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kybercrystals94 · 8 months ago

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Whumptober 2024 - Day 8 - Prompt: Sleep Deprivation

Rated: G | Words: 1938

“It was only a matter of time before these specimens fell short of even the barest standard,” Lama Su says, watching the four cadets through the viewing window. They sit side by side on a medical cot, pale and sickly. He despises their existence in every sense. They are flaws, ugly blots on a clean record. They look nothing like the other products, with the possible exception of CT-9901. But it is not only physical appearances that must be identical. Their clones must be perfect inside and out.

CT-9901 appears just as flushed and miserable as the units beside him.

“They contracted an infection during their most recent off-world training simulation,” Nala Se says. “It is hardly a setback. They will recover.”

“Have other cadets of their developmental stage contracted the same virus?” Lama Su asks.

Nala Se’s silence is telling enough. “They performed exceptionally during the simulation. The highest records to date.”

“And look at them now,” Lama Su growls. “Pathetic, weak. This will not do.”

“They are the first successful batch of enhanced clones. The only successful batch. To terminate them would be ill-advised at this juncture.”

“To keep them is a waste of resources and a mark against an otherwise perfect system.”

Nala Se sighs. “They will be fully recovered in twenty-four standard hours, prime minister. You have allowed me this project, and I hope that you will continue to entrust me with its furtherment.”

“Twenty-four standard hours?” Lamu Su echoes. “I will permit you this time frame, Nala Se. However, if these defective specimens require further resources outside of the parameters of their normal development, they will be terminated. Is that understood?”

He can tell that his lead scientist is not pleased with the arrangement. Nonetheless, she is compliant, “Perfectly, prime minister.”

“What are they saying?” Tech whispers.

Hunter shakes his head.

“But you can hear them, can’t you,” Crosshair hisses.

“It doesn’t matter,” Hunter mumbles.

“Yes, it does,” Tech returns, voice hollow…weak.

Pathetic, weak. This will not do.

“Nala Se said we will recover,” Hunter says.

Tech huffs. “Of course we will recover. We have a viral infection, not a terminal illness.”

But it is terminal to Lama Su. The fact that they got sick at all. Hunter won’t tell his brothers that. They need to rest, they need to recover. Knowing the truth won’t help them.

“When can we go back to our room?” Wrecker asks. He sniffs noisily. “I wanna lay down and never get up again.”

Hunter bristles. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not? It’s true,” Wrecker whines, leaning forward and burying his face in his hands. “I hate being sick.”

Before Hunter can tell Wrecker to sit back up, Nala Se enters the room. “I will escort you back to your barracks. You will remain there until further notice. Meals will be brought to you at the usual intervals along with the required dosages of medications.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the four cadets say in unison.

They slide to the floor and follow the Kaminoan out of the med center. Hunter allows Tech to take the lead, lingering to bring up the back of the line himself. The thought of any of them being out of his sight for a moment makes his stomach turn more than the virus plaguing his own body. Lama Su said twenty-four hours, but Kaminoans are notorious for changing the rules. What if one of them starts to show worse symptoms? Will they be taken away to medical never to be returned? He can’t let that happen. He won’t.

The walk to their barracks feels endless and exposed. All eyes are on them, and now not only for the usual reasons. Not for Tech’s corrective lenses, or Crosshair’s pale hair, or Wrecker’s height amongst his peers. It’s the pallor of their skin flushed with fever, the dark circles around their eyes, the quiet snuffling and clearing of throats. Hunter wants to urge his brothers forward, but they are keeping pace with Nala Se.

At last, Nala Se is opening the door to their barracks, allowing them to file past her before looming a moment in their doorway. “You will not leave this room,” she reiterates firmly. “If there are any concerns, you may call me directly.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Hunter says, standing at loose attention even though his joints ache with the remnants of fever after their first dosage of medication.

“Now rest. A medical droid will come check your vitals in a few hours.” The Kaminoan turns to leave, the door sliding shut behind her.

Wrecker groans. “I thought she’d never leave.” He drags his feet as goes to his bunk and falls face first into the mattress, then he crawls the rest of the way into the bed and pulls his blankets around him.

Crosshair and Tech are watching Hunter, dark eyes analyzing him. They know he isn’t telling them everything, but just because they know, doesn’t mean he’ll tell. He musters up as much height as his biologically 13-year-old body will grant him. “You heard Nala Se. We need to rest,” he says. “Go to bed.”

“And what if we don’t?” Crosshair challenges. “What happens then?”

Tech frowns. “It would be in our best interest to recover as quickly as possible. I don’t imagine the alternative is promising.”

His brothers aren’t dumb, far from it; however, Hunter sometimes wishes they weren’t so smart. He crosses his arms over his chest. “Tech is right. Lama Su doesn’t want us held up by this virus. Nala Se said we should be recovered in twenty-four hours. And that’s only gonna happen if we rest. Got it?”

Neither argue further. After all, if they feel even half as bad as Hunter feels, they’ve been longing for their own beds since they got back to Kamino this morning. Hunter hadn’t even realized they were sick when they first returned planetside. While he’d felt a little sore, his skin sensitive to the touch of fabric against his skin, it was common for him, growing rapidly and becoming overstimulated after long training sessions.

Then Wrecker, Tech, and Crosshair complained about feeling cold and achy, and Hunter realized something was wrong. Tech brought out his makeshift medscanner he’d pieced together with pilfered parts. He scanned each of them and announced they had fevers, and evidence of a virus. Shoved deep where his brothers couldn’t see, Hunter panicked. They couldn’t be sick. Clones didn’t get sick. Not like natborns. He tried to think of a way to hide the truth from the Kaminoans, but it was only a short time later before Nala Se found out on her own, bringing the batch in for their routine checkups after extensive training.

And it was just bad luck that Lama Su showed up unannounced. Even Nala Se seemed upset by the intrusion, insisting that she and the prime minister discuss the matter in the next room. Whether or not she realized Hunter could hear everything was difficult to guess.

Although, now, watching his brothers go to their beds on his orders, he wonders if she did mean for him to hear. For him to know the stakes.

Hunter goes to the table, cluttered with Tech’s projects, and sits in the chair facing the door. He hugs his arms around himself, feeling chilled even though the room is the same temperature it always is. He has to keep watch, even if his eyes hurt, even if sleep seems to be the most tantalizing thing in the galaxy.

“Hunter?” a voice calls out softly.

Hunter turns slightly to Tech’s bunk.

Tech is blinking at him, his goggles already hanging from their hook next to his bed. “Aren’t you going to rest too?”

“In a little bit,” Hunter lies. “I’m not tired yet.”

Tech nods, seemingly satisfied, and disappears in his blankets.

Hunter faces the door again.

He can do this.

He has to do this.

Hunter sits upright with a gasp. He stares around the room, confused. Even his thoughts, distant and hazy, hurt his head. He stumbles to his feet, losing his balance and catching himself on one of Tech’s projects. It clatters to the floor in a spray of parts, loose bolts skittering away.

His heart is thumping hard in his chest, the pulse roaring in his ears. He fell asleep, he fell asleep. He shouldn’t have fallen asleep. Why shouldn’t he have fallen asleep? He’s so tired. Everything hurts. He wants to cry. Why does he want to cry? Soldiers don’t cry.

“What’s going on?” Crosshair grumbles.

And everything clicks into place with startling clarity.

Hunter staggers to Tech’s bed, ripping back the blankets. His brother is there, sound asleep, and oblivious to the commotion. Hunter goes to Wrecker’s bed next, digging through the tangle of blankets. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

Wrecker is gone.

They took him.

They took him, they took him…no, no, no, no…he failed. He failed to keep watch. He let his brother go…

“Hunter, calm down, he’s in the fresher,” Crosshair rasps out.

The words filter in, but don’t quite make sense. Hunter is gripping Wrecker’s blankets in his fists. He feels like he’s shaking. Is he shaking? His face feels wet and hot all at once. Something grabs his shoulder and Hunter tries to pull away, but another hand grabs his arm.

“Hunter!” Crosshair calls again, but his voice is close, practically screaming in his ear. “Hunter, stop!”

“They took him,” Hunter chokes out.

Crosshair shakes him, hard. It hurts. “They didn’t take him. He’s in the kriffing fresher. Do you understand?”

“The fresher?” Hunter echoes, breath shuddering.

“I’m calling Nala Se, you’re too warm, Hunter,” Crosshair says, giving Hunter a push, sending him toppling backwards into Wrecker’s bunk.

Hunter tries to get up, but his limbs refuse to cooperate. “No!” he cries out, “No, don’t!”

“Nala Se said–”

“We have to get better, we have to get better or…” Hunter’s voice is shaking.

“I know,” Crosshair says, “and we are. We are.”

“Not in time, not if we’re worse,” Hunter continues.

Crosshair drops into the bed next to him. “I’m not an idiot, Hunter. Lama Su never liked us. Kriff him. Nala Se will get her way in the end. You know that. She’s kept us around this long.”

“She can’t protect us forever,” Hunter whispers.

Crosshair frowns. “And you can?” he asks. “What did you think you were gonna do if the long necks came in to take one of us? You can barely stand up, let alone fight off the Kammies in the state you're in.”

“I have to try,” Hunter pleads. “I have to keep watch.”

Crosshair regards him for a moment, dark eyes narrow. “Well, then it’s my turn.”

“No. You have to rest.”

“So do you, di’kut,” Crosshair snaps. “You think we want them hauling you off?”

Miserably, Hunter shakes his head. His breath comes out like a hiccup.

“Do you want to be in your bunk, or Wrecker’s?” Crosshair asks.

Hunter knows he doesn’t want to be alone, not while the adrenaline and panic of thinking he’d lost Wrecker still pulsing through him. “I’ll stay here,” he says.

Wrecker appears, looking half asleep. “What’s happening?” he yawns.

“Hunter’s bunking with you,” Crosshair declares.

Wrecker rubs at one eye with a balled fist. “Oh. Okay.” He crawls carefully over Hunter and is immediately asleep again, his breathing heavy.

Hunter feels his own breathing slow to match his brother’s, his body closing off to the simulations around him.

The last thing he hears, before his mind goes dark, is Crosshair saying to no one, voice low but firm, “I’ve got the watch.”

END

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#whumptober2024 #no.8 #sleep deprivation #Star Wars: The Bad Batch #fic #cadet batch #tbb hunter #tbb tech #tbb crosshair #tbb wrecker #nala se #lama su #brothers #siblings

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