing authority figures around him to let him skip getting his haircut at his scheduled time. The Kaminoans strove for uniformity and suffered variation when necessary. The experimental clone units had been that necessity with Wrecker, Tech and Crosshair; however, they prided themselves that at least one of the units had met nearly all their specifications. Hunter leaned into the fact that his enhancement made getting his head sheared regularly caused him physical and emotional distress. In a rare display of empathy, Nala Se had permitted Hunter to let his hair grow out and be kept presentable with scissors instead of a razor. And at last, Hunter could stand apart and together with his brothers.

“What about the voice?” Tech asked. “Perhaps they can help us as they have before.”

“Yeah!” Wrecker agreed. “The voice’ll help us.”

“And what if they can’t? What if they don’t?” Hunter asked, crossing his arms, even as relief cooled the warmth of apprehension under his skin.

“Then you’ll get a haircut,” Tech said simply.

They gave the voice one hour to check in. They waited next to the comm unit, sitting as they’d done that night Crosshair was sent to Nala Se for his injuries. They waited quietly, the only sound Wrecker’s occasional hiccup of a sob. The comm waited quietly too. When the hour was up, Hunter stood and started for the door.

“Cross wouldn’t want ya to do this,” Wrecker says.

Hunter turns back with a forced grin. “He never liked this mop anyways. He’ll be glad to see it gone for a while. A little ‘welcome back to the barracks’ gift, huh?”

“He just says stuff to say stuff,” Wrecker tells him. “He wouldn’t want you to get rid of it because of him.”

“I’m doing it for us,” Hunter says. “Because we need to know if Crosshair is alright. We need to know where he is. And this is the best way we can do that.” Hunter walks out of the barracks.

Hunter hates how the electric razor feels against his scalp. The metallic, thrumming whine and vibration makes even the nerves in his teeth ache. But Hunter pushes discomfort aside, sets his jaw, grips the seat of the chair he sits in, and bears it. The worst part of it all, though – the most selfish part, he thinks with an awful twist in his thumping heart muscle – is the soft, whispering sound of his hair falling in large, unforgiving clumps to the floor. What if Nala Se decides to retract her decision to let Hunter grow out his hair once she sees he has it cut of his own volition? Hunter bites the inside of his cheek. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t.

Hunter distracts himself with thoughts of Crosshair, lying somewhere on a medical cot just out of their reach. Maybe it’s just a simple migraine. Those can be excruciating, Hunter knows, but not life-threatening. However, the Kaminoans didn’t take clones away to medical for migraines. It had to be something worse than that, and Hunter doesn’t want to think about what worse is. Tech probably knows, probably has a theory.

Hunter startles when the clone cutting his hair puts a hand on his shoulder. “Are you alright?”

Hunter frowns, but resists the impulse to duck his head, keeping his back and shoulders straight. “Fine.”

The clone isn’t like the other older clones Hunter has seen around the city. He’s not just older, he’s old. Face creased with lines and wrinkles, body deformed with age. Hunter has seen the clone plenty of times in passing, but they have never spoken. Tech speculated once that the clone was the first clone ever created from the host Jango Fett, and since none of them had any better theories, it was the one they’d adopted.

“You seem worried about something,” the clone continues when Hunter doesn’t say anything else.

“I’m not,” Hunter lies.

The clone steps into his vision. Half the clone’s face is drooping and unresponsive to the grin that tugs up at the other side. It might be the kindest smile Hunter has ever seen…except for Wrecker’s, that is. “You’re one of the little enhanced boys, aren’t you?”

While being called “little” stings a bit, Hunter nods.

“And what do your brothers call you?” the clone asks.

“Hunter.”

The clone’s smile deepens. “That is a good name. I’m called Ninety Nine.” Hunter wonders if it is because he looks like he’s ninety-nine years old; however, the clone adds before Hunter can wonder for very long, “Because my CT number is nine nine zero zero.”

It takes a moment to register the number. “That’s the number before mine,” Hunter says.

Ninety Nine chuckles. “That’s something, isn’t it?”

“You’re an enhanced clone too?” Hunter asks.

“Oh, that was probably the idea,” Ninety Nine says, moving back to his place behind the chair, “it just didn’t work out.”

The electric clippers rev back to life, and the dreaded haircut continues.

“I’m sorry,” Hunter says.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” Ninety Nine says. “I might never be useful as a soldier, but I find my purpose in other ways.”

Purpose. Hunter rolls the word around in his mind, the syllables sturdy and striking. He’s heard the word before in training. A soldier’s purpose…the purpose of clones…this unit's purpose… But the way Ninety Nine says it is different. Like something desirable and worthy and discoverable.

“What is your purpose?” Hunter asks.

Ninety Nine does not hesitate a moment to tell him. “Taking care of all my brothers in any way I can.”

That’s my purpose.

Hunter hesitates on the next question he asks, desperately hoping he already knows the answer. “Am I your brother too?”

“Of course you are,” Ninety Nine replies like it is oh, so obvious.

Hunter didn’t know until now that he’d always wanted an older brother.

There is only one cadet in the sterile white waiting room when Hunter steps into it. The cadet watches Hunter for a moment, and Hunter watches him, surprised at how different he looks. He has light hair, but not like Crosshair’s. It’s spun with yellow warmth, like the rare day of sunshine that manages to slip between the weeks of storms. His hair is also longer than regulation, not as long as Hunter’s was before, and brushed back, showing off a silver pendant that rests in the middle of his forehead. He isn’t wearing a normal cadet’s uniform either.

By the way the cadet sits, shoulders slumped forward, familiar brown eyes dull and weary, Hunter thinks he has been in this room for a long time, which means he could have seen something. Hunter is mustering up the courage to ask when the cadet looks away.

Hunter swallows. “I’m looking for my brother.”

The cadet’s eyes flicker back to him. “I haven’t seen anyone,” he says cooly, but then adds, “I’m sorry.” His gaze drops to his lap, fingers wrung together like Wrecker does when he’s nervous.

“Who are you?” Hunter asks. “I’ve never seen a cadet dressed like you.”

The cadet sniffs, and it sounds like what Tech does when he’s about to reveal some sort of information that Hunter should have already known. “I’m not a cadet. I am a medical assistant. Please, I cannot talk to you. Nala Se would not like it.”

For the first time in his memories, Hunter’s heart leaps for joy at the mention of Nala Se. “You know Nala Se?”

The cadet glares at his lap and nods.

“Then,” Hunter starts, swallows, and starts again, “Then do you know CT-9904? Do you know where he is?”

The cadet’s head snaps up, eyes wide. He searches Hunter’s face for a long moment, like he’s trying to figure something out. And then, impossibly, he asks, “Hunter?”

Hunter takes a step back. How? How could this random, strange, not-cadet know? But then, he is with Nala Se…but Nala Se only ever uses their CT numbers. Does Nala Se even know their names? “No,” Hunter tells the cadet, and his voice shakes before he can bite back the fear and disappointment that bubbles up. His cover has been blown. All this to get nothing at all.

“You cut your hair,” the cadet says, and the way he says it is reminiscent of the voice coming through the comm unit in the supply closet, in their barracks. The kind way the voice had said, he’s going to be okay…

“You’re the voice,” Hunter says.

The cadet glances back at the door just behind him, then back at Hunter. He puts his hand on the chair next to him. “Do you want to wait with me? I’ll tell you everything I know.”

But Hunter's feet stay planted where he stands. “Is Crosshair alright?”

“I don’t know,” the voice admits. “Nala Se told me to wait for her here and that Crosshair needed surgery.”

“Why would he need surgery?” Hunter asks, “He just hit his head! He was getting better.”

The voice shifts in his chair. “I don’t know.”

“What do you know?” Hunter demands and then regrets it.

The voice’s lower lip trembles, and Hunter hates to think he’s made the voice cry again. “I know that Nala Se is doing everything she can. I do know that.” And even though the voice looks like he might cry, his voice is firm and sure. Maybe even a little angry.

While Hunter doesn’t apologize, he walks forward and climbs up into the offered chair. The not-cadet looks at him, eyes still shiny. “I’m sorry I don’t know more,” he says.

“You can’t know everything, I guess,” Hunter says, grinning a little – hoping it is enough to smooth the harsh words over. “You are just a medical assistant after all.”

The voice blinks, surprised, then offers a tiny twitch of a smile back.

“Do you…have a name?” Hunter asks, “Or should we just keep calling you the voice?”

The voice shifts in his chair. “Omega.”

“Don’t you have your own batch? Why watch us all the time?” Hunter asks next.

Omega frowns and looks away. “Kind of…Nala Se moved them out of the lab.”

“So why not watch them instead?” Then it hits him. “Wait…you mean us?”

Omega’s eyes go back to the door again then return to meet Hunter’s. “No one can know, Hunter, that I’ve interfered. If Nala Se finds out…” Omega sucks in a breath, cutting the sentence off. When Omega speaks again, his voice is barely a whisper, but Hunter hears him clearly, “I just can’t lose you all again.”

Guilt coils up in Hunter’s stomach. Forgetting one of their own seems impossible, and yet…how can Omega remember them, but none of them remember him? Did Nala Se do something to their memories? Had they been reconditioned? But why would Nala Se do that to them and not Omega? Maybe Omega’s enhancement is more useful in the labs than as a soldier?

“How–” Hunter begins, stops, scowls at the floor. It feels awful to say out loud that he doesn’t remember the cadet sitting next to him when he so clearly cares about and remembers him. He tries again, “Why would Nala Se separate us?”

“Well, I’m not exactly a normal clone,” Omega says.

“Neither are we,” Hunter shoots back.

Omega tips her head. “True…but I’m more different. I’m an unaltered female clone.”

Hunter gapes. “Wait…you’re a girl?”

He’s relieved when Omega smiles instead of looking offended that he’s thought she was a boy all this time. How could Hunter forget he has a sister of all things – what had the long necks done to them?

“It’s okay that you don’t remember me,” Omega tells him softly. “You were really little when you left the lab.”

It’s like she can read his mind. Maybe that’s her enhancement? Is that possible? Tech would know…

“But you remember us,” Hunter says.

“I’m an unaltered clone. I don’t have accelerated aging. I was older than you when you left the lab, even though we look the same age now. It’s strange. Nala Se had me study a module about it.” Omega shrugs. “But it’s still strange anyway.”

Hunter can think of a hundred more questions to ask, but the words that come out are, “I’m still sorry we don’t remember you.”

“It was for the best,” Omega tells him. “That’s what Nala Se says. But now I’ve ruined everything.”

Before Hunter can ask what she means, the door slides open. Omega and Hunter startle, Hunter jumping to his feet. Nala Se steps into the room, looking down at them with an all-too familiar reproachful gaze. “Omega, what is the meaning of this?”

Omega glares at Hunter. “This cadet sat next to me and said my uniform looked funny,” she tells Nala Se.

Hunter tries to think up something to say, an excuse to give, but Nala Se does not give him the chance.

“You should not be here. Return to your unit immediately,” the Kaminoan hisses at him.

“Yes, ma’am,” Hunter says. He keeps his eyes down, careful not to look back at Omega, and turns to walk out of the waiting room. He is halfway across the room when Omega speaks up.

“Is CT-9904 alright?” Omega asks Nala Se.

“His condition is stable. He will be monitored for the night and returned to his own unit. Come, we will finish my rounds.”

Hunter keeps his pace steady. Through the waiting room, out of medical, into the main halls. He wants to run as fast as his legs will carry him. His brothers have waited long enough. But drawing attention now might hurt Omega. He doesn’t know what Nala Se would do to her, but he won’t risk it. He has another sibling to protect now.

And protecting them is his purpose.

Up next...

Prompt: “I don’t trust anyone else.”

Let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list!

Tag List: @arctrooper69 @groguandthebadbatch @ezras-left-thumb @maeashryver @laughhardrunfastbekindsblog @omegafett99 @heidnspeak @fionas-frenzy @dreamsight73 @royallykt @blackseafoam @skellymom @griffedeloup @dreamie411

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stellanslashgeode · 2 months ago

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Ok so. I’m thinking of writing a Clone Trooper Sister fic because of latest Daughters of Ferrix episode. It’ll be like a noir thriller vibe (Sister became a private investigator after the war since becoming a mercenary or bounty hunter didn’t seem right). She gets hired to find a missing person which gets her mixed up in early Rebellion activities in the Outer Rim. I’m thinking of having some Bad Batchers show up too, or would that be too complicated? Maybe just Omega? Girl clones stick together!

Not set on a title yet. I’m vacillating between “No Doors, No Windows” and “Doors and Hard Corners” or something like that.

I will definitely have Ninety-Nine flashbacks. I think he would have looked after Sister quite protectively back on Kamino.

And I’m definitely tossing in my other favorite blink and you miss them character from Queen’s Hope. If you know you know.

#star wars fanfiction #clone trooper sister #clone ninety-nine

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amberskyyking · 2 years ago

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Dying Isn't Very Regulation: Chapter 1

Fives only wanted to do his duty... But as Echo would tell him, dying isn't very regulation.

Then again, neither is touching weird force shit. And his brother isn't here to stop him from doing either of those things today.

(Or, a self-indulgent 5 chapter fic inspired by Snapback by @toomanyteefs with Fives, because I have emotions about this and he deserves the world!)

Fives couldn’t stay. He couldn’t go back now as much as he wanted to, he was being pulled away and couldn't stop it. He hoped he had said enough, hoped that Rex believed him in the end. The lights enveloped him now, drawing him forward, making him squint. He wasn’t gone… merely marching far away. Rex would see him again, one day.

“Fives! Don’t go…”

The words were so faint that he may have imagined them, but his heart wrenched nonetheless, which was strange, since he couldn’t feel anything else…

And then he was nowhere, or so it seemed. He stood in silence as a gentle glowing mist encircled him with a pervasive sense of serenity and peace… But that wasn’t right. Fives blinked a couple of times and looked around.

Where were his brothers?

“Echo?” He spoke cautiously, waving a hand through the golden mist, as if his twin was hiding in the fog waiting to give him shit about how dying isn't very regulation, vod. But no reg-manual-waving smartass appeared. Fives frowned.

“Tup?” He called out a little louder. “Hardcase?”

Full Chapter (And Story!): Sometimes Life Just Blows Up In Your Face

#clone wars fanfiction #clone troopers need a hug #clone troopers deserve better #star wars fanfiction #arc trooper fives #arc trooper echo #ninety nine #the bad batch #time travel #de aging #everyone lives eventually they might just die first

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cptrackham · 2 years ago

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If you don't think the most tragic moment in the entirety of the Star Wars timeline is the death of Ninety-Nine then you're wrong

#simple as #star wars #the clone wars #99 #ninety-nine #clone troopers

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thecoffeelorian · 1 month ago

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OC Sunday--Commander Miles!

(brief note: I kinda set this up like a Fandom.Com article, so please pardon me if it mimics the pages for canon Clone Troopers at certain points.)

FAST FACTS

Rank: Commander

Serial Number: CT-2589

Planet Of Service: Chandrila

Name History: CT-2589 once "borrowed" a training ship in order to see if there was anything on Kamino besides rain and metallic fortresses. Unfortunately for his longnecked minders, he made it exactly three miles away from Tipoca City before security caught up with him...and yet. Once the boys in the barracks got wind of his little joyride, that's when he found his name.

"You almost made it, Miles."

OC SPECIFICS

What would their favorite book be?

“ ‘Sunrise Over Saleucami’. It’s a sappy romance, I know…but a great distraction from the battlefield, regardless.”

What’s your favorite trait about them? Yes, just one. ;)

“I’m always down for jumping into the thick of things! Er…maybe a little too much!”

What’s a weakness of theirs that they might not be aware of?

“You’ve been talkin’ to Sergeant Walters, haven’t you?! All right…ya got me. It’s rock collecting! In other words, I see a shiny piece of quartz, it’s MINE!”

What would they say is the most important thing in the world?

“Being there for your brothers, especially when they need you the most.”

What’s a hobby of theirs?

“Well…there’s the rock collecting, but sometimes I also stick little googly eyes on ‘em and leave them around the barracks for someone else to find. Don’t tell Ninety-Nine it was me.”

What would they order at Starbucks?

“Heh…I heard they don’t exactly approve of unionizing, so excuse me if I’ll take my Sergeant’s Insta-Brew instead. That one won’t cost me a single credit.”

Any scars/tattoos?

"I got Queen Apailana's face tattooed onto m' right shoulder, plus a kinda long scar across my nose from slamming my helmet on too quick. Think I'll let you all guess as to which one I'd remove if I had a choice." ;)

PANCAKE - what is their comfort breakfast? Since this is probably the SW equivalent of an Egg McMuffin, Commander Miles would totally go to Dex's Diner for some hot caf and a "Hungry Hutt" breakfast sandwich. Not only would it fill him up on the go, it's also supposed to be rather tasty, according to Dex himself.

DONUT - favourite sweet treat? Though wartime doesn't exactly give him time to enjoy a lot of new things, Commander Miles would probably enjoy hand pies such as the Corellian Ryshcate. Ya know, because it's warm, spiced, and delicious.

SLEEPING - do they fall asleep easily? what helps them sleep? Hoo boy, here's a tough one...ok! Given that he's in charge of at least one other Trooper (Sergeant Walters), I think he'd be a first watch kind of guy, meaning that he would stay awake during the first few hours that other soldiers would generally be asleep. Once that rotation was over, however, he would most likely be out in a matter of minutes, if my thoughts make any sense.

SPECIAL NOTES

G.A.R. Goth Night History:

Commander Miles came in expecting to try a few galactic liquors, learn some new dances, and maybe get a compliment or two on his outfit...what he got, however, was this:

Random Tie To The Bad Batch:

Miles might have witnessed a certain little blond girl crawling through the vents late one night...but then again, he might have just imagined her.

Romance On Deck(?):

I may/may not have received a little too much inspiration from Taika Waititi, buuuut I had once imagined Miles falling hard and fast for a male Twi'lek bartender on Coruscant. As I'm in the middle of other projects, there's a chance that this story might never be written...however, my vacation weeks are coming up, so we'll see how things go later on.

NPT:

@ladykagewaki @aurathebardwife @ordo-core @nocturius8015ficore @gun-roswell

@orangez3st @the-osborn-way @crosshairs-dumb-pimp-gf and anybody else interested in Original Clone Content!

#star wars #the clone wars #the bad batch #republic commando #attack of the clones #revenge of the sith #oc sunday #oc: commander miles #original clone trooper #clan skirata #ordo skirata #mandalorian adoptees #ct 2589 #chandrila #tbb omega

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sadiecoocoo · 1 year ago

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It's Growing On Me - The Bad Batch fic

trying something new with how I format these posts, lmk what you guys think :)

Also I thought abt it and this fic could count for the Summerofbadbatch prompt, “it’s not what you think” so yeah ig this is a summer of bad batch thing :) @summer-of-bad-batch

Relationships - Crosshair & Echo

Tags - Bonding, Fluff, Minor Injuries, Hurt/Comfort, Misunderstandings, Fluff and Humor, CT-9904 | Crosshair is Bad at Feelings, Protective CT-9904 | Crosshair, CT-9904 | Crosshair is a Little Shit, CT-9904 | Crosshair-centric, CT-21-0408 | CT-1409 | Echo-centric, Soft CT-9904 | Crosshair, Hurt CT-21-0408 | CT-1409 | Echo, Clone Trooper Tech is a Little Shit (Star Wars), Hunter is So Done (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Mission Fic, Brotherly Bonding, Platonic Cuddling

Summary - Crosshair has a moment of realization after Echo humbles a reg that picked on the Batch. He tries his best to make up for the time he had been mean to Echo, and tries to treat him like a brother.

Or, Crosshair trying desperately to get mama Echo's approval.

Word Count - 10,647

Read on A03

The alleys of Coruscant never really got dark. There were neon signs everywhere that reflected off of puddles and windows. Most places were open all night and kept their lights on. Coruscant was a planet that never slept unless all its residents were hungover.

Sometimes Crosshair had trouble believing that Coruscant was the head of the Republic and Jedi. Spending time in the lower levels can make it suffocating to spend time above. All the senate buildings seemed bland after seeing all the shops and bars with their bright colors and lights that never dimmed.

Clone Force ninety-nine had only been to Coruscant so many times. They were always on some mission or would rather just stay on the Marauder. Crosshair never complained about that. The Marauder was quiet (most of the time), and Coruscant was noisy and obnoxious. Anyone could guess which he preferred a majority of the time.

However, He did enjoy this certain outing to sample a few of Coruscant’s bars. Echo seemed well versed in the area, being a reg and having the chance to spend time on leave. He gave them a multitude of good bar recommendations, though his favorite seemed to be 79’s. Crosshair couldn’t agree, there were too many regs there. He was surprised that a fight didn’t break out while they were there.

Of course, a fight did break out. It was just at a different bar, a very rugged one that looked out of place on Coruscant. For once, Crosshair hadn’t even been the one to start the fight. Instead, their newest member was the guilty suspect.

They were about to leave, Hunter and Tech barely being able to stand; they were so drunk. Crosshair was a little disappointed, having enjoyed the drinks he got at this particular bar. He and Wrecker both held their liquor better than The former two. Echo, unsurprisingly, didn’t drink that much. The reason being something about Tech not wanting the alcohol to possibly give him a setback in his recovery, that he was still too underweight to handle it all well. Of course, Tech didn’t stay coherent long enough to make sure Echo did as he was told, so that duty fell upon Hunter, then Crosshair once the sergeant succumbed to the drowsiness of the alcohol.

He had begrudgingly patted Echo on the shoulder, mumbling “that’s enough reg, Tech’ll kill you in the morning if you have anymore.” and the ARC trooper frowned and placed his glass on the table, sliding it instead to Wrecker, who gladly took it. It wasn’t long before the group decided to call it quits after that.

Wrecker was practically carrying Tech, with how much the splicer leaned on him, as they stumbled out of the bar. Hunter looked like he already had a headache forming, and Wrecker decided to take up the job of guiding their sergeant as well. Crosshair rolled his eyes as he shared a glance with Echo.

Both of them had started to get along better, but the ARC was still a reg. Crosshair would tolerate occasional glances and fighting beside him, but he doubted they’d be friends anytime soon. They certainly had been in a few arguments that turned physical soon enough.

Wrecker, with the added weight of his brothers and clumsiness from the several beers he had had, stumbled to the side and just barely caught himself from falling. He did, however, cause someone else to fall. Crosshair groaned as he noticed it was a reg. Because of course they would piss off a reg.

“Hey! Defect, watch it!” The clone snarled. He didn’t have any paint on his armor, neither did a majority of the group with him. Wrecker held up his hands placatingly, still trying to hold up Tech, who was practically dead to the world. Hunter seemed to compose himself slightly and listened in. Crosshair doubted the sergeant would be much help if a fight broke out, though.

“I-I didn’t mean to- ‘m sorry,” Wrecker mumbled in response. Crosshair let out a huff. He didn’t need to apologize to the jackass.

“Oh yeah- sure! It was an accident?” the clone drunkenly antagonized.

“It was!” Wrecker tried again. The bar had fallen fairly quiet around them, waiting to see if a real fight would break out. Crosshair looked at Echo again and saw an expression that looked angrier than any he had seen before. He quickly wondered who it was pointed at.

“Oh kark you!” The reg said, then threw a punch at Wrecker. The crowd cheered at the potential chance to start a fight and get some entertainment. Crosshair clenched his fists and readied himself to join in to defend his brother, who honestly hadn’t budged from the blow. Maybe Crosshair wanted to join more so to put the reg in his place than to actually keep Wrecker from getting hurt, as if he could get hurt by this guy.

Echo placed his scomp on Crosshair’s shoulder, holding him back slightly. The sharpshooter glared at the reg. Of course he would stop Cross from joining the fight, giving his old buddies an advantage.

Contrary to what Crosshair had expected, Echo went forward himself. Crosshair blinked as the ARC grabbed the reg by the back of his armor and pulled him away from Wrecker. The reg complained and yelled, but it did little to deter Echo.

“Damned shiny.” Echo muttered as he pulled to reg far enough away to… scold him? “He did nothing to personally offend you and you karking punch him?” Echo’s tone sounded dangerous, and even Crosshair felt a little sheepish. It reminded him of all the times he had heard Cody scold a younger looking reg for something.

“Yeah! I’ll punch him,” He raised his fist and reared back. “And I’ll punch you too-” He didn’t get a chance to finish his threat before he was sprawled out on the floor. Echo held one arm up, and his foot was on the reg’s back, successfully pinning him down. The crowd cheered again, some cringing at the blow. This time Wrecker and Hunter joined in on the cheering as well.

“Listen, kid.” Echo said, sounding very much like an order, “If you wanna prove you’re tough, go scrap some clankers. Leave my brothers alone. We’re all clones, we’re all fighting on the same side in the same war.” He reprimanded sternly. Crosshair felt almost in awe.

“Get your osik together.” He finished as he let go of the reg’s arm and stepped off of him. The reg sat up, but all the fight he had earlier seemed muted.

“Sir, yessir.” He mumbled. Crosshair heard a few chuckles in the background. Echo walked back to the Batch, patting Wrecker on his arm and deciding to shoulder some of Tech’s weight as well. Crosshair blinked at the ARC. That was not all what he had been expecting.

“Shiny?” Hunter asked. Echo let out a huff.

“Clones with unpainted armor, barely out of being cadets.” He explained, elbowing Hunter lightly with a grin. Crosshair listened quietly. He still felt as though he were in shock.

“I could have handled it…” Wrecker mumbled, though there wasn’t much anger to it. He sounded a little sad that he didn’t get to fight anyone. Crosshair couldn’t blame him, he did kind of wish that Echo hadn’t stepped in, only so he could have stepped in. Even so, he was still a bit amazed at Echo for standing up for them. He hadn’t expected it at all.

“Of course, big guy!” Echo responded, “I just didn’t want a fight to break out. We’re tired and drunk.” He explained with an understanding smile. Wrecker laughed, patting Echo on the back, making the ARC trooper stumble.

Crosshair trailed behind as they continued towards the hotel they had been provided for their leave (They would have just had to stay in the barracks, but Crosshair may or may not have gotten into a small scuffle with a few of the regs on their first night). He either kept his eyes trained to the ground or on his brothers’ backs. He worried his bottom lip, wishing he had brought a few toothpicks with him. The sharpshooter almost didn’t notice Echo start to slow to match his pace.

“You alright?” He asked quietly, trying not to let the others hear. Crosshair, seeing Hunter turn his head slightly back towards the two, knew that it only partially worked.

“Yeah.” He replied curtly. Crosshair looked back towards the ground to avoid Echo’s worried gaze. “Don’t worry ‘bout me.” He drawled. Echo let out a good spirited huff.

“‘Course not.” He said mirthfully. They fell into silence. Crosshair expected the ARC to catch back up with the others. It became apparent that he had no plans to do so once the hotel was in view and Echo was still walking next to him.

When they made it back up to their room, the majority of them collapsed on their beds. Echo went to the ‘fresher immediately, and the water started to run soon after. Crosshair sat heavily on his own bed, Tech having already been laid out next to him so he could sleep.

He ran a hand down his face and let out a sigh. He wasn’t entirely sure why, but he felt a strong guilt. He had treated Echo poorly compared to how he treated the others, having expected him to be like any other reg. The ARC had made it apparent that he really was different.

He knew Wrecker had practically forgotten that Echo was a reg, having grown attached only hours after Echo had joined their squad. Hunter’s heart bled for any stray, and he was clearly protective of the new addition to the Batch. Tech found in Echo a new pair of ears to listen to his ramblings, and even sometimes understand what he said. Crosshair… Crosshair had tolerated his presence.

Crosshair had certainly indulged in sharing teasing glances as the two found humor in something one of the others did. He had listened to some of Echo’s vents, though they had been spoken to Hunter in the middle of the night and not him. But he also held low expectations of Echo. He had honest to Maker expected him to join on any regs’ sides if there was a fight. He had been ready to hear some complaints about them being defective. He had expected him to not care as much about them while on the field.

He had been cruel in that. Crosshair fumbled for one of his toothpicks and stuck it in between his teeth, chewing on the wood as he thought. It wasn’t something he felt he needed to be redeemed for. It was just something he wanted to do a bit better on.

He stripped off his armor to get comfy in his blacks. Crosshair laid back against the pillow, opting to shower in the morning. Tech had already snuggled up to him seconds after he got under the covers.

The door to the ‘fresher opened and an arc of light flooded the room. Echo left the door cracked, giving the Batch a small night-light as they slept. Crosshair watched silently as Echo’s figure walked over to his and Hunter’s bed and plopped down next to the sergeant.

Hunter had an arm covering his eyes and he peeked out to look at the ARC as the bed creaked. Echo handed something to Hunter, probably medicine for the approaching headache, and the tracker mumbled a sleepy “thanks.”

There was a pop and a hiss as Echo removed his headpiece, the familiar sound indicating that Echo was about to sleep like the rest of them. He put in his hearing aids so he could actually hear in case anyone needed anything. Crosshair heard the ruffling of covers before it settled.

He let out another soft sigh. He would do better for the reg. Nothing too crazy, just better.

Echo groaned when he woke up. His head throbbed. He really wished he hadn’t drinken that much. At least he felt somewhat clean, though sleeping ruined that. He turned in the bed to try and get comfy again, hoping that he could sleep just a little longer.

“Echo,” There went that plan. “We’ve gotta leave in two hours.” Hunter informed him. He cursed the Batch’s need on the field. If they worked so well, why not make more special ops teams like them? It’d be nice to have a break that lasted more than three days for once.

“Well that leaves me ‘n hour to sleep.” He mumbled, face pushed against the pillow. His eyes felt heavy and all he wanted was an actual good night’s sleep. He had tossed and turned all night, finding it impossible to get comfy enough to lay still. Hunter had elbowed him multiple times for it. He couldn’t help that all his prosthetics were uncomfortable as shit when he was trying to sleep. And there was no way he’d sleep without them unless he was on the Marauder, he’d be too vulnerable.

“That is incorrect.” Tech stated, “It usually takes you an hour and a half to get ready after we’ve been on leave, since you spend more time than needed drinking caf.” He explained. Echo let out a rough sigh.

“Why d’you know that?” He grumbled loudly.

“I thought it might be useful.” Tech stated simply. Echo knew he was doing one of his annoying, yet somewhat cute, shrugs when he thought something was obvious when to literally anyone else it wasn’t.

He groaned again when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He blinked his eyes open to see Crosshair standing above him. His gaze turned to the mug in his hands.

“Made you some caf.” He said, almost sheepishly, if Echo didn’t know any better.

With a sigh of defeat he sat up and took the mug. He nodded and smiled at Crosshair. Being woken up sucked, but getting some decent caf out of it was somewhat worth it. Crosshair nodded back, clearing his throat, then went in the refresher to get ready to leave.

Echo let the warmth of the mug warm his hand before drinking any of it. Eyes still half-lidded, he took a meager sip and smiled a bit brighter at the taste. It was sweet enough for him to enjoy it.

“Well that was strange.” Tech pointed out. Echo looked up to see Hunter and Wrecker both nodding in agreement. He let out a confused hum.

Tech opened his mouth to give a long-winded explanation, but Hunter cut him off. “It’s nothing.” He dismissed with a wave of his hand. Tech frowned and shared a glance with Wrecker. Echo shrugged and continued enjoying his caf.

His headache had started to ebb by the time Crosshair left the ‘fresher. He rubbed his neck to work out a crick, hearing a satisfying pop. It got rid of a bit of the soreness, helping more with his headache.

Echo covered his mouth as he yawned, then finally got out of his bed. He placed the now empty mug on the bedside table, then placed his hearing aids beside them. The world quieted before he had the chance to put on his headset. Any movement could no longer be heard; though he saw Hunter rummaging through his pack, the shuffling was muted.

He replaced the hearing aids with his headset and released a breath. He hated how vulnerable he could be without even one of his cybernetics. There wasn’t much he could do about it, he was lucky enough for Tech to have upgraded them so he could feel fairly normal with them on.

“Feeling alright, Echo?” Hunter asked. The ARC turned to the sergeant, meeting his worried gaze with his own tired one.

“Yeah. Just a headache, it’ll pass.” He waved it off. He smiled at Hunter, who seemed pleased with his answer. He yawned again and stretched before getting up. He started packing up his stuff, a task that wouldn’t take longer than a few minutes.

His shoulders slumped as he checked and realized, unsurprisingly, Tech was right about his morning routine. He looked over his shoulder to see Tech’s smug expression. Echo fixed the splicer with an unimpressed glare, then stuck his tongue out playfully.

He shouldered his bag, stubbornly refusing to let Wrecker carry it, then waited at the door for the others to get finished up. Crosshair approached and stood beside him quietly. He looked like he had something on his mind, but Echo knew the sniper wouldn’t utter a word about it until he wanted to.

“I can carry that,” Crosshair pointed to his bag. Echo blinked, looking from the bag on his shoulder to Crosshair. He let out a light chuckle before answering.

“I got it, thank you though.” He insisted, similarly to how he always answered Wrecker’s offering. He hated how much they all coddled him sometimes. Though, it came in pretty handy often enough for him to never bother saying anything. He knew that if he needed help with something, a break, or a bit of quiet, any of them would help him to their best abilities.

Crosshair nodded wordlessly, then leaned against the wall. He had a toothpick in his mouth, as usual, and was moving it from one side to the other. It was something he usually did when he was nervous or worried. Echo rolled his eyes subtly.

“You doing okay?” He asked carefully. The sharpshooter glanced at him, then to the ground.

“Fine.” He muttered quietly. Maybe Tech had been on to something when he commented on how weird Cross was acting. Echo shook the thought away, everyone has their days.

“All right, let’s head out boys.” Hunter said once had finished packing their stuff (there wasn’t much to pack, but still). They all followed the sergeant out of the room and towards the lobby. Echo waved politely to the lady working the front desk as they all passed.

“Can we get something to eat?” Wrecker asked hopefully. Hunter let out an obvious sigh.

“We have to be on Ryloth in a few days, it’s a long trip.” He said, trying to reasonably turn it down. Echo pursed his lips. Wrecker released a loud ‘awwww!’

“I can head into town and get some snacks while you all prep the ship.” Echo offered, pointing down the crowded street. Wrecker’s face brightened and Hunter mulled it over.

“Alright, but be quick.” He relented. Echo and Wrecker both smiled brightly.

“Sweet or salty, big guy?”

“Both!” he replied excitedly.

“On it.” Echo saluted with his scomp arm, then hoisted the bag off his shoulders for Wrecker to carry. He went down the street in a rushed gait, not exactly running, but he looked like he had places to be.

He turned a corner and continued down the street until he came upon a familiar store. A small smile spread across his lips as he pushed the door open. The smell of chocolate and salt made his nose sting, but he ignored it. He started down to the corner of the store, waving a small greeting to the familiar cashier.

Hardcase had shown this place to him and Fives when they were on their first leave. Fives had practically bought out the store with all the credits Rex gave them while they were on leave. They had taken several bags of sweets aboard the Resolute and stashed it for later… until Rex found it and got onto them for having contraband, or rather, for not sharing it.

It became a small tradition for Echo, Fives, and anyone else they could convince to visit this place. The store owner had gotten to the point where he could recognize the two in a crowd of clones. Echo grabbed a small wrapped bag of salted caramel filled truffles.

He remembered the place fondly, but it got difficult to not tear up being in here. He had always had a brother beside him when he walked through those doors. He swallowed the lump in his throat and focused on his mission.

Echo picked up a few other things, something that each of them would like, plus a few extra things for himself (that Wrecker would most likely steal). Then, he walked up to the counter and paid for the treats.

“Echo,” The shop owner, an older Togruta, greeted solemnly. Echo tried to smile while he looked over his pale and skinny form. His eyes lingered on the scomp arm and headset. “It’s been a long time.”

“Yeah,” Echo said with a laugh, “A lot happened.” He placed everything on the counter and talked while Umata rung everything up.

“I was sorry to hear about Fives, and to hear about you, so long ago.” a bit of grief flooded his tone. Echo smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Sorry you lost a bit of business without us!” He joked lightheartedly, not feeling up for heart-to-hearts.

“Oh, I’ve always got someone around.” Echo was grateful that he understood. The war had made it so just about everyone lost someone. Umata had lost many people before he made it to Coruscant, Echo and Fives had been given all the stories of his travels when they had time to talk.

“Glad to hear it, I don't know what I’d do if I’d come back and this place wasn’t here.” Umata handed him the bag, and Echo tried to hand him the credits. Umata held up his hand in refusal.

“Please, on the house.” Echo opened his mouth to protest, “as a welcome home gift.” Umata insisted. Echo shook his head with a sigh. He pocketed the credits and instead shook Umata’s hand.

“It’s good to have you back, Echo.” Umata said as Echo started to turn to leave.

“Good to be back.” Echo replied with a smile, this time more genuine. He left without another word, feeling Umata’s worried gaze on his back.

When he turned to head back towards the Marauder, he nearly lept out of his skin. Crosshair stood leaned against the wall, very close to the door. Echo released a breath and blinked at the sharpshooter.

“Hey?” He said awkwardly. Crosshair looked up at him, having rested his eyes for a moment.

“Hunter wanted me to tell you to hurry.” Crosshair muttered. Echo let out a huff. Hunter had certainly sugar coated it more than that. He patted Crosshair on the shoulder with his scomp and headed back towards the Marauder. Crosshair was hot on his heels.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, passing several groups of people. Crosshair stopped dead in his tracks at some point. Echo turned curiously to the sharpshooter.

“What did you just say?” Crosshair grabbed the arm of a civvie to stop them from leaving. Echo blinked at the strange exchange and his brow furrowed.

“What does it matter to you, clone?” the civvie snarled. He was a weequay, probably a bounty hunter or pirate, by how scuffed up he already looked.

“Answer the damn question.” Crosshair ordered threateningly.

“Cross-” Echo tried.

“I called him a damned meat-droid! That’s what he is, can’t be pissed ‘bout that.” The weequay defended. Echo’s shoulders slumped and he breathed heavily through his nose. Crosshair’s nose scrunched in anger and disgust.

“You sleemo!” Before Echo got the chance to step in, Crosshair had grabbed the man by his shirt and pinned him against the wall. He didn’t seem very confident anymore, his hands raised in surrender. Crosshair reared back to punch the man.

“Crosshair!” Echo hissed, grabbing his elbow to stop him from attacking the guy. “Drop it.” he ordered once the sharpshooter looked at him. Crosshair studied him silently, then, literally, dropped it. The man fell to the ground with a grunt.

Crosshair glared at Echo for a moment, then shouldered past him. Echo regained a bit of his composure and glanced down at the man. He didn’t bother apologizing, he knew the guy didn’t deserve it.

He followed Crosshair with a similar scowl on his face.

Hunter didn’t know when it started, or why, but he knew it was weird. Crosshair, the person who, up until now, liked Echo the least, was acting like he couldn’t stand two minutes away from him. Everyone else, except somehow Echo, noticed it too.

Tech was the first to comment on it, and they all seemed to have the epiphany then. Echo was still too tired to even notice it. Crosshair had made Echo caf. He never made anyone caf unless he lost a bet. Hunter would know, he tried several times to convince him to make him some when he had a migraine.

Then, he started to hover around Echo. Right before they left the hotel, he seemed oddly close to the ARC trooper. It wasn’t really a big deal, it was just different from his usual behavior. Sometimes Crosshair acted like he couldn’t stand Echo’s presence, and sometimes they got along okay, but the sharpshooter never actively looked for Echo.

He even offered to go get Echo when they were about to leave. Hunter was more worried about the two looking pissed when they got back than the action alone. He wondered if maybe Crosshair was starting to get on Echo’s nerves, and the ARC had snapped.

Even so, they were all greatly distracted from the sweets Echo had brought back. Wrecker made a ruckus as he cheered, almost knocking over Gonky as the droid passed. Tech and Hunter were both pleased with the treats, but weren’t quite as excited.

Once the group was in hyperspace, Hunter left the cockpit to go mitigate things. If Echo and Crosshair were having issues, he didn’t want them to get in the way of the mission. Apparently some karked up shit was happening on Ryloth, the seppies were adamant about taking the planet. That only meant bad news and he didn’t need his squad shooting at each other more than the droids.

Echo was on his bunk (technically it was Wrecker’s, but they cycled out since they had a new addition to the squad), leaning back with his arms crossed and eyes closed. Hunter was sometimes worried with how often he slept, but Tech assured him that it was just because of his recovery and it wasn’t anything to worry about. Crosshair was sitting on the chair near the console, cleaning a part of his firepuncher. The other parts were strewn about the small counter in front of the screen.

Hunter sat down next to Echo, shaking the bed as he did so. The ARC trooper peeked an eye open, then sighed as he met Hunter’s eyes. He adjusted his position and sat up, rubbing his eyes.

Hunter looked over to Crosshair, whose attention was now on the two. Hunter lifted a brow, and Cross scoffed. He placed the part he had been cleaning next to the rest. He rested his head in his palm and leaned his elbow on the counter.

“Okay, what’s going on between you two?” Hunter asked, getting to the point. Echo looked at Hunter with an unreadable expression, and Crosshair rolled his eyes in an exasperated manner.

“Nothing?” Echo replied confusedly. He looked over to Crosshair, who only shrugged. “We’re acting… normal?” Hunter sighed.

“No, you’re acting normal,” He pointed to the ARC’s chest, “he’s acting weird.” he jammed his thumb in Crosshair’s direction. Echo looked at the sharpshooter, blinked for a moment, then shrugged.

“We just got into a small fight with a civvie.” Crosshair muttered.

“You got into a small fight with a civvie.” Echo corrected with a scoff. Crosshair glared at him, but Hunter didn’t see any real anger behind it, at least none directed towards Echo.

“He called you a meat-droid?!” Crosshair retaliated. Hunter’s eyes widened and he turned to Echo. The ARC looked unimpressed.

“Crosshair,” He replied, a bit of humor in his tone, “I appreciate you defending me, I really do, but just about every clone gets called a meat-droid, I’m just a bit more droid than others.” Echo played it off with a shrug.

“I don’t put up with people calling any of them names, I’m not gonna put up with anyone calling you names.” Crosshair continued, unwilling to let the matter drop.

“And I appreciate that, but it’s really okay.”

“Okay?! Are you serious-”

“Okay that’s enough!” Hunter interrupted sternly. The two looked guiltily over to him. He released a rough sigh and shook his head. “Just, both of you, please don’t get distracted on the mission.” He urged. Echo nodded and Crosshair scoffed.

“‘Course, Sarge.” Echo said, almost spitefully. The ARC had always seemed to get offended at the notion that he could be the one screwing up a mission. Hunter couldn’t blame him for it, he had a lot going on in his head and a desperate need to prove himself useful.

“We’ll be at Ryloth in about a day,” He informed them, changing the subject. The two clones nodded silently, content with ending the discussion. Hunter got up, leaving the two to sort out things on their own, and headed back to the cockpit. He plopped down in the copilot’s seat, usually Echo’s spot whenever he was in the cockpit, and released a heavy sigh.

“That went well.” Tech announced sarcastically. Hunter dragged a hand down his face as he groaned. There was always something.

“About as well as a bantha in a pod race.” Hunter mumbled back. Tech let out a humored hum in response.

“Perhaps Crosshair is finally warming up to Echo.” Tech suggested, trying to grasp an answer. Hunter shrugged, slouching further in the seat.

“Maybe, but why so suddenly?” He responded. “Last night He looked just about ready to punch Echo when the fight broke out.” Tech hummed again at that. The room was filled with silence, aside from the beeping of the navi computer as Tech keyed in the coordinates to Ryloth, as the two thought.

“I suppose it doesn’t really matter,” Tech concluded with a shrug. Hunter arched a brow, “ As long as they’re getting along and no one is getting distracted on missions, like your previous worry, then nothing bad can come of it.” He explained. Hunter blinked at him for a moment.

“Yeah, I guess so.” He agreed. He crossed his arms and propped his feet on the console. Tech swatted them off immediately and Hunter rolled his eyes playfully.

The mission went terribly. There was always something that went wrong, Echo had learned that quickly. Usually, though, the Batch could easily remedy it and come up with a new plan. Sadly, he wasn’t very conscious for that to happen.

The mission was meant to be a simple infiltration and data retrieval. There was a new separatist base found that was suspected to hold vital information for the Rylothian rebellion. Commander Ponds’ battalion was still being stationed on Ryloth, despite General Windu going back to Coruscant. Echo had been hoping to see Cody again, but the 212th were sent elsewhere.

The mission consisted of most of Clone Force 99 sneaking into the base through the vent system, while Wrecker snuck around outside and planted a chain of detonators set on a timer. Echo and Tech would take charge of the data retrieval, though Echo would be doing most of the searching while Tech would do his best to annoy the shit out of the separatists and screw with all their systems. Hunter and Crosshair would stand guard and cover them if any patrols passed by.

Echo was currently crouched in front of a terminal, his scomp inserted into the port and whirring quietly as his mind processed the code and files being given to him. His eyes held the familiar glassy look as his vision darkened.

He could hear Hunter asking Tech for an update on their progress, though it sounded very muffled. The splicer placed a hand on Echo’s shoulder to rouse him slightly. He blinked away the code for a moment and glanced at the Sergeant.

“Few more minutes,” He mumbled before focusing back on finding the data. There were so many useless files, Echo wasn’t sure how even the separatist generals found what they were looking for. He supposed it was somewhat smart, making it far more difficult for anyone to steal the files without being caught.

“Hurry it up.” Hunter urged stressfully. He must have heard a patrol of clankers approaching. Echo started skimming through the files faster, looking for anything that might jump out at him.

He felt the edges of another headache approaching as his eyes started to water from the strain. He tended to forget to blink when sifting through code. It was another habit Tech had been trying to help him break.

A lot of unhealthy things tended to happen when he was scomped in. If he was connected for too long he might think in code for the next few hours, he wasn’t even sure how it was possible, he just knew it gave him a miserable headache. Sometimes he would get a nosebleed, Tech had explained that mental strain can do that sometimes. Most of the time he had a dizzy spell, though he could work through those in the heat of battle, it was when the adrenaline wore off that he felt the urge to collapse. Almost every time he was connected for more than half an hour, the next day would be spent sleeping or suffering through a headache.

Despite all of the downsides, he was grateful for having the unique ability. It made him feel useful. It made him feel needed. It was probably the only thing keeping him from decommissioning.

A file finally stood out to him, “found something!” He informed them. He started the download, feeling a spike in his headache as the information rushed in. He read it as it loaded, looking over the battle plans and schematics. This would be very useful, and made the after effects of scomping in more than worth it.

Echo flinched as he heard blaster fire in the background. He looked up towards the door to see Cross and Hunter firing into the hallway. He blinked some of the code away and took in the sight of a large patrol of droids quickly approaching.

“Go help, I’ve got things covered here.” He told Tech. he only hesitated a moment before nodding quickly and unholstering his blaster. Tech ran over to the door and joined in the fray.

Echo focused back on the download, ninety-eight percent completed. He released a breath knowing that his headache really would be worth it. He felt a triumphant ping in his brain, as if his circuitry was celebrating the completed download, as the entirety of the file was finally downloaded. He started the process to disconnect his scomp.

“Echo! Disconnect now!” Crosshair yelled urgently. Echo started to ask what had happened, and say that he was already working on it, but a loud blaring sounded in his head. He yelled as error warnings filled his vision and he moved his other hand to press into his skull tightly, as if the pressure would relieve some of the pain.

“Echo!” the sharpshooter yelled again as Echo fell limp after his body seized. An electronic pulse, like on Anaxes, his mind supplied him before it fell dark.

“Echo!” Crosshair yelled as the ARC trooper fell limp. He broke off from the attack, rushing to the fallen trooper. He crouched down and propped Echo up, lifting his head to press his fingers to his pulse point.

“Wrecker get in here! We need backup!” Hunter ordered over the comms. Crosshair’s shoulders sagged as he felt the steady pulse under his fingers. He settled Echo’s head down, then turned his attention to the ARC’s scomp arm, still inserted in the port. Crosshair extracted it carefully, thankfully it gave way easily.

“I’ve got the reg,” Crosshair announced, “he’s unconscious but otherwise okay.” He reassured them all. Crosshair turned back towards the hallway, firing above his brothers at the droids. He didn’t leave where he was guarding Echo’s unconscious form.

He wished he had caught it sooner, the way that one droid seemed to peek around them and turn to its comm afterwards. He had still quickly picked up on what was about to happen, but he wasn’t quick enough. And now the reg was going to be deadweight.

It wasn’t long before the tell tale sound of droids screaming and metal smashing came down the hall. Soon, Wrecker had broken through and made it to the others. Crosshair kept an eye on the hallway as the bruiser quickly scooped Echo up in his arms

“Thanks, Wreck.” Hunter said, patting him on the arm. “Let’s get moving.” He announced, throwing his hand forward to motion for the group to get going. They all fell in line and they rushed down the hallway that was previously filled with battle droids. Crosshair kept his eyes on Echo while also watching the group’s back.

Several more patrols met the group as they went, though they were taken out quickly. Crosshair threw mirrors on the walls in preparation for the patrol that would likely follow them from behind. He almost felt a twinge of guilt for inevitably beating Wrecker again.

“What happened to Echo?” Wrecker asked after a long time without meeting another patrol. Hunter was at the front and peeking around a corner. Even if the mission had turned sour, they could still try to sneak past some of the droids.

“An electronic pulse was triggered while he was still connected to the systems.” Tech supplied. At Wrecker’s worried gaze he corrected, “It only did as much damage as a stun would, he will be fine.”

Crosshair would never openly admit it, but he was glad for the clear up as well. Wrecker sagged in relief and adjusted Echo to support his head better. Crosshair frowned as Echo’s arm fell and hung limply. He silently moved to adjust the limb, placing it on Echo’s chest.

“What?” He asked indignantly after Wrecker stared at him. The brute shrugged in response, then seemed to share a glance with Tech. The splicer also shrugged with a shake of his head. Crosshair felt like they were having a conversation he wasn’t supposed to be a part of. He scowled behind his helmet.

“Come on.” Hunter said after he had decided the area was clear. The group rushed out from the corner and continued through the base. They were getting closer to the exit, and it wouldn’t be long before they made it to the Marauder. He would be happy to get off of this planet.

Soon enough, they had made it out of the base and were in the forest. Hunter signaled for Wrecker to detonate the charges, and the base went up in flames seconds later. The ground shook as the base blew, and Crosshair resisted the urge to look back and admire the carnage.

They piled into the Marauder, Tech and Hunter heading to the cockpit while Wrecker and Crosshair got Echo settled in a bunk. Crosshair cleared off the mess of pillows and blankets on Wrecker’s bunk, much to the brute’s complaint. Crosshair doubted Echo needed a nest right now, he might feel pinned when he woke up.

Wrecker set the ARC down gently, propping his head up against a pillow. Crosshair frowned as the reg still didn’t stir. That must have been one hell of a stun. Maybe Tech did need to make sure Echo’s metal bits were working right.

The ship jostled as it left the atmosphere. Crosshair released a long breath through his nose as he allowed himself to relax. He plopped down on Hunter’s bunk, across from Wrecker’s, and currently Echo’s.

Soon, he felt the ship make the jump into hyperspace. Tech and Hunter both came out of the cockpit and gathered around the other two conscious troopers. Crosshair didn’t make eye contact, instead opting to watch as the reg’s chest rose and fell silently with every breath. At least he didn’t look like he was hurt.

“How long d’you think he’ll be asleep?” Wrecker asked, trying to whisper. Hunter leaned against the ladder to the bunk above Crosshair as he looked at Tech for an answer. The splicer already had his face buried in a datapad and held a medical scanner in his other hand.

“Hopefully not long.” He replied, “On Anaxes it took him about a half hour to regain consciousness, though it might take longer depending on how big of a pulse he was hit with.” he explained. Tech waved the medical scanner up and down Echo’s form. It made a small beep as it picked up something, Tech let out a small hum.

“What?” Hunter asked.

“A few of his systems were damaged.” Tech stated. All the others tensed and looked at Tech sharply for a better explanation. “Just his headpiece, which functioned as a databank, pain reliever for headaches, and a more advanced hearing aid than the ones he used before.”

“So he’s going to feel like shit when he wakes up.” Crosshair surmises. He slouched, once again feeling a small wave of guilt for not being fast enough. At least he knew Echo wasn’t the type to hold a grudge. That was a small comfort.

Either way, he would just have to make it up to him.

Several hours later, Echo woke up with a groan and a splitting headache. The weight of his headpiece was missing, and he couldn’t feel his hearing aids either. The absence of noise was overwhelming, and he had to fill his senses with sight to block out his panic. He blearily opened his eyes to look around the Marauder’s cabin.

The cabin was dark, and the small digital clock on one of their supply crates (they still hadn’t figured out the best spot to put it) showed that it was well into the night cycle. The green aurebesh numbers blinked on the small device before changing to the next minute.

His headpiece was on the workbench, with cables and wires connected. Tech sat there, his face buried in his arms and resting on the small desk. He still had a small tool in his hand that was pressed against one of the screws on Echo’s headpiece.

Echo shifted slightly, trying to ignore the ringing that was starting to grow in his ears. Something tapped his knee, and he jumped. His eyes darted towards the person sitting on the end of his bunk, their face shadowed by the bunk above.

He blinked at the scowling sniper. His arms were crossed and he leaned against the wall, he was sitting on Echo’s legs. His legs were propped up against another supply crate. His lips moved as he said something, though Echo couldn’t hear it.

“What?” he rasped out, his throat sore. He felt the reverberations in his throat and could only hope that he had made himself audible to the sniper. Crosshair pressed his lips into a thin line and looked towards Tech’s sleeping form.

Echo blinked at him expectantly when Crosshair looked back towards the ARC. He saw Crosshair’s shoulders sag with a sigh as he held his hands up to sign something. The Batch used a modified version of ARC signals that took Echo some time to adjust to, but with his hearing less than reliable in moments like these, it was well worth the frustration.

Sorry. Was all the sniper signed before he let his hands drop into his lap. Echo’s brow furrowed as he waited for some kind of clarification. When he was given nothing of the sort, he let his head plop back down onto the pillow.

“My hearing aids?” he asked, looking at Crosshair out of the corner of his eye. The sniper blinked at him, before signing a quick where? Echo pursed his lips as he thought of the last place he put them.

“Never unpacked them.” He concluded with a shrug. He nodded towards his pack, still sitting abandoned on the floor, that he had used on their shore leave.

The weight on his legs lifted as Crosshair got up and started rummaging through the pack. He pulled out a bag of the sweets Echo had gotten before and fixed him with a smug look and arched brow. Echo rolled his eyes as he watched Crosshair pocket the bag. As long as he still got his cut, he wouldn’t mind sharing with the sniper.

Soon enough, after practically taking everything else out of his pack, Crosshair found his hearing aids. He placed them in Echo’s hand, who then set them in his ears. He pressed a small button on the sides that made a small beeping reverberate through his ears. Then, he could finally hear the whirring of the Marauder’s engine and every other background sound there was.

“That’s better,” He said with a relieved sigh. Crosshair let out a scoff as he plopped back down on Echo’s bunk. This time the ARC was given enough time to move his legs out of the way.

“What happened?” He asked.

“There was a power surge while you were still scomped in, Tech said it damaged your headpiece.” he explained unenthusiastically. Echo buried his face further into the pillow as he let out a groan. He remembered that unpleasant feeling all too well.

“It always happens whenever I’m about to unplug.” He groaned. Crosshair let out a huff and patted Echo’s knee again.

“Happens to the best of us, ARC trooper.” Crosshair comforted, at least Echo thought it was supposed to be comforting. Either way, he flipped off the sniper without looking up. He knew it was reciprocated after Cross’ hand fell off his knee.

“Thanks for the save, Cross.” he mumbled. Echo felt his eyes closing again as his headache begged him for another few hours of rest. Echo squinted open one eye as he felt Crosshair tense next to him.

The sniper was looking bashfully away, chewing on a newly acquired toothpick. Sometimes Echo wondered if he kept a pack of them on his person at all times. Crosshair glanced back at Echo and his hand returned to his knee.

Crosshair was being a lot more touchy than usual, but Echo couldn’t complain about that. He welcomed any kind of comforting touch from his brothers, and getting one from Crosshair felt like a golden medal.

“Get some rest, reg.” Crosshair squeezed his knee as he said it. He didn’t have that ever present hiss that he usually held. Even though Echo didn’t have much feeling in his legs, it still felt nice. He let out a quiet hum as he drifted to sleep again.

What the hell? Tech thought incredulously as he watched Echo and Crosshair’s exchange. He knew the two were being more friendly towards each other, but what the hell?

This just didn’t feel like Crosshair. He was almost acting like Wrecker, though he still seemed to have some modesty in his actions. At least hadn’t pulled Echo into a full on bear hug. Honestly, if the others hadn’t been commenting on Crosshair’s unusual behavior, he might worry that he’d been going insane.

He rubbed his eyes as he finally decided to sit back up and work on fixing Echo’s headpiece. Crosshair eyed him quietly, likely guessing that Tech had been awake for far longer than he had been acting.

Tech adjusted his goggles as he rolled his eyes and shook his head. He turned his focus back onto Echo’s headpiece and fell into his usual, quiet routine.

“Oh, shut up.” Crosshair mumbled, somehow guessing what Tech had been thinking earlier, like he always did.

“I did not say anything.” Tech responded as he plugged another cable into the metal. He heard Crosshair huff behind him.

“I am not going soft on the reg.” he insisted.

“I never said you were.”

“Shut up.” He repeated. Tech rolled his eyes again.

“If you are truly worried about how we would all react to you and Echo getting along better, worry more about Wrecker’s reaction than mine.” he suggested, not looking up from his work. He had already done bad enough falling asleep, he had missed half of Echo and Crosshair’s conversation because of it too.

“Kark.” Crosshair muttered, dragging a hand down his face. Tech released a soft chuckle at Crosshair’s dread. Maybe he would tell Wrecker in great detail the conversation Cross and Echo had been having, or maybe…

“I will not tell, if you share some of the chocolates you snagged from Echo’s pack.” he bargained, though it would be better described as blackmail. He suppressed a laugh at Crosshair’s loud groan of defeat.

“I hate you.” Crosshair muttered. Tech heard the plastic ruffling of a bag as Crosshair relented. Soon enough, three chocolate truffles were placed on the workbench beside the headpiece. Tech smiled smugly as he popped one into his mouth.

“That is only because I actually know how to annoy you and win.” Tech said teasingly.

“Kark you.”

Echo would never undermine Crosshair’s kindness. After he had truly started to become friends with the sniper, he felt like he was really a part of Clone Force 99. He felt like he was really their brother, that there was no question about it.

Echo would always value Crosshair’s company, but sometimes it became too much. Sometimes he felt coddled by the sniper. Sometimes he felt like he wasn’t as valued as a soldier as he was a brother. But all he’s ever known was how to be a soldier.

He would admit it, sometimes Crosshair annoyed him. He felt horrible for thinking it, but he thought it nonetheless. Crosshair was his little brother, but he’d never met a sibling, clone or natborn, that never got annoyed by their vod’ika.

Echo let his head fall back against the wall, making a thud when his headpiece connected with it. He dragged his hand down his face, then rubbed his eyes. Today was just one of those days where he felt miserable where no amount of sleep could help.

Not like he had the option to sleep anyway. They were about to be on a mission to take out a smuggler's ring in less than an hour. He just knew it would be one of those missions where one thing after another would go wrong.

A weight landed next to him on his bunk, making the shitty mattress creak. A bony shoulder bumped into his own and he lazily opened his eyes to meet Crosshair’s. He tried his best to smile at the sniper, though he only managed a grimace.

“One of those days?” Crosshair asked quietly. Echo scanned the rest of the cabin, it was empty save for them. The others were in the cockpit getting ready for landing. Echo should have been in the copilot’s seat, but a certain sniper had insisted he go to the cabin and rest his eyes.

“Yep.” He said, popping the “p,” trying to lace it with as much spite as possible. Crosshair raised a brow, but Echo only looked away. He didn’t feel up for any of Crosshair’s snark, or any of his kind gestures, surprisingly.

“Would caf help?” Crosshair tried. Something about it made him clench his jaw, his bottom teeth pressing against the tops painfully. Crosshair must have seen the minute change, and he moved away slightly.

His scomp started to whir quietly. He didn’t think about it, it just did. Sometimes, when he did something with his real hand, his scomp would spin. When he clenched his fists, it would spin. When he grabbed onto something, it would spin.

It worked for the opposite too. Sometimes when he was connected to a computer, pushing code in front of his real senses and blocking out the world, his hand would clench into a fist. Sometimes his fingernails would dig into his skin to the point that he bled.

One time, Tech had caught him doing it. He must have realized he wasn’t doing it consciously, because he never brought it up. Instead, he moved Echo’s hand so it was pressed flat against the console, and his fingers would dig into the metal instead of himself.

Crosshair must have noticed it too, because when he saw Echo’s scomp spin slowly, he backed away further. Echo shut his eyes tightly. He didn’t want to deal with any of this right now. His head hurt, his muscles ached, and the legs that he didn’t have anymore burned with phantom pains.

“Do you want-”

“Go away.” He said sharply, cutting off the sniper in his troubleshooting. He raised his head slightly and let it thud against the wall again. The edges of his headpiece pressed into his skin like the pressure of a dull knife.

“But,” and really that was the final straw. Echo sat up quickly, his annoyed, glowering gaze looking down on Crosshair. He seemed incredibly small in that moment, his back hunched and eyes looking up at Echo like a kicked puppy would.

“Crosshair.” He hissed, that alone enough warning to get the message across. Crosshair got up stiffly and headed towards the cockpit. Echo released the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding as he visibly deflated.

Within seconds, he regretted his outburst. His shoulder suddenly felt very cold now that Crosshair wasn’t leaned against it. He dug his fingernails into the scratchy sheets of his bunk, the fabric scrunching up under his hands.

He pressed his lips into a thin line, biting his lower lip. Kark, he didn’t mean to do that. He didn’t want to get mad at Crosshair. The sniper was only trying to help. He ran his hand over his head.

He waited several minutes before he felt calm. He still felt like shit, but sociable enough to try to apologize to Crosshair. He got up, placing a hand against the top bunk as he felt dizzy for a moment, then he headed towards the cockpit.

Right as he opened the door, the ship jostled as it landed. Echo blinked several times as Wrecker passed him, carrying a pack of explosives, then was followed by the others.

“Ready to go, Echo?” Hunter asked, a soft smile on his face. His eyes were crinkled at the edges, and Echo frowned. He had definitely heard Echo’s outburst, and now he was acting like he was treading on glass.

“Yeah,” He said quickly, then tried to catch Crosshair’s attention. The sniper shouldered past him without a word, his head down. He left the ship after the others and left Echo standing there alone. He released a sigh, then followed the group. He would just have to apologize later.

A sharp explosion made the ground tremble. Crosshair lost his footing for a moment, but planted his feet firmly to stop himself from falling off his perch. He pulled his firepuncher up, balancing it on his forearm, then blasted the droid responsible for the grenade.

He watched as Tech and Hunter ran down one tunnel of the cavern, their lights getting dimmer the further they went. A squad of droids followed them, effectively taking the bait. Wrecker ran down another, blasting any droids that followed him so he could clear the exit.

He whirled around towards Echo’s position. The reg had been silent since his outburst, and Crosshair was happy to give him space. He knew there was always something bothering him, be it headaches or phantom pain. He just wished he was better at voicing it.

Crosshair blasted a droid coming up on Echo’s six, it crumpled to the ground from the burning hole in its head. He got a small thanks from Echo, though it was barely audible. He sounded strained. Definitely a headache.

It was kind of annoying, being to tell exactly what was wrong with someone, but still not being able to help. He knew Echo was in pain, but the reg refused to admit it or accept any help. He wondered if it was just a reg thing, being too proud to admit that he needed a rest.

He turned towards Hunter and Tech’s tunnel as Echo entered his, another group of droids following him. The charges Hunter and Tech had left were blinking swiftly, and would go off in seconds.

“Hunter, hurry it up.” Crosshair hissed into the comms, a hand pressed to the side of his helmet. It wasn’t long after Hunter’s affirmation that the two rounded the corner and fled to the middle of the large cavern. Crosshair made sure they were in the clear before he went ahead and fired at the charges, setting them off early.

“Wrecker, how’s it looking?” Hunter asked, his voice staticky through the comms.

“Exit’s cleared!” Wrecker responded cheerfully. Crosshair could imagine him pumping a fist in the air as he said it.

The sniper turned back towards Echo’s tunnel. The charges were about to detonate, he should be coming out about now. Crosshair watched the tunnel for any movement.

“Echo, sit-rep.” Hunter asked warily. There was static for a moment, then a choppy voice came through. Crosshair couldn’t make out a word Echo said. The cavern he took must have some kind of dampener.

“Echo, get back here.” Crosshair hissed. The static came through again and Crosshair muttered a curse. “I’m going after him.” He said as he jumped down from his perch to a lower ledge. He was closest to Echo’s tunnel, and he could make it in time before the charges went off.

“Negative, we can't risk-” Crosshair turned off his comms before Hunter could finish. He jumped down the final ledge and ran for the tunnel. The sniper set his firepuncher on his back and sprinted down the corridors.

As he ran, he tried comming Echo several times. Each was met with static. The charges on the walls only served to make him more and more nervous. He checked his vambrace, ignoring the several pings from Hunter and the others, and watched the detonation time slowly lower.

He turned a corner sharply, almost getting shot by a stray blaster bolt before jumping back. He got out his DC-17 and peeked around the corner. Echo was being ambushed by a larger squad of droids than the ones that followed.

Crosshair jumped out and started firing. Several droids fell and he made his push towards his brother. He got out his viroblade and slashed at several as well. Soon enough, he was back to back with Echo, both of them firing wildly at the crowd of droids.

“What the kark happened?” he demanded as he kicked at a droid that got a little too close. Echo pushed them both down as a blaster bolt whirred over their heads.

“Ran into another patrol when I was leading the first away.” he replied gruffly, focusing more on blasting droids. Crosshair scoffed.

“And you didn’t think to call in back-up?” He teased. Echo elbowed him lightly.

“My comms were being jammed.” He replied indignantly.

“Yeah,” Crosshair said with a huff, “we noticed.” they fell silent for a moment, simply blasting droids and focusing on staying alive. Crosshair glanced at Echo several times, glad that he at least seemed to be in a bit of a better mood now.

“Sorry about earlier.” Echo said after a while. Crosshair blasted three more droids, then spun around to Echo’s side and blasted two. Echo handled the few that had started going for Crosshair while his back was turned.

“It’s fine, you felt like shit, and I pushed you to find a solution.” He replied restlessly. Because it really was fine. He couldn’t count on one hand the amount of times he got pissed at Wrecker for simply being near him when he was upset.

“Still, I shouldn’t have gotten mad.” Echo insisted. Crosshair rolled his eyes. They just had to play the blame game, didn’t they?

“Oh, shut up.” he said after blasting the final droid. “We don’t have much time before the detonators go off,” he informed him. Echo nodded before nudging his shoulder lightly. Crosshair smirked behind his bucket.

“Let’s get moving then.” Echo responded before running off. Crosshair shook his head with a huff, then followed the ARC.

Wrecker let out a wide yawn as he entered the cabin. That mission had been exhausting, even for him. He hated it whenever they had to split up. That felt like too much of a close call when Echo stopped answering his comms, and then Crosshair stopped answering his comms.

Those two were a force to be reckoned with, though. Even if he couldn’t get into contact with either of them, he knew they would protect each other. He had been overjoyed to be proven right when they both came running out of the cave system, not a scratch on either.

He and Tech had been making bets on how long it would take Crosshair to admit that he was going soft. Wrecker thought he would admit it, some day, but Tech insisted he would never say it out loud.

He didn’t really need to say it out loud, though, because Wrecker had walked in on the cutest scene when he entered the cabin. He suppressed a laugh as he saw what the two were doing.

Echo sat on his bunk, leaned against the wall, with Crosshair’s head resting on his shoulder. He had his arm wrapped around Crosshair’s slender shoulder, and his head rested on top of the sniper’s.

Wrecker covered his mouth as he let out a small chuckle. He bit his lips to force back any more laughter. He glanced around the cabin looking for a way to take a holo (even he knew getting some kind of blackmail on his brother’s was always a good idea, even if it wouldn’t really work on Echo. Crosshair, on the other hand, was a very different story).

He grabbed Tech’s datapad, then took a quick holo of the two. His heart plummeted as the flash went off, and he quickly chucked the ‘pad back onto the workbench. As Crosshair stirred, he pantomimed simply walking over to his own bunk to take a nap.

“Wrecker,” Crosshair said, a deep warning in his voice. Wrecker hummed innocently at his brother. “Delete that holo.” He demanded. Wrecker looked towards the datapad on the workbench.

“What holo?” he countered. “I didn’t take any holo!” He held his hands up innocently, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Wrecker.” Crosshair hissed, glancing at Echo’s sleeping form. The reg’s head had fallen onto Crosshair’s shoulder as the sniper had woken up.

“Really, Cross, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Wrecker insisted, looking anywhere but at Crosshair. He tried his best to suppress his smile.

“Fine.” the sniper hissed in defeat, “what do you want for it?” He relented. Wrecker let out a smug laugh of victory.

“You still have those candies?” He asked, knowing the answer. Crosshair’s flinch and immediate scowl only confirmed it.

“I hate you.” He grumbled as he got a small bag out of his back pocket. Wrecker held out his hands with a smile as Crosshair gave him five little chocolates.

“Awww, thanks Cross!” Wrecker said, as though Crosshair had just given him a gift out of the kindness of his heart. The sniper only flipped him off in response.

“Go to sleep, Wrecker.” Echo mumbled, making the two jump. The ARC still had his eyes closed, and his head was even more buried in Crosshair’s shoulder. Crosshair leaned back against the wall again and rested his head on top of Echo’s. He refused to make eye contact with Wrecker.

The bruiser only laughed. He popped two of the chocolates in his mouth before getting into his bunk.

NPT: @travellingnorthwards @imreallymenow @ladysongmaster @jessica-caillte-jessicannot-draw @charliezzzz @here-comes-the-moose @saturn-sends-hugs @royallykt @padawancat97 @renton6echo @somestorythoughts

#tbb #tbb echo #tbb crosshair #tbb fanfiction #brotherly bonding #fluff #humor #mama echo #ao3 fanfic #summerofbadbatch2024

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fanfoolishness · 1 year ago

Text

Evaluations (The Bad Batch)

A selection of evaluations of the health of CT-9904, as performed by Nala Se. Nala Se POV, Crosshair whump/medical whump, angst at a remove. ~3200 words.

---

Nala Se walks through the long white corridors to the clones’ medical bay. Troopers march past in tight formation, each one perfectly uniform, created precisely to match their original specifications. Behind them small cadets trail their older mirrors in imitation, small brown faces all alike, dark hair in the same short military style. She has only to glance at them all to see her own flawless work marching beside her.

She allows herself a small, secret smile. There have been some clones with flaws, of course. Adjustments to obedience, size, intelligence. ability. She is most curious to see how the clones of the 99 designation fare as they age.

Her work, she suspects, is not unlike that of the artist or musician. Like them there is an idea she carries in her mind, the delicate dance of DNA and genetic modification, a vision she has planned and put into motion through the work of her own hands and her own vision. Now there is only the waiting to see the finished product that remains. She knows what she expects of her enhanced clones one day. Yet she also anticipates there may be surprises to occur in their development, unexpected interplays of inspiration or epigenetic accidents leading to something greater than the sum of their parts. It is a pleasant source of anticipation in her day to day, to see the finished music that her work might make.

She reaches the medical bay and the doors slide open for her. She is mildly taken aback at the scene of disarray that appears. A clone cadet, bio-equivalent to a seven-year-old human, sits hunched over himself on the floor, surrounded by scattered medical equipment that appears to have been thrown or kicked around the room. AZI-3 hovers a safe distance away from the clone, and seems relieved to see her.

“Doctor Se,” he says, pitching his voice modulators to a quiet scale. “You have asked me to inform you of any medical visits regarding clones of the ninety-nine designation. This is CT-9904, and he is here with a minor injury, but he is proving… difficult.”

Nala Se nods.�� CT-9904 would be identifiable from across any room nearly instantly; with his modifications, it is obvious. The clone’s proportions are unusual, thinner and taller than would be expected at this stage of development, and streaks of gray pepper his dark hair despite his young biological age. She had expected that variation. On many species her work has shown an inextricable link between hair color and visual development, and humans are no different.

“CT-9904,” she murmurs. “Please explain yourself.”

The clone unfolds himself and gets awkwardly to his feet, bowing his head briefly to her before looking down at his boots. The injuries are apparent, a blue-black bruise swelling his right eye shut, scrapes up and down his rather thin, angular face. He sniffs, rubbing the back of his hand against his nose. It comes back bloody.

“There was a fight,” the boy says slowly. His voice is odd, slightly raspy, with an accent to his Basic that deviates from the norm. That variation had not been anticipated. One of her intriguing surprises.

She waits, giving him an expectant look. He takes a deep breath.

“The other clones didn’t like that I’m different.” His fists clench at his sides. “I beat all of their scores in marksmanship. It’s so easy. They got mad… they started it. I tried to finish it, but there were more of them than me.” He crosses his arms over his chest, scowling, then wincing.

“Fights are not uncommon at this stage of training,” Nala Se murmurs. “The tendency is typically outgrown.” Though there is the matter that with his enhanced visual acuity, CT-9904 has been training in marksmanship with clones four cycles older. Perhaps seeing a clone so much earlier in his development excel has triggered the aggressive response from the standard units. She turns to AZI-3. “What is the prognosis?”

“There is a hairline fracture of the right zygomatic arch, but with the rapid growth rate and the improved healing capabilities, this is not expected to have any negative long-term effects. Which I have tried explaining to him!”

“I don’t believe you!” the boy bursts out. Nala Se tilts her head to one side, studying him.

“Why?”

The boy looks furtive, anxious, fidgeting where he stands. His hands twist together. At last he stammers, “I can’t see!” He tries to open the swollen right eye and fails, hissing with the effort.

“I have informed him that this is temporary,” says AZI-3. He addresses the clone directly. “The swelling needs time to come down, and then you will see normally again. All of the scans indicate that your eye itself was not damaged, only the tissue surrounding it. You should be back to normal within ten rotations.”

“Are you sure? But that’s -- it’s all I -- I have to --” His face is flushed. “It’s what I’m for!”

“Your vision will return in time, CT-9904. Your enhancements remain intact. The droid tells the truth,” says Nala Se. “There are other skills you may continue training in during this time. I will see to it that you are assigned extra training in stealth and hand-to-hand combat as you heal.”

The clone gives her a worried look, then nods, letting out a long breath.

“Please help AZI-3 clean up this mess. After that, you should return to your quarters. Your fellow cadets should be returning from their own training soon.”

The clone laughs slightly, a small smile shifting on his face. “Wrecker’s going to be mad he missed the fight. He could have taken them all out. I know it.”

“Hmm.” She sighs. This is not the first time these particular clones have been at the center of discord among the standard cadets, and she has a strong suspicion it will not be the last. Yet another unique trait in a batch full of them. She wonders which one of them will be in here next.

---

CT-9904 is led into the medical bay by red-painted clone troopers, stripped of his armor and walking with his head down. Nala Se is waiting. She has been curious to assess the effects of the inhibitor chip on her modified clones; the chips themselves had not been modified or calibrated for the minds of this particular batch, and she had long wondered if she would ever see the effects on them were the chips to be activated. Here then is her opportunity to learn, though her curiosity feels subdued from what she had anticipated. Perhaps it is merely that she feels disquieted by the presence of Admiral Tarkin in the chamber beyond.

My work does not need your supervision, Admiral, she thinks, then turns to the clone at hand.

CT-9904 has only rarely needed medical assistance after completing his training; as his squad’s long-range sniper, he has typically avoided the types of injuries accrued by the others. It has been multiple cycles since she has last seen him up close, and he sits obediently on the examination table under armed guard, his eyes shadowed, his face grim.

“How do you feel, CT-9904?” she asks.

“I don’t know why I’m here,” he bites out, looking away. “There’s nothing wrong with me. Perhaps you should look at Hunter. He’s been acting irrationally.”

“He will be examined in time,” she assures him. “There are some questions I am going to ask you.”

He shrugs, sighing. “All right.”

“Have you had any episodes of seizures?”

He sits up straight, looking at her suspiciously, a wary surprise in his eyes. “No.”

“Have you experienced any episodes of fainting?”

“No.”

“Have you experienced any disorientation?”

“No.”

“Have you experienced any headaches?”

A short, sharp intake of breath. His eyes focus beyond her, fixating in the direction of the Admiral, and a guilty look crosses his face. “...yes.”

“Thank you, CT-9904. The examination will begin.”

One of her new medical droids hovers forward, extending a long hypodermic. The clone’s eyes widen. “Is that necessary?”

“Yes, it is.” The droid injects him in the shoulder. He grimaces, but then his expression slides into something dreamy, a placid, half-lidded stare. He slumps where he sits and the droid eases him onto his back, preparing him for imaging. Nala Se recuses herself to the outer chamber.

She has read CT-9904’s report of Kaller, contradicting the reports from his squadmates. They have informed her of his attempts to convince his squad to follow orders. It is a fascinating finding. CT-9904’s chip may be working -- she will run the necessary tests to confirm, but the headaches are the earliest stage of an incomplete chip activation -- yet loyalty to his squad appears to be superseding its commands.

Admiral Tarkin waits for her as the test commences. As she has suspected, the chip is partially working, but CT-9904’s mutations have muted its effectiveness. She transmits the order to amplify the chip’s effects as the Admiral looks on.

The amplification process is one that she has never used before in practice, though it was developed for theoretical use in an event such as this one. As she watches it becomes plain that the dose of sedative has been insufficient for such a procedure. CT-9904 trembles, hands curling beside him, his chest rising and falling jerkily. She assesses his vitals. They are stable enough, but the elevated heart rate and erratic breathing are consistent with pain.

She considers adding further sedation, but the process is nearly complete, and she refrains.

The arms of the machine retract. She checks her datapad. The clone’s vitals have returned to normal, and he is starting to stir.

“Did it work?” Admiral Tarkin asks, voice clipped with impatience. “If not, you may begin the decommissioning process. But if it has worked, I would like the same procedure performed on the remaining squad.”

“Understood, Admiral. I will assess him myself.”

By the time she enters, CT-9904 is clumsily sitting up, breathing hard. He raises one hand to his right temple, shaking his head. “What happened?” he asks.

“You have been found clear to return to duty. With your squad.”

CT-9904 frowns, his face going cold. “My squad disobeyed orders.” He gets off the table, swaying slightly, and straightens up. “Good soldiers follow orders.”

“And if your squad does not?”

“Then they need to be eliminated,” CT-9904 says evenly. His eyes are blank, devoid of the suspicion and wariness that had been plain earlier. She nods, feeling a slight pang. She would have preferred to have had the time to study the interplay between the clone’s mind and the partially activated chip in case there were new insights to be gleaned. Observing him for several weeks would have been most intriguing. But she is certain now that in this regard, at least, CT-9904 is no longer unique.

---

“Status report,” Nala Se asks, gazing down at the unconscious clone in recovery.

The medical droid catalogs the clone’s injuries while removing the field bandages marred by strikethrough. The list is long and troubling. Ion burns to the chest, hands and face. Concussion to the right temple. Corneal abrasions. Right shoulder dislocation, replaced in the field. Inhalation injury. It is disheartening to see such a unique specimen in such shape. The corneal abrasions are the most concerning, given the nature of his enhancements, but the droid’s readings confirm that they are thankfully superficial and should heal without issue.

“How did this occur?”

“Exposure to an ion engine, Doctor,” says a human woman with a clipped, stern voice, her helmet carried under her arm. “We were shocked he survived. None of the other clones with him made it.” Nala Se gives her a cool look. One of Admiral Tarkin’s conscripts, her training nonstandardized, her breeding unknown. She does not understand the Admiral’s obsession with ‘updating’ the army of the Republic, no, Empire, and it is an affront to have one of those inferior soldiers here in her own medical bay.

The soldier is still standing at attention. “Will the Commander be all right?” she asks, and there is something calculating in her eyes. Nala Se frowns. Clones would never show such hints of naked ambition.

“Yes. There is extensive treatment to be done, but he will likely be fully rehabilitated within a matter of weeks.” They have repaired far more grievous injuries to their clones over the years. Kaminoan work was strong, and it was reparable when desired. “CT-9904 is valuable to the Empire, and he will recover.”

The soldier frowns. “Even with the seizures?”

Nala Se gives her her full attention. “He has had seizures?”

“Two, on the journey back from Bracca,” she says. “I thought the medic told you. Is that from the head injury?”

“There will be no further questions,” Nala Se says. “You may leave.”

The woman shoves her helmet back on, nodding, and finally leaves. Nala Se immediately locks the laboratory door behind her.

There is a faint groan from the bed. CT-9904 raises his left hand weakly before it drops back against his chest. He coughs, the sound amplified in the oxygen mask looped over his face.

She casts her eyes over the blistered flesh above his right ear, then directs the medical droids to set up the imaging device to assess the chip. CT-9904’s breathing rattles in the confines of the imaging chamber. It is disconcerting.

The machine whirs, its testing cycle complete, and it retracts to leave CT-9904 back in the open. She frowns at the results on her datapad.

“The inhibitor chip is damaged,” she tells the medical droid at the clone’s side. “Swelling in the brain has interfered with its functioning. The seizures are the result of an improper connection.”

CT-9904 fumbles at the oxygen mask on his face, making a garbled noise. He manages to pull off the mask, and rasps, “Take it out, then.”

Nala Se stiffens.

She has made a mistake.

She has never spoken of the chips in the presence of a clone beyond Omega. Now in her curiosity, with CT-9904 so wounded as to appear unconscious, she has erred. She turns to him, wondering how she should proceed. Despite what she had said about CT-9904’s value to the Empire, she is certain there would be no repercussions if he were to not survive his injuries.

“What do you mean?”

“I know…” He swallows, coughing, flecks of blood-tinged fluid dotting his lips. “I know about the chip. They told me.”

“Who?”

“Clone Force 99,” he manages. “Said it’s… controlling me. But I don’t --” He presses the oxygen mask against his face again, taking in several deep breaths before removing it again. He squints up at her through blepharospasm, eyelids struggling to open despite the pain of the abrasions. “I don’t need a chip to be loyal. To --” His chest heaves. “To be a good soldier.”

CT-9904 suddenly stares off into space, his good eye transfixing on the ceiling. His jaw slackens, and she recognizes the prodromal signs of an impending seizure. Nala Se gives a swift look to the medical droid. “He will need an anticonvulsive. Immediately.” The droid complies, heading off the seizure before it can truly begin.

Nala Se hesitates. There are three paths remaining to her now. Euthanasia of the enhanced clone to prevent possible awareness of the chip from being spread to other clones; treating the injuries but leaving the clone in his current state, potentially compromised by seizures and prone to worsening degradation of the chip; or --

She makes her choice, recalling the clone’s words. CT-9904 and his cohort have always represented a new era in experimentation for her. Perhaps by removing his chip now, she may continue to be surprised.

---

The walls of Tantiss press in around her, a windowless narrow world of her cell and the hallway beyond. Tipoca City lies beneath the waves of her homeworld, her lab, her work, her calling buried in the sea; and now there is only the Empire and its brutal destruction.

She has been a fool. She had so buried herself in her work that she had blinded herself to the dangers of being indispensable. She knows that she will never leave this planet alive.

The days are endless, the monotony almost worse than the clumsy efforts of the Empire to extract the information they needed by force. Their interrogation droids had been programmed for human physiology, and while unpleasant, their methods had failed to force her to share her scientific knowledge. They have since given up on that, and now Hemlock attempts to use the clone Omega as a bargaining chip, despite having no idea of her whereabouts.

Nala Se cares little for his efforts. She cares little for anything at all, now.

The one slight bit of interest in her day is her daily walk. They bring her to the lab once daily under heavy guard and supervision, perhaps hoping she will be enticed by the technology to resume her old work. She has no interest in the lab, refusing to examine its machines and capabilities, but she watches closely the clones walking by under their own guard, amusing herself with guessing which batches they had arisen from. She has no way to confirm her guesses, but to her trained eye, subtle changes in the degree of aging -- the appearance of fine wrinkles starting at the edges of the eyes and corners of the mouth, a slight shift in glossiness of the hair, faint alterations to the gait -- provide significant clues. It puts her in mind of happier times, when she could truly focus on science and take pride in the results of her labors.

One day -- or perhaps night, there is no way to tell -- she awaits the lift with her captors and a group of clones stops beside them, waiting for the same lift. She turns to study them and is taken aback. One clone stands above the others, several inches taller despite the slump in his shoulders.

Her mind swirls with questions. Had the removal of CT-9904’s chip -- omitted from his final medical report after his injuries on Bracca -- come to light? Was he sent here for betrayal of the Empire? Or had he merely been injured and deemed unfit to return to duty, so was sent here for study to remain useful?

He does not meet her gaze. She is not sure he has even noticed she stands beside him. His face is skull-like, his skin sallow from lack of sunlight, deep shadows etched beneath his eyes. A flicker of movement catches her eye and she notes a fine tremor, nearly imperceptible, along the edge of his hand. He shakes his hand almost subconsciously, a small, subtle jerk she is not sure that even he has detected. There are no obvious injuries, but there is an emptiness that is apparent, a lack of something vital.

She does not know what has brought him here, but she knows that he is a soldier no longer.

The lift arrives and the guards herd them within. Force is not required; the prisoners know their place. They stare down at the floor, heads bowed.

Nala Se gazes away from the ruined clone beside her. The music she had once carried in her head, the clever dance of DNA and ingenuity, the spark of creativity, of creation, falls silent. She does not speak to him, nor he to her.

There is simply nothing to say.

#the bad batch #the bad batch fanfiction #the bad batch crosshair #tbb crosshair #crosshair tbb #ct 9904 #nala se #whump #but like... dispassionate whump #this is such an odd little one but i had fun writing it #also nala se is kind of awful #my batcher fic #oh and if you were wondering #being a veterinarian I do like throwing in medical nonsense when I can

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archivewriter1ont · 8 days ago

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Last Line Challenge!

Rules: in a new post, show the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or as many as you feel like).

Thanks for tagging me @carbon-corrie! ❤️

My last line is from a future chapter of my new fic Ninety-Nine and the Cadet Batch, which is Part Two of my completed Echo and the Cadet Batch. It's not really a spoiler, more of a sneak peek into cadet clone shenanigans.😁

Ordo screwed up his nose as he looked down at the relic, managing a very good impression of a stuffy old scholar. All he needed was a pair of condescending spectacles that slid halfway down his nose. “Looks like one of Kal’buir’s flismiweights,” he huffed. “You look like a flimsiweight,” Crosshair shot back. "Ordo," Kal said warningly, at the same time that Ninety-Nine said gently, "Crosshair." The two cadets glared at each other, but they didn't pounce. Kal watched his boy warily for a moment, then an amused hint of a smile curved up the corners of his mouth. "Well, this should certainly be a fun playdate."

I am so stoked about this fic it's not even funny. 😂😂

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kybercrystals94 · 2 years ago

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To Fight Alongside Heroes

By KyberCrystals94

Read here on Ao3!

Whumptober 2023 | Day 28 | Prompt 28: Sacrifice

Rating: G

Words: 593

Summary: Fives sits with Echo while he grieves lost brothers.

Fives wakes up in the middle of his sleep cycle to the sound of the barrack’s door sliding open and closed. He glances at his chrono. There isn’t a shift change for another two hours. He leans over the side of his bed to look down at Echo’s lower bunk. Empty.

Worried, Fives kicks off his blankets, drops to the floor, and makes his way out of the barracks as quietly as his sleep addled brain will allow.

Fives can’t help but marvel at how quickly the destruction of the battle has been cleaned up. There are still major repairs that need to be done to the outside of the city; however, the halls, which only a few hours earlier were stained in the blood of their brothers, are back to their pristine, sterile white. Like nothing even happened, like lives weren’t lost. Swept away like a bad mark on a record.

If it had been natborns killed on their home planet…

Thinking like that doesn’t help or change anything, so Fives pushes it to the back of his mind, putting his focus on finding his batch mate. Echo doesn’t usually go off on his own, and certainly not in the middle of the night when he doesn’t have a shift of some sort. So, Fives wanders on hastened steps, checking down each hall he passes.

He ends up at their old training room, the door’s lock unactivated. He goes inside.

Echo sits on one of the benches along the far wall. He is leaning forward, elbows propped on his knees, hands knotted together in tight fists, head bowed. Fives sits down next to him but doesn’t say anything. Echo doesn’t move, absolutely still. Fives sits back against the wall, eyes taking in the familiar room shrouded in darkness, the only light coming from the safety lamps dimly illuminating the floor.

After several long minutes, when Echo still hasn’t moved or acknowledged him, Fives asks, “Are you alright?”

Echo’s head turns slightly. “I should be.”

“On who’s orders?” Fives leans forward, mirroring Echo, so that they are shoulder to shoulder. He nudges him. “Is it about Ninety-Nine?”

“It’s about all of it,” Echo growls. “It’s about every sacrifice we make for the Republic. I know what I said to Rex and Cody, but…it’s not fair. And I know that life isn’t fair, and never will be — but I’m tired of watching our brothers being used as cannon fodder.”

Fives reaches over and tugs on Echo’s wrist until Echo gives him his hand. Fives grips it painfully tight. “You can’t think like that, Echo. Our brothers deserve to be remembered for the heroes they were, for the lives they saved. Ninety-Nine died exactly where he wanted to be…on the front lines serving with his brothers. And we were there for it, Echo, we got to fight alongside him.”

Echo grips back. “I know,” he whispers.

“He’d be proud of us,” Fives goes on, “becoming ARCs. Domino Squad too. After they got over the shock, that is.”

A ghost of a smile trembles on Echo’s lips. “You didn’t seem surprised today, when they told us about our promotions.”

“I’ve always known we’d make ARCs someday,” Fives says.

“You could’ve let me in on the secret.”

Fives chuckles. “And ruin the surprise? I wouldn’t deprive you of that.”

“I miss them, Fives.” Echo’s voice breaks on the syllable of Fives’ name.

Fives wraps an arm around Echo’s shoulders, holding tight. “I know. I miss them too.”

And that’s when Echo finally begins to cry.

END

Tag List: @isthereanechoinhere96 @followthepurrgil @amorfista @mooncommlink

✨Let me know if you’d like to join the Tag List!✨

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limey-self-inserts · 9 months ago

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First Day Alive

Word Count: 3.8k words F/Os: The 501st (familial) Summary: Ajax's first meeting with the 501st and Domino Squad, before they even have a name. Content warnings: canon is a sandpit and we are building castles here

Tag list: @lavenoon @mikealys-ael @rexscanonwife @space-sweetheart @bugsband @ssunnybee @avenships @faerie-circle-ships

--------

As ever it did, a storm rolled over the surface of Kamino. It rained more than it shone sunlight out here, but the weather was as much deterrent to those who wanted to reach the secrets on the surface as much as the fleet of starships that floated in space above the planet. Within the clone factory and training base, it was usually impossible to hear any of the storm’s sounds. To do that, you needed to find the quiet spaces in the corridors where the vents drew close, and the thunder could sneak down the metal veins to rumble in the distance. Or you could head to the hangar bay.

“How goes it?” Rex called out to the other trooper who stood to the side of the hangar doors, just barely touched by the rain that lashed the metal floors and roof tops of the smooth domed buildings. Neither of them could see the ocean from here, but it roared louder than the wind.

“Miserable, but a good light show,” Fox replied, gesturing up towards the skies. Thick clouds were intermittently split by lightning, turning the grey-green sky to hues of blue. And somewhere beyond that, roiling red and orange sparks could be seen descending towards the ocean horizon, far from their reach. Although the sparks were certainly not natural, neither clone trooper reacted with surprise.

“General Shaak Ti had mentioned a Separatist cruiser coming in too close for comfort. Looks like that’s not going to be an issue for us,” Rex commented, folding his arms as he watched the shreds of debris cascade down past the lightning storm.

“Mmm. Someone too bold or too stupid,” Fox agreed. “But that’s their problem now.”

“Was their problem.”

Both clones shared a small smile of amusement, silently laughing over some hapless droids that had been left to burn up in the atmosphere on the orders of someone who hadn’t put their head on straight. Anything that could be a victory, even the destruction of a Separatist cruiser without needing to lift a blaster, was taken as one.

There wasn’t time to celebrate, of course.

“You’re expected in the training facility with the rest of the boys soon,” Rex said. “We might be here on medical but we still need to keep sharp. I’ve got to track down Jesse, so I’ll see you there.”

“Right you are, Captain.” Fox snapped a quick salute before marching back inside alongside Rex, leaving the rolling storm, far away falling debris, and the very close hungry ocean behind the hangar doors.

Ninety-Nine knew the corridors of the Tipoca City facility well. So well in fact he could easily have navigated it blind. Not that he ever had to - the facility was constantly bathed in white light, as if the darkened sky of storm clouds didn’t exist. But he knew each corridor and each store room and every maintenance hatch’s location, a little helping hand for his janitorial duties.

Shuffling along to the next store room along, he ducked aside for a squad of clone infantrymen - freshly graduated from the look and sounds of them, their high spirits and eagerness as they chatted amongst themselves. Ninety-Nine would never count in one of their number on the battlefield, but he took great pride in being a clone still. Important duties needed to be done here at home as much as at war.

The store room door slid open and he pushed the hov-trolley inside. This room was mostly medical supplies, boxes of mediscan units and painkillers alongside huge tanks of bacta, mostly to be shipped off to the front line alongside medic squads. Picking a data-pad off the trolley, Ninety-Nine began to scan over the crates and tanks surrounding him, ticking off what he saw. Anything they needed he would be able to bring to the Kaminoans attention, and then they would ensure the shipments arrived. Although not always in good time, as he noted that the supplies here had already been flagged as needing restocking.

“War’s tough on everyone and everything,” he muttered, holstering the data-pad back on the trolley and beginning to load up a supply run for the medical wing.

Wait.

What was thudding?

Turning around, his eyes skimmed over the store room. There it was again, that low metal beating sound. The waves were too far below to be able to strike against the sides of the facility, and the storms rarely got so bad as to physically impact the city. So then…

His eyes turned to the maintenance hatch in the floor.

THUNK THUNK

Turning on his heel, Ninety-Nine shuffle-ran for the store room door, grateful for the automation to fling it open fast enough for him to exit. Further gratitude arose as he spotted familiar faces of Domino Squad in the corridor, Fives and Hevy both catching sight of him and rapidly going from delight to concern.

“Ninety-Nine! What’s wrong?” Fives called out, leading the squad to hurry across. Other eyes spotted the attention. Other passing troopers paused to watch. It was a soldier’s instinct - to see the disturbance before it could begin. And Jesse, one of the elite 501st, was the closest to be drawn over with a frown.

“Someone’s below the maintenance hatch,” Ninety-Nine replied breathlessly. “We’ve got a security breach.”

“Shouldn’t we alert the system?” Echo asked quickly.

“Not if we deal with the intruder ourselves,” Heavy replied, hand squeezing on the grip of his blaster pistol. But Jesse stepped in, pushing his hand down and away.

“Are they actively breaking in?” he asked Ninety-Nine, who shook his head.

“They’re…knocking.”

“Alright. You open the hatch. Domino, you provide cover. I’ll alert the system the moment we start shooting.”

Domino Squad were still fresh from graduating, waiting for their first assignment, but they moved like a squadron that had been fighting together for years. They filed into the store room as one, flanking around Ninety-Nine as he took position at the entrance hatch. The knocking was beginning to get more rapid, as if the entity below knew that there were people in the room. Briefly the clones all glanced to each other, before Cutup nodded towards Ninety-Nine. He reached down and twisted at the locking system. The hatch hissed. Locks fell back from sockets. The hinge swung upwards. Four blaster pistols readied themselves at the open hole where the storm and wind began to howl from.

A sodden human stared back. Possibly a youngling. They gripped to the emergency escape ladder like it was the only thing keeping them alive, wet hair plastered to their face. Bright blue eyes looked up at the squad and Ninety-Nine, wide and scared and exhausted.

For a moment, no-one moved. The clones waited. The human stared.

“Sorry,” they murmured. “I-I couldn’t find the front door.”

“Kriff’s sake, what’s this supposed to be?” Hevy snapped.

“Could be a spy?” Fives raised.

“We won’t find out leaving them out in the cold, will we?” Droidbait looked over his shoulder to Jesse, who was also caught staring. “Alert General Shaak Ti. Let her know an intruder got into the facility but we have them secured.”

As Jesse turned to speak rapidly into a comms device, Echo holstered his pistol, kneeling down to extend a hand to the human. They took it quickly, a foot slipping from the ladder, but Echo’s strength and their arm pulling onto the room flooring overhead kept both from tumbling back down to the ocean below. He hauled them through, Hevy reaching over to hook a hand under the human’s other arm and help pull them fully into the store room, allowing Ninety-Nine to seal the hatch once more. They lay on the floor, more beached fish than human, gulping down deep breaths as their eyes tried to focus on the figures around them.

“C’mon, get up,” Hevy said firmly.

“I don’t think they can.” Ninety-Nine approached, kneeling down and taking the human’s pulse. “Heart rate is going too fast.”

“You might need to call in a med-bay,” Echo called over to Jesse. “Looks like they really did climb all the way up from the ocean.”

As the squad continued to discuss over their heads, Ninety-Nine felt fingers catch on the edge of his uniform sleeve. The human caught his eye, and the faintest of smiles slipped past their lips. A faint “Thank you” formed but was not spoken.

He was a good soldier. He hadn’t seen the enemy but knew them well. It seemed wrong that the enemy would come directly to the clone force’s doorstep with a face that was so exhausted.

He held their hand until the medics came in with the gravstretcher.

“Human, planetary origin unknown. Biological age, around twenty six standard years. Anatomically female, although signs of past surgery suggest alternative designation. Much more recent signs of surgeries show the subject to have experienced numerous incisions across the front and sides of the torso, although our medical scans have not picked up on any foreign objects present in the body.”

Nala Se read the results from the data pad in her hands, although her eyes frequently flickered to the individual that lay within the medibed. Shaak Ti also rarely looked away, her face creased by a firm frown, the humming of electrical equipment punctuated by the soft rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor.

“Closer examination of the subject found broken fingernails and bruised pads from impact or attempts to open an object; a near hypothermic state from exposure to cold temperatures; trace amounts of seawater in the lungs; and severe muscle fatigue.” Nala Se now glanced across to Shaak Ti. “Tying in from the Separatist medical robes they were first found in, it would seem that it was not only shipwreck debris that has been falling on Kamino.”

“If escape pods managed to get past the blockade then anything else could have made it past,” Shaak Ti muttered. “This isn’t good.”

“The prime minister will need to be informed,” Nala Se agreed, nodding her head slowly. “Defences must be fortified.”

“Have you managed to identify them?”

“It is….proving to be difficult.”

Something about Nala Se’s hesitancy and body posture carried the tone of embarrassment more than evasiveness. Shaak Ti’s head tilted, her gaze turning to fix upon the Kaminoan scientist. Caught under scrutiny, Nala Se ducked her head down further.

“With our biometric scanners, we are normally well capable of identifying any individual. However, it is reliant on using live tissue. The subject’s tissue….is not live.”

But then - both scientist and general looked back to the medibed. To the heart monitor that beeped steadily away.

“They are living, are they not?” Shaak Ti questioned.

“They are indeed, general. It is possible there is a technological fault at hand. I will speak to one of the facility technicians to have the subject scanned elsewhere.”

And just like that, the thought was pushed to the back of their minds, where it would remain unwilling to be considered. Far easier to fault the highest state of technology on the planet, than to take into truth the possibility of something that could be alive and dead at the same time.

“I will go to speak with Lama Su,” Shaak Ti says, pulling away towards the exit of the medical room. “I have instructed Domino Squad to guard the intruder until a decision is made as to what will be done with them.”

“I must accompany you, to provide the prime minister with information on the subject’s state,” Nala Se commented, her steps gliding along beside the jedi. “Once we have concluded whether the subject is a threat or not, we will want to take steps to interrogate them as to how they escaped the transport ship, whether before or after the cruiser was brought down by the blockade.”

The room emptied, door sliding closed behind the pair.

Silence. A steady beep. Blue highlights across a still body.

Eyes opened. Head turning to glance towards the door, a steady breath escaping before they lay back again. Eyes closed.

The door slid open again, allowing the tail of a conversation to spill into the quiet space.

“- delaying us from taking proper assignments.”

“This is our assignment now. It’s important for the safety of the facility, for the city, for the rest of our brothers,” Droidbait returned fire to Cutup, who folded his arms.

“I do reckon we don’t need everyone in this room,” he said. “I’d rather keep guard on the front door.”

“That’s a fair call. Who wants front door and who wants inside the room?”

The squad split relatively evenly, Fives and Echo settling on chairs inside the room as the rest of the troopers filed out to the front door. Another silence returned, although this one accompanied by an air of….impatience. Curiosity. Thoughts rotated in the space between.

“Do you think they’re actually a spy?” Echo asked.

“Anyone could be a spy. Could be they put themselves in this condition as a way for us to lower our guard, or they’re just a….” Fives waved a hand through the air. “Bad spy.”

“Guess you’re right about that.” More silence. More thoughts. “It seems risky though. They could’ve been blown up with the Separatist cruiser. If they came down with an escape pod, it might’ve sunk with them inside. Too many holes in that sort of a plan.”

“Who’s to say it wasn’t ejected before the cruiser was blown up?”

“But then the system would’ve flagged it. Instead it was hidden with the debris fall. That’s why no-one was alerted until they were quite literally knocking at the front door.”

“So it was risky, but still perfectly timed to be hidden?”

Echo went silent, and Fives folded his arms as he looked back to the resting figure.

More silence. But fewer thoughts now.

Boredom was easy to slip through the edges. Even good soldiers got bored, and guarding a sleeping body was a sure-fire way to go about it.

“Where do you think we’ll go first?” Echo asked.

“From what I’ve heard, it’s a seventy-thirty shot of being sent straight to the frontlines or posted up on active guard duty. There’s some talk of a new push being made for Hypori. And although Christophsis was cleared up, there’s still skirmishes happening on the planet’s surface that’ll need reinforcements.”

“There’s a lot of talk about Ryloth. Seems risky leaving the Separatists to establish a base there without sending in troops to counter-.”

“Orders are orders. We wait for the command to come as to where to go.”

The chatter eased through, back and forth, falling and rising through periods of quiet to moments of casual discussion. There was more silence than talk - the reason for their presence wasn’t forgotten.

But it meant the room, for a while, was disconnected from the rest of the facility. So when the blue lighting switched to emergency red, it jolted Fives and Echo into action immediately.

“What’s happening?” Fives called out to the rest of the squad, opening the door to look outside. The corridors, normally so bright and clear, were now also bathed in red lighting. Troopers ran to their stations, calling out to one another. Domino Squad bristled in their posts, watching as others hurried to where they might be needed.

“Security breach. A proper one this time,” Droidbait replied. “Comm chatter says it’s Separatist droids, stealth bots.”

“Looks like something did come down with the debris fall,” Echo muttered. “The intruder hasn’t done anything over here, so the droids are something separate.”

“We need to gear up and get moving,” Cutup said, Hevy nodding in agreement. But Droidbait shook his head.

“We have our orders to guard this intruder.”

“They’re not doing anything, look at-”

All eyes focused on the human that was very much sat up in the medibed, tentatively shifting over the edge with feet dangling towards the floor. They froze at the sound of no further talking, meeting their gaze.

“I can help.”

Cutup snorted in amusement.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to make demands.”

“I’m not demanding I just…I can help,” the human replied, voice shaking. “You said it was droids.”

“How long have you been awake?” Fives questioned, beginning to prickle. How much had been listened to, eavesdropped on.

“Just for the important bit.” They dropped down the short distance off the medibed and their knees buckled immediately, forcing them to cling to the handles of the bed-frame. Despite the hesitation, despite the tension, Echo took the few steps forward. Slinging an arm under their shoulders, he hoisted them upright.

It was like the first breath before a lightning strike. Hair over his body standing on end, the edges of his armour buzzing just barely to be noticeable, a metallic taste across his tongue.

“I can help,” the human repeated, insistently, looking up towards Echo. And he believed them.

“I think they can help,” he said, glancing back to his squad, who all recoiled in various levels of disbelief and confusion.

“Echo, now is not the time to be acting a di’kut,” Droidbait muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We just managed to pull through graduation, we cannot be spoiling that by assisting an intruder in doing goodness only knows.”

“Look at them, they can barely stand, do you think they’re a threat to us?”

“That makes this worse, you realise? How can they help if they can’t even walk?”

The lights above them flickered. Somewhere deeper in the facility came the echoes of blaster fire. Somewhere in the red there was a haze of blue.

“We managed to conquer the Citadel by trusting each other,” Fives said, slowly, picking through the words. “I can’t see what Echo sees, but we are all brothers, aren’t we? Maybe this will prove us well too.”

That seemed to bring a shift in the squad. Cutup still looked reluctant, but Hevy was beginning to glance over his shoulder, in the direction of the blaster fire.

“Wouldn’t this count as keeping our post? We’re still guarding the intruder, just��not in the med-bay,” he raised. Droidbait’s gaze flickered madly from him, to Fives, to Echo, to the human.

“If we get court-martialed for this, I’m putting all the blame on you lot,” Droidbait muttered, as he unholstered his pistol and activated it.

“If we get court-martialed.”

“What’s your plan?” Echo asked the human, who’d been steadily leaving more of their weight in his hands. He could hold it at least.

“I need to see one of the droids. I can take care of them from there.”

“You heard the civvie. Let’s go droid hunting,” Hevy commented, beginning to head further down the corridor.

Boots and bare feet fell against the metal flooring, footsteps swallowed behind the background of the alarm blaring. Blaster fire rattled like rain on a hollow roof, echoing louder and louder the further and further Domino Squad proceeded. Rounding a corner together, the sound of the fight washed in hard. Hevy and Cutup split to the opposite side of the T-junction’s mouth, giving cover fire for the other clones who had cornered a pair of stealth droids - lanky bastards that, for any other droid, would be pinned down under the heavy fire, but even now were progressing bit-by-bit up the corridor.

Glancing back towards the reinforcements, Kix and Jesse both went from relief to confusion to alarm. Sensing the pause from his fellow brothers, Rex took a quick look over his shoulder and it was only thanks to the cover of Domino Squad that they were able to maintain the blaster pressure.

“Really? You brought a civvie to a firefight?” Rex questioned as Kix hurried back towards the squad, relieving Echo of his cargo for the moment. The human was visibly sweating under the emergency lighting, but their eyes were clear and hands steady as they accepted the new arm to support them.

“They said they can help,” Echo replied, kneeling down to join Jesse’s side with pistol in hand.

“Oh, I’d like to see what that means.” Jesse rolled his eyes.

Kix didn’t speak up. His gaze was firmly on the human’s hands that were lifted into the air. Their focus trained on the stealth droids, further down the corridor.

The smell of the storm warped its way through the ventilation system. Or maybe it came from a different source entirely.

With a harsh crackle, electricity sprung from the human’s fingertips. Arching down the corridor in the blink of an eye, the lightning connected with one droid, then the second. Both froze in place, limbs jerking wildly as their wires and connections were burnt to a crisp.

The human dropped, and Kix dropped with them, but it was on purpose instead of fatigue. Palms flat on the floor, those threads of lightning bounced into the metal of the facility, racing through the maintenance tunnels and cords of wires. They’d dug into the droids, and knew how they felt under the bright blue electricity that rolled off them.

Across the facility, the other stealth droids jolted, electrocuted from the sudden burst of electricity that sprung from the floors and walls. The scrap came to as an abrupt halt as it had started, clone troopers and one jedi staring in disbelief as the droids fell to the ground, smoke wafting from their joints.

The human gritted their teeth together, eyes alight with a glow that was almost white. Steam and smoke rolled off their back and shoulders, curled from under their fingertips. Thinking and acting rapidly, Fives rushed forward and brought the butt of his blaster rifle hard on the back of their head.

Silence. Still bodies on the ground. The creeping smell of ozone and petrichor lingered.

“You alright?” Jesse asked, pulling Kix to his feet.

“I’m fine,” Kix replied, turning his hands over in disbelief. He’d been supporting them up until Fives knocked them out, yet not a single burn or char appeared on his palms, or anywhere on his armour.

Lifting the human back up into his arms, Echo felt very aware of how fast his heart was beating. Adrenaline was a natural thing, and he was swimming in it now, just from proximity to this…person? This thing? They’d nearly burned themselves inside out. Had they even known what they were going to do?

I can help.

“General Shaak Ti will have to be informed,” Jesse said firmly. “Again."

"Get them back to the medical bay, so any damage they dealt to themselves can be treated," Rex added in. "There'll be discussions about your decisions another time. But at the very least...good job, Domino Squad."

“They did help,” Fives muttered, glancing away as he holstered his rifle, unwilling to look back at the human’s face. Domino Squad began to tail away towards the med-bay again, only too aware of the murmurings that were already beginning to snake through those present. That the squad had brought a civvie in, and the civvie had brought the storm indoors.

#writings #world: star wars #self insert #lets goooo I finally write this down after 3 years

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