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Chapter Text

Cody slid off the cot and straightened a bit stiffly, conscious of the judgmental gaze of his chief medical officer. "Am I cleared, then?"

Stitch typed something into his datapad and glanced up. "You're cleared for medical leave, but that's about it, Commander."

"What?" Cody sidled around to look over Stitch's shoulder. "Wait, how can I be cleared only for medical leave?"

With a sigh, Stitch held up the datapad and pointed to the screen. "This is your name, Commander – and here's your rank and your number – okay, got that?"

Cody eyed him meaningfully.

Stitch continued, probably in revenge for all the trouble he seemed to think Cody had been giving him lately. "Now, right next to your number, there's a yellow mark. I've developed a system, see? Green means you're completely cleared and back to active duty. Blue means you're cleared for light duty only. Yellow shows you're cleared for medical leave, meaning – listen carefully, now."

Cody rolled his eyes.

Stitch smirked. "Medical leave means that you are not cleared for any sort of duty whatsoever. Got that?"

Cody lifted his hands in surrender. "Is there anything I am allowed to do? Or do you suggest I spend the next standard week wandering around the Negotiator?"

"I suggest you bring that up with General Kenobi or Command," Stitch told him unsympathetically. "I am sending my report in – now."

The datapad beeped faintly.

Cody sighed. "How did you get to be CMO, anyway?"

"You promoted me," Stitch pointed out, following him to the door.

"I must have been on pain meds."

Stitch grinned. "I have the records, and you were in perfect health at the time."

Cody buttoned the top half of his uniform up to his throat and straightened his rank bars. "I hadn't been drinking, had I?"

"We were nowhere near Coruscant," Stitch informed him. "And none of your batchmates were around, either."

Cody smirked and rested a hand on his medic's shoulder. "Thanks for your help."

"You're welcome, sir," Stitch told him sincerely.

Cody nodded and turned to leave. Stitch cleared his throat, and Cody glanced back.

Stitch gave him a threatening smile. "Commander, if you ever come in here again with a close-range laser burn through one lung . . ."

Cody tilted his head. "I didn't ask to be shot, Stitch."

"No, sir. But you wouldn't have been shot if you didn't insist on getting into fist-fights with droids. What possesses you, sir, honestly?"

Cody didn't really have an answer for that one, so he just sent Stitch an apologetic grimace and then beat a hasty retreat.

As he walked steadily towards the bridge, Cody reflected a bit on Stitch's words. He didn't actually remember getting shot – or, if he did, he'd registered it as a blow to the chest, not a laser. The next thing he knew, he was waking up in medbay with no memory at all of the past few days. Judging by Stitch's hovering over the next while, Cody's condition had been pretty much touch-and-go.

Maybe he should lay off punching droids – well, if he could remember when he was actually in battle. Cody nodded to a passing trooper and wondered if perhaps Rex was right. Cody, he'd always claimed, was a lot less cool-minded than he liked to pretend.

As Cody neared the lift, the doors opened to reveal Rex, wearing his newly-painted armor. It looked odd, at first, seeing the helmet's jaig eyes in blue instead of yellow, but Cody supposed he'd get used to it.

"Hey," said Rex with a grin. "I was just coming to see you. You got out."

Cody stepped in beside him. "On medical leave," he said, then sighed. "Stitch already sent the files to General Kenobi and Command."

"Hm." Rex hit the control for the bridge level. "So, you're basically complaining because you can't cheat your way around it."

Cody rolled his eyes. "I probably could, but it's not worth the trouble. We're still over Coruscant, and it's not like there's much to do besides offload cargo and run drills."

"We'll be getting the go-ahead for a new mission soon," Rex told him. "While you were recovering, the new legion was formed. It's almost ready for deployment."

"Ah," said Cody. "Judging by the new paint job, I presume General Kenobi took my recommendation."

Rex eyed him sidelong. "I've been transferred to the Five-Oh-First, if that's what you mean."

Cody inclined his head. "The Five-Oh-First will be working under the command of General Kenobi for the duration of the war. Because Skywalker was just promoted, and because we're forming a new legion entirely from our already-existing battalion, command structure will be a bit odd for a while. You won't have a commander specifically, unless Skywalker gets a padawan –"

"He won't," Rex told him, looking a bit concerned. Probably because without a padawan or a special transfer, the 501st wouldn't be getting a commander. "At least, he's said he won't five or six times."

"Right," said Cody. "Well, considering that General Kenobi and Grandmaster Yoda were placing bets on that very fact last week, I wouldn't be too sure."

The doors opened, and the two clones headed for the bridge.

"Jedi placing bets. . .?" Rex said. "Wait, did Kenobi think General Skywalker would take a padawan, or not?"

"They both thought he would," said Cody, stepping aside to let a patrol of troopers run past. "Thus why I wouldn't be too sure that he won't."

"So who was betting against them?"

"No one. I guess whoever gets the timeframe more accurately wins."

Rex shook his head, looking amused for a moment, but then the thoughtful expression returned to his face.

Cody eyed him. "What's worrying you?"

Rex rubbed the back of his head. "I'm General Skywalker's acting second."

Yeah, that's what I thought. It's a lot of responsibility all at once. . . Cody elbowed Rex reassuringly. "You'll be getting a commander, eventually, if we get the chance to transfer one. Right now, though – well, you're the most experienced captain in the Five-Oh-First."

"That's what General Kenobi said. But I've been the CO of a company so far. Even if the Five-Oh-First is only the size of a regiment at the moment – well, effectively, I've got sixteen companies to look after."

"You'll have help," Cody said. "Your fellow captains are good officers, and you'll still chiefly be in command of Torrent Company. You're the right man for the job, Rex. Just don't get carried away. The men need a captain, not a dead hero."

Rex cast him a criticizing look. "You were just laid up for a week because you got carried away, Commander."

As the two of them entered the bridge, Cody jostled Rex with an elbow. "Just giving you an example of what not to do, Rex, old boy."

Before Rex could reply, General Kenobi turned to face them. "Ah, Cody! I just received Stitch's report."

Cody joined him at the holotable and came to attention briefly. "Yes, sir. It looks like I'm out of the action for a week."

Obi-Wan glanced around the quiet bridge. "What action, Commander?"

A few of the nearby technicians seemed amused by this, though they stayed focused on their jobs.

"Eh . . . good point, sir," Rex allowed. "I was telling Cody that we'd be getting a new assignment pretty soon."

"You and Anakin will, at any rate," Obi-Wan said, stroking his beard. This particular trait of his was what Cody mentally referred to as his general's 'thinking pose'.

Cody hadn't been assigned to his Jedi for all that long, but he was so used to automatically remembering hundreds upon hundreds of brothers by noting movements, patterns of speech, and nervous tics that categorizing General Kenobi's characteristics had taken him less than a day.

"What about us, sir?" Cody asked. "Surely we're not staying in orbit."

Obi-Wan blinked at the rotating planet beneath them and turned to regard him. "I'm afraid that's exactly what we are doing. The Chancellor wants the Two-Twelfth to operate as a backup force, at least until the other fleets are in position. We must be prepared to leave on a moment's notice, in case any Republic forces call for aid."

"Yes, sir," said Cody. "I'll check in with my officers and make sure everything's squared away."

"We've already done that," Rex said.

"Yes," said Obi-Wan. "Rex, Anakin and I met with them this morning. And wasn't there something in Stitch's report about you not being cleared for duty?"

Cody stared straight ahead. "Well, General, what else is there to do? Sit around and play sabacc?"

"We could, I suppose, once my shift is over."

Cody locked his arms behind his back, winced at the pull in his chest, and settled for folding them instead. All the men would be occupied right now, and if there was any action, it would be on the bridge. "Right," he said. "I guess I can be off duty here as well as anywhere."

Rex, who had always been rather dramatic, rolled his eyes at Cody's stubbornness, then saluted the general and stalked off to wait near the door – a silent message that he could be just as stubborn and knew perfectly well that Cody wouldn't keep him waiting there all day.

Cody narrowed his eyes at Rex's retreating figure.

Obi-Wan hummed thoughtfully at his datapad, then looked up. "Commander, perhaps there is a way for you to fill your time productively."

Cody perked up. "Yes, sir?"

"We have to pick up new troops for our battalion, since so many have been reassigned to the new legion. Initially, I intended to send Anakin to Kamino, but since he could receive orders at any moment, it would probably be best if you could go instead."

"I could, sir," said Cody. "That'll fill a couple of days, anyway."

"It's mostly a formality, though I'm sure you already know that," Obi-Wan said. "The new troops will be joining us in an entirely new cruiser, which will replace the Defiant."

Cody gazed out the viewport at the cruisers hovering around the Negotiator. "The Defiant is General Skywalker's cruiser now, I take it?"

Obi-Wan pointed it out. "It was that one or the Steadfast, and of course he couldn't have a ship with a name like that."

Cody huffed a faint laugh. "It fits, sir."

"Yes," Obi-Wan said dryly. "At any rate, if you travel to Kamino, you could come back with the cruiser, or spend a few extra days on Kamino, whichever suits you better."

"Thank you, sir," said Cody. "I'll probably stay on Kamino for the duration. There are several things I could keep occupied with there."

"Oh?" Obi-Wan turned and paced the length of the bridge, with Cody accompanying him. "Things you can keep occupied with while being off-duty?"

"Yes, sir," said Cody.

The general cast him a half-amused look. "Come now."

"It's not being on duty if I volunteer," Cody said unashamedly.

"Ah, I see." Obi-Wan lifted his comlink. "I'll clear it with Stitch, and then you may leave whenever you are ready."

Cody saluted sharply, managing to contain his wince, then left. He reached the bridge door and continued through without pausing to glance at Rex, who fell into step beside him.

"Kamino," said Cody. "If Stitch clears me, I'll be gone the whole week."

"Good," said Rex, then seemed to realize how that had sounded. "I mean, good, you'll have something to do."

Cody smirked. "Don't get yourself into too much trouble while I'm gone."

"I would never," Rex said, much too quickly. "And same to you, Cody. I'm not going to have to abandon my new legion to come haul you out of trouble, am I?"

"Unlikely," Cody said, grimacing. "Colt will probably hover over me like a wingless aiwha the entire time I'm there."

Rex snorted at the mental image.

Cody smirked. Colt was one of the gruffest ARC troopers in existence. Those who did not know him personally were convinced that his only volume was shouting, and his only tone of voice was scolding.

That was, in fact, untrue. Colt was older than most of the other ARCs, including Cody, by a few weeks. Somehow, he had decided this meant he was personally responsible for his batchmates and the remainder of the command class; and, eventually, for every clone – trooper or officer – who came into his sphere of influence, even those who were of higher rank.

Yes, Cody was definitely looking forward to seeing him again. Hopefully, Colt now being a commander might mean that he didn't have much time to yell at Cody for his foolishness. . .

Cody's comm beeped. "You're cleared, Commander," Stitch said. "Have a safe flight, and don't do anything I might regret."

"Don't you mean 'anything you might regret'?" Cody asked with a smile.

"No. I mean anything I might regret, Commander."

Rex laughed. "He's got you there, Cody."

Cody turned towards the hangar, not bothering to dignify Rex's comment with a response.

Two days later, Cody found himself standing with the quiet and dignified Shaak Ti on a balcony at the peak of Tipoca City. The sublight engines of the new cruiser Victory glowed blue through the heavy rain as it pulled away, slowly lifting out of atmosphere.

As it disappeared into the heavy clouds, Shaak Ti turned away from the window and walked back toward the door. Cody joined her, a little to her left and one step behind her, as they entered the spotless white halls of the city.

"Commander Cody," she said, tucking her hands into her wide sleeves. "What will you do, now that the new troops have left?"

"I'm not sure yet, ma'am," Cody said. "Initially, I intended to talk to ARC trooper Colt and offer my help with training cadets, but he's currently off-planet."

"Yes, he took his new battalion with him for an extended training campaign," she said. "If you have no other plans, Commander, and if you are interested in teaching, I might make a suggestion."

"Please," said Cody, gesturing for her to continue.

"I received a report last week from another ARC trooper, Havoc. Do you know him?"

Well, not really, except for the fact that he'd faced off with Cody on the sparring mat and completely flattened him, but Cody didn't think that needed to be specified. "Not very well, General, but I've seen him around. Doesn't he work with Colt?"

"He does," she affirmed, glancing at a Kaminoan as he moved past. Her grey eyes remained cool and almost impersonal, but there was an underlying warmth to her tone when she said, "He has been invaluable in keeping me apprised of things here in Tipoca City. As for the cadets I spoke of, though, they are . . . particularly troublesome."

Cody frowned. "Troublesome in what way?"

"He did not give me details," she said. "I believe he only mentioned them to me because the Kaminoans are becoming concerned. Havoc said they are exceptional troopers, though, so I am unsure as to why . . ."

Cody glanced sideways at her. "Usually, that means the troopers in question are dysfunctional in some way."

She paused and turned to face him. "Commander, perhaps these troopers are not perfect, but just because they do not perform to the Kaminoans' expectations does not make them dysfunctional."

"No, ma'am," Cody agreed, clasping his hands behind his back. "But if Havoc says the Kaminoans are becoming concerned, that means they've either listed the troopers as dysfunctional, or are about to."

Shaak Ti's even gaze flickered for a moment. "Yes. . ." She looked as though she were about to say something else, but then shook her head slightly. "As for your part in this though, Commander, you have been spoken highly of by Colt as a teacher. Would you be willing to speak to Havoc?"
"I'll do that, ma'am," said Cody. "Where is he right now?"

"Havoc trains and oversees the troopers in Sector D. As for the commandos, I do not know where they are based." She gave him an apologetic smile. "I've already been here several weeks, but have only seen part of the city."

"Not a problem, ma'am," Cody told her. "It's a big place. I'll go speak to Havoc and see if there's something I can do to help."

Chapter Text

When Cody found Havoc, the other commander was leaning his elbows against the railing of a high balcony that overlooked Training Arena D-12. Cody walked up beside him, glanced at the empty arena, then at Havoc. "Interesting view?"

"Not at the moment." Havoc turned to face him, then gave a small, surprised hum and removed his helmet. "Cody! I knew you were hear to pick up new troops, but I thought they were scheduled to leave an hour ago."

"I didn't go back with them," said Cody. "I'm on medical leave."

Havoc tilted his head. "Does that mean I can't go another round with you?"

"I already admitted defeat," Cody said dryly. "But I'll say it again: ARC trooper Havoc flattened me during a normal sparring routine. Happy now?"

Havoc grinned. "Okay, I'll stop rubbing it in. But what are you doing down here? If you're looking for Colt, he's off-planet."

"I actually came to speak with you," Cody said, leaning an elbow on the balcony railing. "I thought I'd spend my time here helping out where I could with the new troops, and General Ti mentioned you had some problematic troopers."

"That's one way to put it," Havoc said. He ran a hand through his short dark hair and sighed. "These guys are just . . . Well. They'll be here in a few minutes. You can draw your own conclusions."

"How many are there?"

"Four – it's just the one squad."

Cody raised an eyebrow. "One squad?"

"They're not regulars, Cody." Havoc turned on the nearby computer. "They're a squad of commandos. Experimental commandos."

Cody joined him at the computer and studied the screen. "Why don't they have a designation?"

"They don't have one in the army database," Havoc said. "They were sent to commando training, but I'm not sure they were ever intended to be part of the GAR."

"Then – what were they intended to be part of?"

Havoc shook his head. "You know how it is, getting a straight answer out of the Kammies. Either the commandos weren't expected to survive, or they were intended to be some secret forces group. I don't know. About nine years ago, Kaminoans started working on augmenting specific physical traits in the DNA. 'Desirable mutations', Lama Su called them."

"What kind of traits?"

"Anything they could think of. Strength, mental capacity, any of the senses – they even tried a few with cybernetic implants. Twenty special forces clones were attempted."

"That's a small number for the Kaminoans," Cody said.

"I think they realized pretty early on that their project wouldn't work." Havoc turned to face him. "Twenty were made, eight survived to decanting, four of those – the ones with the implants – died before they were three."

"And the remaining four are your problem troopers. Were their enhancements successful?"

"Yeah. I can't say how much, because I don't know what the original results were supposed to be, but they've all got their own specific skills and abilities."

Cody nodded thoughtfully. "So, were they given commando training, or are you doing that?"

"No, they were trained as commandos – but separate from the others, and they were transferred from instructor to instructor. My job was to get them working as a squad. I only work with them twice a week because of the number of troopers being given advanced training, but these guys don't seem to agree on much – apart from the fact that they love fighting. Each other, droids, the Kaminoans, other troopers. . . Oh, and they agree on their squad name."

Cody raised an eyebrow. "Their squad name."

Havoc sighed. "They call themselves the Bad Batch. Considering that they use that name a lot when Nala Se is around . . ."

Cody smirked. "They're failed experiments with enough nerve to rub that fact in the Kaminoans' faces."

"They don't lack in courage," agreed Havoc. "Either that, or they have absolutely no sense of self-preservation. I haven't been able to figure out which it is, and they were assigned to me three weeks ago."

Havoc checked his chronometer. "I set up a Citadel challenge for them – I was going to go down there and try to walk them through it, see if I could hold them together."

"Have they done the Citadel before?"

"Yes, several times. Their success rate isn't what I'm worried about."

"Hm." Cody folded his arms. "Havoc . . . what if you have them perform a retrieval mission instead. Something that requires cooperation."

Havoc looked uncertain for a moment, but sat down and started typing. "What have you got in mind?"

"You said they don't cooperate, but that they've beat the Citadel challenge," mused Cody. "Their skill level must be really high for that to happen. No point in running them through something they're already good at."

"They haven't managed to complete it while following the rules," said Havoc. "Which is chiefly why the Kaminoans are thinking of separating them, putting them on solo assignments even."

Cody gave him a thoughtful look. "And that worries you."

". . . Yeah." Havoc glanced up. "They argue all the time, but they still balance each other out. Some of them would probably not survive solo assignments . . . eh, you'll see what I mean."

"Okay," said Cody. "Let's give them some orders from up here and see if any of them are followed. I want to see their best and worst."

"Well." Havoc got up. "You're definitely going to see that. Here they come."

The lift at the far end of the arena appeared, carrying four troopers in armor. It wasn't training or basic armor, either. "They're using Katarn-class armor during a training simulation?"

"Yeah," Havoc said. "They've spent a lot of time personalizing it, and regular armor is sized wrong for them."

"Hm." Cody studied the four commandos, who were glancing around the still-empty arena and looking bored. One was surprisingly tall and bulky, at least in comparison to his squad mates. Another seemed small, and the third, who stood a little apart from the others, was unusually thin. Cody glanced at the last trooper, who, interestingly enough, had a knife sheath on his vambrace.

"Go ahead," Cody told Havoc. "But don't tell them I'm here."

Havoc switched on the microphone. "All right, Bad Batch. You guys have a bit of a different challenge today."

Walls sprang up out of the floor to the right of the balcony, and surrounded an area marked by red light. Havoc continued to press keys and talk. "There's a consol in the fortress. Your objective is to download the data from it and return to the starting point for exfil. Work together, Bad Batch."

They waited patiently enough for him to finish, though the big trooper kept swinging his arms, eager to jump into battle.

"Who's that one?" Cody murmured.

Havoc turned off the microphone. "Wrecker. He's very strong – prefers using his hands instead of a rifle, half the time. This objective looks simple, but I'm going to give them different orders along the way."

Cody nodded his understanding, and Havoc pressed another button. The lights on the ceiling turned green, then back to white, and a buzzer sounded.

As if released from a rocket launcher, the four troopers burst into action. Wrecker charged forward, grabbing every droid in his path, flinging them from side to side, heedless of where they landed. The thin trooper, who carried a sniper rifle, ducked just in time and snapped, "Watch it, Wrecker!"

"Watch what?" roared Wrecker, grabbing two super droids and smashing them together.

In reply, the sniper deliberately fired a shot that scorched one side of Wrecker's helmet on its way to destroy the next droid Wrecker was reaching for.

"That's Crosshair," said Havoc neutrally.

Cody nodded, watching carefully. The other two troopers were hanging back a little, though he couldn't tell why. "And the one with two pistols?"

"Tech. He's not as aggressive as the other three – not that I've seen, anyway. The last one is Hunter."

Cody observed the trooper with the knife. "He's not rushing in as much."

"I think he's waiting for the other two to get some energy out," said Havoc. "You know, Cody, the guys in my command class were competitive, but Wrecker and Crosshair take it to a whole new level."

Cody watched as Wrecker shot down another droid, then whipped around, nearly hitting Crosshair in the face with his gun as he took out three more. "They're certainly taking risks."

"They've injured each other before," said Havoc. "Never intentionally, near as I can find out . . . but I don't know if Wrecker knows his own strength. Crosshair – he's a little harder to figure out."

Hunter moved suddenly, leaping past Wrecker to slash efficiently through three droids. Wrecker grabbed at a fourth one, and Hunter ducked beneath his arm and killed it before Wrecker could.

"What about Hunter?" Cody asked. "Has he injured anyone?"

"Not since I've been assigned to them, but he broke Wrecker's nose during a practice spar." Havoc raised an eyebrow as Tech dashed past the others, shooting four droids on his way to the fortress. "That one is trouble."

"More than the others?"

"No, not usually. In fact, sometimes he's more mission-focused, but it depends on the mission. I had them perform recon last week, and he spent the entire time getting distracted by his datapad. I thought maybe he was researching something . . . then, right before the end of the simulation, he shut down the entire simulation remotely."

Cody observed Tech as he dove to cover. "Why'd he do that?"

"Actually, he says he was trying to override it and give them more challenging enemies." Havoc put both hands on his waist and jerked his chin at Hunter. "I'm suspicious it was his idea."

"Tech wouldn't say?"

"No. That's the one time they all team up, when anyone outside the squad might cause trouble for them. It's like they don't care if their own squad mates argue or fight with them, but if anyone else tries to, that person is somehow a hostile."

Cody hummed. "The Deltas were a little like that – arguing and fighting amongst themselves and then becoming solid allies when someone interfered."

"Yeah, when they were biologically sixteen," said Havoc. "Not when they were eighteen, and not to such an extreme."

"Of all the commandos I worked with, the Deltas were the most unorthodox," Cody said with a faint grin. "Sev and Scorch fought all the time, and I seem to remember them teaming up against Fixer a lot, too."

"Okay," admitted Havoc. "Scorch and Sev were pretty bad. I definitely remember Boss having to work at it to keep them in line. But the Deltas are a quiet and orderly unit compared to these guys."

Cody spent a moment trying to reconcile 'the Deltas' with 'quiet and orderly', then gave up.

Tech reached the fortress, holstered his pistols, and leaped up to scramble over the wall. He reminded Cody of Rex a little; maybe it was how he fought, effortlessly and accurately using both pistols on separate targets.

The other three were still at the halfway mark, destroying droids – but they were waiting for the droids to come to them, not bothering to gain the objective.

Cody was still mentally comparing the Deltas to Bad Batch. "One difference is that Scorch and Sev were always competing, but Boss and Fixer were mostly mission-oriented . . . mostly. . ." He paused. "These guys don't seem to care."

Havoc shook his head. "I'm not sure why. Most troopers hate failing tests."

Below them, Hunter shouted, "Tech! You got that data yet?"

"No. It's downloading now." Tech's voice was precise and a bit higher than the others' voices.

Wrecker gave an exasperated sigh. "Too many dead droids! I can't move."

"Then duck," Crosshair suggested acidly, and elbowed past him to shoot down a super. "You're getting in my way."

"Okay," said Havoc. "Time for Phase Two. . . " He pressed a button, and several droidekas rolled in. "Listen up, troopers! You still have to retrieve the data, and protect it until you return to the starting point. The enemy is sending reinforcements in an attempt to recover it."

Hunter hesitated, then ran toward the fortress. "We need to clear a path!"

Wrecker rushed the droidekas head-on – the droidekas, however, were still alongside the fortress, not yet in a position to threaten their retreat, while the area in the front of the fortress was filled with droids.

Cody frowned. "Is he doing that because Hunter said to clear a path?"

"I doubt it," said Havoc. "He's doing it because they're droids, and he loves destroying things."
Crosshair stood coolly in the middle of the room, shooting down droid after droid, sometimes not even lifting the sniper rifle to his shoulder before taking the shot. He was good – really good. He'd destroyed perhaps forty droids, and every single one of them was a head shot. But he wasn't watching out for his squad mates.

"I've got the data!" Tech said excitedly.

"New objective!" Havoc announced. "A bomb near the starting point is set to go off in ninety seconds. Protect the data!"

Cody eyed him. "Are they trained to disable bombs?"

"They just have to get out," Havoc said, then paused. "Of course, the way these guys think, they might very well try to disable it instead of going the easier route."

Hunter dashed from the fortress, firing with one hand and slashing through droids with the other. "Bad Batch, let's get to the starting point!"

Cody watched him. Hunter seemed to be at least attempting to complete the objectives, but he couldn't say the same for anyone else.

"Ha!" yelled Wrecker. "Fifty for me! Beat that, Crosshair!"

Tech skidded to a halt beside them. "I've got the data."

"You already said that," said Hunter. "Wrecker, Crosshair, come on, we need to get out of here!"

"We don't," stated Crosshair, tilting his head to one side as a stun round flashed past. "The data does."

Cody frowned, and Havoc shook his head.

More droids entered the room from the lift side, but none of the commandos seemed to notice.

Hunter hooked his gun on his belt and launched himself into the air, kicking a droid in the head, then buried his knife in a super droid's chest. "Tech! Complete the mission!"

Tech stayed where he was, firing with one hand as he grabbed the data chip with the other. "Wrecker can take it."
"Tech!" Hunter yelled, turning on him. "Get that data back to the lift, now!"

Tech took a step back, as though about to obey, then hesitated. "We're surrounded!"

Crosshair turned around, observed the oncoming enemies, and set to work destroying them, but not in a direct path. He consistently picked the hardest targets, getting head shots despite the distance, the angle, or the number of droids in any given group. One of his shots skimmed three droids' necks, taking them all down.

Hunter glanced at his chronometer. He was the only one bothering to keep track of the time they had left – about forty-five seconds, Cody noted.

"Wrecker!" Hunter shouted. "Give us a path to the lift!"

Wrecker finally took his attention off the other droids and turned around. Without further ado, he put his head down and charged through them, flinging droids right and left.

It might have worked, except that Tech and Crosshair were each focused on their own targets. Tech had even stopped running toward the lift, and was destroying droids instead.

The droids all around Wrecker turned their guns on him. Six shots hit him. He crushed one droid and shot another, then collapsed.

Hunter shoved Tech, hard. "Get to the lift!"

Tech finally ran, but it was too late. Two shots hit him in the arm, and he fell, but managed to continue shooting until a third laser hit his back.

Hunter hesitated for a split second, glancing between Crosshair and Tech, then broke away from his squad mate to get the data chip. As he was getting it from Tech's belt, Crosshair lunged forward, swinging his rifle up to smash a droid creeping up on Hunter.

"First time he does that," said Havoc. "Hunter's the only one who consistently tries to cover the others."

"I noticed," said Cody.

The two troopers were getting overwhelmed. Cody almost gave the order to end the simulation, but stopped himself. Training lasers were painful, but two of the commandos had already been taken down because of their lack of cooperation – the other half of the squad would suffer the same.

"Ten seconds," called Hunter, but his words were automatic. He didn't seem to care, now, whether they got to the lift or not.

Crosshair dropped his rifle and lunged forward, twisting one droid's head free, then snapping another's arm, before pulling a pistol and shooting down three more. Not one of those droids had been in his way.

Cody folded his arms and raised an eyebrow.

The red light on the bomb blinked rapidly, and Havoc opened his mouth to tell commandos that they'd failed, but Cody shook his head. "Send in more droids."

Chapter Text

As more droids entered the arena, Havoc glanced at Cody. "You want these guys to fail, Commander?"

"They already failed. I'm just reinforcing the lesson."

"Ah," said Havoc. "They seem to think that taking out the droids is winning, so you're not going to let them do that."

Cody inclined his head and returned to watching the battle.

Hunter seemed to hesitate when he realized that the simulation hadn't ended, but he recovered quickly enough. He rushed over to Wrecker, snatching a vibroblade from a sheath on his leg, then threw himself into the fray, slashing droids right and left.

He and Crosshair had completely split off by now. Neither of them covered the other, or stayed near their fallen squad mates. Crosshair, still focused on fighting the more distant enemies, was quickly surrounded. He snatched up his rifle and swung it like a club, ripped a gun from a droid, and turned it on the others. Two shots hit him in the chest, and he stumbled to his knees, but kept firing. He only collapsed after a second double-shot.

Hunter glanced toward him once, but kept moving, twisting and dodging and slashing, moving as though in a dance that only he could hear the music to.

Cody analyzed his movements with a practiced eye. "Havoc, that trooper is better with knives than any clone I've ever seen."

"He always seems to know exactly where each droid is," noted Havoc.

"What's his particular enhancement?"

"Sensing frequencies," Havoc said. "He never really gave me an exact definition of what that means, though."

Hunter climbed up on a barricade, vaulted into the air, and somersaulted over a droid's head, stabbing it with a backwards blow as he landed, then spun on one foot and sliced another through the ankles.

A laser hit him, and he fell forward on his hands and knees, then twisted clumsily to throw his own knife at the attacker. A second laser hit him in the chest. He jerked, then crumpled.

The droids stopped advancing and brought their guns to rest position.

"Ending simulation," said Havoc.

The two commanders stared at the destruction below them for a long moment.

Havoc picked up his helmet and tucked it under one arm. "Well, Cody, you want to go down there and meet them, or should I let them worry about their failure for a while?"

"From what I've just seen, they won't worry about it much," said Cody, heading for the stairs. "Why did Hunter go down so easily? Wrecker took six lasers."

"He's got a lot more muscle mass," said Havoc. "But you're right – even Crosshair took four hits."

"He was probably out after the third," Cody said. "Tech definitely was. But Hunter was almost down after the first."

"They don't often get hit, so I can't tell you whether that's usual or not," Havoc said as they reached the door.

Cody pressed the controls and entered the room. "Something to keep in mind, anyway. It's possible the first laser hit between his armor."

Havoc, busy wading through a pile of dead droids, answered with only a hum.

Cody followed, glad that he wasn't wearing his armor. His chest was twinging again, and he didn't need the extra weight right now. He stepped over a droideka. "I'll bet the repair droids have a lot to do every time Bad Batch has a simulation."

"Yeah, I've gotten a couple of complaints . . . from the troopers I put on repair duty for misdemeanor, not from the droids."

Cody shook his head, amused. "Let's see if we can wake these guys."

Havoc headed over to Wrecker, and Cody stopped beside Tech and removed his helmet, which had been modified to fit over his goggles. Cody gave him a gentle shake. It wasn't a good idea to wake stunned troopers fast – they tended to react violently. "Tech, wake up."

A few seconds later, Tech opened his eyes, glanced around, then froze, studying Cody as though he were somehow unusual. Not unusual, unfamiliar, Cody corrected himself. "On your feet."

Tech got up, accepted his helmet from Cody, and observed the room. "It seems that we failed," he said matter-of-factly.

"Yes, you did," Cody agreed. "Wait with Wrecker for a minute."

"Was Hunter hit?" Tech asked.

Cody raised a disapproving eyebrow. "I gave you an order, trooper."

Tech frowned, but obeyed.

Havoc had gone to wake Crosshair, so Cody made his way towards Hunter, careful to go around the droids rather than jumping or climbing over them. He was curious as to why Tech had asked about Hunter, but that could wait. Tech hadn't been alarmed, and Cody didn't want to start off on the wrong foot with these guys. Not insisting on discipline was a poor way to show authority with any soldier.

Dropping carefully to one knee, Cody removed Hunter's helmet. His face was nearly white, but his pulse was fine – a little thready, maybe. Cody checked his breathing, which was even and regular, then turned the commando on his side in the recovery position before getting to his feet.

Crosshair got up carefully, moving as though breathing hurt – that was to be expected, after getting hit four times in the chest. Cody glanced down at Hunter, then back at the others. "Form up, commandos!"

They obeyed, casting occasional glances between Havoc and Cody as though unsure of what to expect.

Havoc stood a little behind Cody, content to let him take the lead for now.

Cody pivoted to face the troopers, hands locked casually behind his back. "Does this happen to Hunter a lot?"

To his surprise, all three of them hesitated.

"Uh," said Wrecker.

Cody tried a different tactic. "Do we need to call a medic?"

He already knew that he didn't, or there would have been a note in Hunter's medical file, but letting the commandos know why he was asking probably wouldn't hurt matters.

"No," said Tech.

Progress, Cody told himself. So far, Tech's the most cooperative. "All right. Any ideas why this happens, Tech?"

"He can sense frequencies," said Tech haltingly. "Specifically, electromagnetic frequencies. This is not usually a problem, though sudden exposure to particular levels of energy can leave him incapacitated."

"Exposure as in direct contact?" said Cody. "The lasers you fired didn't seem to bother him."

"No, they don't," said Tech. "And, as far as I have observed, direct contact is the only thing which initiates this reaction. Direct contact, and the type of laser used in this exercise."

"It's an electromagnetic pulse," Havoc said. "What about ECs, though? You used those the other day."

"Those he can feel, but they don't truly affect him," Tech said. "EMP grenades are an issue, though, being specifically designed to disrupt the neurological systems."

"I see," said Cody. "Did none of you ever report this to the medics?"

Crosshair moved as though about to say something, then hissed.

"No," said Tech. Unlike his last few statements, he did not expound on this one.

Cody nodded. "How long until he wakes up?"

"Depends how many times he was hit," Wrecker said. "Not too long."

He seemed to have recovered the best, and was moving easily enough, despite having been hit half a dozen times . . . odd. Tech kept moving his right arm as though it were cramping – Cody could sympathize, he'd been hit by training lasers often enough – and Crosshair still hadn't drawn a full breath.

"Okay," said Cody. "At ease, troopers. Crosshair, make it easy on yourself and take off the helmet."

Crosshair regarded him for a long instant, as though trying to judge whether Cody was giving an order or making a suggestion. Cody raised an eyebrow. Crosshair seemed to realize that he was giving an order, because he finally obeyed.

That settled, Cody took a moment to observe the commandos. Hunter had a fairly normal face, though his black hair was longer than regulation, nearly covering his ears. As for the other three, their appearances were surprisingly different, considering that they were all clones.

Wrecker had some pretty bad scarring across the left side of his head and down the side of his face to the corner of his mouth, as well as a cataract in his left eye. He was a good six inches taller than Cody, even without the helmet, and much more muscular. His expression was blank, almost confused – but his good eye was glaring stonily at the ground. Hmm.

Tech was an inch or so shorter than most clones, as well as having a smaller build, paler skin, and lighter hair. He was also, quite unabashedly, studying Cody in return.

Cody bit back a smirk at his inquisitive, wide-eyed look and glanced at Crosshair, who stared piercingly back. His eyes had an almost physical brightness to them; he was pale, like Tech, but there the obvious similarities ended. His face was bone-thin, and his hair was grey. Perhaps a mutation, or maybe an illness . . . no, he'd pulled enough stunts during the battle that he had to be in top physical condition.

Wrecker shifted uncertainly.

Crosshair continued to stare at Cody, so Cody met his gaze and held it, careful not to appear challenging, just observant. He imagined that Crosshair used that sharp look to either goad or intimidate people into reacting, but Cody had the advantage of having grown up with a command class, and of having trained and worked with commandos, all of whom were extremely competitive.

In fact, in his younger days, Cody had probably spent several hours trying to stare down certain of his batchmates . . . Fox came to mind. Well, Fox and Wolffe. Fox had always won.

Cody didn't need to win here, of course, though acting intimidated would hardly help. He gave Crosshair a faintly amused, questioning look, as though asking what he wanted Cody to do, then turned back to the others.

Tech no longer seemed curious – in fact, his face was carefully passive, and he was looking a bit ill.

"How's the arm?" Cody asked.

"Fine."

Cody gave him a stern look.

"It will be fine," Tech said stubbornly.

"You think I've never been hit by one of those, let alone two? I asked you a question, soldier. I expect an honest answer."

Tech winced. "It is . . . becoming problematic."

He had a strangely formal way of talking, compared to most clones. Judging by the sniff from behind Cody, Havoc found that either amusing, endearing, or both. He was worse than Colt sometimes. No wonder the two of them got assigned to training cadets.

Cody glanced at Hunter, but he hadn't stirred. Okay . . . Guess we won't be doing a review yet.

"Crosshair. I want you and Tech to report to the medbay." When they glanced hesitantly at each other, Cody decided to play it safe. "Commander Havoc will accompany you. Wrecker, you're with me. I'll need you to help me get Hunter to medbay once he wakes up."

Havoc stepped over to the two and gestured. "You heard the commander. Move it!"

Cody was well aware that he hadn't introduced himself yet, and he didn't intend to, not until all four of them were present. It would be interesting to see if any of them figured out who he was before then. He was pretty sure Crosshair and Tech wouldn't ask Havoc, though Tech might try to figure it out on his own.

But Wrecker might ask. Cody turned away from the door to realize that Wrecker had already hoisted Hunter into his arms – apparently, for Wrecker, carrying a fully-armored man was as easy as carrying a pack of rations.

"Wrecker," Cody said mildly. "I said 'once he wakes up'."

"Oh, uh . . . sorry." Wrecker set Hunter down again, moving carefully.

Cody could tell that Wrecker's confusion was honest. Maybe he hadn't understood the order the right way, or maybe he hadn't heard all of it. It was certain that, now that the others were gone, Wrecker was more nervous.

Cody glanced around the room. "So, how many of these kills were yours?"

"Fifty-eight," said Wrecker. "And then I lost count."

"Happens to the best of us," said Cody. "Do you guys all count your kills?"

Wrecker gave an uneasy shrug. "Crosshair and I do. I don't know about Tech and Hunter. I mean, sometimes they do, but the rest of the time . . . I dunno."

Cody wasn't sure what Wrecker was so nervous about, but he decided to let it go for now. Most likely, it was the uncertainty of having an unknown commander there for an unknown reason.

Hunter stirred, abruptly froze, and let out his breath softly. "Not again . . ." The words were barely audible and more than a little shaky.

Cody dropped to one knee next to him and touched his arm. "You all right, trooper?"

Hunter jerked away as though stung, but didn't open his eyes. "Sorry," he said after a moment. "Where are the others?"

"I sent Tech and Crosshair with Havoc," said Cody, inwardly relieved that Hunter was asking about his squad. "Wrecker's with me."

Hunter pushed himself to his knees. When Cody reached towards him, Hunter somehow pulled away without opening his eyes, so Cody let him alone.

"You okay, Hunter?" Wrecker asked.

"Yeah."

He was very obviously trying to keep his eyes shut for as long as possible, which Cody thought qualified him for at least a short checkup. "I hear you never reported this particular problem to the medics," he said impartially. "I'm trying to figure out how they missed it."

"I don't usually get hit," said Hunter, then paused. "Oh . . . We failed. Any finheads watching this time?"

"No," said Cody, holding back a smirk. "Just myself, and Commander Havoc. But introductions can wait. Let's rejoin the rest of your squad."

"In medbay," Hunter said cautiously.

"Yes."

There was a brief pause. "Fine. Wrecker. . ."

"Right here." Wrecker walked off, shoving his way through the droids, and Hunter followed without a word.

Cody overtook him and glanced sideways – sure enough, he hadn't opened his eyes yet . . . which meant he was following Wrecker by sound. Interesting.

All three of them remained quiet as they left the training arena and headed toward the medbay, situated some two hundred meters away. Hunter paused outside the door and stepped aside to let Wrecker past. Wrecker entered with a final glance at Cody, and the door slid shut.

Hunter hesitated, opened his eyes, flinched, and cursed under his breath, then stopped abruptly as he realized that Cody was standing beside him. "I – thought you went in," he said, staring at the floor.

Cody raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

The door opened again to reveal Crosshair, who shot Cody a sharp look before turning to Hunter.

Behind him, Havoc's voice sounded. "Crosshair . . ."

Hunter let out a soft sigh. "I'm coming," he said, and entered medbay, still looking at the ground.

Cody entered behind him, catching Crosshair by one arm on the way and turning him into the room so that the doors could slide shut.

The sniper seemed to be caught off-guard, because Cody had already released him before he could begin to resist.

Havoc, who stood near a bed with his arms folded, caught Cody's gaze and tilted his head toward the medic – a female Kaminoan – who was scanning Tech.

"You have no permanent damage," she said in the cool, impersonal voice that seemed inherent to every Kaminoan. "You are free to leave."

Wrecker got up from where he'd been seated on another bed. "Can't you give him something for his arm?"

"The muscle spasms will stop within the hour," she said, blinking slowly. "However, I could administer a relaxant, as long as you have no further weapons tests scheduled for today."

All four of the commandos looked at Havoc, then at Cody, but said nothing.

Cody stepped forward. "No further tests scheduled," he said. "Go ahead and give him the shot. Crosshair might require one as well."

"Very well, Commander." She inclined her head gracefully and turned away to get the hypo. Tech bit his lip and shifted, as though intending to get up; then he caught Cody's gaze and froze.

The Kaminoan turned back around. Tech hunched slightly, as though anticipating a blow, and clenched his fists at his sides.

Hunter moved over to join him while Crosshair and Wrecker stood farther away.

Cody raised an eyebrow at Havoc. "You have trouble getting them in here?"

"No," said Havoc in a low voice. "But once Tech was in, Crosshair acted like I didn't exist. It's like he wants me to try forcing him."

Cody watched thoughtfully as Hunter elbowed Tech and muttered something. "Once they've been treated, I'll talk to them."

Havoc nodded. "I'm supposed to be at the next training arena in ten minutes, so we'll have to make it quick. . ."

"No," said Cody. "You go ahead – I can handle this. When are you free?"

"I'm off-duty at twenty-one hundred."

"Good," said Cody, checking his chronometer. "It's oh-three hundred now. I'll meet you for dinner in the officers' lounge."

Havoc turned toward the door, then paused. "You've got something in mind already, don't you?"

"Yes." Cody cast him a faint smile. "I've got some ideas."

Hunter sat motionless while the Kaminoan scanned him, but his mind was focused on the new commander. He hadn't introduced himself, which was strange. It couldn't be that he didn't have a name . . . he was a commander. Most clones had names by the time they graduated, if not before. And if a clone didn't have a name, he would at least introduce himself by number.

The doctor set aside her datapad. "You seem to have been hit a surprising number of times," she said.

Hunter shrugged, unwilling to enlighten her. The Kaminoans had somehow failed to figure out that he was hypersensitive to stun weaponry, even though they were the ones who'd designed him with the ability to sense frequencies in the first place.

A faint prick in his neck made him jerk his attention back to her, but she was only injecting him with a painkiller.

"You may leave," she said. "It would be advisable not to eat for a while. Come back if your condition deteriorates."

Not a chance. Hunter slid to the ground and gave her a short nod, just to show he'd heard her. The dim lights still seemed far too bright, but at least his own pulse wasn't hurting so badly.

He located his team members first. Tech was sitting next to Wrecker, both of them looking silently uncomfortable, while the doctor moved over to Crosshair. Havoc was gone, and the new clone commander –

The new clone commander was watching Hunter.

Hunter hesitated, then approached him. "Where'd Commander Havoc get to?"

"He had another training session to oversee," said the clone. He had a wicked-looking scar over his left eye and down his face, but apart from that there was nothing to show who he was. His expression was professional, detached . . . he didn't even look displeased about the disaster in the training arena.

Hunter nodded, unsure of what to say next. His squad had been through a lot of different instructors, and most of them quickly became irritated with the constant lack of cooperation from their students. The others, like Havoc and Colt, were more patient, but they didn't know how to handle the squad.

Hunter didn't know how to handle the squad.

He wondered how much of that was his own fault.

The scarred clone glanced at the other three commandos, then back at him. "Do you men sleep in the barracks?"

"No, sir," said Hunter. "We've got a room on this level." Near the doctors, because it's more convenient for them, he didn't say aloud. Experience had taught him that it was best to keep his mouth shut when he was stressed or in pain, or both.

"Good." The commander nodded, then gave him a thoughtful look. "It might be easier if we review your performance there, rather than returning to the training arena."

He didn't ask for an answer, and Hunter didn't give one, but he was quietly relieved that he wouldn't have to return to the arena. If the commander was going to yell at them, which he'd be fully justified in doing, at least Hunter wouldn't have to deal with the echoing arena and its bright lights at the same time.

"Hunter," said Tech, touching his elbow. "We're ready."

Hunter glanced at his squad mates, who had lined up behind him and were watching the commander with a mixture of uncertainty and unfriendliness. "Let's head to the bunkroom," he said.

Wrecker stepped up to take the lead without being asked, and the other two fell in behind him, leaving Hunter to bring up the rear.

The commander fell into step beside him, still saying nothing.

Chapter Text

Cody followed the commandos into their bunkroom and waited while they put their weapons and helmets away. None of the commandos spoke.

At the far end of the room, Hunter turned toward Cody, then glanced at his batchmates, all of whom pointedly avoided his look. After a moment's hesitation, Hunter walked over to Cody. "You wanted to speak with us, sir."

The other three commandos paused, listening for his answer.

I think I know where the problem is, Cody thought. He nodded to Hunter. "Tell your men to form up."

Everyone – including Hunter – seemed to hesitate; Hunter as though he didn't want to give the order, and the other three as though they were waiting to see what he would do. The pause was only noticeable because Cody had been looking for it, but it was there.

"Bad Batch, form up," said Hunter.

They moved silently to stand a little behind him.

Cody studied each of them briefly, then said, "Commander Havoc thinks you're highly skilled soldiers. I watched your performance just now, and I agree with his assessment."

Wrecker frowned, Crosshair narrowed his eyes, Tech shifted his weight. Hunter didn't move a muscle.

Cody locked both hands behind his back and scarcely managed to hold back a wince at the sudden sting in his chest. A full week since he had been shot, and he was still forgetting to maintain a more relaxed posture.

He loosened his grip on his wrist and eyed the commandos sternly. "However, skill doesn't count for anything unless it is used properly. Every single one of you failed in that arena just now. Anyone care to tell me how?"

No one answered. Hunter looked like he was about to say something, but then he shut his mouth again.

"No?" Cody folded his arms. "Why don't you give it your best guess – Wrecker?"

Wrecker glanced at the ground, then at Cody. "We didn't follow orders . . . ?" He broke off uncertainly, as though realizing there was more to the answer, but wasn't quite sure about what it was.

Cody raised an eyebrow. "Didn't follow orders? That's one way to put it. But what's more important than following orders?"

"The mission," Tech answered. "We failed to complete our objectives." He blinked twice. "But – no, that can't be right. Commander Havoc's orders had to do with the objectives; so, in this case, completing the mission would tie back into following orders."

Cody glanced at him, feeling a brief flash of amusement at how wordy Tech was, then turned to Crosshair. "What was the first order Havoc gave you, after outlining your mission goals?"

". . . Work together," said Crosshair.

"Oh!" said Tech in realization. "I'd forgotten about that."

Hunter looked, briefly, as though he wanted to tell Tech to be quiet, but instead he turned back to Cody. "Commander, you're saying that working together is more important than the mission?"

Cody raised an eyebrow. "What do you think?"

The four commandos exchanged brief, confused glances.

"The mission's always first," Hunter said slowly. "But . . . working together means we're more likely to complete the mission."

"That's true," said Cody evenly. "But what I was trying to get at was that you – all of you – failed at paying attention to your squad mates. Tech, you started off all right, getting to the fortress, but then you disobeyed Hunter. You could have gotten that data out if you'd obeyed immediately."

Tech nodded, once.

"Any explanations?"

" . . . No, sir."

"Hm." Cody turned to Wrecker. "Even then, though, the mission could have been completed if you had followed Hunter's order immediately and cleared a path. Any explanation from you?"

Wrecker looked awkwardly at the ground, but said nothing.

"Crosshair," said Cody. "When Hunter said you all needed to get out, you talked back instead of obeying. Every single one of you disobeyed your sergeant in the field, during a mission, and as a result, you failed. What's the point of having a sergeant if you're going to ignore him?"

Hunter looked uncomfortable, and Cody was sure he knew why. His batchmates had been singled out for criticism, but Hunter hadn't been, even though he was also at fault.

Cody ignored him and continued to address the other three. "So: you disobeyed Havoc's orders, you disobeyed Hunter's orders, and you completely failed to protect each other. If you really believe that the mission comes first, then you have absolutely no reason for your failure. Troopers with significantly lower skill levels than yours have beaten harder challenges without losing a man. And you lost everyone. Do you think you're really focused on being good soldiers?"

Tech cast a brief, guilty glance in Hunter's direction.

"I'll tell you what I think," said Cody. "I think you don't believe that the mission comes first. I think you're so focused on your own goals that you're failing to look out for your brothers. I think you're forgetting what it means to be a good soldier, or maybe –" He eyed each of them sternly. "Maybe, you just don't care."

He paced to the end of the line, near Hunter, then rotated to face them. "This was just a test, but what if it had been real? You might not have disobeyed orders in the field, and you might even have looked out for each other more, but even presuming that were true, the habitual lack of cooperation I saw out there just now would have gotten one or even two of you killed. And for what?"

Tech and Wrecker looked thoroughly ashamed by now, but Crosshair continued to watch Cody sharply. His gaze wasn't defiant, though, so Cody continued. "The Grand Army of the Republic needs men of your skill level. What it doesn't need is undisciplined soldiers who do whatever suits them. I'm sure Havoc has talked to you about that."

"Yes, Commander," Tech said.

"Good. Then I don't need to repeat it." Cody folded his arms and studied them for a long, uncomfortable moment. "In fact, I have a feeling talking isn't going to get through to you. I'll give you some time to recover, but we're going back to the arena tonight. You're going to rerun that test, and you're going to prove to me that you can work together at least as well as cadets half your age. Got it?"

They straightened slightly. "Yes, sir."

The answer wasn't exactly enthusiastic, but for now Cody would take what he could get. He nodded firmly. "Report to the arena at twenty-two hundred hours. Do you have assigned duties until then?"

"No, sir," said Hunter quietly.

"Good." Cody paced to the other end of the line and turned on his heel. "Wrecker, report to Commander Havoc. He's instructing ARC troopers in Arena D-13. You're to help him with whatever he needs. I'll tell him you're coming. Crosshair, go back to D-12 and get to work clearing it. Tech, I want you working in maintenance. Start repairing some of the droids you boys tore apart. Understood?"

"Yes, sir." They spoke together, but the answer this time was slightly hesitant – and all three of them were watching him with curious gazes.

Ah, thought Cody. "You have a question, troopers?"

The three commandos turned simultaneously to Hunter, who eyed them back before glancing at Cody. "Commander, would you tell us who you are?"

He smiled blandly. "I'm Commander Cody – your new boss."

Tech blinked in astonished recognition, but before he could speak, Cody stepped forward. "I'll see you in the arena at twenty-two hundred hours. Dismissed!"

The three of them left, and the door slid shut behind them.

Hunter's gaze returned to Cody, who commed Havoc. "I'm sending Wrecker to help you out," he said.

Havoc took the unexpected news in stride. "Got it."

Cody disconnected the comm and folded his arms. "Hunter. You're the designated sergeant?"

"Yes, sir."

"All right, then. Tell me about your squad."

A wary look flickered through Hunter's eyes, but he nodded. "Yes, sir. What do you want to know?"

"Let's start with that simulation. Were the results typical for your squad, or are they usually better?"

"We don't usually get taken down," said Hunter. "And most of the time we complete the objectives, even if we – complete them differently than ordered. Today was my fault."

Cody tilted his head. "Are you saying what you really think, or what you think I want to hear?"

"I wouldn't do that, sir," said Hunter. "Honestly, I have no idea what you want to hear. I do know that today's failure was my fault."

The sergeant's face was peaked and his eyes were darker than before. Cody had seen that look plenty of times – usually in soldiers who were especially stressed by an injury. He moved to the door. "Come on. Let's take this conversation outside."

Hunter cast him a slightly surprised glance, but followed without a word.

Cody led the way to the room he'd watched the Victory's departure from, and then out onto a wide walkway that surrounded the wide dome. The unusually heavy cloud cover meant that it was darker outside than in most of Tipoca City – even the barracks during the sleep cycle were brighter.

Taking an appreciative breath of cool air, Cody cast a look up at the drifting, multi-layered banks of grey clouds. The continual breeze that swept the ocean today made the briny tang seem fresher than ever. "Better?" he said.

He heard rather than saw Hunter's uncertainty. "Yes, sir. How –"

"It's easier to focus when your head isn't trying to split in half," Cody said, even though he was quite sure that Hunter was trying to ask how he'd known. "My batchmates and I used to study out here, at least when it wasn't raining. But let's get back to your squad."

Hunter, walking beside Cody, didn't answer for a long moment. Cody strolled quietly along the wide, railed structure, waiting for him to collect his thoughts.

"My squad mates tend to get on each other's nerves a lot," Hunter said at last. "I left them alone this week, didn't try to stop the fighting . . . Didn't intervene, didn't try to help them get along."

"Should you have?"

"I – don't know," said Hunter. "But if today was the result of not intervening . . ."

He kept pausing, and Cody remembered what Havoc had said about the Bad Batch members clamming up if one of their own was questioned. Hunter probably had more of an explanation than he was letting on.

Cody thought for a moment before deciding to be more direct. "Do you know why you lost today, apart from the lack of cooperation?"

"Yes, sir. I should have gone to complete the mission."

"And you didn't because?"

"I . . . didn't see the point."

Interesting. Cody looked out at the endless ocean. "You aren't entirely wrong, but in the end you lost because I wanted you to lose."

Hunter raised an eyebrow, caught off-guard. "You wanted us to lose?"

"All four of you were making the wrong decisions."

Hunter looked almost amused. "So all four of us paid for it."

"Yes." Cody cast him a wry glance. "Of course, at the time I didn't know that stun weapons would incapacitate you that badly."

"I'm glad you didn't," Hunter muttered under his breath. He turned to face Cody, as though he had made a sudden decision. "Commander, respectfully, why are you here?"

"Officially, I'm here on medical leave," said Cody, leaning one elbow on the rail. "But unofficially, I'm here to teach. Your squad has a huge amount of potential, and I don't want to see that wasted.

A glint of hope entered Hunter's eyes.

Cody straightened. "Havoc has a lot of special ops troopers to train, and you mavericks need someone to whip you into shape. I've decided I'm going to be that someone. Now, the question is whether you and your men are willing to be taught."

At precisely twenty-fifty-five, Cody entered the officers' lounge and headed for the drink counter, where he got two cups of steaming caf and put them on a tray. He glanced around for an empty table, but most of them were occupied by clones silently working on datapads.

"Cody!" called a cheerful voice, and he turned just in time to avoid having the tray knocked from his hands by Monnk's overly enthusiastic greeting.

"Monnk." Cody took a step back and grinned at him. "What's gotten into you?"

"Nothing, just heard you were here and wanted to say hi." Monnk took the tray from Cody, marched over to a table with one lone occupant, and said, "Shove over, Sunny."

The clone medic, without looking up, kicked a chair out from the nearest side of the table and said, "Be right with you, Commanders."

"I've gotten my orders," Monnk said, gesturing Cody to the chair. "I'm shipping out in three days, actually. You're looking at the commander of the Four Forty-Second, under General Kit Fisto."

"General Fisto?" Cody repeated with a smirk. "You'll work well together."

"You've seen him?" Monnk set down the tray. "I heard he's on the Council, and that he's a Nautolan, but other than that I don't know much."

"I only spoke with him once," Cody replied, wrapping his hands around the warm mug. "He seemed very friendly – cheerful, talkative . . ."

"Like you, Monnk," Sunny finished for him, still not looking up from his work.

Monnk blinked, running a hand through his unusually curly hair. "That doesn't sound very Jedi-like."

Cody repressed an indelicate snort. On his second day of active duty, he had been in the cargo hold, reviewing a munitions report. General Kenobi, walking through the hold on his way to the barracks, had stubbed his toe on a cannon and promptly let out a very un-Jedi-like yell of pain. In his defense, he was unaware that anyone was nearby, but . . . "I don't think we were given a very accurate picture of the Jedi, Monnk."

Sunny, who had been mouthing words to himself as he re-read the report he'd just written, signed off on it and looked up. "Commander Cody," he said with the bright smile that had earned him his name. "It's good to see you again. Are you here on medical leave?"

"Yes," said Cody unapologetically.

"Hm." Sunny gave the cup of caf a highly judgmental look.

It was a mystery to Cody how all the CMOs he knew managed to pull off exactly the same expression when they were displeased. It couldn't be just down to genetics – after all, medics were pulled from many different batches. Besides, he was pretty sure he'd never seen anyone except a medic use that particular expression . . .

Holding Sunny's gaze, Cody took a loud, meaningful sip of caf.

Monnk laughed. "Come on, Sunny, if you're done with the report we'll head out and meet with the rest of the officers. We've got to start double-checking our inventory."

"Right." Sunny picked up his datapad and gave Cody a quick grin. "At least have some dinner with that, sir."

"Will do," said Cody. "It's good to see you again, Monnk. I'll drop by your cruiser before you ship out."

Monnk tossed him a casual salute and headed out.

Cody leaned back, shutting his eyes briefly, and savored the feel of the heated mug in his hands. He'd been on his feet a lot more than he'd intended today, and he was grateful to be in the lounge. The small, shooting pains in his chest were not debilitating, but they were tiring.

"Sleeping on the job, Cody?" Havoc's gruff voice said.

"You were late." He opened his eyes. "And these chairs are comfortable."

"That last part's true, anyway." Havoc seated himself across the table and slid a tray to Cody. "Get some sustenance in you. Krill chowder tonight."

They ate in silence, as there was very little point in letting the food get cold. The chowder was hot and filling, and they finished within a few minutes.

Havoc leaned across to snag the second mug of caf. "So, Cody. You said you had some ideas."

"Yes. First, how'd Wrecker do?"

"Very well, actually. He helped me with demonstrations, and he was careful to hold back." Havoc took a sip and narrowed his eyes at Cody. "What about the others? Did you separate them?"

"Yeah, I sent Crosshair to clear the arena, and Tech to work in maintenance. Then I talked with Hunter for a bit. After that, I sent him to help Crosshair."

Havoc nodded slowly. "Because Crosshair's so volatile around the regulars?"

"No," admitted Cody, leaning forward to ease the pull in his chest. "I already had him working without a cleaning crew. It would have taken him hours to drag them all down to maintenance by himself. Besides, I have a feeling that he'll be less untrusting if Hunter helps smooth things over . . ."

"Smooth things over for what? What are you thinking?"

"I want you to let me teach them. Without help."

Havoc paused mid-sip. "You're here for how many more days?"

"Six," said Cody. "And I am more than able to teach, even while on medical leave."

"I wasn't going to say anything," the ARC retorted. He frowned thoughtfully into his cup. "You'll probably get a sight farther with them than I did."

Cody quirked an eyebrow. "You'd have gotten through to them, Havoc. They do respect you."

"Could have fooled me."

"Yeah, because they're a bunch of cadets with too much energy, too much awareness of how they don't fit in, and they've been shunted around to – how many instructors now?"

"Sixty-one," Havoc replied. "And they were all bounty hunters, with the exception of myself and Colt."

"Exactly." Cody tapped his fingers against the table's edge. "It's strange that no one seems to have heard of them, up until a few weeks ago."

"Experimental," reminded Havoc. "They were probably more of a side project, until the war started, anyway."

"True."

"I'll get you access to their records. I already updated Wrecker's and Hunter's medical notes. Hunter probably won't thank me for that. He seems to think he can just work through whatever those stun weapons do."

"But it could be dangerous, long-term," Cody agreed. "And Wrecker didn't seem to feel anything after being shot six times, which means he probably can't feel pain very well."

"Yeah – very dangerous. He'll get shot for real and never notice it."

That was another strange thing, Cody reflected – why hadn't the medical files been updated already? Surely the commandos' anomalies would have been noted by now.

Havoc's mind seemed to be traveling along the same lines. "I'll bet those records are new . . . Maybe Nala Se ran out of funds for her pet project and had to shift them over to the GAR."

"You're probably right," said Cody. "You said they like to use their squad name around her a lot."

Havoc rolled his eyes. "Yeah, they use it excessively. No other squad uses their name that much."

"And they have no official designation?" Cody checked.

"Right. The records are all messed up. In fact, as far as the army is concerned, they don't even exist."

Cody raised his mug in a toast. "My conclusion exactly. So, no one will be concerned if I bring them off-planet for a few days."

Chapter Text

At precisely twenty-two hundred, Cody and Havoc were standing on the balcony above the arena as the lift rose into view, carrying the members of Bad Batch.

All four of the commandos glanced up at them, one after the other, but none of them spoke.

Havoc turned to Cody. "Want to talk to them, or should I just start?"

"Begin simulation," Cody answered. He leaned on the balcony railing, watching intently as the signal light flashed.

Just like last time, when the commandos burst into action, Wrecker charged forward into the droids, throwing them to either side.

This time, however, rather than hanging back, Hunter and Tech broke to the right, running toward the fortress while Crosshair stayed a little behind them, providing cover.

The instant Tech gained the fortress, Hunter swung around, knife in one hand and rifle in the other. "Crosshair!" he called. "We'll need a path to the lift!"

Although the sniper didn't reply, he did turn and begin taking out the droids that had moved past them. Hunter joined Wrecker at a run, taking out the droids that Wrecker missed.

"So far so good," Havoc commented, sounding impressed. "I've chewed 'em out a few times before, but they never really responded."

Cody kept his gaze on the action as he answered. "Yes, but they'd never lost for real either. Earlier today, they lost not just the objectives, but effectively their own lives. That was enough to shake their confidence. You can't teach people how they're wrong when they're always succeeding – or at least, when they're maintaining their own definition of success."

"Which for them is destroying the enemy," Havoc agreed. "I should have thought of that ages ago."
Cody watched as Crosshair ran back to the fortress, ready to cover Tech the moment he came out. "I've wanted all the troopers I trained to succeed, but somehow . . ."

"You want these guys to succeed even more," Havoc finished, quirking an eyebrow.

"Yeah." Cody hadn't quite figured out why that was. Maybe it was because they seemed to need more help than other troopers . . .

"I've got the data!" Tech shouted, running out of the fortress.

"Want me to give the next set of orders?" Havoc asked.

"Switch it up," said Cody, his attention now on Hunter. "They've known what was coming so far. Let's see if they'll keep cooperating when the plan changes."

Havoc nodded and turned on the microphone. "Bad Batch! The lift is no longer your objective. New orders: get the data to the newly-marked safe zone!"

He pressed another control, and a green light glowed around one corner of the room, at the end opposite the lift.

Hunter dove to cover next to Tech. "Wrecker!"

The big clone jolted around, not having noticed that Hunter had stopped fighting, then rushed to join them.

Crosshair leaned out and shot down three more droids.

"Send in reinforcements," said Cody. "Keep them on their toes."

"New wave!" warned Tech, ducking back. "What's the plan, Hunter?"

Hunter holstered his pistol and reached toward Wrecker, who drew his own vibroblade and slapped it into his hand. Hunter cast a quick glance behind them. "We're clear to the lift," he said quickly. "I'm going to head that way, get their attention. Wrecker, Tech, get to the safe zone. Crosshair, you cover them."

Cody watched consideringly. Hunter was giving himself the most dangerous assignment by far, which was a good sign. On the other hand, the plan was unnecessarily reckless – it would have been just as easy to carve their way through the droids and get to the safe zone together.

No, he realized. Hunter doesn't know what else we might do – he's keeping his options open.

Wrecker signaled the countdown, and Hunter lunged out into the open, sprinting directly across the droids' field of fire. Their lasers tracked him, always an instant too late as he turned and dodged. In fact . . .

Cody narrowed his eyes, leaning forward. "Havoc, is this being recorded?"

"Yes. You notice something?"

"I thought I did. We'll review the footage after."

Hunter dove to cover, somersaulting to a halt behind a barricade, then immediately vaulted over it, slashing through two droids at once. "Okay!" he shouted. "Break for it!"

While the droids were still focused on the sergeant's position, Wrecker rushed into the battle. He used his rifle as both a ranged and a melee weapon, switching between the two with complete ease.

Tech stayed partially behind him, taking out enemies on their left. He seemed easily able to focus on multiple droids at once – before he'd even fired on one droid, he'd already aimed his second pistol at another.

Crosshair stepped out from his own cover, shooting past Wrecker and Tech to help clear a path. Wrecker put his head down and charged straight through the remaining few droids in front of him, Tech staying close by as they ran for the safe zone.

"They're going to make it," Havoc said.

Cody nodded, glancing over the number of enemies. "Once they do, raise the central barricade."

Havoc raised an eyebrow. "You want them split up?"

"Yeah."

"I'll have to get Tech away from Wrecker . . ." Havoc turned on the microphone again. "The data must remain in the safe zone until the end of the simulation."

Tech and Wrecker glanced at each other, and Wrecker said, "Have fun guarding the data, Techie!"

Tech elbowed him out of the way and shot a droid. "Why don't you guard it?"

"Not a chance!" Wrecker charged back out into the battlefield.

The instant he was far enough away, Havoc pressed a control.

A twelve-foot barricade rose along the center of the room, separating Wrecker and Hunter from Crosshair and Tech.

There was a half-second of surprised silence before Hunter shouted, "Tech, are you holding position?"

"Yes!" Tech yelled, ducking two lasers. "The problem is, I have very little cover!"

Cody focused on Crosshair, who was some distance from Tech. The question now was whether the sniper would help in the most effective way he could, or whether he'd just keep taking down droids.

Crosshair finished clearing the small group of droids that had been attacking him, then shifted aim and shot two that were approaching the safe zone. "Get to the left," he called, scarcely raising his voice.

Tech ducked again. "There are more droids on that side!"

Crosshair let out a huff of disgust and broke into a sprint, drawing his pistol and shooting to the side as he passed a few lone droids. "Your left, Tech!"

"Oh. Sorry."

"Send in more droids on Crosshair's side," said Cody. "Give them a few seconds first, though."

On the other side of the barricade, Hunter and Wrecker had finished defeating their enemies and were now standing uncertainly near the wall separating them from the safe zone.

Havoc sent in another thirty droids, which entered near the lift.

"Behind you!" shouted Tech. "Reinforcements!"

Crosshair, busy fighting his way through the tightly-packed group in front of Tech, didn't reply.

"Sounds like they're in trouble," Hunter said. "We've got to help."

"How?" asked Wrecker. "The wall's too straight to climb."

Havoc glanced questioningly at Cody, who shook his head. He wanted to see whether Hunter and Wrecker would be able to work with what they had. The lift was still accessible – they could use the shaft to get beneath the barricade.

Crosshair advanced again, attempting to draw the droids away from Tech, and Cody nodded with approval.

Hunter glanced to either side of the room. "The lift," he said in realization. "Wrecker, get in the shaft and climb out on their side. First –"

He handed Wrecker his knife and sheathed his own. "Get me up top."

Cody raised an eyebrow in surprise. What was Hunter –

Hunter stepped onto Wrecker's latched hands, and the big commando flung him into the air.

Hunter landed on the narrow top, perfectly balanced, and immediately let loose a volley of lasers that scattered the droids surrounding Crosshair.

The sniper switched focus easily, stepping forward to give Hunter more room to maneuver while he fired at the reinforcements.

At the other end of the room, Wrecker hit the lift controls. The instant it had gone down far enough, he dropped onto it, ducked beneath the barricade, and vaulted out on the opposite side.

Between the four of them, the droids fell swiftly. It was over in moments, and Havoc reached for the button that would end the simulation.

Cody stopped him. "Wait . . . It's not over until they're all safe."

"Any more droids?" Wrecker called, sounding confused.

"No," said Hunter, as though suddenly realizing something. "Everyone, get in the safe zone!"

The moment all four of them were in the zone, Havoc powered down the simulation, stood, and turned. He opened his mouth to say something, then paused and rolled his eyes. "Cody, wipe that grin off your face."

Cody shot him an offended look and headed for the stairs.

"Fine, it wasn't a grin," corrected Havoc, following. "But it definitely bordered on a self-satisfied smirk."

Since that was, in all probability, an accurate assessment, Cody decided not to reply. He did clear his throat and make sure his expression was its normal level of neutral before stepping into the arena.

The commandos swung to face him. They'd all removed their helmets, Wrecker was grinning, and it seemed that Tech had just finished saying something – he was still making an emphatic gesture as he turned.

Cody turned to Hunter. "Your assessment, sergeant."

The grin faded from Wrecker's face and his eyebrows drew together in obvious confusion.

Cody waited.

"I think we did well, sir," Hunter replied evenly.

"Do you."

"Yes, sir."

Crosshair's eyes narrowed suspiciously, and Tech frowned.

"Good," said Cody pleasantly. "Because you did very well."

The confusion in Wrecker's expression grew, Crosshair looked even more displeased, and Tech shook his head once, while Hunter simply stared at Cody as though he couldn't quite understand.

The Bad Batch, Cody thought, was extremely expressive. He raised an eyebrow at them. "Havoc, do you disagree with that assessment?"

Havoc stepped forward. "No. Bad Batch, you performed better in this simulation than I've ever seen you do before. Good job."

Wrecker grinned, but, for some reason, it seemed to take the other three a bit longer to accept Cody's and Havoc's words. A few seconds later, Hunter gave a cautious nod. "Thank you, sir."

Havoc folded his arms. "For the next six days, Commander Cody will be directing and overseeing your training."

Hunter's gaze flitted to Cody, then back. "Yes, sir."

"Good," said Havoc. "Report to Hangar A-Seven at oh-five-hundred. Dismissed!"

The four of them saluted and left. Hunter was in front, with Tech and Wrecker on either side, while Crosshair wandered along a little apart from them.

They hadn't quite reached the lift when Tech turned towards Hunter. Cody couldn't catch what he was saying, but judging by the tone of his voice, he was asking question after question. Hunter probably didn't have answers for any of them, either . . .

Once the lift doors closed over the sound of Tech's questions, Cody smiled to himself, sent for a droid cleaning crew, then headed back upstairs with Havoc.

"So," said Havoc, pulling up the video footage. "What caught your attention?"

Cody skimmed through it for a few moments, then paused. "Here. Hunter dodged a laser – twice."

"What's so unusual about that?" Havoc asked. "We've all done that lots of times."

"Yeah, but these ones were behind him," Cody said.

Havoc watched the video, then replayed it. "That wasn't just timing, was it?"

"No." Cody slowed the video and zoomed in. "See – here, he's watching the droids in front of him . . . he's just about to go left, but he changes direction at the last second."

Havoc nodded slowly. "Heading left would have put him in the path of the laser."

"Exactly." Cody skipped to the next section. "And here he does it again."

Havoc replayed that part several times. "You think that has to do with his modification?"

"Yeah." Cody shut down the consol. "I'm thinking he can sense the lasers, like a Jedi – except without the Force."

Havoc gestured and led the way from the room. They took the lift for the barracks level, and Havoc turned right, toward the ARC barracks. "It makes sense. It would explain how Hunter never got hit during the tests I gave them, even when the others did."

Cody nodded his agreement as they entered the dimmed barracks. There were only a few troopers sleeping there, despite the time of night, but Havoc and Cody were careful to be quiet anyway. ARCs got a little aggressive when woken suddenly from sleep.

Especially ARCs-in-training. Cody grinned.

"What?" whispered Havoc, setting his kama on the armor rack.

Cody hung up his jacket. "Just remembering the time Rex got into a scuffle with Keeli and woke up Wolffe."

Havoc snorted. "Bet that was epic."

"He chased them out, actually," Cody reminisced. "I watched."

"Heh. Nice of you."

Cody stretched carefully. "Hey, I'd warned them. Twice."

Havoc snickered and sprang up the ladder into his bunk. "Cadets, right? They never believe you when you try to warn 'em. Blitz and Blaze are still like that, and they already graduated ARC school."

Someone across the room groaned dramatically. "How about you quit yapping and let us poor overworked ARCs get some shut-eye?"

"Sorry, Thorn," Havoc whispered loudly. He leaned an elbow on the edge of his mattress and looked down at Cody. "You leaving early tomorrow?"
"Figured we might as well." Cody glanced at the low bunk and tried to calculate the best way to lie down without twisting in either direction. "Will you be on duty?"

"No. I'll see you off."

"Okay. 'Night." Cody knelt on one edge of the mattress and collapsed face-first into the pillow. He was asleep before he could bother thinking about a blanket.

It was oh-four-hundred, and Hunter had just finished putting on his gear when the city-wide storm alert sounded, waking his squad mates up. Wrecker hopped up and hurried to the armor rack, while the other two regarded Hunter from the upper bunks.

He glanced between them. "What is it?"

"You must be eager to start," Tech observed sleepily, resting his chin in his hands.

"Couldn't sleep," Hunter said, twirling his knife between his fingers.

Crosshair sniffed. "Well, some of us would like to sleep until oh-four-thirty."

Hunter rolled his eyes – for some reason, Tech and Crosshair were always alert when they first woke up, but if they went back to sleep, it was nearly impossible to get them fully awake for another hour. "Guys . . ."

"No," said Tech deliberately, and put his pillow over his head.

Crosshair rolled over to glance at him, then followed his example.

Hunter resigned himself to having to wake them and went out to the hall, where Wrecker joined him a few minutes later. "Is that storm gonna be a bad one?" he asked.

"Not really," said Hunter, putting away his datapad. "That warning was mostly for the pilots. Let's grab breakfast."

Wrecker shrugged his agreement, and they set off for the mess hall. When they'd gotten in the lift, Hunter said, "Wrecker, what do you think of the new commander?"

"I dunno." The doors opened, and Wrecker headed out. "He's different . . . Why are you asking?"

Hunter, walking quickly in order to keep up, said, "I think he can help us."

Wrecker gave him a nudge – a friendly nudge, but it still sent Hunter a couple steps to the right. "You've been worrying again."

"I can't not worry," Hunter muttered. He'd never mentioned it to his squad, but when he'd dared Tech to access his squad's records a while back, it hadn't been just because he was bored. Seeing that they had no official designation had confirmed what he'd suspected for some time: he and his squad had never been expected to succeed.

Bad Batch . . . He smirked mirthlessly. Except we actually turned out better than expected. Not good enough to be troopers, though.

They entered the mess hall, and Wrecker nudged him again. "Look, we've got the place to ourselves. Want to eat something real?"

Hunter's stomach twisted at the thought of food. "No. Do you?"

"I'm starved." Wrecker considered him. "You usually are, too. What happened, you nervous or something?"

"Or something," agreed Hunter, checking his chronometer. "Maybe I'll grab a caf."

"That's a bad idea," Wrecker said frankly.

Wrecker was absolutely right, but Hunter wasn't going to let something like that stop him. While Wrecker got food, Hunter marched to the beverages counter and put a disposable cup in the nearest caf machine.

Folding his arms, he tapped the fingers of one hand against the opposite elbow and waited. Thirty seconds later, he took the full cup and returned to the door, where Wrecker was waiting for him.

"I got some for both of us," Wrecker said, holding up a tray with two bowls. "They've got the good stuff this morning."

Hunter should have been more emphatic about not wanting food. They couldn't waste it now, and Wrecker would refuse to eat it.

Hunter nodded his thanks, and they sat down at a table and ate in silence. The porridge still stuck in Hunter's throat, but Wrecker was right – it was the good kind. For all that the serving droids had been specifically programmed to make specific meals, it wasn't often that they actually managed to make hot cereal the right way.

Granted, food was food and the clones didn't tend to be picky eaters. That being said, it was pleasant to have porridge that was smooth instead of full of lumps.

Hunter ate about half of it before shoving his bowl in Wrecker's direction. "Here, I'm going to grab ration bars for the others."

He finished his caf while doing that, and a few minutes later, he and Wrecker headed back to their bunkroom.

Wrecker immediately became occupied with cleaning his rifle – which didn't need cleaning – leaving Hunter to wake his squad mates.

He hopped onto the ladder and shook Crosshair. "Hey. We've got half an hour left, and it's a fifteen-minute walk to the hangar."

Crosshair mumbled something unintelligible that sounded like, "I'm awake."

Hunter was not fooled – Crosshair had talked in his sleep before. He shook him again. "I'll believe that when I see it. Come on, Cross . . . Hey, wake up or I'll sic Wrecker on you."

Crosshair finally jacked himself up with an exasperated huff. "I'm awake already."

Hunter raised an eyebrow at him and crossed the room to Tech's bunk. "Tech, we're gonna be late."

Tech didn't budge. Maybe he'd suffocated himself.

Hunter removed the pillow from over his head to find that Tech was completely asleep. Hunter sighed. He probably should have made Tech and Crosshair get up earlier, but, for whatever reason, they always had a hard time falling asleep at night, despite being on exactly the same schedule as Hunter and Wrecker.

This morning, around oh-one-hundred, Hunter had woken to see Tech lying on his stomach, reading on his datapad while Crosshair prowled silently around the room, occasionally pausing when Tech looked up to whisper some fact or other at him.

Hunter had told them both to get some sleep, of course, and both of them had rolled their eyes. They'd obeyed at least outwardly, but he didn't know when they'd actually fallen asleep, only that they were both dead to the world when he woke again at oh-two-fifteen.

Hunter shook Tech again. "Tech? Come on, we brought those ration bars you like."

Ten seconds later, when Tech still hadn't moved, Hunter climbed farther up the ladder and said, "Tech, you've got thirteen minutes before we have to leave. I'll tell Wrecker to carry you."

"No," mumbled Tech.

"I'll do it, too," threatened Wrecker from the other end of the room.

Tech sighed heavily and sat up. "Hunterrrrrr . . ."

Hunter gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder and jumped down to the ground. "Come on. You guys can sleep later."

Tech shot him an uncharacteristically grumpy look, but got up.

They managed to be ready a couple of minutes early, and Hunter handed them a couple of ration bars each, which they ate in silence as the squad walked through the city towards Hangar A-7.

Chapter Text

The hangar was empty at this time of the morning, but the wide doors were still open, letting in the cold, salty ocean air. Cody tucked his helmet beneath one arm and leaned against the door's edge, listening to the endless swelling and crashing of the waves as he checked through the list of available shuttles.

A sheet of rain blew into the room, scattering droplets over his armor and the datapad, and he paused to brush them off the screen.

He'd already notified General Kenobi of his intentions, and the Jedi had given his permission for the extended leave of absence. The fleet was still orbiting Coruscant, and would be for the next ten-day at least, so he saw no reason for Cody to return yet.

"Besides," the general had added wryly in his comm message. "There are enough of us here with very little to do."

That was probably more than true. Cody was sure that his fellow commanders in the 212th would be ordering a lot of practice drills during the next couple of weeks.

A door hissed open, and footsteps approached. Cody scrolled past the GAR shuttles. He wanted something without a military transponder code, but it still needed to be fast and . . . Hm, this looks like a good one.

The footsteps halted behind him. "Bad Batch reporting, Commander," said Hunter.

Cody turned off the screen and faced the commandos. "Right on time. Any of you boys know how to pilot?"

He'd gotten their records this morning, but hadn't had time to review them yet.

Hunter nodded. "Yes, sir. We've all taken basic flight training."

"Any of you particularly proficient?"

"Tech got the highest scores in the sims," said Hunter.

Cody found it interesting that all of them seemed willing to let Hunter speak for them. Then again, he'd observed as much yesterday, which was why he intended to work with each of them by themselves.

For now, though, he turned on the datapad and joined them, turning the screen so they could see the shuttle. "Tech – could you pilot this?"

Tech leaned closer, then straightened, adjusting his goggles. "That depends on what situation I would be piloting it in," he said. "I do not have experience flying that particular craft, but I could certainly perform basic maneuvers."

"Good enough," said Cody, notifying Havoc of his decision. He clipped the datapad to his belt and headed for the door. "I'll make sure it's fueled and ready to go. You boys get your supplies together. We leave in an hour."

"Yes, sir," said Hunter, following a few paces behind with his squad mates trailing after him. "Commander, are we flying to a different city?"

"No. Your records show that you've never been off-planet, so we're headed to Vinnda Prime as soon as I get clearance. I'll meet you back here."

None of them replied to this, and Cody smirked to himself as he headed towards Tipoca City's command center, leaving the commandos to return to their quarters.

When he arrived, Shaak Ti was already there, quietly listening as some clone technicians explained the inner workings of the security system to her. When she saw Cody, she lifted a graceful hand to forestall the trooper. "A moment, please," she said. "I must speak with the commander, but I will return."

"As you wish, ma'am."

Shaak Ti tucked both hands into her wide sleeves and went out into the hall. One trooper accompanied her, holding position at a respectful distance as she turned to face Cody. "Commander Cody."

"Apologies for the interruption, General," Cody said. "I spoke with Havoc and evaluated the troopers in question."

She gave him a knowing look. "You wish to speak with me regarding their lack of status as troopers."

Cody paused, momentarily caught off-guard. "Yes, ma'am. I was under the impression that you were unaware of their situation."

"I was," Shaak Ti replied calmly, a faint hint of amusement entering her lavender eyes. "As the Jedi in charge of overseeing the troopers' training, I did not have the clearance to view experimental unit files. However, I spoke with Commander Colt on the matter last night."

She inclined her head, causing the beaded decorations on her headpiece to sway back and forth. "Colt informs me that their situation leaves you free to pursue more unorthodox decisions as regards their training and assignations."

Cody raised a skeptical eyebrow. Colt would assume that I'd be unorthodox about the situation, he thought, ignoring the fact that he intended to do exactly that. "Yes, General. Requesting permission to take the Bad Batch off-world for the next six days."

"Aren't you on medical leave?" she asked, almost mischievously, then waved a hand as though brushing the question aside. "Permission granted. Have you chosen one of the usual planets?"

Cody nodded briskly, wondering whether the Jedi liked to throw people off-balance, or whether it was just something they did habitually. "The training grounds on Vinnda Prime aren't scheduled for use during the next week."

"Very well." She gestured to a nearby clone, who was already typing the information into a datapad. "Thank you, Lock. Would you see that the necessary people are notified?"

Lock saluted and went back into the room, and Shaak Ti considered Cody, her eyes strangely serious and distant. "I sense this mission will be very important, Cody. These troopers you want to help . . ." Her voice faded, and she shut her eyes for a moment in thoughtful silence.

Cody waited. He'd seen General Kenobi do that a few times, and even General Skywalker – it was as though the Jedi were trying to hear a distant but important voice. He supposed it had something to do with the Force.

Shaak Ti opened her eyes again, and their lavender tones were gentle and somewhat sad as she looked at him.

"General?" asked Cody, confused.

"Apologies," she said softly. "The Jedi are one with the Force, Cody, but we spend our lives struggling to understand it. I am not skilled with seeing the future, nor do I attempt to, but I feel . . . I am certain that these troopers will be extremely important in your own future."

Cody wasn't sure how that was a cause for sorrow. The first time Cody had worked with Rex, he hadn't known how important the little upstart would become to him, but there hadn't been anything sad about that. Apart from his friendship with Rex, each had saved the other's life at least twice. General Ti might have foreseen some danger or other, though it still didn't explain why she looked sad. Maybe he was completely mistaken about her expression.

Shaak Ti blinked slowly. "The future is an ever-changing thing," she said. "Some futures are darker than others, and yet we cannot guide our choices by what might happen . . ." Her gaze landed on him, and she smiled faintly. "But you clones know that better than most. Forgive my wandering, Commander."

Cody shook his head. "No need, ma'am."

She bowed graciously. "Then I wish you safe travels. May the Force be with you."

Cody saluted. "And with you, General."

He wasn't a Jedi, but he'd been around them enough by now to know the proper response. Not that he'd informed his fellow officers about that. Seeing them short-circuit as they tried to figure out how to answer correctly was always prime entertainment.

Cody headed down to the medbay, checking his messages on the way. Just as he'd expected, there was one from Stitch.

Cody, you've been gone for three days. That means you still have four days of enforced medical leave. What part of 'enforced medical leave' says 'off-world training mission' to you? I swear, if you come back here with any new injuries, I'll never let you hear the end of it. Get a medic to check your injury before leaving Kamino.

Poor Stitch. As CMO, he would of course have been updated on Cody's whereabouts by the general. He paused in the door of medbay to send a reply. Roger that, Stitch. I'm headed to the training course on Vinnda Prime with some cadets. Nothing too strenuous. At medbay now.

Ten minutes later, after the Kaminoan doctor had run scans and cautioned him to be careful, Cody headed back to the hangar, where he'd be meeting Havoc. His datapad beeped again. Predictably, it was Stitch.

I received the updated scans. Be careful out there, Commander.

Cody typed a quick response, stepping to one side to let a patrol of cadets hurry past him. It's Vinnda Prime. There won't even be any other troopers there, just myself and four cadets. Then, because he was feeling generous, he added, I'll be careful.

He went back to the hangar, where Havoc was standing beside the shuttle Cody had requested, directing several troopers as they carried boxes of supplies up the ramp.

"So, what do you think?" Havoc slapped the side of the shuttle. "Fueled, stocked, and ready to go."

"Fast work," noted Cody, pacing the length of the ship. "I saw the shuttle hadn't been used by the GAR yet. Not enough room?"

"Not for more than a couple of squads," agreed Havoc. "It belonged to one of the bounty hunters, but he swapped it in for a military-grade ship last month. We don't usually have single squads on training missions. What made you pick this one?"

Cody grinned. "It's in prime condition, and the engines were modified for speed."

Havoc shook his head. "Well – if you destroy it, at least the GAR isn't out a registered shuttle."

"Finished, sir," reported a trooper, saluting. "Anything else?"

"No," replied Havoc.

"Thanks for the help," Cody added.

"Anytime, Commander." The troopers left at a brisk walk. As they neared the door, they almost collided with Monnk, who entered before the door had fully opened.

Cody and Havoc exchanged glances at their fellow commander's expense, then eyed him patiently as he approached at full speed. He was wearing his grey uniform, and had situated his hat at a jaunty angle.

Monnk stopped in front of them and tilted his head. "What's with the disapproving stares?"

"Standard procedure for clumsy batchmates," said Cody mildly. "Those poor troopers were just doing their jobs, and you almost ran over them."

Monnk grinned. "Show some gratitude. I'm here to see you off so you don't have to walk all the way to my command ship."

Cody smirked. "Considerate."

"I thought so." The smile faded from Monnk's face, and he impulsively threw an arm around Cody's shoulders. "Be careful. I'll be gone by the time you get back, so who knows when we'll run into each other next."

"Hopefully, it'll be soon," Cody said sincerely, turning to shake Monnk's hand. "Take care of yourself out there, Monnk."

"Same to you." Monnk glanced over his shoulder and stepped back. "Hey, looks like your cadets are here."

Cody looked to the side, where the four members of Bad Batch stood just inside the doorway, looking slightly out of place.

"They're scared of me," whispered Monnk.

Havoc snorted. "Your own rookies aren't scared of you."

Monnk grinned as though he'd just been paid a high compliment, and Cody wondered how Monnk, out of all the commanders, had managed to be assigned to General Fisto, out of all the Jedi. He shook his head.

Monnk glanced at him. "Well – I should head out. Good luck, Cody."

Cody smiled faintly and nodded, then watched him leave with an all-too-familiar sense of worry. He felt it every time one of his batchmates headed out for the first time.

Turning to the cadets, he called, "Bad Batch, form up!"

They approached swiftly and saluted.

"Commanders," greeted Hunter, his helmet tilted slightly as he glanced between them.

"Looks like you're ready to get started, Cody," Havoc said. "I'll see you when you get back – all of you," he added, glancing at the commandos.

They saluted again, and Havoc left.

Cody eyed the four troopers for a moment, then mounted the boarding ramp. "Come on, men. Let's get settled in."

Turning right from the door led Cody directly into the cockpit. He glanced over it briefly before setting his helmet in the co-pilot's chair and heading to the left instead.

This room was a small galley, currently empty of supplies – those were probably in the cargo bay at the moment. The door leading out of the galley opened directly into an area with a metal bed frame set in the center of the room, a small computer terminal, and a built-in closet and storage area. There wasn't much floor space.

"This is the bunkroom," Cody told the silent commandos. "Currently without bunks."

They didn't reply, but that was to be expected. They would probably become lively enough once Cody gave them a task and made himself scarce.

He left the bunkroom, slipping past Hunter to reach the hall again, and went back to the main door. A very short hall led along the outside of the cockpit wall and into the cargo hold, which was empty apart from the crates of supplies Havoc had ordered loaded. Cody glanced at them – food, water, ammunition, medical supplies, survival gear.

The inside of the shuttle was certainly not divided as efficiently as it might have been. Then again, there had been only a single bounty hunter occupying it.

"There's a door here," Tech piped up suddenly, pointing to a trap door behind the cockpit area. He dropped to his knees and pulled it open, then scurried down the ladder without waiting for orders.

After a moment's hesitation, Hunter followed.

Cody glanced at Crosshair and Wrecker, who were hanging back. "This shuttle is our base for now," he said. "Start unpacking and arranging the supplies."

Wrecker pulled his vibroblade, jabbed one end into the sealed edge of the nearest crate, and jacked it free. "Medical stuff," he said. "We can keep that in the galley, right?"

"That works," said Cody, hopping onto the ladder. He climbed down and turned to see where Hunter and Tech had got to. It was completely dark and silent, apart from a faint shuffling across the room. "Anything of interest down here?"

"Not much," said Hunter from just beside him.

Cody repressed a startled jump. "Care to turn the lights on?"

"I'm looking," said Tech from the other side of the room. "They do not appear to have been conveniently placed."

Cody regretted leaving his helmet in the cockpit. Reaching up, he felt along the wall near the ladder, then on the opposite side. Nothing, nothing . . . he reached farther up, and his fingers just brushed a control. He pressed it, and the lights flickered on.

"Thought you said you looked there, Tech," Hunter commented laconically.

Tech shot him a disgruntled look. "I told you I wasn't tall enough."

Cody chuckled. "So, what's down here?"

Hunter shrugged once. "Refresher's over there, but the rest of this place looks like a secondary cargo hold."

"Probably for bounties," Cody told him. "I've got Crosshair and Wrecker unpacking supplies. Tech, you want to fly us out of here?"

Tech turned to Hunter, who looked back at him without making any sort of indication.

Cody raised an eyebrow, and Tech said, "Yes, sir."

"Good. Get the engines started and contact flight control. I'll join you in a moment."

Tech climbed up quickly, and Hunter said, "I'll be helping the others, unless you have other orders."

"I'll let you know if I have any orders for you. Go ahead." Cody waited until he had climbed up before carefully making his own way up the ladder.

The engines vibrated to life just as he reached the cockpit. Tech had removed his helmet and was setting controls and flipping switches with the ease of long practice.

Cody slid into the co-pilot's seat and strapped in, quietly checking the readouts on his side of the control board. Everything was ready to go – Tech had even input the coordinates for the Vinnda system, but now he was staring at the diagnostics, not making a move toward the communications panel.

Cody eyed him. "Tech? Everything all set?"

"Oh!" Tech jolted in surprise and blinked. "I'm sorry, Commander. I was observing the differences between this ship and the standard supply shuttle."

"You can do that when you aren't in the pilot's seat," Cody reproved.

"Yes, sir." Tech reached for the comm, then hesitated. "Commander, what is this shuttle's designation? It has no military code assigned."

"It's registered as the Marauder," said Cody.

Tech nodded and pressed the button. "Flight control, this is the Marauder, requesting permission to take off."

"Hold off, Marauder," said a clone's voice. "You're not scheduled for departure."

Tech tilted his head quizzically.

Cody leaned forward. "This is CC Twenty-Two Twenty-Four," he said. "General Ti approved our departure less than an hour ago. Re-check the orders – they might not have gone through yet. The ship is not GAR-issued."

"Copy that, Commander. One moment." There was a short pause. "Please confirm location in Hangar A-Seven."

"Location in Hangar A-Seven confirmed," said Cody.

"Thank you, sir. Marauder, you are cleared for take-off."

"Copy that," said Tech, and clicked off the comms.

Cody folded his arms across his chest and leaned back as Tech guided the ship out of the hangar and into the atmosphere. A couple of minutes later, they made the jump to hyperspace.

"I've set the proximity alert," Tech said. "However, the flight will be short enough that I could remain here for the duration."

"No need," Cody told him. "Let's see how the others are doing."

Tech followed him into the galley, where Crosshair was silently re-arranging everything on the storage racks. It looked as though someone had loaded the supplies, but not bothered to sort the dry rations from the MREs or the beverages.

Cody could hear someone slamming crates around in the cargo hold. Judging by the amount of noise, it was probably Wrecker.

Tech seemed to draw the same conclusion. "Where's Hunter?"

Crosshair jerked his head toward the bunkroom. "In there."

His words were confirmed by a thump, then a louder thud, followed by a viciously muttered complaint.

There was a short pause.

"He's trying to take apart that bedframe," clarified Crosshair. "Said there wasn't enough room."

"I'll go help him," sighed Tech.

He vanished, and Cody checked his datapad briefly, then realized that the sniper was still watching him. "Got a question, trooper?" he asked easily.

" . . . No." Crosshair shifted a sealed box of ration bars from one shelf to the next, then secured the loaded shelf with the fold-down metal restraints.

Cody tilted his head. "You sure about that? Because I'd have a lot of questions if I were you."

This seemed to give Crosshair pause, because he actually blinked once before narrowing his eyes again and returning to his work.

Cody headed back to the cockpit. He remembered the training course on Vinnda Prime quite well, since he'd been there with several groups of commandos over the past couple of years. However, the challenges on the course had been designed with multiple squads in mind – and most of the time, they had been designed to pit multiple squads against each other.

He accessed the area map on his datapad and leaned back to consider it. He was definitely going to have to get creative with this . . .A few minutes later, he shifted into a slightly more comfortable position and pulled up the squad's records. The flight would be several hours long – he'd read through the records while he waited.

It would be interesting to see what the commandos decided to do once they ran out of tasks with which to keep themselves busy.

Chapter Text

Hunter dragged the last pieces of metal to the cargo hold and secured them to the wall. "Okay, Tech, there's room in the barracks now."

When there was no answer, he turned around. Tech, lying on his stomach and propped up on one elbow, was busily examining the wiring inside an access hatch. He'd been helping Hunter not half a minute ago – Tech sure had gotten to examining the ship quickly once he'd finished.

Hunter wondered why he didn't just look at the diagrams to see how exactly the ship had been upgraded. "Tech? Where'd you put our packs?"

Tech poked at a blue wire with one finger and gave absolutely no sign that he'd heard Hunter's words. Then again – he probably hadn't heard Hunter's words.

Hunter walked over and prodded him in the ribs with one boot. "Hey."

Tech's response time left a lot to be desired. It was a two full seconds before he looked away from the wires, and another two before he stopped blinking at Hunter and finally spoke. "Um, did you say something?"

"Yeah. Barracks is clear, and I wanted to know where you put our supply packs."

Tech rolled his eyes. "Oh, is that all. They're in the galley, under the table. Now, where was I . . ." He went back to studying the wires.

Hunter went into the galley, where Wrecker joined him. "Done with the supplies, Hunter. Anything else to do?"

"Yeah, let's finish setting up." Hunter and Wrecker each grabbed two packs and brought them to the bunkroom.

They stored the packs in the metal closet and secured the sleeping bags on an empty shelf. After unloading their blasters and putting them on another shelf, in lieu of a weapons rack, Hunter headed to the door.

Wrecker stopped, frowning at the mismatched and discolored metal paneling that made up the walls. "Can't say this looks much like a base. It's all beat up."

"What do you want us to do, paint it?"

Wrecker brightened and opened his mouth to answer.

Hunter cut him off. "Never mind. We don't have paint, anyway."

"Aw, that would've been fun." Wrecker swung his arms restlessly. "So, what do we do now?"

Hunter shrugged. "I guess we could organize the galley shelves."

"Crosshair already did," Wrecker said.

They went out through the galley, and Hunter cast a look at the shelves as he walked past. The supplies had been sorted with more than Crosshair's usual attention to detail . . . he'd even sorted the ration bars by flavor. "Where is Cross, anyway?"

"I dunno."

Hunter checked the cockpit. Commander Cody was sitting in the co-pilot's seat, reading reports on his datapad, but there was no sign of Crosshair.

"Actually," Tech said to no one. "That design is quite ingenious."

Hunter and Wrecker entered the cargo hold, and Wrecker wandered over to join him. "What design, Tech?=?"

Hunter opened the trap door and swung down without using the ladder. The lights were on, and Crosshair was seated on the floor, cleaning his rifle.

"I should have known you'd be working on that," Hunter said conversationally.

Crosshair, focused on polishing his carefully upgraded sniper scope, barely acknowledged him.

Feeling restless, Hunter sat down beside him and pulled out his vibroblade, spinning it idly around one hand. He could hear Wrecker pestering Tech in the cargo hold, and Tech demanding that he be quiet or go away.

Hunter tuned them out in favor of concentrating on the strange, inverted vibrations of hyperspace. He'd piloted in and out of Kamino's atmosphere once, during a drill, but he'd never actually been in hyperspace. None of his squad had.

And now they were going to Vinnda Prime – what was it really like? He'd gotten a general description from the GAR database, after checking his gear and weapons before departure, but there hadn't been enough time for an in-depth investigation.

All he knew for sure was that Vinnda Prime contained one of the GAR's three off-world training facilities. Every clone trooper would visit at least one of these facilities before graduation – usually in their seventh or eighth year.

Hunter and his squad were in their ninth year. He wondered whether Havoc had intended to ever send them off-world, or whether the only reason they were going now was because Cody had decided to teach them.

He had a lot of questions about the commander, come to think of it. Hunter sheathed his knife. "Cross, what do you think of Commander Cody?"

Crosshair finally looked up. "Why?"

"Just wondering."

Crosshair lifted the rifle to his shoulder and checked the scope. "We met him less than a standard day ago."

Implied statement: Crosshair didn't have a solid opinion yet . . . That was unusual in and of itself.

Hunter nodded slowly. "He seems to want us to succeed."

"Hm." Crosshair made yet another invisible adjustment to his scope. "All our instructors wanted us to succeed."

"Yeah . . ." Hunter leaned back on his hands. "Not the same way."

Crosshair cast him a sideways glance and didn't ask him to clarify.

It was just as well, because Hunter didn't have a true reason for thinking that, beyond his own instinct. He did know that something about the way Cody had made the squad fail, not accepting the mere defeat of enemies as a success, had caught his attention.

Hunter stared thoughtfully at the slightly warped ceiling, Cody's words from the day before hovering in the back of his mind: "I've decided I'm going to be that someone. Now, the question is whether you and your men are willing to be taught."

'You and your men . . .' Well. Hunter was willing to be taught, but he'd most likely have to convince the others somehow. He usually followed orders, but for nearly two years now, the others had made it a habit to see how far they could push their instructors . . . and Hunter hadn't often tried to stop them.

It was probably part of why his squad had been reassigned so many times in the past couple of years – not that they'd stayed with any one instructor long even before then, but things had gotten even worse after his promotion. No surprise there.

He was brought out of his musings by a sudden clatter, followed by an annoyed shout from Tech. "Wrecker!"

"It fell apart by itself!" protested Wrecker.

Hunter got up and climbed the ladder. Wrecker stood in the middle of the cargo bay, holding Tech's datapad and staring down in confusion at a number of small electronic components that were scattered across the floor.

"Of course it fell apart!" Tech stood opposite him, hands planted on his hips. "I hadn't secured anything yet, which is why I told you not to touch it!"

" . . . Sorry," Wrecker apologized. He set the datapad carefully on the floor and moved to collect the smaller pieces.

"Never mind!" Tech snapped, shoving his hand away. "I'll do it."

Hunter sighed. "Tech . . ."

Tech huffed in annoyance and didn't look at him.

Wrecker glanced uncertainly between Tech and Hunter, as though wondering what to do, then shrugged and went into the galley.

Tech, still ignoring Hunter, began piecing together whatever it was he'd been working on before Wrecker broke it.

After a moment's thought, Hunter decided to challenge Wrecker to a game of pazaak – it would give Wrecker something to do; he often had a much harder time keeping himself occupied than the other three did. As he went towards the galley, Hunter glanced at his chronometer. "Three hours until planetfall."

Tech finally spoke – to correct him. "Three hours and two minutes."

After reading Hunter's files, Cody sat back to consider what he'd learned. Hunter was the designated sergeant of Bad Batch, but he didn't seem to take that responsibility very seriously. Many instructors had made the same note: that he scarcely ever bothered to give his squad mates orders.

More often than not, the sergeants picked among the commandos ended up being the oldest in their own squads – not always, because sometimes there were others more suited to the position, but often. Cody had always thought perhaps this was because they were the oldest, and automatically took more responsibility for their squad mates.

Of course, the differences in age were never very great – for example, Boss and Fixer, who had been paired with Sev and Scorch from the next batch down, were only a few days older than the other two.

As for the Bad Batch – Cody flicked through the others' records. It turned out that Wrecker was the oldest by a couple of days. Hunter was second oldest, followed by Crosshair, then Tech.

Hunter had been promoted to sergeant about two years ago, which was typical for commando squads; the sergeant and corporal were usually selected from the existing squad by the sixth or seventh year.

So, which of the three troopers was the corporal? Cody checked each of their files, but there was nothing. When he returned to Hunter's records, he saw only a note from Colt stating that none of the other troopers was currently suited to be an officer.

Cody returned to Hunter's files and scrolled back to the instructors' notes on his failings as a sergeant. It seemed that the only reason he was sergeant at all was that the others were even less suited for positions of authority . . . Cody had just finished reading a report on the subject from a particularly irritated instructor named H'win when Tech shouted at Wrecker.

The following exchange was short, but, as small and unimportant as it was, it seemed to affirm what the instructors claimed, that Hunter wasn't inclined to use his authority.

Cody cleared the screen and leaned back, staring thoughtfully out at the glowing blue streaks and swirls of hyperspace. Other squads had the opposite problem, where a sergeant would overuse his authority – sometimes from arrogance, sometimes because he was uncertain, most often because he was inexperienced.

A few sergeants did tend to underuse their authority, but Cody didn't remember any examples of sergeants failing to employ their authority in combat situations – even when those combat situations were only tests. Did Hunter simply not care, or did he really think his men needed no direction?
Cody frowned. Hunter couldn't possibly think that his squad mates didn't need his direction – their conversation yesterday indicated that Hunter knew very well that he was failing as a leader. Because of that, Cody was certain that Hunter did care.

This coming week would show whether Cody was right or wrong.

When they arrived at Vinnda Prime, Tech flew in while Hunter, in the co-pilot's seat, stayed ready. Cody leaned on the back of Tech's chair, observing the approaching landscape. The atmosphere was clear, sunny, and cold, and there was no snow on the ground – perfect conditions for an inexperienced pilot to practice landing.

An ice-black river cut a swath through the sparsely grown forest that grew around a wide, shrub-covered hill. Cody directed Tech to a clearing just west of the riverbank, and the ship settled down with a light thud.

Cody folded his arms contemplatively. "So, can anyone tell me where the base is?"

Tech hesitated.

Wrecker squinted one eye shut, staring suspiciously at the forest before him. "I can't see anything."

Crosshair pointed at what appeared to be a normal hill in the topography of the region. "That's because it's well hidden."

Hunter stood up. "I can't see it either, but I can feel it."

"What gave it away, Crosshair?" Cody asked. "The entrance is around on the other side.

The sniper shrugged. "Hill's clear of trees but not brush, and the forest continues all around it – no reason for that unless the hill's new."

"Good eye," said Cody. "All right, troopers. Gear up and let's head to the base."

He grabbed his own pack, thought about slinging it onto his shoulders, and settled instead for carrying it in one hand.

The squad met him at the door, wearing full armor and carrying their packs, and Wrecker hit the ramp controls.

A blast of air rushed into the ship, discernible more by the change of pressure than the temperature. Cody checked his sensors. It was cold out, just below freezing. He left the boarding ramp and gazed about, checking for any signs that there was life nearby.

"Nothing in sight," said Tech, who was staring at his datapad rather than at his surroundings.

Cody tapped his arm. "Nothing on scanners," he corrected. "There's plenty in sight."

Tech looked around, then took a quick step forward, staring up into the branches of the towering trees. "They're so tall!"

Cody removed his helmet and took a deep breath of the crackling cold air. "Bit different from Kamino, isn't it?"

Wrecker laughed, and Hunter gave a quiet huff of amusement. Crosshair didn't seem to notice – he had removed his helmet and was studying one of the tallest trees, his eyes flickering over it from roots to crown.

Tech ran over to a nearby shrub, which was covered in frozen red berries, and dropped to his knees to study it.

Hunter started after him, then glanced at Cody, who waved a hand. "Spread out and look around for a while. Stay in sight of the ship."

Hunter joined Tech in studying the bush. Tech turned to him, talking at lightspeed as he gestured from the berries to his datapad to the earth.

Crosshair slung his rifle over his back and wandered toward the tall tree. Touching the trunk, he hesitated before springing to catch the branch above him. He swung himself up easily, climbing thirty feet in a matter of seconds.

Cody walked a short distance away, enjoying the silence. Kamino was always moving – even from orbit, during larger storms, the ocean's motion was visible. Vinnda Prime was the complete opposite. It was still, all the time. He and Rex had enjoyed being on sixth watch, because the late nights were the quietest of all.

A footstep crackled on the frozen ground behind him, and he turned to see Wrecker approaching, helmet tucked under one arm. "Wrecker," he greeted.

The big clone grinned and fell into step with him. "Does it snow here, Commander?"

"Pretty often, yeah," said Cody. "Never in large amounts, though."

They walked until the ship was just visible through the trees, then turned around and headed back. Wrecker was silent the whole time, busy examining his surroundings with all the interest of a young cadet.

As they neared the clearing again, Cody cast a glance at Crosshair, who was now perched on a thin branch forty feet off the ground, and raised an eyebrow.

Wrecker followed his gaze and snorted. "He does that a lot."

"What, climb things?"

"Yeah . . ." Wrecker sounded uneasy as he added, "Dunno how. I hate heights."

"A lot of people hate them," Cody commented, more to continue the conversation than anything else. Wrecker was less openly communicative than Tech, but he was also less suspicious.

"Tech doesn't really like them either," said Wrecker. "But he's not afraid of them."

"Is there something wrong with being afraid of heights?" Cody asked, maneuvering around a large tangle of roots.

"I don't know." Wrecker stepped right over the roots. "It just seems like a silly thing to be scared of."

"Fear isn't rational," Cody said. "It's possible for people to be afraid of harmless things that they've never even seen."

Wrecker shrugged.

Cody wondered why this particular thing seemed to be bothering him. Wrecker and Crosshair often competed, but Cody didn't think that Wrecker was bothered by being afraid of something that Crosshair wasn't.

Cody walked past the Marauder and towards the river, continuing his conversation with Wrecker as Hunter approached. "Everyone's got an irrational fear somewhere," Cody said. "You're not afraid of needles, right?"

"No, but –" Wrecker hesitated.

Cody thought he could guess what he'd been about to say. "But Tech is afraid of them," he said. "I know a lot of guys who are afraid of both. Other troopers are afraid of other things that seem unreasonable."

Wrecker frowned thoughtfully, his eyebrows drawing together, as Hunter slipped up beside him.

Cody nodded to him. "Hunter. Find out anything useful?"

Hunter tilted his head, looking amused. "The berries are poisonous to humans but edible by all the birds native to Vinnda Prime. The roots don't grow deep into the ground, but there are so many of them that the bushes are extremely hard to remove. The branches aren't worth gathering for firewood because they're thin and absolutely full of sap. By the time you had enough of them to make a good blaze, you'd experience a high ratio of miniature explosions as compared to burning hardwood." He quirked an eyebrow and said, "Should I continue?"

Cody laughed. "No need. If I want to know more, I'll ask Tech myself."

He and Hunter turned back together to glance at Tech. He was standing at the base of the tree Crosshair was in, gesturing at the branches above the sniper.

Hunter rested a hand on his waist. "He's probably telling Crosshair which branches might break."

Crosshair gazed down at Tech, then tossed his helmet, which Tech had to dive to catch. By the time Tech stood up again, Crosshair had already climbed higher, switching from branch to branch with ease.

Hunter let out his breath in a huff. "Yeah, I was right."

Wrecker shifted. "He's gonna break his neck."

"He hasn't fallen in years . . ." Hunter sounded uncertain.

Cody looked at him. "Maybe not, but there aren't any safety mats here. Tell him to come down."

Hunter ran towards the tree, where Tech was staring up in wide-eyed alarm as Crosshair climbed ever higher. Cody and Wrecker followed, a bit slower.

"Crosshair!" shouted Hunter. "Get down from there!"

Crosshair halted, balanced on a branch sixty feet above them, and didn't even look down. "Relax, Hunter," he called, sounding almost bored.

Hunter cast a glance at Cody. When Cody didn't reinforce his order, Hunter tried again. "Come on down, Cross. That's an order!"

Crosshair didn't acknowledge him, but he did obey – after a brief moment of hesitation. He leaned down, caught the branch he stood on, and swung forward, landing on another branch two meters below.

Cody felt an eyebrow lift in response. That wasn't the kind of move you made if you were at all uncertain of your footing.

Twenty seconds later, Crosshair dropped silently to the ground. Only then did he suddenly seem to realize that his whole squad and Cody were standing there, waiting for him. He paused, halfway through reaching towards Tech for his helmet, and glanced uncertainly between Cody and Hunter.

Cody put a hand on the rough bark of the tree. "Good sniper position. See anything unusual?"

" . . . Not much," said Crosshair. "Only a few birds."

Cody nodded his understanding and walked past the others, gesturing for them to fall in. "Let's get inside the base and prepare. I want to make the first checkpoint by sunset."

Chapter Text

The fact that the training field base had been recently used was obvious. It was immaculately clean, with not a speck of dust or dirt in sight. Hunter paused near the barracks and glanced inside. There were bunks here for several hundred troopers. This place must normally be used by multiple squads or even platoons at a time.

"Big place," Wrecker commented from beside him. "You think we'll be staying here instead of on the ship?"

"No idea," said Hunter. "Cody said he wanted to reach the first checkpoint by sunset, so we might be making camp there. Tech, what's this planet's rotational time?"

"Twenty-four hours," Tech replied promptly. "However, local time would be fourteen hundred hours, not eleven hundred. Based on the angle of the planet's axis and our current location, sunset will occur at approximately eighteen hundred hours."

Crosshair gave an impatient huff, and Hunter cut in before he could say anything disparaging. "Let's adjust our chronometers to local time, then. Fourteen hundred hours?"

"Yes."

They'd just finished when Cody entered the hall, studying a datapad. "All right, Bad Batch. I just got the security codes. While I run some standard checks on the base, head back to the Marauder and pack supplies for two days."

"Yes, sir," said Hunter. "Want us to make up a pack for you?"

Cody pointed to a pack situated against the wall. "All set. After you're prepared, bring enough rations here for three more days, as well as any other gear you think you might need, then lock down the shuttle. We won't be using it until we leave the planet."

Hunter nodded and headed outside. He had no idea what the commander was intending to teach them – maybe they'd just be running drills. Of course, Bad Batch had probably run more endurance drills than most regular troopers, at this point.

As they entered the ship, Tech said, "Hunter, what do you suppose we'll be doing?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," admitted Hunter, heading for the bunkroom. "Hey, Crosshair, grab the extra ammo clips."

"Right."

Tech followed Hunter and took two of the packs from the closet, still talking. "I did research the base on our way here. It appears that squads and platoons are often pitted against one another in challenges meant to simulate real battle situations. There are also segments of the area devoted specifically to survival challenges."

"We do those a lot already," Wrecker said, sounding disappointed as he dropped half a dozen ration bars in each pack. "You think we'll just be running more drills, Hunter?"

"I don't know," Hunter said patiently.

"Oh – right."

Tech loaded two MREs in each pack while Hunter rearranged the ration bars Wrecker had thrown in. "I'm sure the commander has something specific in mind," he said after a moment. "He doesn't seem the type to just run us through pointless drills."

"No," agreed Tech, rifling through the contents of his own pack. "At first I thought that having us rerun the Citadel challenge was useless, but it turned out to be quite the opposite."

Hunter sealed his pack and glanced at him. "You too, huh?"

"Well – yes," said Tech. "We had already run the challenge successfully. Here."

Hunter attached Tech's pack to his armor, then turned so Wrecker could do the same for him.

Crosshair entered the room and grabbed Wrecker's pack. "Not really," he said.

There was a short pause while Tech fixed Crosshair's pack. When the sniper failed to elaborate, Hunter gave him a questioning glance. "Crosshair? 'Not really' what?"

"We never really ran the Citadel challenge successfully." He slung his rifle over one shoulder and hooked an extra cable attachment to his belt.

"True," said Tech after a moment. "Maybe we will just be running drills, then. It's not as though we performed those properly, either."

Wrecker squinted one eye shut. "Yeah – we did a few times. There was that week last year, when, uh. . ."

He trailed off, and Crosshair, Wrecker and Tech simultaneously gave Hunter guilty looks. Hunter raised a disinterested eyebrow, pretending not to remember why they'd been so cooperative for that particular week. The three of them had been teaming up, doing everything their instructor told them to do, but doing it wrong. If Tech was told to shut down the two frontmost turrets, he'd shut those down and all the others as well. If Crosshair was told to take out a target, he would, but only after taking out five others. If Wrecker was told to break into the fortress, he'd waste time and explosives by making an opening for himself instead of going through the door. And those were just the tamer examples.

Eventually, H'win had gotten so irritated – Hunter couldn't blame him, he'd been more than a little annoyed himself – that he'd spun on Hunter and shouted at him for a good three minutes, bellowing that Hunter had to keep his men under control. He'd eventually ended by yelling that if Hunter couldn't get his act together, he'd be reassigned and his men permanently transferred to maintenance – those three would be lucky if they managed to survive in that position.

Hunter returned to the present when Tech left the galley, mumbling something about restocking power cells. Crosshair and Wrecker followed him, and Hunter set to work dismantling and checking his blaster, ensuring that it was ready for action. The situation with H'win hadn't been entirely his squad mates' fault. Hunter himself had been the one to cause H'win to lose his temper.

When the Parwan bounty hunter started chewing him out, Hunter had taken it quietly. If he were honest with himself, it hadn't been hard to – he'd simply ignored H'win after the first few sentences, his mind occupied with how he was supposed to keep the squad under control when they refused to listen. When H'win pointed at his men and yelled that they'd be lucky to survive as maintenance clones, though, Hunter had lost his temper.

He knew now that he hadn't been angry at H'win so much as he was angry at the truth in the statement – he knew that he was handling the squad wrong, and that if things went badly he would be partially responsible. He knew that his teammates, if assigned to maintenance, would spend their time creating incidents and causing trouble wherever they could. Worst of all, Crosshair, Tech, and Wrecker might well decide to actively antagonize the Kaminoans. Hunter knew for a fact that the three of them, even without his help, had the ability to shut down all of Tipoca City.

They'd be caught eventually, though, and then – without intervention from someone important – they'd either be executed or returned to the experimental lab. As far as the Kaminoans were concerned, there'd be no point in keeping them around.

With these thoughts already filling his mind, H'win's words were like setting a spark to a flare. Hunter had lost his temper and gotten in the instructor's face, threatening him.

Hunter clipped his rifle to his belt, trying not to remember some of the things he'd said. He'd been completely out of line. He'd ended his own tirade with threatening H'win with an unpleasant death should he even think about reassigning Hunter and effectively decommissioning the squad. And hadn't that been a fantastic example for his squad, their own sergeant doing exactly what he always told them not to do, and worse.

The confrontation had come to an abrupt halt when the Parwan's own rising temper had caused him to accidentally generate an intense electrical field. Hunter had woken in medbay a day later with a raging headache and no idea of what had happened, until he saw H'win hovering nearby. They'd stared at each other for a minute. Then the Kaminoan doctor had asked Hunter if he remembered what happened, and he'd stared at her, unsure of whether or not he should even bother answering. As soon as the doctor left, though, H'win said, "It appears that you startled me during a combat scenario and I instinctively defended myself."

Hunter had raised an eyebrow and asked about his squad, H'win had replied that they were practicing at the shooting range, and neither of them ever mentioned the subject again. Sure, H'win had put a report on Hunter's file saying how unwilling he was to use his authority, but for whatever reason, the Parwan had let him off lightly. His teammates, though, had been so compliant and obedient for the following seven or eight days that their various instructors had started to worry.

Shaking his head in amusement at the thought, Hunter grabbed the crate of ammunition and headed outside. Wrecker was waiting, the crate of extra rations on one shoulder and a pack of explosives in his free hand. Hunter hoped Cody wouldn't mind the fact that they'd brought their own explosives.

When Crosshair and Tech joined them, Hunter checked to make sure Tech had his cable – he forgot it frequently – and said, "You guys both have knives, right?"

Crosshair punched in the security code to seal the outer door. "I've got a standard-issue in my pack."

"I do as well," added Tech.

"Okay." Hunter said, leading the way back to the base. He really would prefer if they had something better than standard-issue, because those weren't exactly high quality, but it wasn't as though Tech or Crosshair used knives much. Still . . . "They won't do you any good in your packs."

Tech reached over one shoulder, opened his pack, pulled out his knife, and clipped it to his belt. Crosshair did the same, and Hunter tilted his head questioningly at how cooperative they were being.
Tech caught his look and shot him a defensive one of his own. "You're right that they won't do us any good in our packs."

"And here, we might actually need them," Crosshair added, taking the ration crate from Wrecker.

Hunter did not comment, instead turning and leading the way back to the base, where Cody met them in the hallway. "The Marauder's locked down, Commander."

"Good," said Cody. "The scans checked out. We're ready to proceed."

Just over four hours later, they reached the checkpoint. Hunter stopped at the top of the hill, observing the visibility and lack of cover. "We're making camp here?" he asked.

"That depends," said Cody, removing his helmet. He looked a bit pale, Hunter thought – then again, they had just marched nearly ten miles over rough terrain, and the commander was probably still weak from his injury. "Would you pick this as a campsite?"

"No," said Hunter, gesturing at the snow-covered grass. "There's no cover. We'll need to light a fire, and it'll be visible for miles."

Cody nodded. "But this is a Republican facility," he said. "The planet has no dangerous lifeforms. No one else is currently on-planet."

Hunter hesitated. He knew all those things, but his instincts still told him that camping here was a bad idea. Cody was the commander, though, and had a lot more field experience than he did. Even on the march here, that had showed. Despite his injury, Cody had handled the terrain better than he and his team – who were used to hard floors and precise angles – had.

When the silence dragged on a moment too long, Hunter realized that his team and Cody were watching him. He glanced questioningly at Cody.

The commander slung his pack off one shoulder and smirked at Hunter. "So. Are we camping here, or not?"

Hunter opened his mouth, then closed it, then said, "You want me to choose?"

"You're the sergeant."

And you're the commander, Hunter thought, more than a little confused. But now that he knew what Cody wanted from him, it was easier to explain his thoughts. "I don't think there's a good reason for us to camp here, sir," he said.

"None that I know of," agreed Cody.

Hunter had the strangest idea that Cody was being deliberately obtuse. He certainly didn't look amused . . . in fact, he looked a little too obviously unamused.

After a few seconds, Hunter grew tired of waiting for Cody to give an order or make a suggestion. "Commander, there was an area about two hundred meters back – partway down that last hill, and with a deadfall to one side. We could keep watch easily from one angle, and by the time anyone got close enough to see us, we'd already have seen them."

Cody nodded again, more seriously. "Good plan, Sergeant. Lead the way."

As he obeyed, and his team fell silently in behind him, Hunter realized that Cody was not going to teach them. Not the way Hunter had imagined. It was beginning to look more and more as though Cody's method of teaching would be to let Hunter take the lead and let the team deal with his mistakes.

Chapter Text

At oh-three-hundred, Hunter woke Crosshair for the morning watch, then slid hastily into his bedroll. It was absolutely freezing – colder than any weather he'd ever experienced, that was for sure. Still, there was something about it that he found himself liking. It wasn't the deep, raw chill of a Kamino winter day, or the dry, stale freeze of the survival training rooms.

He propped himself up on one elbow and took a deep breath. The bright, clean scent of frost was underlaid by the faintly spicy scent of the branches burning in the campfire. Hunter had long ago learned how to light and tend fires, but while the pressed blocks of wood used on Kamino produced plenty of heat, they just did not have the same . . . feel.

Hunter turned onto his back and stared up at the sky. The stars glittered sharp and hard against the black, like little bits of ice reflecting the firelight. A gentle breeze rustled through the branches of the evergreens surrounding the clearing, and the fire crackled and popped.

Crosshair knelt briefly near the fire to stir it up, then resumed his near-silent walk around the clearing to the second guard position. Tech whispered something unintelligible in his sleep, then settled again. Wrecker was farther away, but his breathing was clearly audible, and Cody –

He couldn't hear Cody at all. Hunter turned onto his side, then sat up as he heard Crosshair whispering.

Cody stood beside Crosshair, who was pointing at something in the distance. Cody murmured a question, the sniper nodded, and Cody put a hand on his shoulder before returning to his place near the campfire. Meeting Hunter's gaze, he tilted his head with a good-humored smile. "Can't sleep?" he whispered.

Hunter thought he probably could sleep, but somewhat to his own surprise, he found that he didn't really want to. "This planet . . ." he gestured around, unable to put it into words. "It's so different."

Cody sat down cross-legged and drew a blanket around his shoulders. "Crosshair thinks we'll get snow by morning."

Hunter looked up at the glittering stars. "He does?"

"There are definitely clouds coming in from the north," Cody said, leaning carefully back against a fallen tree at the base of the deadfall. "There shouldn't be much accumulation, though, not at this time of the year."

A strange warbling call came from nearby, and Hunter twitched toward the source of the sound. Crosshair took a step away from his guard position, rifle half-raised.

Cody lifted a hand to catch their attention. "It's a snow owl," he said, loud enough for the sniper to hear. "Wait – maybe we'll see it."

The call came again, closer this time. It was strangely lonely and human-like as it reverberated slightly beneath the trees. Tech sat up abruptly and rolled to his feet, grabbing his datapad on the way.

Cody cast him a quick glance. "It's just a snow owl, Tech."

Tech floundered upright, tripping a little as he caught his ankles in the blanket, and started typing.

Hunter smirked at the mildly questioning look the commander wore. "One of his hobbies is recording animals. He already got all the native creatures on Kamino. This is a new creature."

The sound came again, much closer this time, and Wrecker sat up. "What was that?"

For a moment, there was no sound but the crackling of the fire - each of them seemed to be holding his breath. Then, a flash of silent white caught everyone's attention, and Hunter looked up. A large bird with snow-white feathers swooped into the clearing, soared over their heads, and alighted on a nearby branch. The snow owl's sharp talons were white but translucent, almost like crystalized icicles. Hunter studied its face, and the owl gazed unblinkingly back for a long moment.

Crosshair shifted as he removed his helmet to see better - the faint crunching of the frozen grass as he took a step forward was barely audible even to Hunter, but the owl seemed to hear also. It swiveled to look at the sniper, then continued turning its head all the way around until it was staring at Hunter again. Wrecker and Tech exchanged surprised looks, and Tech moved closer.

With another loud call, the owl launched itself into the air and swooped silently off into the trees.

The commandos stared after it. At last Hunter turned to Cody, who wasn't gazing after the owl at all. He was watching the other troopers and looking vastly but silently amused by something.

"I am glad we saw that," said Tech at last.

"Are there a lot of snow owls here?" Wrecker asked in a loud, eager whisper.

"Yeah," said Cody.

"Good! Hope we see another one!"

As Tech and Wrecker moved back to their bedrolls, Cody grinned and glanced at Hunter. "The shinies always love seeing the owls."

"Shinies?" Hunter asked, settling down across from him. He wasn't familiar with that term.

"Yeah," said Cody complacently, pulling the blanket back around his shoulders. "All cadets are shinies."

Hunter tilted his head.

Cody explained. "New soldiers, not much field experience, still wide-eyed about everything."

Hunter gave him an unamused look. He wasn't wide-eyed about everything.

A faint huff of laughter from behind him made him turn. Crosshair was still in guard position, and looked as though he could barely keep from outright grinning.

"What's so funny?" whispered Hunter a bit grumpily.

Crosshair glanced between Cody and Hunter, still smirking, and put his helmet back on without giving an answer.

Grumbling internally, Hunter pulled the blanket up to his chin and shut his eyes. Crosshair was a hypocrite. He always acted as though he were the cynical and disinterested one, but Hunter had seen the flash of delight in his gaze when the owl turned to look at him.

The sun rose behind the clouds that morning, and by the time they broke camp, little flakes of snow were already whisking through the air. Cody checked his pack and slung it over his shoulders.

"Hey, Commander!" Wrecker said, cheerfully kicking the fire out. "What's the plan for today?"

"The plan is for you boys to make it through the obstacle course before I do."

The four commandos glanced at each other.

"Or does that sound impossible?" Cody asked.

"No, sir . . ." said Hunter, his eyes uncertain.

Hunter, Cody reflected, was terrible at keeping a neutral expression. "You have a question, Sergeant?"

"No, sir, but – you're injured."

Tech interrupted before Cody could answer. "Not only that, but he is on enforced medical leave. . ." He turned to Cody. "Perhaps you could test us against your best time, instead."

Cody raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah," added Wrecker. "Doesn't seem fair to race you like this."

Cody folded his arms and eyed them dangerously. "Any further opinions, boys?"

Hunter and Wrecker looked abashed, but Tech only thought for a moment before saying, "Not currently."

"Good." Cody clipped his helmet to his belt, thinking that Tech had obviously gotten at his file . . . Interesting.

"Listen up," he ordered. "This obstacle course is more extreme than anything you've been through on Kamino, so stay sharp. The objective is to get to the end before I do, but speed is not the priority. Getting to the end is the priority. This is a team exercise. No one moves on to the next obstacle until all of you have negotiated the last one properly. Got that?"

"Yes, sir," the commandos replied together.

"Good." He turned and headed for the path, leaving them to fall in behind. They didn't speak at all, but he could practically hear their questions hovering in the air between them. Cody smiled to himself. This would be interesting. The squad's records showed that they'd all run plenty of obstacle courses, but only Hunter and Crosshair had ever run an obstacle course together - and that only happened once. For whatever reason, whenever the commandos' basic field skills were evaluated, they were tested separately. Of course, they'd also been taught very differently, despite being assigned to the same instructors at any given time.

Tech had gone through basic and advanced training, the same as all troopers, but he hadn't been given more training than that. His overall strength seemed a bit lower than average - some of that may have been because he'd done less physical training, but he was also lighter than most troopers. His instructors had focused almost exclusively on his computer skills, though some also focused on weapons training. In fact, once Tech had surpassed all his instructors as far as slicing skills went, they'd more or less left him on his own, apart from pulling him in for combat simulations or spars with his teammates. Cody wondered exactly how many of the Kaminoans' files Tech had sliced into. Tech had won spars against Crosshair, but never against Hunter or Wrecker.

Wrecker had spent a lot more time in physical training than Tech had. Again, though, he'd never run obstacle courses with teammates. This might have been because of his height and size. The Kaminoans might have decided that having him with other clones who were less strong was impractical, since Wrecker could go through the course five times in the time it took the other clones to do it once. Wrecker's strength was uncanny, which was probably also why he hadn't been put through all that many sparring sessions. Whenever he did spar with his teammates, he always pinned Crosshair and Tech within a few seconds. Interestingly enough, he'd only beaten Hunter once.

Crosshair was a bit of a lightweight, like Tech. He had good endurance and strength, but when he won fights it was because he made unexpected moves. He had managed to pin Hunter a couple of times, and he and Tech were fairly evenly matched - they won against the other on about equal terms. Obviously, he was an insanely skilled sniper - Cody had hardly ever seen that level of marksmanship in anyone, and he would only get better as time went on. As far as hand-to-hand went, it was hard to judge his abilities. Cody had seen him fight against his teammates, but not against instructors. It was possible that, just like with Tech, they'd focused on the ability connected to his mutation and not bothered to increase his skills in other areas.

Hunter had gone through the equivalent of ARC physical training, just like Wrecker, but with more focus on his hand-to-hand and knife skills. He was stronger than many regular troopers, though not all, and seemed to have an affinity for gymnastic abilities. Cody had watched a couple of recordings last night, and there were times when Hunter moved like a Jedi rather than a trooper. Some of it was unnecessary - for example, in one fight he could have ducked beneath his instructor's blow, but he chose instead to throw himself into the air, somersault over the instructor's arm, and come down in a rapid safety roll that turned into sideways kick and knocked the instructor's feet out from beneath him. Cody had gotten the distinct impression that Hunter had just been bored by the drawn-out spar and decided to put an end to it.

When Hunter and Crosshair had gone through the advanced course together, both of them had gotten through it quickly enough, with neither having to assist the other. Most obstacle courses weren't designed for team exercises. Yeah, Cody thought. This time's definitely going to be different.

The beginning of the obstacle course was marked by Republic roundels which had been painted on two trees about ten feet apart. Hunter studied them, then dropped to one knee and rested a hand against the ground, trying to get a feel for the land.

There were a few electronic currents humming through the earth in the vicinity, but they weren't especially powerful. Hunter had no idea what they were for, so he stood again, keeping their positions in his mind.

"All right," said Cody, tossing his pack to the ground. "Weapons, helmets, and packs aside."

They obeyed quickly, setting their packs and helmets in a pile. Then they unloaded their weapons, keeping the ammo clips on their belts, and set them down as well.

"Okay." Cody set his own blaster next to theirs and glanced over the troopers, checking that they were ready. "I already wasn't intending to complete every obstacle, but since you're so worried about my being able to keep up with you, I'm going to give myself a two-minute head start."

"Yes, sir," said Hunter. He was beginning to feel suspicious that the commander knew this course extremely well - that, or Cody had some reason to think that the Bad Batch wouldn't make it through as easily as they'd assumed they would. Come to think of it, both things were probably true.

"The course is clearly marked after this first part," Cody said, then gave them all a smirk. "Stay together. Good luck."

He set off at a brisk walk, disappearing into the thick forest only a minute later.

Hunter watched his chronometer as the seconds ticked down.

"I wonder what's gonna be so hard about this course," Wrecker said.

Crosshair tilted his head unconcernedly. "No idea."

"Hm," said Tech. "Commander Cody seems to think there's something we won't be able to get past."

"Maybe." Hunter shrugged, still watching his chrono. Ten seconds. "It doesn't matter. We'll find out when we get there. Ready to move?"

Three nods answered him.

"Okay . . . three - two - Let's move!"

The four of them ran down the path Cody had taken. The terrain was the same as what they'd traveled over the previous day - brush and twisted roots and hidden hollows underfoot, trees on all sides . . . The snow was coming down faster now, but not fast enough to really impede visibility. Hunter was glad he'd left his helmet off. There was something invigorating about the frosty air and the completely new challenge.

He led the team around a sharp bend in the path, then slowed, raising a closed fist to bring the others to a halt. The first obstacle – a long row of hand-over-hand bars that sloped upward, matching the incline of the path – was before them. Cody was nowhere in sight.

Hunter eyed the obstacle for a moment, then ran forward and jumped up to catch the first bar.

Chapter Text

Hunter reached the peak of the hand-over-hand bars, paused briefly, and started down. This obstacle was built in the shape of an 'aurek', which made it harder than the normal hand-over-hand bars, but it wasn't all that difficult. He'd completed it dozens of times back on Kamino - every clone had. Maybe the course just started with something relatively easy . . .

"Come on, Hunter, hurry up!" Wrecker said, from right behind him. "I'm hangin' here!"

Hunter rolled his eyes and moved faster. He should have had Wrecker go first. He reached the last bar quickly, swung up and over the horizontal bar set four feet up from the ground, and stepped aside to make room for the others. Wrecker hopped down to join him less than a second later, but Crosshair was only halfway down, and Tech had just reached the peak. Maybe Hunter had been moving faster than he thought - or Tech was moving more slowly than usual.

With a mild sense of surprise, Hunter suddenly realized that he had nothing to compare it to because he'd never actually seen Tech run an obstacle course. All the training the team did together was focused on simulations and drills and the occasional sparring match. When they were younger, they'd done classes together as well. But now that they'd finished their basic education modules, each of them mostly pursued things related to his own special skills as far as studying went.

In fact, Hunter thought as Crosshair jumped down beside him, outside of training the squad didn't do all that much together. They shared the same bunkroom, of course, but that was about it. Regular squads ate together. The Bad Batch almost never did, apart from hastily grabbed breakfasts. Part of this was because of the way their classes and drills were scheduled. Even when their schedules coordinated, Tech would often skip meals in favor of working on his projects. Hunter couldn't count the number of times he'd sneaked a ration bar out of the commissary for him - or for Crosshair. The sniper also regularly skipped dinner. He always said it was because he wasn't hungry, but Hunter knew that wasn't true. Really, Crosshair was just too exhausted to eat and didn't want to admit it. So, it was most often the case that when their schedules matched up, Wrecker and Hunter would eat together, then return to find one or both of their teammates asleep.

Tech reached the last bar and swung forward, but caught his feet on the horizontal bar and fell back, releasing the bar above himself with one hand. Hunter stepped forward. If Tech fell, he'd have to restart the obstacle, and that would hold them all back.

"Come on, Tech!" he said encouragingly. "Get yourself back up there!"

Tech pressed his lips together and, with a sudden effort, managed to regain his grip. He hung there for a few seconds. Hunter could tell he was tiring, but that didn't make sense. They'd only just started. . .

"Okay," said Hunter. "Give yourself a hard swing and lift your feet - no, don't let go yet! . . . It's okay, try again. One more time, Tech, come on!"

Tech finally got his feet over the bar and dropped to the ground, stumbling as he landed. Without looking at the others, he started quickly down the trail. The others followed, and Hunter moved to the front.

Behind him, Wrecker asked, "Hey, Tech, why'd that take you so long? We do those all the time."

"I don't," said Tech. "You also have a distinct advantage when it comes to the length of your arms."

". . . Yeah, I guess. But Cross and Hunter don't."

"Hm," said Tech.

"Less talking, more running," called Hunter over his shoulder. "Remember, Commander Cody has to skip some of the obstacles - we'll never catch up if we don't focus."

They rounded a sharp turn in the trail and stopped quickly. A towering, rectangular structure of wood, approximately fifty feet high, stood directly in their path. It was made up of multiple levels, with a good ten feet between platforms. There were no hand- or footholds that Hunter could see, and the narrow pillars at each corner that connected the platforms together were much too smooth to climb without the help of a cable or rope.

"Are we supposed to use cables here?" Tech wondered.

"I . . . don't know." Hunter tapped the cable attachment at his belt thoughtfully, then stopped short. "Wait, we don't have our rifles."

"So that's a 'no'," Crosshair said, eyeing the structure. "I could probably climb that."

"Hmm," said Hunter, following his gaze to the vertical support beams. If I jumped and kicked off . . . "I might even be able to - at least to the first level - but Tech and Wrecker won't."

"There must be a way to climb it," Tech said. "After all, this course is used all the time by the regs - for the most part, they wouldn't be able to climb the way Crosshair does."

"You're right," Hunter said. "And I'm pretty sure they work in squads here, which means they have to work together. Okay - Wrecker, give me a boost up to the first level. I can pull the other two up, and then Cross and I can get you up."

Wrecker looked uncertainly at the top of the structure, then shrugged. "Okay . . ."

He knelt in front of the obstacle, facing Hunter, clasped his hands, and braced them on one knee. Hunter sprinted forward and jumped, and Wrecker stood, throwing him high into the air. Too high, as usual, but fortunately Hunter avoided smacking his head on the bottom of the second level by twisting in mid-air. He landed, dropped to his stomach, and leaned over the edge, stretching out both arms. "Okay, Tech first."

"I don't need you to throw me -" Tech protested, too late. Wrecker picked him up by the waist and tossed him like a sack of flour.

Tech yelped, but had the presence of mind to reach upward all the same. Hunter caught him under the arms, paused to gain his balance, and dragged him over the edge. "Good," he said. "Cross?"

"I can do this one myself," Crosshair said.

Hunter thought about arguing, but the sniper probably knew what he was talking about. "Fine," he said, standing up. "But only the first one - you won't have any room to maneuver for the last four."

Crosshair eyed the last four platforms. "Fine."

Hunter was a little surprised at his agreement, but said nothing.

Crosshair backed up a few steps, then sprinted to the support pillar and jumped, kicking himself upward and sideways. His fingers caught the platform, and he easily pulled himself up.

"Okay," said Wrecker. "I'll just . . . jump, I guess."

"Yeah." Hunter dropped to his stomach again and reached down, using only one hand this time. Wrecker's weight would pull him over the edge where Tech's hadn't, and he had Crosshair to help him this time. "Ready?"

". . . Yeah," said Crosshair, not sounding particularly ready as he lay flat and reached down with the opposite arm.

Wrecker took a running start and jumped. He caught both of their hands, and they pulled with all their strength. Fortunately, Wrecker was more than strong enough to pull himself up without too much trouble, and a moment later they were all on the platform.

"Good job," Hunter said, getting to his feet. "Now, we just have to do that four more times, and we're done."

"Nine more," corrected Tech. "Four up, and five down. Without the ability to take a running start, this may become problematic."

Hunter paused. "Right . . ." He glanced up. The next platform was directly above the last. Hunter considered the method they'd just used. Wrecker certainly couldn't toss them up now, and even if he could, they probably wouldn't be able to reach Wrecker. "I think we're going about this the wrong way. Wrecker - you'll have to get up first."

"How?" asked Wrecker. "You guys can't -"

"We can," said Crosshair. He moved to the very edge of the platform, put his back to the vertical support, and dropped to one knee. "Think of it like we're getting you over a wall."

Hunter nodded. "Okay, we'll try it."

"If you guys drop me . . ." muttered Wrecker, backing carefully to the edge.

"Don't worry," said Hunter. "You're just using us as a ladder. Come on."

Wrecker got a foot on Hunter's knee first, then Crosshair's, keeping a hand on the support pillar as he carefully edged his way up.

Crosshair gritted his teeth. "Hurry up before you break me."

"You won't break," said Tech, in what Hunter assumed was meant to be a comforting tone. "He is nowhere near heavy enough for that, unless he were to land on you at a more rapid velocity than can be achieved given the circumstances here."

Hunter broke his focus long enough to give Tech a questioningly raised eyebrow.

"Still - can't - reach," Wrecker grunted. "Can you get me any higher?"

Hunter rose slowly from his crouch, lacing his fingers together beneath Wrecker's boot and shoving with all his strength. Crosshair attempted to do the same, with less success. It was enough, though. The instant Wrecker caught the edge, he was able to pull himself up without further help.

As soon as he was clear, Hunter was able to easily boost Crosshair and Tech to reach the platform. Then Wrecker and Crosshair held Tech's ankles, letting him lean down far enough that he could catch Hunter's wrists and drag him up.

"That worked better," said Wrecker, getting to his feet.

"Yeah. Two down, seven to go," said Hunter, taking a deep breath of the icy air. The snow was falling even faster, and he skidded a boot against the platform, testing to make sure it wasn't icy. "I still think we're doing this the wrong way."

"So do I," said Tech. "And I have an idea. We have to make steps. I will be the first step, then Hunter and Crosshair together will be the second. That will enable us to move much more swiftly."

Everyone gazed at him, waiting for him to clarify his explanation.

Tech rolled his eyes. "Here, I'll show you."

He dropped to his hands and knees, putting himself directly along the edge of the platform. "Now, Crosshair and Hunter - use the pillar as support. Wrecker can use your hands as the next step."

"I see," said Hunter, quickly moving into position. He stood closest to the edge, with Crosshair next to him, and they both locked an arm around the pillar, using their free remaining hand to clasp the other's. "Okay, Wrecker."

Wrecker moved fast, stepping sideways from Tech's back to Hunter's and Crosshair's joined hands, then reaching up. He was careful to catch the edge of the next level before jumping. Within seconds, he was leaning down again. Crosshair and Hunter hoisted Tech up, then Hunter boosted Crosshair, and they repeated the same procedure they'd used earlier to get Hunter to the top.

Hunter glanced briefly at the ground. So far so good, but they were now thirty feet up. He was surprised Wrecker hadn't noticed yet. Hunter frowned. If Wrecker noticed in the middle of reaching up to the fourth level, he might lose his concentration and then his balance.

"You can go faster than that, Wrecker," Crosshair said suddenly. "I almost fell asleep waiting for you to get us up there."

Wrecker huffed. "Yeah. Not like that takes much time."

"Hmm." Crosshair gave him a dismissive look. "I still think I'd get up faster on my own."

"Oh yeah?" Wrecker pushed past Tech. "You just watch!"

"I will," retorted Crosshair. "I'll probably still be watching five minutes from now."

Wrecker snorted. "I'll get us all up there in two minutes! Come on, Tech, get me up there!"

Tech blinked after him, then got into position. Hunter thought he knew what Crosshair was up to, though he couldn't help but wish that there were other ways, besides goading him, for the sniper to get Wrecker past his nervousness.

Wrecker scrambled up even faster this time and got the others up faster, too. Before anyone could stop to breathe on the fourth level, Hunter found himself being pushed against the next pillar by Crosshair, who was moving fast to stay ahead of Wrecker. Not half a minute later, they were all on top of the structure.

"Ha!" Wrecker smacked the sniper on the back, then caught him when he lurched forward. "Told ya, didn't I?"

"Yeah." Crosshair rolled his eyes, but looked rather pleased with himself. "You win this time."

Hunter sighed loudly. "Let's get down."

Wrecker blinked, took a cautious step forward, and glanced over the edge. "Oh, boy. We're - pretty high up."

"No, we aren't," said Tech firmly. "We are fifty feet up, that is all."

"That's pretty high," argued Wrecker, backing up to the middle of the platform.

"Save it," said Crosshair. "You just got all the way up here. Getting down's easier. And this time, I'm going to win."

Without waiting for Hunter's order, Crosshair leaned forward, caught the edge, and flipped over so that he hung facing away from the structure. He released it with one hand, twisted to face it, and dropped easily down to the fourth level.

Hunter was certain that there was an approved way to complete this obstacle, and that Crosshair's wasn't it. He dropped to his stomach, swung himself down facing the platform, and landed on one knee, weight aimed toward the center of the structure rather than away from it. Wrecker and Tech followed his example, while Hunter waited at each level until they were safely down.

Twenty feet from the ground, Tech slipped, and only a quick shove between the shoulder blades from Hunter kept him from falling. Hunter was more sure than ever that there was a different method they should have used - he couldn't imagine that dozens of clones risked their lives on this structure without some sort of safety procedure . . . Well, they were so close to the ground now it probably didn't matter.

Of course, Cody had said they had to get past each obstacle properly, but since he hadn't left instructions . . . Hunter grabbed the floor of the first level and swung down, landing on the half-frozen earth beside Crosshair. "Okay, Wrecker, last one!"

"Yup - got it." Wrecker swung down easily.

Tech joined them a second later. "Well. That wasn't entirely terrible."

Now that they were all safely on the ground, Hunter was able to indulge in a bit of annoyance. He smacked Crosshair's arm with the back of one hand. "You should have gotten down safely! Were you trying to break your neck?"

"No," said Crosshair. He smirked. "If that were the case, I'd have jumped."

Hunter smacked him again and signaled for the others to fall in. He had no idea how many obstacles remained, but hopefully they'd be easier to get past than this last one. Discovering a workable method had taken up a lot of time. Cody was probably way ahead by now. The commander seemed to think that they'd have to worry about finishing at all, much less finishing ahead of him. Finishing at all . . . I wonder what he meant, Hunter thought, a bit concerned. If the regs can do it, we should be able to, right?

Well, either way, there was nothing to do except to keep moving.

They traveled nearly a kilometer along the winding trail, which frequently doubled back on itself, without seeing any new obstacles. The trail was clearly marked, but it wasn't smooth or brush-free by any means. Despite yesterday's long trek, Hunter was still a little surprised at how hard it was to keep up a rapid pace through brush and tangled branches, as opposed to over hard corridors. He glanced back at his squad mates. Wrecker was right behind him, with Tech and Crosshair a bit further back but still maintaining a quick pace.

They were a mile from the start of the course when they reached the next obstacle. Short ramps, tilted steeply inward toward the trail, were spaced at varying distances from each other for the next hundred feet. Hunter tilted his head. He'd seen this before, but not one so long. Taking a running start, he launched himself at the first ramp and kicked off it to land on the one ahead and opposite. He'd repeated the motion five times before he realized he was in trouble. His momentum was gone, and the distance between the ramps was increasing. He landed in a crouch on the next ramp, maintaining his balance with difficulty.

"Hunter!" called Tech. "You need to take the next three one at a time!"

"Yeah, I got that," replied Hunter, judging the distance to the next one. He gathered himself, jumped and almost fell, but managed to catch his balance. He repeated the motion twice more before the spacing of the ramps suddenly grew less, and he was able to get easily to the end.

Crosshair eyed the ramps, then gestured for Wrecker to go next. Wrecker shrugged and complied. He managed to get to the end fast, only hesitating once between jumps.

Hunter glanced back at the others. Tech was frowning in concentration as he studied the ramps. He turned to Crosshair. "You should probably go next."

Crosshair nodded. "The trick is to keep their position in your head and take 'em fast."

He walked back a little ways, then made a running start. Springing rapidly between ramp after ramp, he made it to the end without stopping once.

Hunter raised a mildly impressed eyebrow and looked back across the obstacle to see that Tech had already started. He made it as far as before stopping as Hunter had. The next ramp would look farther away from him than it really was. . . "Same thing you told me," Hunter said. "One at a time."

Tech hesitated, jumped, slipped, clutched at the top of the ramp too late, and fell. He pushed himself instantly up on his hands, quirking an eyebrow at the offending ramp. "I shall have to restart," he said apologetically, getting to his feet.

"Go ahead," said Hunter. "Take it slow if you have to."

Crosshair pulled out a toothpick and put it in his mouth.

Tech started again, moving fast up until the point where he'd failed, but there he stopped short. He hesitated a long moment, and Hunter could tell he was concerned that he'd fail again. If he failed to commit all the way when he did move, he'd fail again, and be even more hesitant the next time.

"Tech, stop thinking about it!" he called. "You know how far you have to jump - you've just got to do it now."

Tech nodded, steadied himself, and leaped. His foot slipped on the edge, but he managed to clutch the upper edge of the ramp before he could fall off.

"Good!" Hunter said as Tech stood and turned to face the next ramp. "Come on, two more and then it gets easier."

He made the next jump successfully, and then the next. Hunter let out his breath, which he'd been unconsciously holding. "Okay - don't take this last part too fast, and you'll be fine."

"Yeah!" Wrecker waved his arms encouragingly, then roared, "ALMOST THERE, TECH!"

Crosshair winced and jabbed him in the side with an elbow. "Keep it down, would you?"

Tech took a deep breath, eyed the remaining stretch of the obstacle, and jumped quickly from ramp to ramp. When he hopped down to the ground at the end, Hunter gave him an approving nod. "Good job."

As they went back to running, Hunter realized that if this were a normal course, he, Wrecker and Crosshair would have been well ahead by now. Depending on the next obstacles in their path, one of them might even have caught up with Cody by now. I'm glad we're not, he thought to himself. We haven't worked together to accomplish something different in . . . a long time.

It had been well over a year since the team, irritated and exhausted from a week of intensive mental and physical assessments, had more or less simultaneously started a food fight. It hadn't really been intentional. They'd all been eating lunch, not talking because even Wrecker was feeling grouchy after the past week. Tech had been downright snappish, Crosshair had been just as bad, and Hunter, even though he'd been a little quieter about it, had been just as annoyed at his teammates as they all were at each other.

Then some trooper, passing near their table, had glanced curiously at Crosshair, who glared back with more than his usual level of animosity. Naturally, the trooper had stopped in confusion. Crosshair got to his feet. The trooper stepped back into his buddy, who said, "Just leave 'em alone. These guys don't get along with anyone." Wrecker yelled, "YEAH, I wonder WHY?" and threw his entire bowl of soup.

The moment of shocked silence hadn't lasted long. Eighteen clone troopers got eagerly up from the next table over, grabbing rolls, fruit, and whatever throwable items were within reach. Wrecker grabbed a tray for a shield, and the fight was on.

Crosshair and Tech joined in with concerning enthusiasm - Tech even yelled aggressively as he pelted the oncoming troopers with muja fruit. Hunter groaned but joined the fight . . . just to make things more even, of course. Twenty against four hadn't been good odds, especially when the fight had evolved from a food fight to an all-out brawl. Hunter had to admit, though, even now, that it had been a very satisfying fight, even if it did end with every single one of the troopers involved getting detention, the mess hall with two overturned tables and a disaster, Hunter with a black eye, Crosshair with a nosebleed, Tech with a sprained wrist, and all of them with bruises.

The regular troopers must have been having a bad week too, Hunter reflected as he absently jumped over a fallen log, because there hadn't been any hard feelings about the fight. They'd actually seemed pretty happy as they exited the commissary, despite the multiple scrapes, black eyes, nosebleeds, and other various injuries that they all sported.

He was still smirking at the thought when Wrecker said, "Wow - next obstacle's a fun one."

"I beg to differ," said Crosshair, eyeing the deep, wide ditch of water.

"That must be salt water," said Tech. "Otherwise, it would be a frozen slush by now, considering the temperature."

"It's still gonna be cold," Hunter said.

"Well - yes. Fortunately, the fact that we have waterproof bodysuits should keep us from freezing."

Hunter approached the ditch and paused, curious as to whether or not the commander had gone through or around this obstacle. It was a little hard to see, but from here he could just make out the slightly shiny marks of half-frozen water leading away from the ditch. "Hm. Looks like Cody went through this one. Let's move!"

Chapter Text

Cody crawled the final meter and stood, then turned to look back along the stretch of barbed wire that crisscrossed over a long field of frozen mud. Haven't done that one in a while. . . He remembered it being easier, for some reason. Either I'm getting old, or Stitch was more right than I gave him credit for.

His chest ached when he breathed, and Cody took a moment to recover. He probably should have just walked past the barbed wire crawl, but – well, he'd already skipped the overhead bars, the platform challenge, and the ramps.

Rex would have said Cody was letting his pride was getting in the way. Cody liked to call it professional pride – which, yeah, was still pride; but after a few moments, the pain faded to almost nothing. Cody gave a satisfied nod and kept walking. The snowfall was getting thicker now, not enough that visibility was truly impeded, though if it continued to escalate then it could well become a blizzard within an hour.

Cody didn't mind the icy-wet flakes landing against his face. They were soft and so tiny that he barely felt them, especially after the meter and a half of below-freezing water he'd just gone through. His armor was still covered with a thin sheen of ice from trudging through the ditch, and his half-dried hair was partially frozen. Cody smirked, wondering if the others had reached the dunk wall yet. I should check.

Pulling out his datapad, Cody accessed the security cameras near the ditch of water. Wrecker was already splashing through, seeming unconcerned by the temperature, and Hunter had just sat down on the edge to slide into the ditch.

At the middle of the ditch was a wide box of wood, which forced anyone crossing to submerge completely to get past it. Wrecker sloshed right up to it, ducked, and reappeared within a couple of seconds.

"Whoa, that's cold!" he shouted cheerfully, voice crackling a little through the speakers. He bounded up the bank, pulled out a towel-like cloth from a compartment on his belt, dried his face and head briskly, and grinned. "Good thing I don't have to worry about dryin' my hair, huh, Sarge?"

Hunter, who was still on the other side of the barrier, rolled his eyes and turned to look back at the other two. "You coming?" he asked.

"Of course." Tech was occupied with closing the many small pouches that hung from his belt.

"Unfortunately," Crosshair said. He looked uncomfortable, and Cody wondered whether it was the cold or the water he disliked. Maybe both.

Tech hopped into the water, splashing it everywhere. "I can affirm that this is below freezing," he announced, rubbing it from his face.

"Hurry up!" yelled Wrecker from the bank. "Cody's gonna win if we don't move!"

Hunter took a quick breath, disappeared beneath the water, and reappeared on the other side. He joined Wrecker quickly, then shook his head like a wolf and pulled out a cloth.

"Not a word," he grumbled, drying his face.

"Didn't say nothin'!" Wrecker grinned as Hunter set to work rubbing his hair.

Tech surfaced next, then paused and simply stood there. "Hm," he said.

Hunter glanced out from beneath the cloth. "What?"

"I can no longer see." Tech tapped the thin film of ice that covered his goggles.

"So take 'em off." Hunter vanished beneath the towel again.

Tech removed his goggles, blinked a few times, and splashed his way to the bank, where he promptly sat down and set to work scraping the ice from the lenses.

Cody, hoping Tech would remember to dry his face and hair so he wouldn't freeze, looked back at Crosshair. The sniper was frowning, and seemed reluctant to even enter the water.

"Hurry up, Cross!" yelled Wrecker. "What're you afraid of, anyway? We've been underwater tons of times and never drowned!"

Crosshair straightened. "I'm not afraid," he snarled back.

"Yeah, you are! C'mon, it's not even deep!"

"I know that." Crosshair slid into the water, then trudged forward to the wall, where he took a deep breath before submerging. He took a surprisingly long time to surface, and when he did it was right next to the bank. There had been no need for him to stay under for more than a couple of seconds. Cody raised an eyebrow as Crosshair climbed the bank and muttered, "I just don't like it."

Wrecker grinned and slapped him on the back, and Crosshair shoved him away.

Hunter, whose hair was sticking out at odd angles, glanced down at Tech and dropped the towel on his head. "You trying to get frostbite, Tech? Dry off."

"What?" Tech sounded confused, but reached up to grab the cloth.

Wrecker pulled him to his feet. "Hurry up, we gotta catch up with Cody."

Not a chance, boys, Cody thought with a faint smile. He glanced at the crawl again, eyeing the dangling wires he'd cut on his way through the long obstacle. With a nod, he set off towards the next obstacle. After switching camera feeds, he clipped his datapad to his belt again. He'd be able to hear their voices as soon as they reached the barbed wire.

The next obstacle was a three-meter wall. Cody continued past it. If he had really been in a competition, he would have stopped next to it for the length of time it would have taken him to get over it.

But, as Hunter had noted, the four commandos had a huge advantage over Cody; he was injured, they were not . . . and they had teammates to work with, whereas Cody had to navigate the obstacles on his own.

Then again, so far the young commandos had done a pretty good job at being obstacles to each other – partly because of their lack of cooperation, partly because of their different skillsets. Hunter, at least, would have gotten past Cody already if it wasn't for the fact that he had to wait for his teammates. Wrecker might not have gotten past the platform challenge – even if there had been ropes available to climb with, which was what the clones normally used when it was a solo obstacle – without Crosshair's snide but effective taunts. Tech had been the only one to have to repeat an obstacle so far. As for Crosshair, if Hunter had been ahead of him, the sniper would likely have gotten through the water faster, if only because he was competitive, but it was hard to tell.

"Hey," Wrecker's voice came through the small speaker on Cody's datapad. "Looks like Cody went through this one, too!"

"Yeah. Let's move." Hunter's words were followed by quick scraping and shuffling, and then Crosshair's voice.

"Wrecker – wait."

"What for?"

"Don't go any – "

There was a slight twanging sound, and then Wrecker said, "Uh – I think I got caught in a wire."

"That's why I said to wait, Wrecker," muttered Crosshair impatiently.

Cody continued walking, but was unable to resist pulling out his datapad again to glance at the camera feed.

Crosshair, the farthest ahead of the group, had turned on one elbow and was staring back at Wrecker, who was to his left. Given that Hunter and Tech were in single file behind Wrecker, the sniper must have seen the trailing wires, crawled around them, and warned the others too late. Interesting. Cody couldn't help but wonder whether Crosshair had assumed they'd see it, or whether warning them had simply not occurred to him until later.

"I'll get it," Hunter offered, reaching for the wire that was tangled around Wrecker's left ankle. It took him only a few seconds to bend the wire back against the ground, and then Wrecker was moving forward again – too fast.

The wires above the obstacle caught against his shoulders, and Wrecker dropped flat, too late. His left pauldron had already been snagged.

"Wrecker!" Crosshair sounded irritated. "Why can't you keep down!"

"Can't help it," grumbled Wrecker. "I'm a lot bigger than the rest of you."

Cody had known Wrecker would have trouble with this obstacle – it had been designed to make it hard for normal clone troopers to get through. With Wrecker's added size, it was almost inevitable that he'd get snagged at least a few times. Now, to see if the others could help him get through without losing their patience. . .

Hunter crawled forward. "Don't worry about it, Wrecker."

"Yes," said Tech, pausing at the wires Cody had cut. His goggles were once again in place, and he straightened them with one hand as he observed the ends. "Especially since it appears that the commander is intentionally making it more difficult for us."

Hunter glanced back. "Those were cut?"

"I believe so." Tech was wearing a faint smirk, and Cody paused, wondering what he had in mind.

Wrecker tugged the wire free and let it snap back into place, then dropped to his stomach and crawled forward another couple of paces. There was a low-hanging wire that Cody had noted on his way through – right there.

With an aggravated growl, Wrecker stopped again, the barbed wire caught in the collar of his blacks.

"One moment, Wrecker." Tech crawled forward to join him. Then, to Cody's – and Hunter's – surprise, Tech tugged a small pair of pliers from his belt and simply snipped the wire.

"Tech," said Hunter hesitantly. "I don't think we're supposed to –"

"The rules of the wire crawl state only that one must ensure to travel beneath the wire, not over it," Tech told him.

Cody's gaze moved to Tech's hand – sure enough, the smallest commando was holding the cut wire over Wrecker's head.

There was a pause of perhaps ten seconds.

"We're not going to cut the whole field, are we?" Crosshair asked, sounding more interested than irritated. Add to that the fact that he'd used 'we' instead of 'you', and it sounded like Crosshair thought Tech's idea was perfect.

Hunter wasn't so sure. "I don't know if damaging GAR property –"

"Cody damaged it," said Crosshair and Tech together.

Cody raised an eyebrow at them, as though they could see him through the camera screen.

"We don't know that," Hunter said doubtfully.

Tech hooked the loose wire over another one, then lay flat on his stomach and pulled out his datapad. "That is easy enough to determine."

Wait a second . . . Cody stopped walking, just as a security alert from the base notified him the cameras' recording history was being accessed.

"Hm," he said aloud, then went back to watching the screen. Crosshair and Wrecker and Hunter were all crowded around Tech, watching his screen. Cody couldn't make out what they were watching, but he could guess well enough when Hunter blinked, looking mildly scandalized.

"He did cut it," he muttered.

"Yes." Tech put the datapad away. "And I do not wish to spend the next quarter of an hour freeing Wrecker from every wire he gets snagged on."

"Fine." Hunter twisted to lie on his back, observing the wires for an instant, then flipped to his stomach. "Tech, you're sure the rules only say that we've got to stay beneath the wire?"

"I am positive."

"Okay, here's what we're going to do. Wrecker, stay here a minute. Cross, Tech, we have to finish the challenge first."

It took the three of them perhaps half a minute to reach the end of the challenge, and then they turned around and crawled back towards Wrecker.

Cody wondered what the sergeant was up to.

"Tech?" Hunter said, propping himself up on his elbows. "You're going to cut the wires once Cross and I are holding them. Wrecker, we'll lift them up for you – you just make sure you keep your head beneath 'em, so the commander can't say we cheated."

"Yeah, I can do that." Wrecker frowned thoughtfully. "Uh – we are cheating, though, right?"

"Technically, we are not." Tech waited until Crosshair and Hunter were on either side of him, gripping the first wire, then snipped it. "Cheating would require us to violate rules dishonestly, whereas we are not violating the rules at all."

Cody shook his head, watching as Wrecker crawled beneath the raised wires. It looked like Tech had a very different idea from most of the GAR officers when it came to what violating a rule was.

As soon as Wrecker got clear, Crosshair and Hunter twisted the cut wires aside, hooking them over nearby ones to keep them from springing back, and moved forward to where Tech was waiting.

Cody checked his chronometer. It would take them a bit to get through the course, doing what they were doing now, but it would be a lot faster than having to stop and untangle Wrecker every other step.

Cody climbed the adductor challenge, listening with half his attention to the Bad Batch's continuing comments as he leaped, gripping the first sandbag with his arms and legs. He let it swing close to the next bag before jumping again, and was careful to land so that he wasn't holding up his weight with only his arms. The three-meter wall and adductor obstacles probably wouldn't be troublesome for the commandos – in fact, they'd probably be easy. Cody had to gain a little ground while he could.

He got to the end of the adductor without too much trouble and hopped to the ground, breathing harder than normal. I should probably skip the next one – what is the next one . . . the inverted wall. Yeah. Definitely skipping that one.

He slowed his pace, glancing again at the datapad. The barbed wire crawl was clear, the commandos gone. Cody quirked his mouth a little at the sheer number of damaged wires they'd left in their wake. As the director of the courses, Cody had the ability to make them harder as he saw fit, and the commandos did not. The four of them would be fixing a lot of barbed wire tomorrow, that was for sure. At the same time, they had completed the objective while following the rules – technically speaking, as Tech said.

Cody switched cameras. Already, Crosshair and Wrecker were at the top of the three-meter wall, and Hunter was boosting Tech up. It was the work of moments for them to land on the other side and start running.

Reaching the balance beams, Cody stepped up onto one and ran along it. Most clone troopers were extremely surefooted, and even Tech shouldn't have trouble with this section of the course. It was so easy, after the number of times Cody had done it, that he barely had to pay attention to what he was doing as he stepped onto the first of a dozen tall, thin pillars. After crossing those, he walked along a thick rope to more pillars, which decreased in height until he could hop to the ground.

It was easy – too easy for the squad, if he wanted to keep forcing them to work as a team. Cody looked thoughtfully up at the balance beams, then decided he didn't need to alter anything here. The snow was falling faster now, and by the time the Bad Batch reached the obstacle, it would be slick. They would have to move carefully in order to avoid falling off the rope and the pillars, in particular.

The cargo net was next, and Cody took it slow, even though the cold, damp rope made his hands numb before he reached the top. He couldn't help but smile when he remembered the last time he'd done this in a snowstorm. Monnk and Wolffe and Rex had enjoyed it, and bickered good-naturedly the entire time. Cody and Fox, who'd been on guard duty for three hours before the course began, had been absolutely frozen.

Still not hurrying, Cody swung his legs over the top of the frame and started down the other side, still smiling a little. He and Fox had been so cold that they'd gone through the entire course in complete silence, doing everything in perfect sync. It was like an unspoken agreement that they'd carried out in wordless protest against Monnk's and Wolffe's and Rex's too-cheerful behavior and wild racing.

A few hundred meters down the trail, Cody stopped to glance at the camera feeds again. The commandos had just reached the inverted wall, which was five meters high and leaned towards them.

They stood beneath it for a moment, as though wondering how to approach this particular obstacle.

"This will be – interesting," Tech said, adjusting his goggles. "I have never seen an inverted wall this high."

"Yeah." Wrecker sounded a little uncertain. "They're usually only a couple meter, right?"

"Yes." Tech was studying the grips, which were more like short pegs than anything else. "The objective is normally to get over it by catching the top and swinging over. Here, it appears that we must first climb."

"Right." Hunter jumped as high as he could, catching at the pegs, but his fingers slipped from them. "The snow made 'em slippery. Careful."

"Hm." Crosshair jumped, catching at the same ones, and barely managed to hang on. He swung his feet forward and managed to brace them against two more of the small pegs. "I don't think there's a way around this one."

He found his rhythm quickly enough, moving from grip to grip until he neared the top. But, half a meter from the top of the wall, the grips stopped abruptly.

Tech was watching from the ground. "You will have to jump."

"Yeah." Crosshair waited, as though gauging the distance in his mind. Then he jumped, his fingers barely catching the edge, and hung for a long moment before he could pull himself over the top. He swung his weight around, landing against one of the horizontal slats that formed a ladder; then, instead of heading down, he leaned over the top and called, "Tech. Anything in the rules about not having help?"

"No," replied Tech as Wrecker started up.

"Good. Hunter?"

Hunter only grunted in response, busy struggling to maintain his grip halfway up the wall.

"When you get to the last grip, I'll pull you over."

"Hey!" cheered Wrecker, who appeared to be having an easy enough time despite how small the grips were. "Good idea, I wondered how Tech was gonna reach the top!"

Crosshair leaned farther forward. "I'm not pulling you over, Wrecker."

"Why not?" Tech asked, hesitantly reaching for the first grip.

Wrecker laughed. "'Cause I'd drag him back over, and then we'd both die!"

"The purpose of this exercise –" Tech nearly fell and had to catch himself before continuing. " – is not to pose fatal challenges."

Crosshair eyed the ground. "A lot of these could be fatal."

"Yes, which is why I suspect that not all of these challenges are generally demanded of the clones who frequent this course."

Hunter reached the last set of grips, leaped and caught Crosshair's hands, and got over the top. Immediately, he joined the sniper in looking down the other side. "Tech?" he said, breathing heavily.

"Yes?"

"Stop talking, okay?" Hunter dragged in another breath. "Just focus on getting up here."

Tech sniffed, but obeyed.

Wrecker's strength made up for his lack of agility in this challenge, and he swung over the top with only a little help from Hunter – Crosshair, true to his word, simply leaned out of the way.

Somewhat to Cody's surprise, Tech got to the top quicker than Hunter had. Part of that was probably that Tech was lighter, and wore only half the armor Hunter did – even so, though, he was fast.

The wind gusted through the trees, and plumes of snow drifted along the trail. Cody glanced up at the clouds, then put aside his datapad. He'd walk the rest of the course, back around to the beginning of the trail, and then check up on them again.

Chapter Text

The snowfall was thick and silent now, over an hour after the squad had begun the course. The cold air burned Hunter's face and the inside of his throat as he ran along the increasingly rough trail, but at least the wind had stopped blowing. The others were close behind him, moving silently.

After having been forced to wait at the balance beams for Wrecker, who had fallen off the rope and had to start over twice, Hunter was glad to be running. It was colder here than it had ever been on Kamino – or at least, colder in a dry way than it had been on Kamino. The raw chill that sometimes settled over Tipoca City, shrouding everything in a searingly cold fog, was nothing like the bitingly icy air of Vinnda Prime.

Hunter rounded a bend, caught sight of the next obstacle, and promptly slid to a halt in the centimeters-deep snow. A dozen duracrete spheres, each with a chain for a handle, were scattered about in front of him. Glancing back, he called to the others. "We've reached a carry!"

"Aw, good!" Wrecker stopped beside him in a shower of snow. "I won't slow you guys down here – this'll be easy!"

"Easy for you." Hunter hoisted one of the spheres, freeing it from the snow with an effort. "Thirty kilos," he said, glancing at Tech as his youngest squad mate joined him.

"I can lift thirty kilograms," Tech said, with a chagrined lift of his eyebrows.

"Yeah," Wrecker said, picking up a weight in either hand. "But here you're only allowed to carry it by the chain, and we've gotta carry two of 'em. You ever done this obstacle before?"

"Yes," said Tech shortly, but he looked uncertain. After a moment, he added, "Once."

Crosshair leaned forward, peering through the snow. "Looks like this course is a good eight meters long."

Hunter nodded, studying the slippery trail in front of them. "And you can't set the weights down, or you have to start over."

"Ah." Tech adjusted his goggles. "This obstacle may prove to be problematic."

"Don't worry about it, Tech," said Wrecker, swinging his weights carelessly. "I've got an idea!"

"So do I," Crosshair drawled. "Set those down before you kill someone."

Hunter cupped both hands over his face and blew into them, trying to warm his nose a little. "Stop arguing, huh, guys? I'll bet Cody's already at the end, he's had to skip so many of these."

Somewhat to his surprise, they stayed quiet, only shooting a final annoyed look in the other's direction.

"Okay," Hunter said. "Let's get going." He lifted his own weights and started slowly forward. Carrying heavy objects in slick snow was nothing like carrying them in a gym or a training arena. If he skidded even a little, he would have to overcompensate in order to keep his balance – which didn't work well when one was carrying sixty kilos at the end of two short chains.

Wrecker reached the end, dropped his own burden, and started bouncing a little on his toes, as though cheering the others on. That, or he was trying to keep warm.

Hunter reached him a few moments later and dropped his weights with a thud before turning to watch the other two. Crosshair and Tech would struggle the most with this kind of challenge – they were good at holding their own weight, especially when climbing, but not with carrying heavy objects. That was Wrecker's specialty, really.

Crosshair was nearly to them, but Tech was only halfway across. Just as Hunter looked at him, Tech slipped sideways and fell to one knee, keeping his grip on one weight but dropping the other.

That's not good. The longer one carried a heavy weight, the harder it was to carry, and Tech was already struggling.

"Hey, Hunter!" Wrecker jabbed him excitedly with an elbow. "Can I try my idea?"

Hunter gave him an uncertain look. "He has to restart."

"Yup!" Wrecker grinned. "So can I try?"

Thunk. Crosshair dropped his weights, panting a little.

On the other side of the challenge, Tech finally turned back, ready to try again but not looking very confident. He took a couple of breaths, then hoisted the weights, took a step forward, and nearly slipped again.

"Tech!" Hunter called. "Wait there a sec, Wrecker's going to help! – I think," he added in a lower voice.

Crosshair sniffed, amused. "He's going to try, anyway."

"Yeah, but how? Tech has to be the one to carry those across."

"He will." Crosshair jerked his chin at Wrecker as he ran back to join Tech. "But who says he's got to walk while carrying them?"

Hunter blinked.

On the other side of the course, Tech was looking uncertain. "Wrecker, what do you think you are doing?"

"You just hang onto those weights, got it?" Wrecker said. "You have a good grip?"

"Yes, but –"

"Good!" In one smooth movement, Wrecker lifted Tech to sit on his shoulders, somehow managing to keep Tech from overbalancing backwards.

"Wrecker, this is incredibly dangerous!" Tech yelped, locking his ankles in front of Wrecker's chest. "The odds that I will drop one of these and injure you is – very high!"

"Not high enough for me!" Wrecker laughed, plowing through the snow.

"Tech's got a point," Hunter said, wondering if he should tell Wrecker to put him down.

Crosshair shrugged, though he was watching unblinkingly. "They're already halfway here. Not much reason to waste time arguing about it."

He was right. If anyone else had said it, Hunter would have simply nodded his agreement. But Crosshair was the one who, out of all of them spent the most time arguing pointlessly. Hunter shot him an irked look.

"Okay, you can drop 'em now!" Wrecker announced.

Tech obeyed. The instant the weights hit the ground, Wrecker laughed and dumped Tech off his shoulders and into the snow.

Instantly, Tech scrambled to his feet and shoved Wrecker with all his strength, with very little visible effect. With a huff, he stepped back, brushed snow out of his hair until it stood on end, and turned back to the trail.

"Nearly there," Hunter said, because Wrecker had a wild grin on his face that promised further trouble. "Let's finish up."

Cody stood at the beginning of the obstacle course, watching as the commando cadets approached through the ever-thickening snowfall. Wrecker was in front, boisterously cheerful despite the cold, Tech and Hunter were following at a normal pace, and Crosshair was dragging along at the back, looking less than enthusiastic. Cody knew the expression very well, because Fox always hated having to work in the cold. (Wolffe had said it was because he was a wimp. Fox said it was because he was thinner than some people he could name.)

"How'd you boys do?" Cody called, as they crossed the finish line.

That made them all stop short. Hunter looked at Tech, and then both of them glanced at the security camera mounted on a nearby tree. Their thoughts couldn't have been more obvious if they'd asked, out loud, 'Weren't you watching us, Commander?'

"I don't know, sir," said Hunter at last. "We took a pretty long time."

"Yeah." Cody made a show of checking his chronometer. "I've been waiting here about half an hour . . . I skipped most of the obstacles, though, so I'll take your suggestion and match your time against my best. I beat your time by twelve minutes and three seconds."

"That long?" Tech asked, with a faintly surprised tilt of his head. "Hm. We are worse than I imagined."

Cody gestured to the pile of their belongings, which was covered in snow. "Go ahead and gear up. You really thought you could run it faster than I did, hm?"

Wrecker picked up his helmet and dusted it off. "Guess not. . ."

"Well, yes," said Tech.

"No," Hunter cut in, looking slightly mortified. He started to say something else, then shook his head and reached for his knife instead.

Crosshair studied Cody for a moment. "Why, Commander?"

"Why . . . do I ask?"

"Yeah."

"Because I want to know." Cody brushed the snow from Tech's pistols and handed them over. "From what I saw in your records, you're supposed to be at least as good as the other commando squads, right?"

"We're supposed to be better than all of them," Crosshair muttered, slinging his rifle to his pack. "And we can't even get close to your time."

"Crosshair." Hunter shot him an uncomfortable look. "We're not . . ."

"We're not what? Supposed to be better than everyone else?" Crosshair holstered his pistol with a shove.

Cody tilted his head to one side and eyed Hunter questioningly.

"We –" Hunter rubbed at the back of his neck. "Yeah. The Kaminoans – we've got advantages over the other clones."

"And decided disadvantages," said Tech. He frowned a little. "The chief of which seems to be our inability to work together."

Cody glanced at Wrecker, who was looking worried, then at Crosshair, who just looked morose. He wondered why they seemed to be under the impression that they had to be better than everyone else. And why was it bothering them now, as opposed to back on Kamino? Or had they been able to beat everyone else on Kamino, score-wise, even while failing as a team?

"You seemed to do all right with working together," he commented. "A lot better than the first time I saw you."

They only glanced uncertainly at each other, and Cody waved for them to fall in as he headed back to the bunker.

"Hunter," said Tech in a quiet voice that Cody could barely hear. "What were you about to say? When Crosshair interrupted you again?"

"It doesn't matter," Hunter responded, just as quietly.

Cody kept walking, pretending not to notice when the others paused for a moment behind him.

Wrecker apparently thought he was whispering, but his voice carried well in the quiet snow. "C'mon, Hunter. What were you gonna say?"

"I almost said we weren't trying to beat Cody's time, but we were. And –" Hunter suddenly seemed to realize that Cody was drawing farther away, because the squad's footsteps started to crunch through the snow again. "And Crosshair's right. We are supposed to be better than anyone else, including Cody. It just – seemed weird to say it, that's all."

"Yes," Tech admitted. "But we are still better, as far as individual scoring in our particular specialties go."

"As far as scores go," Wrecker muttered. "But only 'cause we've been altered."

"That is the whole point," Tech said. "Our alterations are why we are expected to be better than everyone else."

"Yeah." Hunter sounded tired all of a sudden. "But maybe specific abilities don't count for so much in the field. Or maybe . . . Well, the Kaminoans never meant us to get into the field in the first place."

"Of course not," Crosshair said bitterly, though Cody didn't think his tone was aimed at Hunter. "They just want to see how far their little experiments can go."

Cody kept his mouth shut, though he was now beginning to wonder how much the commandos knew, and how that had affected their actions, particularly in the last year or so. Were they so disjointed as a team because they didn't see a point in trying? Hunter had said they got on each other's nerves a lot, which wasn't surprising, considering the variety of personalities and interests they had. . .

But overall, Cody hadn't seen much evidence of a lack of cooperation on the obstacle course. They already knew each other and their skills as a group, and could get along, overall, better than he'd expected given their reputation. It was beginning to look as though one of their biggest problems was that they simply had no goal.

#

Cody straightened from where he'd been leaning over a computer terminal and turned to face the squad. "The storm should pass in the next couple of hours, and we'll head back out after," he announced. "Until then, we're going to try out something inside."

Without further explanation, he went to the lift. As soon as the silent commandos entered, he pressed the button that would take them down a level to the gym. When the lift doors opened, Cody gestured to the long expanse of white tile before them.

"This place is outfitted with a laser trap," he said. "Or, more accurately, an electronic pulse trap. We modified it a little. Instead of touching a laser and getting a point knocked off your score sheet, you get a bit of a shock added into the bargain. It's what we commanders call a 'trust exercise'."

No one budged.

Cody grinned behind his helmet. "And you lot are bad at taking directions from each other. So – guess where you're going to spend the rest of the morning."

No one answered.

"First run, you get to all go through using your own skill," Cody announced, pretending not to notice their subtle glances at each other. He went to the control panel beside the lift and activated it. Red laser beams shot from emitters all the way down both sides of the hall. After a couple of seconds, the beams began to shift in preprogrammed directions, crisscrossing over each other.

"All right, Sergeant," Cody ordered. "Get a move on!"

Hunter threw himself forward, diving right between the first three lasers. He didn't hesitate once on his way through, ducking and weaving through the red beams until he reached the end.

Cody wasn't surprised. He'd figured on Hunter being able to feel where the lasers were. "You're up, Wrecker," he said.

Wrecker moved much faster than Cody had expected. True, the lasers were fairly slow-moving, but they still weren't easy to avoid, and they appeared closer and faster when one was next to them. Presumably, Wrecker had memorized the pattern – and that meant Tech had, and probably Crosshair as well. . .

So, Cody switched the programming. "You're up, Tech," he said, giving him no time to note the new pattern.

Tech obeyed after a half-second of surprise at the difference. Even as he entered the line of shifting beams, though, Cody could see him looking ahead, probably noting the speed and length of each emitter's path. When Tech reached the halfway point, Cody switched up the pattern again.

A laser caught Tech on the arm with a faint crackle, making him jump, and for a moment he stood between two beams as though undecided. Then he plunged forward, and Cody switched them again; but this time Tech adapted more readily. He reached the safe zone without being hit again.

"Crosshair."

The sniper was the only one who seemed to have noticed the easy path. He kept to the center, where the spacing between lasers was widest, and didn't stop when Cody switched the patterns on him. Of course . . . he'd had time to note all three of the patterns that Cody had switched between.

Time to make this harder, Cody thought, as though he hadn't been planning on making it harder all along.

He switched off the lasers and brought up a new code – one that would use two times the number of emitters. "Get over here," he ordered, and they ran to join him.

To Cody's silent amusement, all four of them looked suspicious as they formed up in front of him. They know it was too easy.

"I noticed something," he said, clasping his hands loosely behind his back. "Hunter, you hardly looked at the lasers. You're able to sense where they are?"

"I – guess so, Commander." Hunter removed his helmet and tucked it under one arm.

"You guess so."

"Yes, sir." The sergeant raised both eyebrows, looking slightly confused. "I don't notice them the way I do droids, but – I know where they are without looking."

"Hm." Cody gestured at the laser field. "Can you feel them from here, or do you have to be close?"

Hunter shut his eyes, frowning in concentration. "I know where they are from here, sir, but it's more blurred."

"How about running it blindfolded?"

He only hesitated for a moment. "I think I could, sir."

"All right." Cody pulled a black strip of fabric from his belt and handed it over. "Let's see what you can do. Your job is to get through that course on your own – you've got your enhanced senses to guide you."

"Yes, sir."

"From there, you're going to lead the team. Since none of them will be able to see the lasers, either, it'll be up to you to talk each of them through. Preferably without getting hit. Think you're up to that?"

Cody wasn't asking, and Hunter knew that. The sergeant couldn't say 'no', even if he'd wanted to – which, judging by the uncertain look in his eyes, he did.

Hunter glanced at Wrecker, who shrugged. Tech and Crosshair didn't move a centimeter.

"Yes, sir," he said at last, as though realizing Cody was still waiting for an answer.

"Then get started."

Hunter tied the blindfold securely and started forward. He took the hall slower this time, because of the increased number of laser beams, but he never actually stopped moving. Cody was impressed. The Kaminoans probably hadn't realized just how useful an ability like Hunter's could be on recon missions. If they had, they'd have had him in the field as soon as he completed ARC training. Nala Se was probably keeping them under close watch. Havoc had hinted that they were her special project.

At the other end of the course, Hunter straightened and turned, removing the blindfold. Now, to see if the sergeant could be as confident in giving commands as he was at dealing with laser traps.

Cody turned and studied the other three. Wrecker was the most easily trusting, and that meant Hunter would have an easier time getting him through. But that wasn't what Cody wanted, not right now. "Wrecker," he said, holding out another blindfold. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hunter relaxing a bit. "Tie that for Crosshair."

Hunter went back to being tense.

Crosshair didn't protest vocally or even really react at all – but all of a sudden, his usual relaxed, confident bearing was gone. He depended on his eyes more than most clones that Cody knew. Most clones who were trained as snipers were taught to work with spotters. Crosshair, as far as his records indicated, was not. The closest he came to having a spotter was when Tech gave him coordinates to small sectors of land in which there were enemies.

Cody waited, pretending not to notice how Crosshair hesitated before walking slowly toward the laser trap. He fully expected that Hunter would make at least one mistake in this run, but that was what the practice was for.

Hunter was staring at the beginning of the lasers. "Two steps forward – no, wait!"

Crosshair had already obeyed. The very first laser in the row caught him in the wrist, and he jerked back.

Hunter took a deep breath, realizing his mistake. "I meant to give you a set of instructions," he said. "Then tell you when to follow them."

"Could've mentioned it earlier," Crosshair griped, giving his arm a hard shake.

". . . Yeah." Hunter went back to studying the lasers. "When I say now, take two steps forward and then duck – the laser'll be a meter and a half above the ground – and move forward another step. Then I'll give you the next set."

"Got it."

"Now!"

Two steps – duck and move a step forward – Crosshair straightened, waiting for the next instructions.

Hunter was watching the lasers in front of him, trying to figure out their pattern. Tech was leaning forward, standing on his toes, and Cody could tell he wanted to shout something – he'd seen the danger that Hunter hadn't noticed yet.

Cody shot him a warning look and shook his head, and Tech subsided begrudgingly.

"Okay," Hunter said slowly. "Take a –"

"Do I need to worry about anything moving towards me?" Crosshair demanded, tilting his head as the two lasers behind him shifted closer.

"Uh –" Hunter's gaze shifted, and then his eyes widened – just as both lasers caught the sniper across the backs of his knees.

He stumbled and tripped forward into the next set, and Cody reached towards the controls, ready to shut it off if he got hit too many times.

"Crosshair, move back!" Hunter shouted from where he'd moved to stand at the very edge of the opposite end of the laser field.

The sniper rolled to his feet, disoriented and still facing forward, and hesitated.

Hunter gave his head a quick shake, as though unable to decide whether he should tell him to turn around and go back, or come towards him.

Cody gave him two seconds to decide, then activated a web of lasers behind Crosshair, who straightened hesitantly. "Hunter – which –?"

"Stay where you are!" Hunter snapped, suddenly using a command voice, and Crosshair froze in response. "You're in a clear zone for now. Diagonal laser ending at ten o'clock, three steps in front of you. As soon as you pass it, you'll have to duck a horizontal at two o'clock, just below two meters. There's another safe zone in front of it . . ."

Chapter Text

It was fully half an hour later that Hunter guided Wrecker past the last laser to safety. As he pulled the blindfold from his eyes, Cody shut off the laser field and walked over to join them at the far end of the hall.

Crosshair and Tech were both looking bad-tempered, which was probably because they'd been hit the most frequently. Tech replaced his goggles with a frown and blinked as though readjusting his vision. Hunter was standing next to Wrecker, tense all over. He'd made several mistakes while guiding each of them, and it showed on his face.

"All right, Sergeant," Cody said. "I think you're getting the hang of it."

Hunter looked up quickly. "Yes, sir . . ."

"Good." He met each of the commandos' gazes, nodded once, then turned back toward the control panel. "Now. Do it again."

No one answered, so Cody raised his voice a little. "What was that, troopers?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Good." Cody didn't look back. He paused near the controls and waited for them to form up. "Sergeant? The goal is to get your men through without getting hit."

Hunter winced, looking almost like he wanted to apologize to his teammates, but Cody didn't let him. "You first."

This time, Hunter's movements through the trap were nowhere near as sure. Cody hovered a hand over the 'off' switch, just in case the sergeant's hesitance was from weariness or an inability to sense the beams, but he got through without being hit.

"Wrecker, you're next."

One after the other, Hunter guided them through – but this time, he did even worse than before. Wrecker was hit seven times before he got through the ten-meter hallway, Crosshair five, and Tech six. Hunter was second-guessing himself, and Cody knew that the others were getting irritated.

When Tech was hit in the hand just as he was exiting the laser trap, he tripped and snapped, "Hunter! You told me to step forward! Is that what you meant to say?"

"I – yeah, of course."

"Then why did I walk into another laser?" Tech ripped off the blindfold.

Hunter's gaze shifted to the floor. "You had been reacting slower, I was trying to time my orders with –"

"You are being incredibly inconsistent," Tech said grumpily, rubbing the back of his hand as he moved to join Wrecker and Crosshair.

Before Hunter could do more than sigh, Wrecker added, "Yeah . . . We gotta know you're always going to time stuff the same, Sarge."

"Or that you want us to get hit," Crosshair cut in. "Just let us know. At least that way we'll know what to expect."

The sergeant's head snapped up, and he leaned towards his teammates, a look of annoyance crossing his features. "I don't want you to get hit, I –"

They all seemed to notice Cody's presence at the same moment, and the argument cut off abruptly.

Cody eyed the other three, then turned to Hunter. "Well, Sergeant?"

Hunter blinked. "Commander?"

"I want your assessment of how you've been doing. Is this your best?"

"No, sir." Hunter ignored the disgruntled looks from his teammates and stood at attention. "I know I can do better."

Cody paused a moment, studying him, and then reworded his question. "Are you trying your best?"

"Yes, Commander." Hunter's gaze shifted a little. "But I keep making mistakes."

"So I noticed." Cody tilted his head to one side and pointed at the other three. "Why does it matter?"

"What –"

"Why does it matter?" Cody repeated patiently.

"Because they keep getting hit."

"What if it was just a laser beam, no shock? Would it still matter?"

Hunter shut his mouth, hesitated, then said, "Not the same way, sir."

"Because there would be no real consequences, am I right?"

Hunter watched him, and then realization and guilt entered his eyes. ". . . Yes, sir."

"Mistakes always have consequences, whether they're immediate or not." Cody took off his helmet. "You can't foresee everything that might go wrong, and you will make mistakes. There will always be something you could have done differently, or better, but you can't dwell on it in the moment, Sergeant. You have to focus and continue towards your goal."

Cody gestured to the laser field. "Here, the consequences to your mistakes are extremely mild, compared to what could happen in the field."

Hunter flinched almost imperceptibly. "Yes, sir. I do know that."

"Good." Cody let the silence drag for several long seconds, then signaled for the commandos to move back through the hall. When they all reached the control panel, he activated the laser field and turned to face them. "Now do it again."

Hunter's gaze flickered to his squad mates and back to Cody. He hesitated, then went to the beginning of the course and re-fastened his blindfold.

Once again, Cody kept a close watch on Hunter, ready to switch off the laser field should the need arise. He could tell that if Hunter had been on his own, he would have been fine going through the course alone as many times as Cody wanted him to. But now, his lack of confidence in successfully guiding his teammates through was carrying across to his own movements.

Sure enough, just as Hunter was leaving the course, he mistimed his last step, and the highest laser clipped him on the arm with a sharp crackle. Hunter stumbled free of the field, more affected by that one shock that Tech had been by six.

"Wrecker," Cody said, gesturing to the field.

Wrecker hesitated. "Uh – can you give him a second?"

Cody looked up at him. "I'm not telling him to start now, I'm telling you to be ready."

"Right." Wrecker rubbed his head. "Sorry."

As he moved to the beginning of the hall, Hunter straightened, studying the shifting laser beams. He looked alert, but after half a minute he still hadn't given any directions.

"Sergeant?" Cody prompted.

Hunter's gaze snapped to him, then back to the field. "Two steps forward and step over –" he began, then hesitated.

Cody tilted his head, wondering if Hunter remembered that the others were much less susceptible than he was.

Wrecker seemed to be thinking along similar lines. "C'mon, Sarge," he called. "Don't be so worried about me getting zapped, I can barely feel it!"

"That is highly unlikely," Tech muttered, and Crosshair raised an eyebrow in agreement.

Wrecker turned and glared at them both. "I'm trying to help," he whispered loudly.

Cody smiled a little. If Hunter hadn't heard Tech's words, he'd definitely heard Wrecker's.

But it seemed to have worked, at least a little. Hunter took a deep breath, all his attention on the field, and started over. "Two steps forward, then you'll have to step over a double laser, ten centimeters from the floor."

"Okay!" Wrecker sounded suddenly enthusiastic. "I got it, just say when."

"Now."

Wrecker obeyed. "Okay, and what's next?"

"One step forward, duck the one at shoulder-level . . ."

Wrecker ended up getting hit only one time, just before the end of the hall. Hunter hesitated a moment before giving the final directions, which were the only directions he gave unprompted. Wrecker had practically talked him through the whole thing. Somehow, Cody didn't think the other two would be as helpful.

"That was better," Wrecker announced loudly, yanking off his blindfold with a cheerful grin. "See? Knew you could do it!"

Hunter nodded once, but didn't look at all convinced. He had his arms folded, now, standing almost defensively as he looked over at Tech.

"Okay, Tech," said Cody. "You're up next."

Tech did not actually sigh – not audibly, at any rate.

Although Hunter was doing better at recovering after misjudging distance or timing, Tech still got hit no fewer than six times. Part of this was because he got increasingly clumsy as he went, and twice he stumbled into a laser, but Hunter still got as tense as though it were his fault.

When Tech was two thirds of the way there, Cody shut off the field. "You're clear, trooper," he said, and Tech limped forward to join the others.

Crosshair looked skeptically at Cody, who pretended not to notice. The sniper seemed to be under the impression that everything Cody did had an ulterior motive. And it did, in the sense that Cody wasn't doing anything unless he thought it would help them. At the moment, Tech was too uncoordinated to make his way through the rest of the field without getting hit, and it wouldn't help him or Hunter to try and force the issue.

"Crosshair," Cody said. "You ready?"

Crosshair stalked to the beginning, fastening the blindfold around his eyes. "No."

Well, Cody thought with amusement, I did ask. "Good," he said neutrally, then raised his voice. "Whenever you're ready, Hunter."

The sergeant began giving instructions, but he wasn't ready. He miscalculated twice during the first two thirds of the course, and when Crosshair put a hand out to steady himself and got shocked again, he finally lost his temper. "Hunter, make up your mind!" he snarled. "Left or right?"

Hunter just shook his head once and stared at the lasers as though he didn't know anymore. "Your left . . ."

While he hesitated, Wrecker said, "Uh – Sarge, the ones behind him are gonna hit him again."

"Move forward," Hunter began, then stopped again.

Crosshair hesitated, took a step forward, started to take another . . . "Forward how many steps, Hunter?" he snapped.

"One – one more – no, not yet!"

Cody shook his head and reached for the control panel as Crosshair jerked back yet again. Okay, enough's enough. He's nearly there anyway.

Before he could turn it off, though, Crosshair suddenly let out an angry snarl and threw himself forward, right through the last three lasers, and slammed into Wrecker on the other side.

Frowning, Cody shut off the field and headed towards the squad, who didn't seem to notice his approach.

Wrecker set Crosshair roughly on his feet. "What were you thinking?"

"That is exactly what I would like to know!" Tech joined in. "That was incredibly boneheaded, even for you!"

"So what?" Crosshair wavered a little, then shoved Tech back. "I was just going to get hit anyway."

Tech smacked his hand away. "You do not know that!"

"No?" Crosshair shot a glare at Hunter, who was just watching the other three as though he had no idea what to do about their fighting.

"No! You should have waited. The likelihood of Hunter getting you hit all three times was not very high, and –"

"Oh, shut up, Tech."

Tech took a step forward, clenching his fists. Crosshair faced off with him, and Hunter took a hesitant step forward. "Guys –"

Neither of them seemed to hear him.

"Guys, come on!" Wrecker said, grabbing each of them by one arm and tugging them apart. "Stop fighting, it's just gonna make stuff worse."

"Right. Because you're one to talk." Crosshair sneered, breaking free.

Tech also struggled loose and then, his fight with Crosshair forgotten, faced Wrecker with Crosshair next to him.

Cody could tell the two of them were about three seconds away from throwing a punch. Taking a deep breath, he barked, "That's enough!"

Immediately, all four of them spun to face him. The older two looked guilty, and the younger two . . . did not.

Typical. Cody glared at Crosshair and Tech for a moment, then said, "Move it, troopers. We're headed back up."

They entered the lift silently. After the doors opened onto the upper level, Cody led them out into the main room, then turned to point at Tech and Crosshair, who were looking mutinous. "You two get outside and cool off. No talking."

They left without a word, pointedly not looking at each other. Cody didn't speak again until he'd seen the door slide shut behind them. Then he turned to Wrecker, who was frowning unhappily.

"I'm sorry, Commander," Wrecker mumbled.

Cody tilted his head. "For what?"

"I shouldn't've yelled at Cross – I didn't mean to start a fight, just . . . just . . ."

"He'd pulled a completely idiotic stunt," Cody said mildly, holding his helmet under one arm. "Word of advice, Wrecker: in a training situation, let the superiors do the yelling."

A hesitant smile started on Wrecker's face. "Right."

"We've been going at this for a while. You and the others should grab some food and take a break. Just stay in sight of the base."

"Yes, sir." Wrecker's gaze shifted to the still-silent Hunter, but neither he nor Cody said anything else, so after a moment more, Wrecker left.

Cody turned to face the young sergeant, who wasn't meeting his eyes, and waited.

It took Hunter several moments to register the silence and look up. "Sir, I –" He paused, apparently unsure even of what to say. Then he straightened. "Are we going to continue this exercise, sir?"

"Yes." Not the same way, though.

Hunter nodded once. "Commander, can I be the one to be guided through the laser field inst–" He wavered, as though suddenly realizing the flaw in his idea. "I guess there wouldn't be much point to that."

Cody shook his head. "You'd be able to avoid the lasers even if the others made mistakes."

Hunter nodded, then sighed and folded his arms, frowning at the floor. "But . . ."

Yeah, Cody thought. These guys definitely aren't in the habit of operating under normal military protocol. "But what?" he asked.

"They're the ones who have to take the fall for my mistakes."

"That's the reality of being in command," Cody said. "And it never gets any easier."

Hunter flushed a little. "I know that, sir."

Cody gestured him towards the main door, waiting for him to continue speaking, but Hunter remained quiet while they went outside. The lowering clouds were darker than before, and a few snowflakes curled down here and there, but the storm had stopped for now.

The others were nowhere in sight. Cody couldn't even hear them – at least Tech and Crosshair were obeying the no talking rule – but Hunter tilted his head to the left.

"They're on the other side?" Cody asked.

"Yeah."

"Okay." Cody sat down on the bench outside the front door and reached for one of the pouches on his belt "I don't know about you, but I could use something to eat."

The sergeant stood hesitantly next to him until Cody raised an eyebrow. Hunter joined him on the bench, but drew his knife and started fidgeting with it instead of eating.

Cody leaned back against the wall, watching the swirling clouds as he took a bite of half-frozen ration bar. The texture was almost nostalgic. He couldn't count the number of times he and Rex had eaten outside, griping about the cold while they stood in the snow instead of going inside. Wolffe had always thought they were idiots to insist on eating outside, but when they'd first arrived here, neither Cody nor Rex could get enough of the snow and the fresh, cold air. Fox said he hoped they got shipped to Hoth.

Ten minutes later, still smiling a little, Cody shoved the wrapper back into his belt and straightened. "Sergeant?"

Hunter jumped, fumbling his knife. "Yes, sir."

"Let's get back to the others." Cody headed around the side of the base and then paused, smirking behind the safety of his helmet at the sight that met his eyes. Wrecker was scuffing through the snowdrifts, kicking puffs of it into the air. Crosshair was perched high in a tree, without his helmet, and Tech was sitting cross-legged in the snow, using one finger to poke at something in the palm of his left hand.

Cody went over to him, trying to see what it was he was so interested in. Tech didn't notice his approach; he was too busy trying – apparently – to separate the tiny clump of snow into single snowflakes. "What's up, soldier?"

Tech twisted to face him, the excited expression in his eyes entirely different from the sharp annoyance he'd worn earlier. "None of these snowflakes appear to have crystallized in exactly the same manner!"

Cody kept his face straight with an effort. "You can tell that by looking at them?"

"Not with the exactitude that I would prefer," Tech admitted, brushing the powdery snow from his hands. "Unfortunately, they do not maintain their form after coming into contact with something even slightly less cold than themselves. I wonder if there have been studies done on the subject."

"Most likely."

"I shall have to look into it at a later date." Tech got to his feet, finally noticing Hunter, who had been hovering in the background. "Are we ready to resume the exercise?"

"Are you?" Cody asked.

Tech tilted his head like a bird. "If you mean, am I physically ready, then yes. If you mean do I wish to resume it, then no."

"Then you're in luck," Cody told him. He turned towards the other two and raised his voice. "We're going for a run while the weather holds."

Crosshair slithered out of the tree, and Wrecker plowed to a halt beside Cody. "Hey, where are we running to?"

"Around the base," Cody said, pointing to the barely-noticeable track. "Ten times, lads! Hunter, you're coming with me."

"Yes, sir."

The other three commandos exchanged quick looks before moving off to the start of the track.

Cody turned and went the opposite way, towards the hill beyond the base. Hunter followed, walking so quietly that Cody had to cast a quick look over his shoulder to make sure he was even there.

They trudged through the snow up the long, increasingly steep hill, picking their way through patches of tall, dead reeds and tangles of shrubbery. The wind was steady and cold, and every now and then a flurry of snow gusted across their field of vision.

Ten minutes passed before they left the trees behind. The earth near the top of the rocky hill was apparently too shallow to support anything with large roots, because all that had grown here was some tough variety of grass, now matted and yellowed beneath the dusting of snow. It looked exactly as Cody remembered it from his many walks up this way, both during his own training and while he served as an instructor, before the war began.

There was the boulder on the north side, that Monnk and Wolffe always fought over because it was the only place where you could sit half-comfortably. . . At least, until the day Fox and Cody had cut a tree, freed it of branches, and dragged it halfway up the hill. The log was still there, right next to the boulder, though it looked like the past year hadn't done it any favors. Something had eaten through a lot of the bark.

Cody sat on it and reached down to feel the cut end. The numbers were still there, surprisingly enough. Fox had carved his number there when he was bored one day, and Rex had followed his example. Monnk and Wolffe had promptly scratched their own numbers onto the boulder, ruining two perfectly serviceable field knives in the process.

Cody grinned a little, remembering how long it had taken them to sharpen those blades again, and ran his fingers over the numbers on the log. There were more than two there, now. Curious, he got up and took off his helmet to get a better look at them. CC 6454 – heh, looks like Ponds got stuck on shiny training for a while. . . And CC 10/994? I don't remember that number. Wait – he'd be one of the predesignated commanders . . .

Not all that many troopers were predesignated as commanders; mostly they were switched to command class when they showed certain abilities. Cody's particular batch was unusual, in that they'd been made as normal troopers, but most of them had ended up being given positions of lieutenant or higher, and the few that didn't became sergeants.

But tactical coordinators were nearly always pulled from predesignated command class . . . And something about the two CC numbers – they went together. Ponds had been switched unexpectedly to command, late in his training, but Cody was sure he remembered seeing the second number before, in relation to Ponds, or at least in relation to the Jedi he served. General Windu . . . his former padawan Depa Billaba – "Grey," he remembered.

He grinned, sitting back on his heels at his most recent memory of the usually-stoic commander. Grey thought that snow was the best thing in the universe; he'd named himself after the color of snow clouds. That had only been revealed because his buddy, the now-captain Styles, decided to be a jerk and, just before curfew, shouted out the reason to the whole barracks. While everyone laughed, Grey, who normally operated precisely within regulations, had chased Styles out of the barracks. They'd both showed up at the training modules the next morning looking a little the worse for wear.

For a moment, Cody almost wished things had stayed that way. . . Kamino hadn't been easy, but at least everyone had been around. Now they were scattered across the galaxy, or dead.

A gust of biting wind pulled him out of his momentary wistfulness, and he glanced around. Hunter was standing next to the boulder, staring out over the river, which wound its way sluggishly through the forest below them. Despite the fact that he wasn't wearing a helmet, the cold didn't seem to bother him.

Cody wandered up beside him and gazed down at the icy black river. "I used to come up here a lot," he said. "The shinies, at least when I was here, called it 'Officer Hill', because my batchmates and I spent so much of our free time up here. . . Mostly arguing over stupid things, if I'm honest."

A reluctant smirk crossed Hunter's features. "Sounds – familiar."

"Yeah, I imagine it does." Cody looked back towards the base, where he could make out the figures of the three commandos dashing along the track at full speed. He pointed towards them. "You know, when I told them ten laps, I didn't mean for them to kill themselves doing it."

Hunter shaded his eyes with one hand, watching, then shook his head with a faint smile. "They won't have kept that pace up the whole time. Most likely, they're on their last time around."

Cody thought about bringing up the laser field again, then decided to wait for Hunter to bring it up himself. Cody knew he had a question; now, to see if he would actually ask it.

So he continued to watch the base, even after the three commandos disappeared around the back. Half a minute later, Wrecker reappeared at the front of the base, well ahead of the other two, threw himself to his side, and rolled to a halt. Cody raised an eyebrow. What is he up to?

A moment later, that question was answered when Crosshair came streaking around one corner and promptly got tripped by Wrecker's deliberately outflung arm.

Then Tech tore into view and fell over Crosshair. Before they could untangle themselves, Wrecker dumped an armful of snow on their heads. Cody clearly heard Tech's outraged squawk through the cold, still air, followed by Wrecker's booming laugh. The next moment, all three of them were wrestling in the snow.

Cody chuckled. "Guess we'd better get down there, eh, Sergeant?"

Hunter blinked, his expression of mild fondness slowly changing back to its previous doubt and concern. "Yes, sir," he said.

Pretending not to notice his hesitant tone, Cody led the way back down the hill. If he remained quiet long enough, he was almost certain Hunter would eventually say something. One time, while talking with Ninety-Nine, Cody had commented on how the good instructors dealt with different clones differently but got the same results.

Ninety-Nine had smiled, as though knowing that the reason Cody was mentioning it was because he didn't think he could be that good a teacher. "See, Cody, it's 'cause they've had a lot of practice, and they're good at reading their men. When a soldier doesn't understand something, he needs to have it explained the right way."

"But what if you don't know what they don't understand?" Cody had asked, then added, "Or what if something's wrong, and you don't know what it is?"

Ninety-Nine had given him another knowing look and answered the second question, which was the one Cody really wanted answered. "In my experience, Cody, if you need to know what's wrong you'll find out one way or another," he said easily, as they walked slowly down the corridor. " 'Specially if they want you to know. That makes it easier, because they'll find a way to tell you. See, some troopers need to have it dragged out of 'em, and some need to be told what's wrong with 'em, and some – the trick is just to keep quiet long enough."

With Rex and a few others, it turned out to be a matter of dragging things out of them. With a lot of shinies, it was telling them what was wrong. Cody was almost certain that with Hunter, it would simply be a matter of keeping quiet.

Chapter Text

As they started down the hill, moving through the powdery snow, Cody put his helmet on again. The cold and constant movement were getting to his injury, and the tiny voice in the back of his mind that was presumably his good sense but somehow sounded like Stitch warned him he needed to slow down.

Cody obeyed, trailing behind Hunter, but by the time they got halfway down, the increasingly sharp ache in his chest made him pause for rest. He leaned one hand against the rough bark of a nearby tree and bent at the waist, trying to draw in slow, even breaths.

"Cody?" Hunter's voice sounded concerned, and Cody looked up to see him climbing back up the hill.

"I'm okay," Cody said. "Just that old injury."

"Not that old," Hunter disagreed.

"Yeah . . . I guess not." Cody straightened and continued slowly down the hill, while Hunter hovered at his left side. Then Cody slipped, just the slightest bit – he was nowhere close to losing his balance, but Hunter caught him by the elbow and wrist as fast as if he'd had his feet knocked out from under him.

He's at least as bad as Rex, Cody thought, amused. Possibly even as bad as Colt, though . . . less vocal. "Thanks."

Hunter didn't answer, except to resume hovering as they walked – it was like having a medical droid at one's shoulder, except quieter and more obviously concerned. Oh, and less predictable. All a med droid would do if you keeled over was sound an alarm.

Cody highly doubted he was about to keel over.

"Hunter," he said after over a minute of the sergeant walking beside him, one hand hovering behind his shoulder. "I promise, I'm fine."

"Yeah . . . Right." His voice was nearly inaudible.

"What, you don't believe me?" Cody challenged, keeping his tone flat so Hunter wouldn't sense his amusement.

"I . . . uh, yes," Hunter tripped over his tongue, embarrassed. "But – that's – the others have all said it a lot, and half the time it isn't true."

"The others being your squad mates?" Cody stepped carefully over a gnarled root that poked up beneath the snow.

"Yeah. Wrecker – you saw his scars. He stood up right after that explosives accident and said he was fine looking like that. He was getting blood everywhere, and the emergency med team was running in – he lost most of his vision in one eye, and that was all he said. And the rest of the time he makes a big fuss about small injuries.

"The number of times Crosshair . . . He and Tech are the worst, really." Hunter paused, as though startled he'd let that slip. "I'm sure they don't intend to be."

"Eh, don't worry," Cody said. "I'm sure they don't. Being stupid about injuries is common to most clones – most cadets," he corrected quickly, pretending not to hear Hunter's faintly amused huff. "I know troopers who have brushed off injuries a lot worse than mine – trust me, Hunter, there's a reason clone medics are so universally grouchy."

Hunter smirked.

"What about Tech and Crosshair? You said they were worse than Wrecker?"

"Not the same way. Just – more frequent." Hunter paused, his eyes flicking from one side to the other as though considering whether he should continue.

Cody stayed silent.

Finally, Hunter sighed. "Well, Tech said, 'I'm fine' right before he passed out in the citadel challenge from forgetting to eat for a day and a half. We didn't know what was wrong, and then when we got him to medbay and he revived, he was annoyed at us for being so worried over low blood sugar – he called it a 'ridiculously superficial and easily nullifiable symptom'."

Somehow, that didn't surprise Cody in the least. "Did he ever repeat that mistake?"

"Yes." Hunter actually let out an aggravated sigh. "The second time, I put Wrecker on making sure he ate. That worked okay, and then last month Tech just dropped like a stone while trying to describe some translation program he was working on. Turns out he'd not slept for two days because he wanted to finish the alterations on his visor. He said sleeping would have interrupted his thought process."

Cody snorted.

"That's when I told him if he was too busy to sleep, we needed to toss some of his projects." Hunter paused to step onto a stump and jump off the opposite side. He had wandered a couple meters from Cody by now, and was talking somewhat absently, like he just wanted to get it off his chest. "Tech said I was overreacting, but then Crosshair said he had no problem throwing Tech's datapad out the window, so – Tech got mad, but he agreed to pay more attention. Never quite got him to say what he'd pay more attention to . . . Wrecker's been helpful with that, though. He keeps an eye on him when I can't."

Cody gave a noncommittal hum.

"Crosshair – I don't know what it is with him, he just absolutely refuses to cooperate when anyone notices something's off. If I pretend not to notice he's gotten hurt, chances are he'll go to medbay himself and get it looked at – not like he'll ever mention it. But if I say something, or Tech or Wrecker or I show that we've noticed an injury, it's like pulling rancor teeth to get him in for treatment." Hunter was talking faster now, staring at the ground as he moved. "And I don't want it to get to the higher-ups or the Kaminoans, so I don't pull rank on him because if I do and he still doesn't listen, I'll have to report it, and that's a . . . I can't have them knowing."

A defect, is what they'd call it, Cody thought. He was beginning to understand better, now.

"We all learned some basic medical care," Hunter went on. "Sometimes we just patch each other up instead of getting everything logged in the system. . . I know none of us like being in the medbay – heck, Cross and I hate it. But even when it's just us patching him up – I haven't been able to figure out why he's so blasted stubborn about letting people help him. I don't want to be micromanaging him, or Tech, but if I don't they just . . . I don't think they do it on purpose, but it's like they don't care enough to bother."

He ran a hand through his hair in exasperation, then sighed. "And they didn't get really bad about it until around the time I was assigned to be sergeant. I still can't figure out what I did wrong, unless it was that time I refused to go for an eval. I was careful not to do it after, but maybe that example was all it took."

He had stopped walking and was glaring holes in the nearest tree. Cody caught up with him and paused, taking off his helmet. "Mind if I make an observation?"

Hunter turned to look at him, then shook his head dejectedly. "I wish you would, sir."

"All right, then," said Cody with a nod. "First, a couple of questions. I assume you refused to go for an eval because you didn't want the doctors to know about your response to stun weaponry."

"Yeah."

"And why is that? Or would you rather I not know?"

"I don't . . ." Hunter hunched his shoulders slightly. "I don't want to be kept off the field, sir. I know we weren't meant to be soldiers. I got Tech to slice Nala Se's files for me, and we never had status as troopers. I guess there used to be more of us, but we're the only ones who . . . survived."

Cody nodded quietly.

"When I was promoted to sergeant, I thought we might have half a chance, but not if the finheads decide to keep me back for more tests."

"Because of your enhancement."

"Yeah. They've basically figured out Tech's and Wrecker's and Crosshair's, but they're always pulling them in for evaluation tests. I don't think my enhancement worked the way it was supposed to. The Kaminoans know I can tell where droids and information centers are, but not how much. And they know I can track – but when we found out I couldn't handle stun weaponry, we kept it quiet. Far as I know, the Kaminoans still aren't aware."

"And you think this knowledge would keep you back because they'd want to test it or study its limits."

Hunter grimaced. "Or they'd think I was a liability to the team and send the others without me."

"Which would be even worse," Cody agreed with a slow nod. "And why are you telling me this now?"

"Because I should have told you earlier." Hunter was trying to keep his expression neutral, but not succeeding very well. "You and Havoc and Colt all want to make something out of us, sir, and I appreciate it. But I should have told you we aren't even really troopers. I don't know if you can do anything about that . . ." He lowered his voice, but Cody caught his mumbled words. ". . . I hope to the Force that you can."

"We can." Cody put a hand on his shoulder. "We're already doing it, actually. I was aware of your designation, and I spoke with General Ti. The records were ordered to be altered before we even left Kamino."

Hunter's eyes widened, and he took a step back. "To –"

"You're all being assigned CT numbers. I don't know how Havoc's managing it, or what they'll be, but he's taking care of it."

"Havoc? He –" Hunter shook his head once, too surprised to speak. "And Nala Se?"

"Well, now that General Ti knows about you, I'll bet Nala Se's going to have trouble giving good reasons for keeping you out of the war, given your level of talent."

Hunter just stared at him.

Cody switched the topic with ease. "And here's my observation. You seem to think that everything with your squad got worse once you became sergeant?"

"Yes, sir."

"Honestly, the sudden increase in sheer boneheadedness probably has more to do with age than with your promotion. Trust me. I was put through command training with the rest of my batch, and we're still some of the top-scoring soldiers out there. There were one hundred of us – we all ended up as officers."

Hunter nodded, frowning a little with surprise.

"Despite that, I pulled my own share of idiotic stunts when I was younger. And when we were in our eighth and ninth years? I don't remember a single one of us who didn't end up in medbay or being reprimanded by superiors – or both – because we'd been stupid."

Hunter continued to watch almost unblinkingly.

"During my last year of training, I broke my hand punching a droid," Cody went on calmly. "And not just once, but three times. The third time it happened, the medic-in-training was so mad he wouldn't give me painkillers before he set it. Said the pain would help me remember."

"Did it?" Hunter asked.

"Not as well as it should have." Cody gestured. "Hand-to-hand is my top skill in physical combat, and when I'm in the middle of a fight, I don't stop to think. I still make mistakes."

Hunter didn't change his expression, but Cody could see the disbelief in his eyes.

He decided to permanently destroy that disbelief. "Hunter, I'm on medical leave because I took a laser through one lung, right? Well, that happened because I tackled a commando droid."

There was an utterly shocked silence that lasted for about ten seconds. "You tackled a commando droid," Hunter repeated at last. "Why?"

"It was aiming at my lieutenant," Cody said. "Thinking back, I could have shot its head off just as fast as tackling it, but it didn't occur to me in the moment."

"But –" Hunter gave his head a quick shake. "I thought –"

"You thought that since I'm a commander, I must be perfect at everything, right?"

Hunter flushed again. ". . . I guess."

"Well, son, I've got news for you." Cody rested an arm across his shoulders and turned him to face the trail. "Just because you're an officer doesn't mean you will ever be perfect, or that you should be, or that you're not allowed to make mistakes, or that you can even avoid mistakes. In war, there are no cut-and-dry rules to memorize for every situation. You've got to do the best with what you have – the trick is to learn from your mistakes . . . and," he added dryly. "Learn from other's mistakes. For example, don't tackle commando droids when you've got better options."

Hunter let out a silent laugh, but Cody could tell he was considering Cody's previous words.

Cody waited for a moment, then went on. "You might not be able to prevent your men from getting hurt, but you can try. And when you fail, because you will, you have to pick yourself up and keep going. Learn from your mistakes, Hunter. Don't let them drag you down."

"But –" Hunter took a deep breath. "Commander, what if I keep making the same mistakes? Like with the laser field? The instructors on Kamino always say 'practice', but what if my getting better at something makes everyone else worse?"

"You're talking about your squad mates, I take it."

"Yeah." Hunter's fists were clenched at his sides as he walked. "What if I learn to get them through the laser field without them getting shocked, but by the time I do they're so upset and irritated that they don't trust me?"

"Ah." Cody paused again and turned Hunter to face him. "That's what's really been bothering you, isn't it? Not the laser field – whether your men trust you or not."

Hunter nodded quietly, looking down at the ground. "If I can't make them trust me, I can't . . . keep them safe."

"Hunter." Cody shook his head, feeling a pang of sympathy. "You don't make people trust you. And even when they trust you with their lives, that trust won't necessarily keep them safe."

The young sergeant returned his gaze for a moment, then folded his arms defensively. "Won't it – help?"

Cody studied him for a moment. "Do you know how many of my men have died under my direct command, in the field?"

"No, sir."

"Forty-six." Cody kept his voice steady. "I knew each of those men, Hunter, and they trusted me to lead them. And the rest of them in my personal company, the ones who survived – they still trust me to lead them. Do you know why?"

Hunter shook his head mutely.

"Because they know that I put them first."

The sergeant's eyes grew abruptly confused.

Cody gave his shoulder a slight shake. "I didn't say I send them into the battlefield first, Hunter," he said gently. "Sometimes I have to, but that's not the point. I said I put them first. Their good comes before my own, and they know it, and that's why they trust me even after I made a call that sent eight men needlessly to their deaths."

Hunter flinched all over.

"Believe me, I don't take that lightly. But the others trust me to want what's best for them, and to make decisions accordingly. Do you know what would have broken their trust?"

". . . No, sir."

"If I had let that error shake my confidence so much that I'd given up my command and let someone else lead them."

Hunter rubbed his jaw with his right hand and stared at the ground for several seconds, as though trying to understand that. "But if someone's better suited –"

"If someone's better suited to understand a situation in battle, then I consider advice from that person," Cody said. "But if you're the one who's been given the position, Hunter, then you're responsible to see that you fill it properly. There's always going to be bad intel, and situations where neither choice will get good results, and battles where you go in knowing you're going to lose. You're going to make mistakes, there's always going to be something you could have done better. You may even make a bad choice one day through your own fault. But if you don't pick yourself up after that, and remember what your job is and why and carry through on it . . . well, that's when you really fail as a leader. You understand me, Sergeant?"

Hunter nodded numbly, still gazing at the snow-covered ground.

Cody waited a moment, then said, "Look at me, Hunter."

He obeyed.

"I've been telling you that your men come first. Well – based on what I've seen, I think you already know that and try to act on it."

"I do, sir." There. That at least was spoken with conviction.

"Well, then. You're on the right track, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir." Hunter suddenly looked less weighed down, and he fell in beside Cody as they started walking again, their boots squeaking faintly in the dry snow. A few paces later, he added, with self-deprecating humor, "I guess I haven't given the others much reason to be confident, have I?"

"Maybe not recently. But they trust you more than you think. Wrecker knew you were going to make mistakes, and he was more than willing to follow you. He's able to get past your own lack of confidence and encourage you."

Hunter nodded. "Yeah. Wrecker's always been good that way."

"As for Tech and Crosshair . . . Well, right now, they're a lot more sure of themselves than they are of you when it comes to particulars. But they still have to learn to follow. Not only that, but I'll bet if you asked them, they'd all say they'd rather follow than be in charge."

"Yeah." A hesitant smile flickered over Hunter's face. "When the Kaminoan psychologist talked with Tech, she said he showed signs of 'responsibility befitting an officer, should the need arise'. So right while she was signing his report, Tech sliced his psychology eval and altered it. Just eight letters, and it read, 'irresponsibility unbefitting an officer, even should the need arise. The psychologist sent it in to the higher-ups without ever noticing."

Cody held back a laugh with difficulty. I honestly don't know how these boys haven't gotten in huge trouble by now. "He was never caught?"

"No, sir. Well – we found out, because he told us. He's not – he hasn't altered any files since then."

"But he reads 'em all?"

"Only our files." Hunter looked briefly uncomfortable, then sighed. "Ah, except – he did read up on your records and mission reports after you first spoke with us, sir."

Cody raised an eyebrow. "They're available to anyone with the proper clearance. Of course, the mission reports are probably way above Tech's clearance level."

"Tech doesn't have a clearance level, sir," Hunter said in mild confusion. "Or if he does we never knew about it."

"So he just – locates whatever files he wants?"

"Yes, sir, unless they're too encrypted even for him."

Oh, Force. Cody could just imagine the slow, wicked grin that would spread across a certain Jedi General's bearded face should he discover that. I am never introducing Tech to General Kenobi, he vowed silently. There are too many Senators that he'd be tempted to blackmail.

Upon reflection, Cody added Fox to the list of people Tech was never allowed to meet. Oh, and whatever Jedi served as crime investigators and worked with the Coruscant Guard. He'd not looked into the particulars yet, but he knew there was at least one.

As they neared the bottom of the hill, Wrecker's voice rang out. "Crosshair, you little sneak! Get back here!"

There was a blur of motion through the last few trees – presumably Crosshair trying to escape Wrecker.

As they entered the clearing, Wrecker flattened the sniper, lifting a snowball in one hand. Tech leaped onto Wrecker's shoulders, both hands full of snow, and smacked it down Wrecker's head.

"HEY!" Wrecker stood with a yelp and grabbed Tech, yanking him over his head to land in the snowbank beside Crosshair.

Crosshair kicked him in the ankle, and then he and Tech both scrambled to get away, too late. Wrecker fell right on top of them.

Smirking at their antics, Cody headed towards them.

"Commander Cody," Hunter said from behind him. When Cody looked at him, he finished. "Thank you, sir. I . . . really appreciate . . ." He stumbled a little, as though trying to find the right words.

Cody smiled. "Understood, Hunter."

Chapter Text

It was nearly fifteen hundred hours when Cody stood once again at the beginning of the laser field, one hand resting on the controls. "All right," he said briskly. "You've been through this several times . . . with only partial success. But everyone's had plenty of time to recover, and we're going to try it again. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," they said together. Some voices were less willing than others, but that wasn't a problem at the moment.

"Very good." Cody activated the field. "Sergeant, you're up first."

Without looking at his teammates, Hunter blindfolded himself, then darted into the web of lasers. He moved steadily until the very end, when he was forced to pause by the five crisscrossing lasers that blocked his path forward. Hunter tilted his head from one side to the other, as though testing something, then simultaneously ducked one laser and stepped over two more, twisting halfway through to avoid the remainder.

Cody had never seen anything like Hunter's ability, and once again he was surprised by the fact that the Kaminoans hadn't tried to get him and his teammates into the field already. Maybe Nala Se thought their abilities were simply too valuable to be risked in the field – but then why had she altered them at all? . . . Or was she keeping them on Kamino so she could attempt to replicate her success?

On the other side of the laser field, Hunter straightened and tugged his blindfold off, glancing over at Cody for instructions as he did so.

"Guide Wrecker through next," Cody said, switching the laser field's configuration.

"Yes, Commander." Hunter studied the new pattern for a quarter of a minute before looking up. "You ready, Wrecker?"

Wrecker lifted the blindfold to peer at him, then put it back in place. "Ready if you are, Sarge!"

"Okay. One step forward. There's a horizontal laser fifteen centimeters off the floor. . ."

He did not second guess himself, this time. Wrecker was almost two-thirds of the way through, and so far he hadn't been hit.

Cody's eyes flickered to Crosshair and Tech, who were watching with an almost studied disinterest. Those two were trouble, just like Havoc had said, and Hunter had indicated; at the same time, Cody didn't think they were difficult just to be difficult. At least . . . not on purpose.

There was a quick snap, and Wrecker pulled back from the laser that had brushed against his arm. Hunter did freeze then, but only briefly. Wrecker was just taking a breath, as though ready to shout encouragement, when Hunter recovered. "One to the left, Wrecker. Two forward."

Crosshair and Tech exchanged quick looks before Tech not-so-subtly side-eyed Cody. The youngest commando was probably trying to figure out what it was that Cody had said to make Hunter more sure of himself.

Wrecker stepped safely out of the laser field and whooped, then yanked off the blindfold. "See? Knew you could do it, Sarge!"

Hunter's features lightened, and he glanced over at the other commandos, waiting for Cody to say who was next.

"Good job, Sergeant," Cody acknowledged. "All right, Wrecker – you're up."

There was a moment of confused silence.

"Want me to go back through?" Wrecker asked.

"No. Your job is to get Tech through, safely." He started up the laser sequence again and gestured, ignoring the startled looks from the other three. "Whenever you're ready."

Still looking bewildered, Wrecker said, "Yes, sir."

There was no movement from Tech, who was now observing Cody with mild, unblinking interest from behind his tinted goggles.

Cody waited a full two seconds before raising a dangerous eyebrow.

Tech twitched slightly, as though just registering that he'd been given an order. He fumbled with the blindfold, had to pause to take off his goggles and clip them to his belt, and hurried to the starting position while still tying the cloth around his eyes.

"Ready?" Wrecker called, almost hesitantly.

"I believe so." Tech made one final adjustment to the blindfold. "Are you?"

"Uhh." Wrecker looked from the lasers to Hunter, back to the lasers, and finally to Tech and Cody.

Yeah, Cody thought, not unsympathetically. It's a lot scarier from the other side, isn't it?

Hunter tapped Wrecker's arm with the back of one hand. "Come on," he said, in a carefully low voice that Cody heard anyway. "Can't do any worse than I did, right?"

"Probably could," Wrecker mumbled, but he straightened up and took a deep breath. "Okay, Tech! First step forward – uh, now!"

It took almost ten minutes for Wrecker to guide him through. Somewhat to Cody's surprise, though, Tech was only shocked four times. When Wrecker did make mistakes, he got even more flustered than Hunter, but he also refocused more quickly. It seemed that Wrecker, at least, had learned from watching Hunter guide the others through.

Now to see if the other two had learned anything.

When Tech stepped over the last red laser beam, Cody turned off the lasers and folded his arms, studying the three commandos on the far end of the field.

Tech shifted minutely, probably having already guessed that it was his turn to guide Crosshair through.

"You're up, Tech," Cody said before anyone else could speak. "Get Crosshair through."

He was interested to note that Crosshair followed Tech's directions more readily than he'd followed Hunter's. And Tech hesitated far less than the other two had. Too sure of himself, that kid – the problem was, his instinctive arrogance seemed justified. What he lacked in physical strength, he more than made up for with his other abilities, many of which had been pursued under his own volition.

Cody waited until Crosshair was well into the course before switching the laser field alignment. Halfway through a step, the blindfolded commando jerked in silent surprise at the shock to his elbow.

Tech's gaze flitted once to Cody, but that was all the acknowledgement he gave. He narrowed his eyes at the lasers for a few seconds, then rattled off the next string of instructions in a single breath. Crosshair obeyed quickly.

Intrigued, Cody tilted his head. So, the two younger ones were less likely to complain at each other than they were to complain at their older squad mates. Of course, that was not entirely unexpected.

At the other end of the field, Hunter and Wrecker must have noticed the same thing, because the two of them were sharing a silent look of irritation.

Crosshair got shocked one more time, but then he was clear of the field and removing his blindfold.

"All right," Cody said neutrally. "Crosshair, your turn." He waited until the sniper looked at his teammates, then said, "Not them, Crosshair. You'll be guiding me through."

Even Tech hadn't expected that one. Cody held back a smirk at the startled glances he received from all four of them, but gave them no time to comment.

After setting the lasers to a different pattern, he picked up a blindfold and went to the beginning of the field. "Whenever you're ready, trooper," he said crisply, tying the fabric around his eyes.

As the commander tied off the blindfold, Hunter glanced uncertainly at his teammates. Crosshair wore an expression of studied disconcern, and Wrecker's mouth was slightly open.

"Hm." Tech, who sounded as though he'd just been given a tricky problem to solve, tilted his head to one side.

For a moment, there was silence.

"Cross?" Wrecker said.

Crosshair glared in his general direction, and Cody continued to stand patiently at the end of the row of shifting lasers, waiting for orders.

Hunter shifted a step to the left, because Crosshair hated people crowding him when he was trying to work, and said nothing.

As though steeling himself, Crosshair took a deep breath, eyes focused intently on the lasers. "Two steps forward. Duck the next – one step. There's one at knee-level, and another just beyond it."

He went on without hesitation until he'd guided Cody about a third of the way through. For once, Hunter saw the danger before he did – a laser at the level of Cody's shoulders, shifting down from behind. But Crosshair was focused on the ones in front.

Hunter kept his mouth shut with an effort, but winced when the laser hit Cody.

"Two forward," Crosshair said hastily, but his train of concentration was gone.

Still, Cody was a good listener, and when Crosshair fumbled or hesitated, the commander was careful not to move ahead of what he had been told to do. He was shocked again, only a meter from the end, and wavered into the next laser. As he pulled back, Crosshair hesitated visibly. "There's – one ahead and to the left, three centimeters from the floor, and – Commander, take a step back!"

There was the slightest instant of hesitation before Cody obeyed, stepping directly into the laser that had been moving towards him for the last three seconds.

He knew it was there, Hunter realized in complete surprise.

Tech and Wrecker glanced at each other, and Crosshair stiffened, hands clenched into fists at his sides. His eyes tracked the emitters for an instant before he said, "You're a meter from the end. There are two at head-height and two on the floor. Jump!"

Again, Cody obeyed, diving between the lasers and landing in a safety roll. As he straightened, he removed the blindfold and turned to look at them appraisingly.

Nobody spoke.

"Questions, lads?" Cody asked, either not noticing or not caring about their confusion.

Yes, thought Hunter, but didn't know how to word it. You knew you were going to get shocked, so –

"Yes," Tech said, lifting a finger. "If I am not mistaken, you knew you were about to be shocked."

Cody nodded, but offered no explanation.

Crosshair shifted. "So – why'd you do what I said?"

Instead of answering, Cody turned to Hunter. "Well, sergeant? Why did I do what he said?"

"Because –" Hunter's mind blanked. He knew the answer, but how to put it into words. . . "It was his job to get you through?"

"Partly." Cody turned to Crosshair. "And what was my job?"

"To –" The sniper hesitated, something like realization flickering briefly across his face. "To obey."

"Exactly. I told you to get me through there – which means that I put you in command, Crosshair, and myself under your orders."

"But with that laser, you knew better," Tech said curiously.

"Yes. In this case I did know better. But in many cases, lads, you're going to be in situations where you think you know better, whereas in reality, you won't have the full picture."

Nobody had anything to say to that, and after a few seconds, Cody said, "I think we can wrap up this exercise for the day. Only trouble is – we'll have to get back through there first."

"Not a problem, sir," Hunter said, holding back a smile. "Long as we can keep our blindfolds off."

"Last one back to the lift gets second watch," Cody said, and promptly ducked into the field with Crosshair and Tech centimeters behind him. The field was too narrow to fit more than three.

Hunter turned to Wrecker, who grinned. "I was thinking the same thing, Sarge," he said. Grabbing Hunter under the shoulders and knees, he took a running start and slung his arms forward, throwing him with all his strength.

The wall rushed towards him, and Hunter twisted mid-air, somersaulting to a halt on the other side of the laser field.

Cody's head jerked up in surprise, a grin crossing his face. "That," he called from the middle of the laser field, "was cheating."

"Yes, sir," Hunter called back. "Ah – you might want to duck, Commander."

As Cody looked up, Hunter shut off the laser field and Wrecker roared, "WRECKING BALL!"

With yelps of protest, Crosshair and Tech dropped flat – Cody followed their example without hesitation. Wrecker charged through the field, jumped clear over them, and then ran for it with Tech and Crosshair hot on his heels.

Hunter touched the lift door just before Wrecker slammed into it; then Tech and Crosshair smacked into both of them, wrestling to reach the door past Wrecker, who was trying to block the entire thing.

Cody touched the door a split-second after Crosshair, then straightened in a dignified manner. "You win," he said.

The four commandos, still leaning against the door, grinned at each other. Too late, Hunter saw Cody reach for the controls.

The door opened abruptly, and the commander stood back and watched while all four of them scrambled to regain their balance.

"But that's no reason to let down your guard," Cody finished.

Crosshair was fighting a smirk of his own. "Understood, sir."

Cody stood in the command center, running through the displays for the half-hour check. It was twenty-two hundred, and the base was silent . . . if one discounted the quiet murmuring from the barracks. Unsurprisingly, Tech's voice could be heard the most often.

Curfew had been an hour ago, but that didn't seem to matter to the commandos, who still had the light on and were discussing something.

The security system checked out. The sensors were clear. Satisfied, Cody turned on his heel and went down the hall. The barracks door was open, and as he drew nearer the conversation floated out.

". . . and if I can obtain the necessary materials, I can modify the existing cannons to increase the cyclic rate by seven percent."

"That's great," muttered Wrecker. "Now be quiet, Tech."

"Yes, yes, of course." There was silence for three seconds. "Oh! Hunter, do you think we can obtain some trilanthium?"

"Teeech," the sergeant groaned. "We don't even own the ship. You can't just make modifications to it without clearing it."

"But . . ." Tech hesitated, as though this hadn't occurred to him. Cody thought it probably hadn't. "Well, I will ask the commander."

"Fine, but do it in the morning. And turn the lights off."

"In a moment." Silence. A faint tapping of keys.

Cody glanced inside. Tech was sitting cross-legged on the floor between Wrecker's and Hunter's bunks. Crosshair was lying flat on his back in the bunk above Hunter. None of them seemed to notice him.

"Hm," Tech said, not looking up. "I wonder if it would be possible to –"

Whap!

Crosshair's pillow hit him square in the face. Wrecker snorted, and Tech scrambled to his feet.

As he wound up to throw the pillow back, Cody stepped in. "Did you boys ever hear of curfew?"

"Yes, Commander," Tech answered, still miffed.

"Good. I suggest you follow it." Cody clicked the lights off on his way out and left.

He got halfway down the hall before hearing a pillow smack against someone's head, followed by a hissed threat from Crosshair, a whispered, "Tech, get in bed!" from Hunter, and a "SHHHHHHHHH!" from Wrecker that was louder than all three of them combined.

Grinning to himself, Cody went back to the command center.

Chapter Text

It was a couple minutes after oh-four-hundred when Cody made his way stiffly into the commissary and felt around for the caf machine. Not until he started it did he bother to turn on the lights. Then he sat at the nearest table and rested his chin on one hand, eyes closed.

He'd better take it slow today . . . if there was such a thing as taking it slow with the Bad Batchers around. Unsurprisingly, the activity and exercise of the previous day had made his injury act up again.

The caf machine beeped once, and Cody fetched his drink and sat again, tapping an index finger idly against the tabletop as he waited for it to cool. Fortunately, today's program wouldn't involve too much physical activity on his part. If it did, he wasn't so sure if he could keep up with the commando cadets – and stars, did that make him sound old.

With a wry smirk, he pulled out his datapad to deal with any correspondence. There were a few official tasks to be completed that had somehow been sent to him even though he was technically unavailable, but nobody would care if he dealt with them, medical leave status notwithstanding. Besides, sending them back through the official channels just wasn't worth the trouble.

Scrolling idly through the first one, took an absent sip of caf, and swallowed fast because it was still too hot. Abruptly more awake, he set to work. Over the next few minutes, he checked and filled out a requisitions form, signed off on the promotion of his most recent lieutenant, which should have gone through last week but somehow hadn't, and approved the roster for the Negotiator's officers.

The rest of the correspondence was casual. There was a message from Rex, telling him that the 501st was shipping out soon and that General Skywalker was already teaching his pilots advanced maneuvers. Cody replied to wish Rex – and his pilots – luck.

Then there was a message from Monnk saying that he'd arrived at the rendezvous with General Fisto, only to find out that the general wasn't there and was, in fact, in danger. So before introductions had even been made, Monnk found himself diving off a cliff to help disentangle the Nautolan from an underwater trap, and then they'd been ambushed by a number of amphibious natives, and then five members of the Four Forty-Second had been ambushed and tossed off a cliff. Apparently, General Fisto had used the Force to catch all five of the troopers. Monnk sounded thoroughly enthused by the whole experience.

Cody told Monnk he was glad they were all safe. He did not tell him that he'd seen General Kenobi catch twelve men the time a wall had exploded.

Last of all, there was a message from Stitch saying he hadn't really intended to write, Commander, but he just had this funny feeling Cody wasn't being careful. Cody ignored that one and quickly marked it as unread, only for a new message from Stitch to appear five seconds later: I saw that, sir.

Grimacing, Cody shut off his communications. Then he took his caf and datapad into the control room, where he took a few minutes to check over the course he'd decided to use. Two trails, each with multiple training droids hidden along either side. He'd decided to pair up one of the younger two with one of the older two, because Hunter and Wrecker were already good at working together. And so were Crosshair and Tech. But how should they be split up?

At first, Cody considered sending Tech with Wrecker, and Crosshair with Hunter, but then he thought better of it.

Hunter and Crosshair were aware of their surroundings, focused, and not particularly talkative. Wrecker and Tech, on the other hand, were both distractable and talkative. And while Wrecker was aware of his surroundings, Cody wasn't so sure about Tech. He certainly had a tendency to view the world through sensors.

Leaning back in his chair, Cody took a slow sip of caf. He needed to even the playing field a little. Sending Tech with Hunter, and Wrecker with Crosshair, would provide some interesting challenges for both teams. Especially if the younger two were not allowed to use their specialized equipment.

Tech without a datapad would be forced to rely on Hunter's senses. Crosshair without a firearm would have to rely more on Wrecker's strength and his own close-range fighting abilities. Most importantly, they would be forced to work together with teammates they weren't as used to.

Having made his decision, Cody pulled up the training droid command system and spent a quiet, peaceful hour altering the standardized programming they usually operated under.

At precisely oh-five-thirty, he heard a yelp from Tech, followed by a crash. The day had officially begun.

Rolling his eyes, Cody went into the commissary and glanced over the breakfast options. Nerf steak and tuber hash, or . . . nerf steak and tuber hash. At least the officer in charge of stocking this place had picked the best-tasting option. Grabbing five of the MREs and five energy drinks, Cody set them on the nearest table.

There was a brief and rather loud flurry of conversation, which only ended when Hunter barked, "Crosshair!"

Cody glanced at the chronometer. The commandos had only been awake for about three minutes at this point. The Deltas had usually reached at least six minutes before causing trouble – occasionally, they made it to a reluctant ten. Cody's batchmates, of course, had never been able to come up with an average, as they were always splitting into different teams.

Sitting on the end of the bench, Cody snapped his food pack to heat it up. The barbed wire crawl would take the commandos some time to fix, but based on how things had gone so far, it would probably be wise to tire them out before they even started in on that.

There was a brief scuffle in the hall, then silence. When the commandos entered the room, Tech's goggles were crooked and Crosshair was smirking, while Hunter's eyes were narrowed in annoyance.

"Morning, Commander!" Wrecker grinned. "Didn't know you were awake already!"

"He has been up for some time," Tech said. "The computer was activated at oh-four-twelve."

"You were awake?" Hunter frowned. "Then how come it was so hard to get you up?"

"Because I was not awake." Tech adjusted his goggles so they sat properly on his nose. "I know about the main computer because of the timestamp on the automated notification I received. Obviously."

"Yeah. Obviously," Crosshair joined in, and Hunter shot him a peeved look.

"Breakfast, lads," Cody said neutrally, tapping the table with his fork. "We're heading out at oh-seven-hundred."

"Where to, sir?" Hunter slid a meal pack to Tech and sat down next to Crosshair.

"The obstacle course," Cody answered, cutting into a steak. "You boys have some barbed wire to mend."

The sergeant looked ever-so-slightly abashed, and Wrecker groaned. "Oh yeah, forgot about that."

Cody shot a quick look at Crosshair and Tech, whose expressions were not only unrepentant, but almost satisfied. One might go so far as to say that Tech looked smug.

Wrecker finished eating before anyone else. "Okay, so we're gonna fix the barbed wire – and then what?"

"I've got a couple of ideas," Cody answered, watching as Tech nibbled on the edge of a piece of steak. "But before we go to the obstacle course, everyone's got something different to do. For example, Tech and I are going to take the Marauder up."

Tech sat bolt upright on the bench and suddenly took so much interest in his food that he finished before Hunter. "Are we flying somewhere particular?" he asked.

"No; just taking her out for a spin. It's cold, and I don't want to the engines to sit too long without warming up. Go get 'em started."

"Yes, Commander." Tech practically tripped over his own feet in his hurry to get out the door.

Cody turned to the others. "Hunter, you're going to scout the perimeter for four hundred meters out. You can report back once we return."

"Yes, sir. What am I looking for?"

"You tell me – when I get back." Cody smirked. "Wrecker, go to the armory and inventory everything there for me."

"Got it!" Wrecker charged out of the room.

"And, Crosshair . . ." Cody eyed the sniper thoughtfully. "I want you to memorize this place."

Crosshair tilted his head, not understanding. "Already memorized the layout, sir."

"You know what each room is. I want you to memorize the whole place, inside and outside. I want you to know every entrance and exit and every approach. Use the schematics afterwards to check your accuracy. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

Cody got up, watching as Crosshair's gaze slid to the ventilation grate in the upper wall. Well, he'd been curious to see how the sniper thought. Crosshair looking at a narrow ventilation shaft high in the wall instead of at the wide-open door two meters away told Cody exactly what he'd wanted to know.

He headed outside. The early morning air was bitterly cold, the sun not risen yet, and Cody sealed his helmet as he approached the Marauder. By the time he reached the cockpit, Tech had readied all systems and was leaning close to the engine readouts, peering at them.

"Okay." Cody strapped himself into the co-pilot's seat. "Take us up, Tech."

Tech obeyed. He handled the ship with confidence, rotating it into position before he had even cleared the treetops. He did not seem to be using the sensors. Experienced pilots often did not, on simple takeoffs. . .

Hm. Cody pointed out over the river. "How are you with evasive maneuvers?"

"I average in the fifth percentile of the ninth-year cadets, on the simulators," Tech said. "However, that is because I have run the same simulations multiple times."

He glanced sidelong at Cody, then added, in a tone of careful disinterest, "But you scored in the first percentile your graduation year."

"Yes, I did," Cody said, suddenly remembering how surprised Tech had looked upon Cody's introduction of himself. "After that first citadel run, I thought you looked like you recognized my name. Is that why?"

"Yes. I had looked into your records because I was . . . impressed with your skill as a pilot." Tech opened the throttle a bit more, guiding the Marauder easily along the bends of the river. "Many other cadets scored the same as you, of course, but your batch as a whole scored higher than most others in your year. Not only that, but the only one of your batchmates who exceeded your scores was a trooper named Oddball."

"He's the Two-Twelfth's best," Cody agreed. He waited until they were out over a wide, treeless plain, barely visible in the early morning light, before speaking again. "All right, Tech. Show me your best wingover. Better gain some altitude first."

"Yes, sir."

Tech gained altitude, all right – within three seconds, Cody found himself gripping the armrests of his chair.

And then, rather than waiting a moment before beginning the maneuver, Tech cut directly into it. Pulling the nose up sharply, he guided the Marauder into a near-vertical climb, then hit the rudder and jerking the steering yoke hard to the left. Now on its side, the shuttle arced over into a flat half-loop and then straightened out into a dive going in the other direction.

He was still diving when Cody checked their velocity and ordered, "Lag roll."

Again, Tech responded – and made the ship respond – so fast that it felt a little bit unsafe. Had he even checked his instruments?

As Tech leveled out from the upward spiral, Cody said, "What was your altitude when you started that maneuver?"

"Nine hundred thirty-four point five meters."

"Good," Cody said neutrally, but he was raising an eyebrow. Point five? He hadn't even seen Tech look at the altimeter – wait. . .

Cody twisted in his seat to get a better look at the visor Tech had pulled down over his goggles. "Tech, do you have the ship readouts on your visor?"

"Yes. I do not usually fly in simulations this way, but I thought now was as good a time to test my helmet modifications as any."

"I see. Did it ever occur to you that testing something like that on your first time piloting outside a simulation is a bad idea?"

"Of course, Commander." Tech sounded insulted. "That is why I did not test it when we left Kamino. Technically, this is my second time piloting the shuttle."

I stand corrected, Cody thought, smirking behind the safety of his helmet. Out loud, he said, "You can test your helmet modifications later. For now, use the ship's readouts."

"Yes, sir." Tech flipped his visor up.

"Now – give me another lag roll and cut into a hammerhead," Cody ordered.

Immediately, Tech guided the Marauder into an upwards spiral – then, before the ship had even leveled out, he accelerated, drove it nearly vertical once more, and pulled back on the yoke. The shuttle was upside-down for a second only before Tech accelerated yet again and rolled the ship back into position.

Cody blinked the darkness away from his peripheral vision and made a mental note that Tech flew a lot more aggressively than most cadets. This shuttle was more than capable of executing a hammerhead without accelerating into the inverted roll.

He straightened in his seat. "Let's head downriver – there's a lake about ten kilometers out."

They flew to the lake and around it, and then Cody told Tech to enter the river through a narrow canyon. After a few minutes of this, he had the commando pull out of the canyon, and then back towards the base.

When they were about a kilometer away, Cody took over, angling the shuttle back towards the lake and a little down, then shut off the sensors. "Tech, take us in a wide loop and land at the base."

He stayed ready, his own sensors still visible, in case Tech lost too much altitude, but the first thing the cadet did was to raise the nose slightly. So far, so good. As soon as Tech started to turn, Cody checked the altitude again and cut the engines.

Tech jumped a little, but said nothing. He straightened the ship with one hand, took off his helmet and tossed it behind him, peered through the viewport . . . and smirked.

It was a bit unsettling, Cody had to admit, especially when Tech then shut off all the lights, including the guiding ones on the dashboard.

"Why the lights?" Cody asked nonchalantly.

"The sun has barely risen," Tech answered, guiding the shuttle in a ninety-degree turn to starboard. "And the interior lights interfere with my vision – ah." He tapped something on the side of his goggles, then said, "Thermal imaging. The base is significantly warmer than the surrounding area."

He let the ship glide for a couple of seconds, then made another ninety-degree turn. . . and then one more. Cody watched carefully. If Tech timed it right, and if he could clear the treetops, he could make one more tight turn and set the Marauder down right where it had been.

Hovering one hand over the backup thrusters, Cody waited. He knew Tech had probably memorized the shuttle specs, but whether he'd remember the details in the moment – that was a different question altogether.

But sure enough, towards the end of the final turn and about three seconds before Cody would have taken over, Tech hit the emergency thrusters. The ship lost forward momentum quickly and finally came to a hovering standstill above the landing zone.

As Tech was landing, the comm button flickered briefly. Cody checked, but there were no incoming or outgoing signals. Must be a glitch – not surprising. Havoc had checked the vital systems, but everything else probably hadn't been used in some time.

By now, the Marauder had landed and Tech was locking down the systems. Cody got to his feet and took off his helmet.

"Good job, Tech." He gestured the commando towards the doorway. "I recommend you tone back on the unnecessarily dangerous maneuvers – but other than that, you're doing well. Have you had any experience in the advanced starfighter modules?"

"Not yet," Tech admitted, leaning close to the shuttle to inspect a long scratch in the exterior finish. "I should like to, but first I have to clear all my physical aptitude tests, even though they have nothing to do with my capability as a pilot."

"But you can't graduate to a higher skill level until you've passed your current year's exam, is that it?"

"Precisely."

"Ah." Cody sealed the Marauder's door behind them. "And that's a bit of a stumbling block for you."

"Yes." The commando hurried down the ramp after him, slipping a little in the snow as he trotted to keep up.

"Why is that?"

"A small fraction of it has to do with my slighter build and height," Tech said. "The difference of three centimeters makes a surprising difference when it comes to certain activities. However, most of my trouble with physical requirements is that I do not put the time in."

"Why not?"

Tech thought about it for a moment. "Generally, because I am more interested in other things at the moment. I go to the required classes, and that is all."

"Ah. Well, knowing the problem is half the battle, right Tech?"

"Actually, I suspect it is closer to one fourth of the battle. Knowing how to solve the problem is another fourth. And actually fixing it would be the final half."

They stepped inside the base, letting the door slide shut behind them, and Tech finished, "But you are correct. The solution is straightforward. . ." He fidgeted with his belt and some of the tools hanging from it.

Cody put his helmet on the armor rack and waited.

When Tech didn't speak after nearly half a minute, Cody said, "Let me guess – it hasn't seemed worth it. You don't see the point in putting the work in when you won't get to use it anyway."

Tech's eyes widened, and his gaze flickered everywhere but Cody's face. "I – yes, I believe that is an accurate summarization."

"Well, you're going to use it," Cody said. "That's a promise. And you've got the makings of a good pilot, Tech. So, if you want to advance, you'd better get onto that solution you mentioned."

Tech blinked.

"And there's no time like the present," Cody continued. "Get into the gym. Full routine. The others will join you shortly."

With a sharp nod, Tech rushed off.

Once again, Cody was struck by the fact that it seemed the reason the commandos hardly tried was because they had nothing tangible to work for.

Some would think that surviving the war was a tangible enough goal, but Cody knew from experience it never was. Not until a soldier had been in the field could he really start to understand how dangerous it was. There was always that knowledge that you could die, but the reality of it didn't often hit troopers until the first time they were running through a field, dodging blasterfire and explosives, struggling to stay alive from one moment to the next.

The movement of a shadow caught his attention – someone had been standing inside the hall door.

"Crosshair," he said.

The sniper didn't move for a couple of seconds, but eventually he seemed to realize Cody had already seen him. He didn't wait for the commander to speak, either.

"Did you mean what you said?" His tone was not quite aggressive, but almost.

"I always mean what I say," Cody replied evenly. "What, specifically, are you talking about?"

"What you said to Tech."

Cody had said a lot of things to Tech, but he thought he knew what the sniper was on about. "Yes. I didn't get a chance to tell the rest of you yesterday, but Commander Havoc is working to get you trooper designations."

Eyes narrowed in suspicion, Crosshair continued to gaze at him.

"General Ti knows your squad's situation, too," Cody said. "And if I have to personally request you lads for my battalion to get you into the field, I will."

There was a pause.

"Further questions, trooper?"

Crosshair's guarded expression had cleared a little. ". . . No, sir."

"Good." Cody gestured at the corridor. "Then carry on, trooper. And next time. . ."

Crosshair paused and glanced curiously back.

"Next time, don't stand in the doorway. Stand off to the side. Even better, don't spy on others' conversations in the first place. Especially not when they involve your commanding officer."

With a nod and the vaguest hint of an apology in his smirk, Crosshair vanished back into the room.

Chapter Text

Cody stood near the gym wall, hands locked behind his back as he observed the four commandos. Wrecker was on his two hundred and thirty-eighth pushup and showed no signs of slowing. Crosshair and Hunter were doing pull-ups, both trying to outdo the other and neither succeeding. In their speed, they were getting sloppy, not extending to their full length before pulling their weight back up for the next rep. After this many years, their form should be flawless.

"Lock your elbows!" Cody barked.

Instantly, their pace slowed. Leaving them to it, he glanced at his chrono, then addressed Tech and Wrecker. "Time."

"Two hundred sixty!" Wrecker bounced to his feet, ready for the next exercise, and Cody sent him off to do sit-ups.

"Okay, Tech," he said, turning back. "How many?"

"Seventy-six," Tech answered breathlessly, flexing his hands with a grimace.

"So fourteen short."

Tech nodded.

"By next week you're going to hit ninety," Cody told him. "Now, grab those ten-kilos and give me thirty reps."

Pushups, pull-ups, sit-ups, lifting weights, rope climbing – by the time oh-six-forty-five hit, the only person Cody hadn't managed to tire out was Wrecker.

"All right, lads," he said briskly. "We've got a good walk ahead of us. Hit the showers, gear up, and report back. Ten minutes!"

Wrecker ran for it, and although Crosshair picked up his pace a little in response, the other two just walked quickly, too worn out to compete.

Good, Cody thought, moving to collect his weapons. He was sure the peace wouldn't last long; still, as Havoc used to say, any reprieve was better than none. Havoc had always been a firm believer in tiring out mischief-prone cadets – not so much that they couldn't carry out their normal duties and training, but enough that they didn't have excess energy for causing trouble.

Stretching carefully, Cody shut off the gym lights, then went to collect his helmet and a pistol. While the cadets were fixing the barbed wire crawl, he intended to walk the two trails he'd readied. The droids were in the same positions as he remembered from his pre-graduation days, but it had been months since then and the snowstorms would have destroyed some of their cover. Cody wanted to make sure they were properly hidden before he sent the commandos out to hunt them.

There were still thirty seconds to spare when the cadets came piling out and lined up near the door. "Ready, sir," Hunter reported.

"Not quite," Cody answered. Four helmets turned towards him, and he pointed to the nearby storage rack. "Tech, leave your datapad. Crosshair, your rifle stays."

Although they obeyed silently, he could practically hear the questions hovering in the air. He went on. "Hunter, Wrecker, you're free to bring your rifles, but I don't think you'll need them."

After exchanging a glance, the two troopers moved to set their blasters next to Crosshair's.

"Okay," Cody said. "Wrecker, there's a coil of repair wire outside the door. Grab it and let's move out. You've got a two-hour walk to the obstacle course."

He left last, securing the door behind them so the sensors wouldn't be activated by any wildlife while they were gone. Monnk had once forgotten, and the squad had returned to find that an entire pack of curious but skittish blue dogs had entered the base. It took half the night for the squad to find them and get them, and the entire following day to fix the damage they'd done in the commissary. Colt had not been amused. Cody had been, especially when Wolffe and Fox – who had the easiest time finding and catching the small animals – took to claiming that the dogs liked them best because of their names.

"Lead the way, Sergeant," Cody said, and they set off, footsteps crunching in the powdery snow.

The first touches of real sunlight were just starting to filter through the snow-laden branches of the trees, casting an almost blue light over everything as they walked. It was only a few minutes before first Crosshair, and then the others, removed their helmets. After a moment, Cody followed their example. It was probably three degrees centigrade, and the clean scent of ice and frozen sap filled the air.

Ahead of him, Tech tripped over his feet, recovered, and kept walking. Cody eyed him curiously, then grinned. Tech was walking with his head tilted back, apparently focusing on the trees. When he tripped again, Crosshair elbowed him. "Watch where you're going."

Tech elbowed him back. "I am attempting to locate another snow owl."

"You probably won't find 'em this close to the base," Cody pointed out.

A light sifting of snow from a branch deeper in the forest caught his attention at the same instant Hunter and Crosshair turned to observe it. It was just a small rodent scampering along the branch but when Cody turned to the trail again, it was to see all four of the commandos studying it. Apparently Hunter and Crosshair dismissed it as a threat, because they went back to walking within a couple of seconds.

Wrecker waited for Tech, though, and Tech did not budge until the small, furry creature had vanished into a small hole farther up the trunk. The instant it was out of sight, he trotted to catch up with the others as though he had never been distracted.

Shaking his head in amusement, Cody followed, the little blue dogs once again coming to mind. They'd done the same thing when they saw the rodents, freezing with their entire bodies, noses pointed at their prey, and staying motionless until it vanished.

Within another half hour, they reached the beginning of the two trails, and Cody came to a halt. "Hunter, do you remember the way to the course from here?"

"Yes, sir," Hunter answered.

"Good. Take your squad there and get to work. When you've finished, report back here for your next assignment."

"Yes, Commander." Hunter led the way, the others trailing behind him.

It was noon by the time the members of Bad Batch were once again standing at the beginning of the two trails. Hunter had commed Cody, who was now on his way to meet them – he'd finished whatever he was working on hours ago and gone for a walk to visit some places he remembered from his days as a cadet.

Rocking back on his heels, Hunter twisted to crack his spine. All that crawling under the wire to fix it had taken a lot of slow, very careful maneuvering.

"I don't get it," Wrecker said, examining a tear in his glove.

"What?"

"Why is stuff always so much easier to break than it is to fix?"

Crosshair snorted, and Tech looked up, one hand resting on the bark of the tree he'd been studying. "Would you like the long answer, or the short answer?"

"Neither," Wrecker answered, then grinned. "That was a hippo-thet-ical question."

"Hm." After considering for a moment, Tech went back to observing the bark with his nose a centimeter from the roughly textured surface.

"Well," Crosshair said. "One thing's for sure. The next cadets who try cutting the wire crawl are going to have even more trouble fixing it."

Hunter smirked in agreement. The patch job had required a lot of twisting and coiling of wire, and Bad Batch may have used more new wire than was strictly necessary for repairs. Anyone who cut it now would have a very hard time untangling everything afterwards.

. . . Of course, maybe regs didn't go around cutting their way through wire crawls.

He was still considering this when Cody appeared through the trees, strolling casually along.

"Hey, Commander!" Wrecker yelled, waving.

Cody pulled off his helmet and tucked it under one arm, replying to Wrecker with a nod as he did so. "I see you managed to fix the wires."

"Yes, sir," Hunter said.

"Good. Now, you'll notice there are two trails." Cody gestured to either side. "Hunter, you and Tech will take the lefthand trail. Wrecker and Crosshair, you take the right. There are fifty practice droids hidden along each trail. They're programmed to attack – some at close range, some from a distance."

The commander paused, then tilted his head with a wry glance. "I should clarify that if you destroy any droids you'll be repairing them. A stun round will take one down without damaging it. If for whatever reason you can't use your pistol, there are shut-off switches between the optical sensors of each droid. The exercise is not complete until all the droids are down. Understood?"

"Yep!" Wrecker slammed a fist into his other hand. "Come on, Cross, we're gonna beat Hunter an' Tech!"

"I'm going to head back to base," Cody said. "Don't enter the trail until I've activated the droids."

Tech looked up. "How will we know?"

Cody put his helmet on and left, speaking over his shoulder. "You'll know, trust me."

As soon as he was a safe distance away, Crosshair spoke. "They're going to start shooting at us."

"Probably." Wrecker pulled out a ration bar and unwrapped it, looking gleeful. "This'll be fun!"

"It will be . . . different," Tech admitted.

Hunter elbowed him lightly. "You sound nervous."

"Well, I am not." Tech scoffed at the very idea. "I was merely thinking about how I cannot remember the last time I did not use my scanners to locate enemies. You, of course, can still use your senses. . ."

"Maybe that's why the Commander paired us up." Hunter opened his own ration bar, watched in mild irritation as the entire thing crumbled before his eyes, and reached for another. "Guess the wrapper was all that held that thing together," he commented, kicking idly at the scattered crumbs.

They finished eating, then wandered around as they waited. It would be twenty minutes at least before Cody reached the base.

Only ten meters from where the two trails began, Hunter discovered a tree with long icicles dangling from the branches. The commandos spent a while seeing who could break off the longest one. Eventually, Wrecker won – and then he promptly bit off the narrow end.

Crosshair blinked. "Wrecker . . . what was that for?"

"It's just water," Wrecker said, crunching loudly. "Frozen water, anyway. Kinda tastes good."

"It does?" Hunter asked curiously. Water was water . . .

"Yeah, it tastes like . . . I dunno, water? But just a lot colder. And crunchier." He took another bite to prove it, the squeaky-dry noise of the ice between his teeth making Hunter cringe.

"Yes," Tech said, shuddering. "But your teeth, Wrecker!"

"They're fine." Wrecker looked at him and took a third bite.

"The Commander's probably near the base by now," Hunter said hastily. "We should make sure we're in position."

"Okay." Wrecker tossed the icicle over one shoulder, much to the others' relief, and followed Crosshair.

They were two steps from the small clearing when the sniper stopped abruptly and flung out an arm, halting them in their tracks.

"Crosshair?" Hunter asked, shifting to get a better look. "What is it?"

"There is a bird," Crosshair said in a nearly inaudible voice.

"A . . . bird." Hunter edged forward another step and peered over his shoulder. Sure enough, where the ration bar had crumbled, a small white bird with beady black eyes pecked enthusiastically at the snow, uncovering the half-buried crumbs. Then it bounced forward a few centimeters, fluffed its feathers until it was nearly spherical, and opened its tiny black beak. "Dee-dee-dee!" It paused, repeated the call, then angled its head to the side, one eye focused directly at them.

"It's watching us," gasped Wrecker, sounding awed.

"It is so . . . round," Tech said, who had just caught sight of it. "How can it even fly?"

"That's just the feathers," Hunter said knowledgeably.

A second bird flew down to join the first. Then another. Soon there were nearly a dozen of the little white birds eating and calling to each other. Hunter had never seen anything like it. They weren't even afraid.

Reaching slowly over his shoulder, Crosshair pulled out another ration bar and started to open it. At the first crinkle of the wrapper, all the birds stopped moving and studied him. But they didn't leave.

Crosshair broke off a small piece and crouched to set it in the snow. One bird bounced towards him, then paused, angling its head again. "Dee-dee-dee!"

Hunter held his breath. When nobody moved, the bird came a few centimeters closer. Then closer . . . and then, just like that, it grabbed the crumb that rested right next to Crosshair's hand and flew back, twittering triumphantly.

"Can we . . . can we feed 'em?" Wrecker whispered.

"We can try," Tech said. "I recommend we spread out, so they are not overwhelmed by so many of us so close together."

"Good idea," said Hunter in a low voice. "Cross, pass me some of that, would'ja?"

After the sniper had broken the ration bar in four and handed them each one, the commandos went off in different directions.

Back in the control room of the base, Cody sat down to switch on the cameras. As he rotated to reach the activator for the training droids, a quiet voice caught his attention, and he turned back to look at the screen. A strangely familiar sight met his eyes. The four cadets were scattered around the small clearing, Wrecker crouched down and talking to . . . birds. He had one hand in the snow, and there were three tiny birds in it, fighting over the piece of ration bar he held.

Grinning, Cody glanced at the others. Tech was standing as stiff as a board, one hand extended to rest against the branch of a tree. What appeared to be a fluffy ball of white was sidling along the branch towards his palm. Hunter, meanwhile, was kneeling, leaning forward as he used one finger to nudge a piece of food through the snow to the two birds in front of him. Crosshair was crouching with one hand extended; he seemed to be locked in a staring match with a single bird who stood only centimeters away, head tilted back as it stared up at him, apparently too stubborn to approach.

Cody watched for several seconds, then laughed out loud despite himself. The cadets appeared to have forgotten that they might be shot at in the next minute, and were completely focused on the birds. Well . . . Cody would have to bring that up later, but at the same time, he now had no intention of starting the exercise without warning. Stun rounds might kill birds that small, he told himself. Then he pulled out his datapad to get a picture of the viewing screen.

Only a few seconds later, a bird hopped onto Hunter's finger, stole the entire piece of ration bar, and tried to fly away with it. It floundered into the snow instead, then chittered loudly when Hunter picked up the piece and broke it. There was a brief squabble between half a dozen of the little creatures over the pieces of food; finally, one of them snatched a crumb and fluttered up to land on Hunter's hand, squawking out a victory call. Cody figured maybe it thought it had the high ground, or something.

Only a few seconds later, the fluffy bird on the branch edged onto Tech's thumb, then walked sideways towards his palm, eyeing him suspiciously the whole time. Finally, it reached the food and took a cautious peck at it.

"There is a bird on my hand," Tech murmured, leaning closer. "You are not afraid of me, are you? That is fascinating. I wonder if fear of the unfamiliar is learned. Or perhaps other clones fed you before, and you remember. I shall have to research whether you retain memories."

There had definitely been other clones who fed those birds. Usually on watch, which got them hollered at afterwards, but Cody always found it telling that the commanding officers never yelled at the clones while they were feeding the birds. As a matter of fact, Cody had definite suspicions about Colt and whether or not he himself had been the first one to leave food out for the little buggers.

With a grin, he sent the picture to Colt with a quick message. Look familiar, sir?

Wrecker finally straightened, now out of food. The sergeant, who was just standing, cast a questioning glance at the camera as though realizing that it was active; then he looked down both trails, shrugged slightly, and joined Wrecker.

Crosshair was leaning forward slightly, still eyeing the stubborn bird. "You want this or don't you?" he asked in a calm, quiet voice.

The bird puffed up indignantly.

"Then come get it, you feathered idiot," he coaxed, still in an even tone. "I'm not giving it to you, you've got to come get it."

"I don't think it understands you," Wrecker said in a whisper.

Crosshair completely ignored him. "Come on, furball."

"Those are feathers," Tech pointed out.

Crosshair huffed. "Come on, snowball."

The bird edged forward, still watching him – and then, apparently making up its mind, it fluttered into his hand and stayed there, pecking apart the ration bar.

Crosshair got slowly to his feet in one continuous motion, staring in fascination at the little white bird. It chirped loudly at him, as though in warning, then went back to eating.

Finally, it fluttered away, joined by the other birds, and they vanished back into the forest.

Crosshair glanced back at the others, a smile tugging at his lips. "Those birds are obnoxious little twerps," he said, sounding pleased.

"They were quite . . . personable," Tech agreed.

"Too bad we're out of ration bars," Wrecker said. "Wait, maybe I've got another?"

With a silent chuckle, Cody reached for the comm and said, "You shinies ready, or should I wait?"

"Commander!" Hunter panicked, fumbled for his helmet, and jammed it over his head. "Sir, sorry, sir. Yes, sir, we're ready."

Cody bit his lip until he was no longer tempted to laugh at how the others scrambled to get into position. "Good."

"Commander," Tech said curiously. "I thought you were not going to warn us."

Cody tilted his head. The kid was right. . . but to avoid having to answer, Cody activated the droids.

Chapter Text

As the first round of stun shots spattered the snowy ground all around them, Hunter dove for cover, flattening himself against the nearest tree. Those were turrets, not battle droids! He looked up to see that Tech was crouched behind a tree beside him, while Crosshair and Wrecker had ducked to the opposite side of the trail entrance.

"I thought Cody said we'd be fighting droids," Crosshair observed wryly.

"Technically, he said there were fifty droids along the trail," Tech called back. "He did not say there were exclusively droids."

Crosshair poked his head out of cover, then ducked back to avoid another round of lasers.

Pinpointing the turrets' locations in his mind, Hunter drew his pistol. "Well, good luck, you two. You're going to need it."

"HA!" Wrecker slapped Crosshair so hard on the back he almost knocked him into the line of fire. "Sounds like you're the one who's gonna need luck! Cross, come on, use me for cover!"

Hunter jerked his head around, distracted. "Wrecker –!"

But Wrecker was already charging down the righthand trail, firing wildly with his pistol – which looked ridiculously small in his hand – while Crosshair kept pace half a step behind him. Two stun rounds hit Wrecker, but he continued. Still running, the sniper fired three precise shots past Wrecker's shoulder, and the spray of lasers cut off.

Crosshair paused long enough to glance back at the others. "Looks like Wrecker and I are already winning, Sarge," he teased. Wrecker chortled, and the two of them vanished from sight.

Muttering under his breath, Hunter fixed the turrets' positions in his mind. "Tech, cover me."

"Understood." Tech leaned out from behind the tree and fired. As the repeating lasers tracked towards him, Hunter dashed into the open. He'd taken down two turrets before he had to dive for cover again, and as he did, Tech shot the third.

"Nice job, Tech." Hunter got to his feet, brushing snow off his pistol. "The others have a head start. Any ideas?"

"Yes." As they started down the trail, Tech gestured with his pistol. "I recommend you focus on informing me of the droids' positions. I am walking on the left, I will destroy the droids on the right."

Hunter thought it over, keeping half his attention on the little tingles of energy that told him he was approaching something active. "Good plan. I'll take the ones on the left."

Only a few steps later, he slowed. "Okay, right past that big tree, there's a droid on either side."

Tech nodded his understanding. As soon as Hunter had a clear shot to the left, he took it; at the same time, Tech's laser flew past him to strike the droid behind the tree. The two droids hadn't even had time to fire.

Tech seemed pleased. "If we continue with this strategy, we should have no trouble winning. Especially if Crosshair and Wrecker continue with their strategy."

"What strategy?" Hunter said, trying not to grin.

"My point precisely."

Ten minutes after the beginning of the exercise, Cody's datapad alerted him that he had received a message. He glanced down briefly to see that it was from Colt, in response to the picture, and read, Don't 'sir' me, you wretch. And I never approved of you wasting rations on the wildlife.

Smirking, Cody checked the viewscreens and saw that the commandos were still making quick progress.

Then, as an afterthought, he quickly typed out a reply. Yes, sir, apologies. I thought you'd like the reminder. There are pictures of you feeding rations to the wildlife. Specifically birds, sir.

The holonet must have been working well, and certain officers not busy enough, because for the second time that day, Cody received a response within seconds. Where are those pictures?

Cody waited. Sure enough, another message came through. Cody, who has them?

With a grin, Cody shut off his datapad and went back to observing the cadets. They were doing well, all things considered. Wrecker and Crosshair had fallen behind after Wrecker's idea of being a living shield failed and he'd fallen, nearly stunning Crosshair with an errant laser in the process. They'd lost precious minutes waiting for him to recover. . . and not very patiently, either. The sniper had all but dragged Wrecker after him as the bigger clone stumbled dizzily along, insisting he was fine.

Tech and Hunter had made better progress, though they'd been caught off-guard when four assassin droids leaped at them instead of firing from the trees. Now they were proceeding much more cautiously, and the other two were catching up.

Cody watched as Crosshair and Wrecker approached the assassin droid point on their trail. Here was where they would have the best chance of gaining time on their teammates. . .

A dull hum, like that of a descending ship, suddenly caught his attention. Curious, Cody got to his feet to access the outside cameras. There hadn't been another team scheduled here, but maybe one had been redirected.

The landing zone was empty, though, except for the Marauder – and still the hum was drawing closer, getting louder and louder – no, more than one. Speeders.

All his senses tingled in warning, and Cody hit the comms. "Hunter, come in."

No response.

Moving quickly, Cody boosted the signal and tried again. "Hunter. Sergeant, come in. Bad Batch, do you read?"

Nothing but a faint buzz of static. He was being jammed. . . and so were the sensors, which registered only a sudden flurry of thermal readings before going dark. Cody thought there were eighteen or twenty.

If the Separatists had somehow discovered this base . . . No. They were too deep in Republic space for that to have happened; even if it had, they would send droids, not living beings.

Cody sealed the base's doors and put his helmet on; then, reholstering his pistol, he headed for the weapons rack and emptied it, bringing his rifle and the commandos', and Tech's datapad, into the control room with him. After checking that Tech's datapad was locked, he looked around for somewhere to hide it. Whoever was here was hostile – or they'd somehow jammed comms by accident. Right.

As it turned out, there weren't any good hiding places in the command room. Cody checked the cameras, but there was still no one in sight. Taking a chance, he ran into the galley and hid Tech's datapad on top of the cooling unit. There wasn't much he could do about the guns, so he set them in the weapons room. At least there, they'd be less likely to give away the presence of the cadets. . .

Cody returned to the command room and flipped through the camera feeds. Several rough-looking individuals were standing outside the main entrance, conferring in low voices. They didn't look like Separatists . . . but, going by the wide variety of species, weapons, and clothing, they were bounty hunters, and bounty hunters often worked for the Separatists. As he watched, several of them broke off and headed for the back entrance of the base. They definitely knew he was inside.

Cody glanced at the view screen that showed him the commandos. He had to keep them from coming back and walking right into a trap, but how? If the bounty hunters hadn't run a thermal scan of the whole area, Cody could keep them from knowing about the cadets. They were far enough away that there was a chance.

But how could he keep the commandos from being caught off-guard? They were nearly out of the trails and would be expecting to hear from him. . . unless they thought the test was still ongoing.

Heavy blows battered the front door, but were replaced in a moment by the faint, telltale clicking of explosives being placed.

Quickly, Cody shut off all the cameras on the training field, locked down the security system, sealed the doors to the barracks, and shut down all the comms. Cody reached forward, reactivated all the droids that had already been 'killed' by the cadets, and turned up the laser intensity. They'd get hit by that and be a lot more careful than with just stun lasers. It would take them longer to get back through, longer to realize something was wrong – he hoped.

Sorry, lads, he thought, just as the front door exploded.

Cody didn't turn, instead reaching below the consol to trigger the failsafe. The only way to access the systems now would be to enter his or another commander's passcode, and then all the usual ones.

The back door exploded. Standing, Cody put his back to the consol and then steadied his rifle on one arm and his pistol in the other, covering both entrances to the command room.

Rapid footsteps thundered through the halls of the base, pausing at doors before continuing. Cody breathed slowly, almost relaxed as he waited. They'd lost their own sensors while jamming his, but they'd find him soon enough.

"He's not here!" yelled a Rodian, and several voices answered him. The footsteps drew closer, hesitated, approached.

A swift movement at the door to his left – Cody fired. Someone cursed.

"Stun him!" someone shouted. "You, take that door!"

Cody propped the rifle on the computer with an ammo case and switched it to auto, covering the left doorway with a flurry of lasers as he vaulted the consol, ducking behind it with his pistol covering the right door. Someone darted past – he fired and hit.

"Kark, he's better than I remember!" shouted someone. "HEY! You're trapped, come out before we shoot your traitorous carcass full of holes!"

Cody scoffed. He wasn't a carcass yet. . . but he was confused. Whoever these people were, they seemed to have a grudge with him, or maybe with another clone. But why?

He supposed it didn't much matter. The Rodian popped into view, and Cody shot him, only catching the side of his arm.

This time, there was a longer pause followed by frantic, hurried whispering, and then the words, "Smoke him out."

Cody checked that his helmet was sealed and straightened just as a small object sailed through the door.

Clink . . . clink . . . clink . . .

It exploded, and thick smoke poured across the floor, rising quickly to fill the entire room. Cody moved swiftly through it, pressing his back against the wall beside the right doorway as the rifle he'd left on auto finally clicked on an empty cartridge.

"I don't hear anything," a Weequay said. "Let's go."

"Wait," a sharper voice answered. "I didn't hear any coughing. Did you?"

"No . . . But what if he suffocates?"

The other person huffed. "Fine. Both doors – now!"

Cody tripped the first figure that entered and landed a solid blow against the throat of the second before hurling him after the first. The third slipped out of reach; Cody shot him, but the first was already up and there were others from the second door. He ducked a blow, caught an attacker and twisted hard, throwing him over his shoulder –

Something in his chest tore, and Cody staggered. It was over in a second. Hands grabbed his wrist and elbow and wrenched away his pistol.

Before he could react further, Cody was dragged out into the hall and someone kicked his feet out from under him, dropping him heavily to his knees as another person ripped off his helmet.

Cody coughed, the smoky air catching in his throat as he looked at his captors.

A semi-circle of shocked faces stared down at him for a full three seconds before a human exchanged a disbelieving look with a Rodian.

"That's not Gringov," someone said.

Then a Twi'lek grabbed Cody's chin, jerked his head up, and leaned towards him, glaring. "What are you doing here?"

"I ask myself that every day," Cody answered raspily.

Someone chuckled, and the faces around him turned, parting to let another figure approach, this one a Weequay with a ropey scar dragging down his right shoulder and arm. "So, we meet again," he said smugly. "Tell me – what happened to your face? For that matter, what happened to your armor?"

"I've never seen you before in my life," Cody answered, jerking his chin out of the Twi'lek's grasp. "What are you talking about?"

The Weequay scoffed. "Trying to beat us to a bounty again, Fett?"

Oh. Oh. Cody stared silently for several interminable moments. "Fett," he repeated, then shook his head. "You mean . . . Jango Fett?"

A flicker of uncertainty crossed the Weequay's face. "What?"

"Wait, wait, wait. . . He's not Jango." Someone behind Cody grabbed his hair and jerked his head back. "I mean, I don't think he's Jango."

"Looks pretty much like him," another Weequay added. "But d'you think Jango would've let someone do that to his face? Or take his armor?"

"Fair." The first Weequay stepped back, still eyeing Cody. "But you look enough like him to be his twin."

"Try 'clone'," Cody answered as dryly as he could, given the strained position his neck was in. "I'm CC Twenty-Two Twenty-Four of the Galactic Republic. Who in space are you lot?"

He was abruptly released, except for the hold on his arms. Several of his captors went into a huddle. One of them pulled out a datapad and began looking for something, which he apparently found within a couple of minutes, because the rest of them started muttering and whispering all over again.

"What is it?" the man behind Cody asked.

"Looks like he's telling the truth," the Weequay said, holding up the datapad. "That's a picture of a Republic clone trooper."

There was a pause. Cody could practically feel the others' gazes switching from the picture to himself and back.

"Are there more of you clones around here, Twenty-Two – eh, whatever your name is?" demanded the Twi'lek.

"Cody," the commander told him, ignoring his first question.

"This must be an army base," the Rodian said. "We're on Republic property!"

One of the Weequay spun to face Cody. "Is that your ship out there?"

Cody hesitated, but knew that if they broke in they might – no, would – find evidence of the others. "Yes."

"All right, then, Cody." The Weequay with the scar stepped towards him. "We want nothing to do with your Republic."

"Glad to hear it," Cody said, trying not to cough again.

"But you have to tell us where Gringov is, and why you've got his ship. He owes us a lot, Gringov does."

Gringov . . . The name was familiar, even if Cody couldn't place it yet; and Havoc had told him that the Marauder used to belong to one of the new instructors who now lived on Kamino.

When the man holding his elbows gave him a rough shake, Cody looked up, realizing there was only one way this could go, either way. "You're not going to like this," he warned calmly.

"Try me," growled the Weequay. "I'm a tolerant man."

"If I'm not mistaken, Gringov now works for the Republic, training its soldiers."

That took a moment to sink in. Then, with a growl of frustration, the Weequay grabbed Cody by the shoulders and threw him to the floor.

A couple of men hauled him to his feet, and Cody tried not to wince at the increased pain in his chest. For some reason, his immediate thought was, Stitch is going to be mad.

"I did say you wouldn't like it," Cody reminded the Weequay. "I recommend you contact the Republic and ask to be put in touch with Gringov. I'm sure they'd oblige you."

"Shut up." His momentary anger over, the Weequay paced the hall.

"We could ask him more questions," the Twi'lek said, and fingered his knife, his grin showing pointed teeth.

"No, are you an idiot? We want no trouble with the Republic – I heard they've got the Jedi leading their army." The Weequay reached the end of the hall and turned. "But we can't have him warning Gringov. We'll have to keep him here."

"I saw a brig earlier, Jorick," one of the humans said. "Want us to lock him up?"

"Yeah. I have to think over how to handle this."

As he was led down the hall, Cody carefully did not look towards the barracks. He could only hope that the commandos would figure out the situation before they walked into a trap or worse, were killed trying to get him out.

Chapter Text

"Only four to go!" Hunter said, waving Tech to his position. "Come on, I can hear the others catching up!"

From somewhere through the forest to their right, there was a loud whoop from Wrecker, followed by the unmistakable sound of crunching metal.

"He just broke one," Tech said, shaking his head in disappointment as he leaned out from behind a tree to shoot down an approaching assassin droid. "We had almost made it through, too."

Hunter, who didn't particularly care – Wrecker was the one who'd have to fix the droid, after all – was just taking a step forward when he froze in surprise. Behind him, dozens of electrical signatures had just returned, and the next moment, he could hear metal footsteps advancing through the snow. "Tech –?"

But Tech's attention was occupied by the final droid before him. Behind the clones, blasters clicked.

Hunter lunged forward, grabbing Tech under the arms and swinging him aside, off the path. They both went sprawling down the slight incline as a flurry of lasers landed right where they'd been.

Tech floundered upright, grabbing for his helmet and wiping snow out of his mouth with his free hand. The sound of running assassin droids drew closer, and the two commandos sprinted the remaining length of the trail and into the clearing. They'd just left the line of trees when they very nearly collided with Crosshair and Wrecker, who had just dashed out of their own trail and were ducking lasers.

"What's going on?!" Wrecker demanded, swinging around to cover the trail exit.

"I don't know." Hunter shot a droid in the head and sidestepped a laser. "I thought each team had fifty droids to take down –"

"We did," Tech said, seeming unbothered. "And I believe we accomplished that."

"Yeah." Wrecker ripped a branch from a tree and hurled it at three droids, catching them across the necks. "They just turned back on."

"So we observed," Tech answered snippily. "Perhaps their being reactivated is merely another test."

But Hunter knew what the others probably didn't, yet: that the lasers were stronger than earlier. They weren't dangerously intense, though Hunter was willing to bet they'd be more painful than typical stun rounds . . . but why? Earlier, Cody had always waited for them to finish one part of the test before moving to the next. Was this just another way to switch things up, or had something gone wrong? No – because what could have gone wrong?

Stepping back, Hunter tossed his pistol to Crosshair and hit his comm. "Commander Cody, come in. Cody. Cody, do you read me?"

No response. Hunter tried pinging the base's comm line directly. When there was still no response, he straightened, drawing his knife from his vambrace. "Something is wrong."

Tech slanted an uncertain look at him between one shot and the next. "I suppose that Cody not responding might be part of the test . . .?"

Hunter was sure it wasn't, but he glanced at Crosshair and Wrecker for their opinions.

"Doesn't seem like something –" Wrecker jerked back as a round his arm. "Ow, uh, okay, I'm pretty sure – he wouldn't do that."

Hunter reached out to reclaim his pistol, felt a shot coming, and jerked back; but Crosshair was hit in the wrist and dropped to one knee. Hunter flung his vibroblade through the droid's head. "You okay?" he demanded, pulling the sniper to his feet.

"Yeah." Crosshair tugged free and fired with both pistols before returning the sergeant's. "Something's definitely off."

"What makes you say that?" Hunter asked sarcastically, shooting down droid after droid.

"Cody wouldn't risk you being hit by those," Crosshair observed, giving his left hand a shake. "Unless he wants you down for an hour."

"Yeah," Wrecker agreed, stepping dizzily to one side. "It's like he wants us knocked out or something."

"Perhaps he does," Tech said, not pausing in his shooting as he backed towards the trees with the others. "Though I have no idea as to why that would be the case."

"Maybe he wanted some peace and quiet," suggested Crosshair, but his usual sneering tone was almost hesitant.

Hunter ducked a shot and returned one of his own. "Get to cover. Let's take out these droids and get back to the base."

Only about fifty of the droids actually attacked, the others holding their positions along the two trails. Hunter wasn't used to hanging back and using approaching droids as target practice – that was Crosshair's skill – but he didn't think that rushing out there with a knife and pistol and hoping for the best was a good idea this time. He didn't really need to be conscious after practice tests, but here . . .

"That's half of 'em!" Wrecker cheered, lowering his gun as the last droid fell. "Uh, do we have to wait for the others to come after us?"

"They're holding position," Hunter said. "And I don't want to risk going back along the trails."

"We could take one trail only," Tech suggested.

"No – the droids on the opposite trail might move. And if even one of us gets knocked out, it'll take us a lot longer to get back to the base." Hunter glanced to either side, orienting himself, then turned right. "It'll be faster to go around."

Wrecker tried his own comm as they walked, fidgeting with it for several minutes before finally giving up. "What do you think happened? The commander wouldn't just cut everything like that – I mean . . . maybe he would? Tech could be right, maybe it's a test?"

"A test of what?" Hunter ducked beneath a low-hanging branch and kept moving.

"I dunno," Wrecker answered. "He's been focusing a lot on doing stuff as a team, and on you leading. Maybe it's like the test on Kamino where he made us lose."

"Except there we were failing," Tech pointed out. "Here, we were not."

Hunter didn't answer. The team was moving quickly, despite the terrain, jumping down short slopes and running wherever the snow was shallow enough.

"Maybe there was a glitch in the systems," Wrecker panted a few minutes later.

"Right." How Crosshair managed to drawl even while maintaining a steady run was beyond Hunter. "A glitch that simultaneously activated the droids and killed the comms."

"Well, it could," Wrecker argued. "Seems like the kind of thing a virus would do, right, Tech?"

Tech let out a pained noise and did not answer further. Hunter guessed he probably couldn't even figure out how to start answering that one.

They'd traveled another half kilometer when Crosshair said, "Separatists?"

"Doubtful," Tech responded. "We are on a mostly unoccupied moon deep in Republic space. It would be peculiar if the Separatists even knew we were here, even more so if they managed to get past the blockades –"

He paused for breath, and Hunter said, "And it would be weird if they bothered to attack this base when they could just bombard it."

"Yes. Of course, we would also have heard the bombardment."

Somehow, Hunter didn't find that very comforting.

"And," Tech went on, voice catching a little as he tripped on a root, "as a Republic facility, this base has all the usual defense codes. The IFF system would have set off an alarm the moment an incoming signature with a hostile configuration was identified."

"Hm." Crosshair slid down a longer slope, then waited as the others followed his example. "Except there are plenty of hostiles that aren't Separatists."

Hunter had been thinking the same thing. "Let's approach the base slowly. We'll keep out of sight, just in case."

In case somehow an enemy had invaded, in case they were waiting for the commandos, in case Cody was in danger or worse. . .

Nobody was talking now.

Ten minutes later, they were nearing the peak of the sloping hill that overlooked the base. Hunter raised a closed fist to stop the others, then took off his helmet, closing his eyes. Almost immediately, he could tell that something was different. The web of sensors and cameras seemed to be turned off, and . . .

Holding his breath, he pushed his fingers through the snow to touch the ground below it. Tiny trembles of movement, but no distinct electronic signatures, confirmed what he had already suspected.

He opened his eyes and got hesitantly to his feet. "There are multiple lifeforms inside the base."

"Maybe they're clones?" Wrecker asked hopefully.

"I don't know. I don't think so. The sensors are down. And the cameras. We need more information. Tech –"

"Hunter," Tech interrupted, fingers fidgeting. "I currently lack the ability to give you further information."

"Oh . . . Right." Hunter tossed his helmet aside. "Stay put, I'm going to take a look."

No one moved while Hunter crawled up the hill; as he neared the top, he used a cluster of trees for cover and peered down the hill. Twelve speeders, of various kinds and models, were crowded around the main doorway, which had been blown open. A couple of Twi'lek wearing brown clothes and mismatching body armor lounged against the walls on either side of the door, their weapons held loosely. There was no sign of Cody.

Hunter backed carefully away, then rejoined his squad. "Mercenaries," he reported. "The door's been blown open."

There was utter silence from his teammates, who only exchanged glances before looking back at him. Nobody offered any suggestions, or commented. They just – looked at him.

Hunter flicked his gaze from one to the other. "What is it?"

"What's what?" Wrecker whispered.

"Why . . ." Hunter shook his head, stopping himself from demanding what was wrong with all of them. They weren't training right now. But they weren't on a mission, either. . . Or were they?

That the bounty hunters weren't there as allies was obvious, thanks to the destroyed door. On top of that, no one was supposed to know about this place, outside of the GAR – but were they raiders, or was there a more dangerous reason for the attack?

The sergeant hesitated. He wasn't sure what his first objective should be – find out what was going on, or find Cody. Maybe Cody had escaped the base . . . Somehow, Hunter didn't think so. If he'd had time to escape the base, he'd have had time to warn the others without switching the lasers on the droids.

There were at least ten mercs down there. Hunter's team could handle ten, but were there more? Were the commandos expected? Were the wide open door and bored guards part of a trap?

As he hesitated, Wrecker said, "You didn't see Cody, did'ja?"

"No." Hunter answered vaguely, considering a plan that had just formulated in the back of his head.

"Huh." Wrecker shoved his helmet back on his head and frowned. "When he turned the droids on, he must've been trying to warn us away."

"Warn us away, or keep us away," Tech clarified.

"Yeah." Hunter reached for his own helmet and drew his pistol again. "But he didn't order us to keep away, did he?"

Crosshair hummed. "Extraction?"

"Yeah."

"Split?"

"We should stick together." Hunter looked up at the sun. "It's too long until dark, we'll try heading in now."

"Through the main doorway?" Tech asked, carefully keeping his head below the top of the hill as they walked.

"We can't just barge in there," Hunter said, then shot a look at Wrecker, who was just opening his mouth.

Wrecker pulled his helmet back on properly and muttered, "Well, we could."

"Not until we know what we're up against – and where Cody is. We could be walking into a hostage situation."

Or worse. Shoving aside the uncomfortable idea of the team getting inside the base only to find the Commander dead, Hunter increased his pace.

The back of the base was completely unguarded. Hunter exchanged a suspicious look with Crosshair – could the mercenaries really be that idiotic? Could they really think that there would be only a single clone on a training base? Did they even know this was a training base?

It looked like they'd managed to close the back door, even though it was damaged by explosives. . . Probably a waste of time to try going in that way.

Behind Hunter, Tech cleared his throat. "Shall I create a distraction?" he asked quietly.

Hunter put both hands against the ground and slid carefully back into the deadfall of branches and brush they were using as cover. "What are you thinking?"

"Crosshair studied the entrances earlier," Tech said. "You could easily get inside while I keep the others busy at the front with the Marauder . . . or." His eyes narrowed slightly with what looked like glee. "The speeders."

"Aw, yeah!" Wrecker patted Tech appreciatively on the helmet, nearly driving him into the snowbank. "I'll help you."

"How," Tech said flatly, smacking Wrecker's hand away.

"I'll get you on the roof."

Hunter considered, then nodded. "Okay . . . here's what we'll do. Crosshair, you and Tech get on the roof. Cross, you'll cover him and deal with the guards once it's time to start the distraction. Tech, use the speeders, but not the Marauder. We can't risk it. They might have people in it."

"Understood," Tech said. "When shall I commence the distraction?"

"I'm not sure yet." Hunter looked up at the ventilation shaft that opened from the wall. "Wrecker. . . you're going to get me up there. I'll get inside and shut off the jammer; I think I can locate it."

"It is certainly not with the speeders," Tech agreed.

Crosshair tapped Hunter's vambrace. "If you're not in contact with us in five, we'll start the distraction?"

"Good idea." Hunter took a deep breath and looked carefully to either side. No one was in sight. "Okay. Keep it quiet, Bad Batch. Let's move in."

Chapter Text

When Cody woke up, he was lying on his back, staring at a polished white ceiling and listening to a high-pitched, quiet hum. At first, he thought his ears were ringing from the stun shot, but as the sound continued he recognized it as a ray shield generator. Sure enough, when he turned his head he was met with a pale film of red light over the doorway. Right . . . he thought, remembering Jorick's command. He sat up carefully, then turned to let his legs hang over the edge of the cot.

Right now, being in medbay seemed like a good idea. Cody wasn't coughing up blood – yet – but he had a feeling that particular symptom wasn't far away. Whenever he shifted even a little, the injury in his chest pulled sharply.

It had been a while since Cody had been in the brig – and he'd never been an occupant, only a visitor. He'd come to bother Wolffe a couple of times, and Monnk. The last time he'd come to this particular brig it was definitely Monnk. His younger batchmate managed to get himself tossed in a cell about twice a month, on average, mostly for starting fights – the cheerful, not-quite-to-the-death kind of fights that seemed to explode out of nowhere and which previously uninvolved clones rushed to join with reckless abandon, throwing blows, punches, dishes, and the occasional chair at each other.

None of the clones ever seemed sure of why they were fighting, and neither did they seem to care about reasons. As Monnk had unashamedly told his commanding officer, when an explanation was demanded of him, the occasional brawl was a nice break from the monotony of training. The unamused officer had replied that twelve hours in the brig was also a nice break from the monotony of training and would he care to make it fifteen?

The trouble with fights like that was that there simply weren't enough cells for all the men involved. But since the superior officers knew how much clones hated sitting still, they had come up with a practical solution. They'd send the ones who had started the fight into the brig, and then make the others run laps outside until they were so tired there was no chance of them starting trouble again.

Of all his batch, only Cody and Fox had never ended up stuck in the brig or running laps for fighting. One time Monnk had complained that the two of them were boring for not joining in the fun, and they'd reminded him that he was the one stuck staring at the metal walls of a two-by-two meter room, and that they were the ones kindly visiting him.

Leaning his head back against the wall, Cody let his gaze drift across the small room. He carefully took stock of his situation, for all the good that exercise did him. There wasn't much to work with. He was surrounded by durasteel walls, a ray shield, and a durasteel ceiling and floor. The only thing in the cell was a cot with a thin mattress. For some reason, Cody still had his armor, which was an advantage. Before knocking him out, though – his guards had stunned him even though he wasn't resisting them – they'd taken his commlink and datapad, as well as his utility belt. In the future, it might be wise to start carrying a knife inside his boot.

Of course, it wasn't as though a knife would be much use in escaping a ray-shielded cell . . . And besides, it was useless to ponder what-ifs. He didn't have a weapon. There was nothing he could do except wait here until Jorick and his gang figured out their plan.

Cody wasn't sure how much time had passed since his capture. He hoped the commandos would understand his message, and know something was wrong. They probably would – they were smart lads, all in all. By now, they were most likely either boarding the Marauder, or had already left the planet. If they hadn't, they were probably still out on the trail, waiting for one or more of them to revive. Or . . .

Or, they're coming back.

Recognizing that the last was almost certainly what was happening, Cody sighed faintly. He hoped they'd be smarter than to attack twenty-odd men head on, if they were going to attack at all. Don't get caught, lads.

For several minutes, he was unable to keep from wondering about what might happen. The cadets might succeed – their skills were incredible. And yet, even the most capable soldier could be defeated by a single, well-aimed laser, or overwhelmed by sheer numbers. Death was always a possibility in the field. But on a training mission? There was an almost cruel irony in the fact that they'd been attacked here. They weren't even ready to be in the field –

Yes, they are, he realized. Any other squad with the scores the Bad Batch had would have been graduated months ago, probably even deployed, quite likely regardless of age, and regardless of their ability to cooperate with one another.

And whether they were ready or not, they were in the field now. But that knowledge did not keep Cody from worrying. What if one or more of them were injured badly – worst of all, what if all of them were killed in an attempt to rescue him?

Stop worrying, he told himself sternly. It doesn't change anything.

He'd told himself that many times over the past few years, and sometimes it worked, but something about being unable to act . . .

Worry quickly grew into irritation at his own helplessness, the situation, and the men who had invaded the base.

Between his injury and the constant wondering and worrying, by the time Cody finally heard footsteps coming down the hall, he was feeling very bad-tempered and inclined to be as uncooperative as possible. Still, he was careful not to openly glower when Jorick stopped outside the shield and studied him.

After a long, silent pause, the Weequay wordlessly held up Cody's locked datapad.

Cody shifted his gaze to it. "It's a datapad," he said in a bland voice. "What about it?"

"Give me the passcode."

"No."

There was a pause of perhaps three seconds. Jorick narrowed his black eyes. "You think you have a choice, do you?"

"Yeah." Cody smirked. "You think you can make me give it to you?"

"Huh, yeah – I'm not stupid." The Weequay folded his arms. "Bet you want me to come in there so you can break my neck. Not likely."

Oh, well, it was worth a shot. . .

Shrugging, Cody leaned back, eyes half-closed but still focused intently on his captor. "So I won't get a chance to break your neck, and you won't get a chance to make me talk. I'd say we're even. Now let's part ways as mutual enemies."

"Quit mouthing off, will you?"

Cody raised an eyebrow.

The Weequay scoffed, shaking his head in irritation as he looked down at the datapad. "Look," he said finally, a crafty glint in his eyes. "Like I said earlier, I don't want trouble with your Republic. We've got no use for the data on here, except for one thing . . ."

He paused as though waiting for Cody to fill in the blanks.

Cody could have filled them in, but instead he plastered a look of mild interest on his face and gestured for Jorick to continue.

Rolling his eyes, the Weequay leaned an arm against the ray shield. "We want Gringov's whereabouts."

"You're asking the wrong man," Cody said. "I recommend you contact General Kenobi. If you can't access military comm frequencies, head to Coruscant and ask to speak to the highest-ranking member of the Coruscant Guard. I'm sure he'll give you the proper channels."

"You know where Gringov is!"

"Do I?" Cody mused, feeling a flash of vindictive pleasure as Jorick's eyes flashed with anger.

Unfortunately, the Weequay regained his temper only a moment later. "You've got Gringov's ship," he pointed out.

"Yeah, because he turned it in to the Republic. I used it because it happened to be on the transportation manifest and it was the fastest thing available."

That took a moment to sink in. When it did, Jorick snarled, leaning closer to the ray shield. "Are you telling me we tracked the Marauder all the way out to the Vinnda system for nothing?" Jorick's slanted eyes narrowed even further. "Listen, clone, Gringov and his traitorous double-dealing cost us millions! He turned me and my gang in to save his own hide."

"Not my problem," Cody answered.

Jorick cursed under his breath. "Well, I'm going to make it your problem. Either you put me in contact with him, or when we're ready to leave the planet we'll tie you to a tree in the middle of nowhere and you can freeze to death."

"Hm. Execution of a GAR trooper? I thought you didn't want trouble with the Republic – or the Jedi."

Jorick rolled his eyes. "We can always stage a speeder accident. The Republic will never know!"

"Right." Cody thought about it. "You should probably know that there are a couple of glitches with that plan. First, I happen to hold some of the highest piloting scores in the GAR. No one will believe I crashed a speeder. Secondly, if you go through with it anyway, make sure to incinerate my body after death. All clones have traceable chips. Ah, except that will mean you won't be able to make it look like an accident and – the Republic will know. Try again."

Jorick looked disgusted. "You think I'm not serious or something?"

"Oh, I know you're serious." Cody smirked. "And so am I when I tell you that I have no information about Gringov. You've got a problem with him, fine. Deal with it some other way or you'll live to regret it. The Republic doesn't take kindly to murder, or to having its bases invaded."

Jorick glowered, but before he could say anything further, the faint sound of a distant crash came down the hall, followed by an alarmed shout.

The Weequay turned, cocking his head to listen, then hit his comm and yelled, "What's going on?"

"We're under attack!"

Jorick's eyes widened, and he drew his pistol. "How many?"

"I don't know! The guards are down, and two of our speeders are gone!"

Cody shifted, wondering what on earth the cadets were up to.

"Barricade the doors," Jorick ordered, then turned off his comm. Aiming his gun at Cody, he deactivated the ray shield. "You didn't tell me you had buddies hanging around outside. Up you get, clone. Looks like I might need an extra bargaining chip."

Moving cautiously, Cody obeyed.

Hunter lay on his stomach in the ventilation shaft, peering through the grate at the outside of the base's front entrance, which was directly below him. Wrecker had boosted him and Crosshair and Tech onto the roof, but almost immediately they'd had to change their plan of attack. There were fourteen hostiles inside the control room; Hunter had easily located the jamming device, but getting to it would be a problem. Getting to it undetected would be impossible.

No plan survives contact with the enemy, Havoc always said.

So now, Hunter was lying in wait, keeping an eye on Tech and Wrecker as the two of them worked to link multiple speeders together. The front door had been forced closed after the first explosion of speeders against trees, and Hunter could hear the men beneath him working to barricade it.

Wrecker had his cable out and was looping it several times around the handlebars of each speeder before moving on to the next. Tech was occupied with calculating a trajectory to send the rest of the speeders on. A slight scraping above Hunter heralded Crosshair's approach as the sniper slid along the roof and leaned down, one side of his helmet partially visible.

"Hunter," he whispered.

"Right here."

"They're blocking off the other shaft entrance."

That could be a problem. . . Hunter gave the grate in front of him a hard yank, but it didn't budge. Weird – maybe this was one of the many irregular things the base's designers had put into the building in the interests of teaching.

Hunter drew his vibroblade to cut through the grating, then paused. "Crosshair, where does this shaft lead?"

"Back to the opposite wall and to either side in the center. You can access the bunkroom, the control room, and the outside on two ends.

"Okay," Hunter muttered. "I think I can put that to use. Tech's going to send the speeders off – that should create enough of a distraction that some of them head out. I'll get one of the doors open."

Wrecker stepped back, turning to give the others a thumbs-up. After angling the foremost speeder carefully towards a large grouping of tree trunks, Tech hopped on. He opened the panel, used a length of his own cable to lash the steering vane in place, and then fiddled around with something. When he was satisfied, he started the engine, keeping the airbrakes down while he grabbed a pair of pliers and turned a narrow metal rod inside the panel. The engine roared, at full throttle but still in place.

Tech put the pliers on his belt, then took a deep breath, paused, and flung himself sideways off the speeder. The instant his feet left the brakes, the vehicle shot forward with a roar, dragging eight speeders behind it.

Tech rolled to his feet and watched with the others as the speeders smashed into the tree trunks in a fiery explosion. As the sound died away, it was replaced with an ominous, splintering crack!

Hunter blinked, watching two of the larger trees tilt precariously, fortunately away from the base. For a moment, they seemed suspended, not falling but not balanced – and then they fell, gaining speed and snapping through surrounding branches until they slammed into the snowy ground with an earth-shaking thud.

"Woooowww," Wrecker breathed, entranced by the destruction.

Quick footsteps sounded in the corridor below, accompanied by a sharp voice that was easily audible through the many grates in the vent. "Two of them? You sure there aren't others? Did you check the vents?"

Hunter glanced up at Crosshair and warned, "Stay out of sight."

As Hunter backed carefully away from the grate, he caught sight of the sniper waving Tech and Wrecker to cover. There were voices getting closer, now, and from the direction of the vent system's entry, a boot clanged against metal. Someone was in the vents, looking for him.

Getting cautiously to his hands and knees, Hunter headed for the control room.

Chapter Text

Moving through the ventilation shafts quietly was not hard for Hunter. Back on Kamino, he had gone through many tests, in sound-proofed rooms, that required him to move in silence. Every sound he made was measured, including his breathing – if he stepped too loudly, or stumbled and caught his breath – if the computer registered anything over fifteen decibels, he had to retake the test. That training was serving him well now.

Every half meter or so was a band of metal. Hunter hadn't stepped on any yet, but whoever was in the shaft with him had; the metal strips made a lot of noise. Despite that, the person continued to move fast, and Hunter was able to time his steps carefully, using the sound of the other man's footsteps to cover the sound of his own.

"I only saw two," said an accented voice – a Twi'lek's, maybe. "But there are others, clone . . . Am I right?"

"Are you?" Cody's deliberately lighthearted response was followed by a sharp crack, then a thud.

"Hey!" barked a Weequay's voice. "Cut it out, I need him alive!"

"He knows something, boss," the Twi'lek argued.

"Just cuff him to that panel and get over here! We need to stop those two before they destroy our transportation!"

Hunter hesitated, tilting his head to listen as footsteps rushed past. The front door was opened slightly, and then several blasters went off at once. Answering blaster fire came from outside, and the man in the shaft stopped walking, then increased his pace. A wavering beam of light drew nearer. But Cody was almost directly below him . . .

Half-drawing his knife, Hunter stepped over to the corner between two shafts, pressed himself back against the curved wall, and waited. As the man got closer, Hunter held his breath and tried to sink into the shadows cast by the slightly extended wall to his right. The laserfire outside was increasing, which meant that Tech and Wrecker were still fighting – but for how long? Had either of them been injured?

Before Hunter could worry further, the man stopped directly beside him, just on the other side of the thin wall. There was a brief silence before he stepped forward and flashed his light down the length of the tunnel Hunter was in. The hand that held the flashlight was only centimeters away from Hunter's chest, but the man didn't notice him. Hunter had the advantage, but he didn't want to give away his position. Go on, get out of here, he thought, still not breathing.

Then a panicked shout and a flurry of raised voices sounded below – "Close the door, close it!" – and then from outside came the roar of a violent explosion.

Cursing under his breath, the man clicked off the flashlight and ran back through the shafts towards the control room, hitting his comm as he did. "Jorick, what is going on?"

"They just blew up the rest of the speeders, that's what's going on," the Weequay answered furiously. "Get back here. We're going back to our old plan."

"On my way."

As soon as the man was a safe distance away, Hunter slipped back to the front grate and drew his knife. The remainder of the speeders were nothing but a smoking pile of twisted metal, and despite his worry over Jorick's new plan, Hunter couldn't hold back a grin. Good job, Wrecker, he thought, glancing around for his teammates.

He caught sight of them quickly – well, two of them, anyway. From his position, he could just see Tech's and Wrecker's helmets as they took shelter behind the slope of the hill. From the doorway below Hunter, the bandits likely couldn't see them at all. But Crosshair was nowhere in sight. Still on the roof, maybe . . .

Hunter set to work cutting through the grating so his teammates could enter that way. He'd sliced through most of the metal bars and was about to start in on the last two when the front door blew open from the inside.

At the top of the hill, Tech and Wrecker jerked upright with their guns ready – then froze. Hunter ducked instinctively.

"Yeah, that's right," Jorick yelled. "Hold your fire!"

Oh no . . . Hunter leaned forward in an attempt to see better just as Jorick left the base, shoving Cody in front of him. The Weequay had one forearm looped around Cody's throat while the opposite hand gripped the commander's wrists, which were cuffed behind his back.

"Drop the guns!" yelled a blue Twi'lek, jamming his pistol under Cody's jaw. "Drop 'em or he's dead!"

Hunter had his own blaster out, but there were five men around the commander. He couldn't get all of them before Cody died –

"Okay!" Wrecker stood slowly, hands raised. "Okay, I'm unarmed!"

"So am I," Tech called, standing next to him.

"Good. You the only two there?"

"Yes," Tech answered.

"Then get over here. And move slow, you hear me?"

"Yeah, we hear you," Wrecker shouted back, sounding irritated rather than frightened, despite the blasters trained on him. Keeping his hands over his head, he led the way with Tech following in his tracks.

Hunter tensed as his teammates approached the bandits. As soon as Wrecker was close enough, he could risk taking a shot – Wrecker would be able to stop the others from killing Cody. But not yet, not yet . . . just wait a few more seconds . . .

Lifting his pistol, Hunter pointed it at the back of Jorick's head. Come on . . .

Several other men had left the building now and were watching the approaching clones.

Hunter put his finger on the trigger. Just a little closer, Wrecker –

"That's far enough!" Jorick called, then shoved Cody to his knees. "Keep an eye on him, Noal."

Cody almost lost his balance. "Tech, don't –"

The Twi'lek clapped a hand over his mouth, braced a knee against his back, and leaned over him. "Keep quiet. We wouldn't want you losing your tongue now, would we?"

Hunter watched silently, busy calculating his odds. He could jump in there now, take out the Twi'lek and maybe three others before he was taken down. If Crosshair joined in, they might be able to deal with eight or even ten. But it would end in all of them being captured.

What should I do?

Jorick was watching, arms folded, as his men chained Tech's and Wrecker's hands behind their backs and searched them for weapons. One Weequay took Tech's helmet and started studying the visor. Hunter narrowed his eyes, watching carefully. All the squad's names would be visible on the HUD display . . .

Tech seemed to remember the same thing, because his eyes widened, and then he snapped a hard kick to the inside of the Weequay's right knee. The Weequay crumpled with a yell of pain, dropping the helmet. Jorick stepped forward, but one of his men was already on top of Tech, punching him in the face.

"HEY!" Wrecker swung sharply around. The two guards holding him by the elbows went flying to land in the snow, and Wrecker threw his full weight against the man hitting Tech, utterly flattening him.

Jorick grimaced, then stepped towards Wrecker and pointed his gun at Tech. "Get off him!" he ordered.

Wrecker looked up, muttered, "Awww . . ." and obeyed. The man he'd tackled just stayed where he was, lying on his back in the snow as he stared dazedly up at the sky.

"Get up!" Jorick barked, then turned to Wrecker. "And you, stay where you are or I'll put you down for keeps. Probably should anyway for destroying our speeders."

Wrecker shrugged, completely unconcerned.

"You're the one who broke into the base and captured Cody," Tech pointed out, prodding gingerly at one cheekbone.

As the Weequay who'd been examining Tech's helmet limped to his feet, Jorick turned to the other guards. "Get these two inside."

"What are you gonna do with us?" Wrecker demanded.

"Nothing yet," Jorick answered. "But I have no problem shooting you, or your pal, or the commander here if any of you cause any trouble. Understand?" He glared at Tech.

"Yes, but what I do not understand is how you could possibly have been given the impression that I would cause trouble," Tech said primly. "I simply do not like to be manhandled."

Jorick grunted, rolling his eyes. "Just get moving."

The two commandos obeyed. The sound of a harsh cough, followed by a disgusted scoff from Noal, made Hunter look back down at Cody just as the commander leaned forward and spat blood into the snow. There was a bruise on his cheek, but nothing on his face – either he'd bitten his tongue, or . . . his old injury had reopened.

At the realization, a new worry seized at Hunter's insides.

Noal was still wiping his hand off on his coat when Jorick approached.

"I told you to stop beating him up," complained the Weequay, gesturing exasperatedly as Cody coughed up more blood.

"That's not from me hitting him," Noal snapped. "He must've already been injured."

"Yeah?" Jorick seemed to consider for a moment, then shrugged. "Eh, not like there's much we can do for him."

"Nope."

"Gives me an idea, though," Jorick went on, and stepped over to Cody. "Look, you tell us how to get to Gringov, and we'll let you head off-world, get some medical attention."

"Can't," Cody answered, then stopped to clear his throat. "Gringov's – working for the Republic."

Jorick's slanted eyes narrowed. "So? He'll probably betray them next."

"Not my call." The commander sounded short of breath. "And I already told you your best options."

"Yeah . . . like contacting the Republic will get us anything but more prison ship time." Jorick sounded angry, but the look he cast at the base's doorway was almost nervous. "You know what, Noal? I think we should leave this guy outside for a while. Let him think up more options for us . . . like arranging a meeting with Gringov."

"But he is injured!" Tech protested, stepping forward. "The cold will exacerbate –"

With an irritated growl, the still-limping Weequay slammed a blow against the back of Tech's neck. Tech crumpled and Wrecker swung around, but six stun shots hit him before he could even take a step.

As Wrecker flopped bonelessly into the snow, Cody looked up. "I can't help you, Jorick," he said evenly. "But you'd better take care these soldiers stay alive. They're some of the GAR's top cadets, and there are several commanders – and a Jedi general – who know where we are."

"I believe it." Jorick shook his head, looking disgusted.

Noal performed a slight double-take, then shot him a glare. "You do, huh?"

"Yeah, what about it?" Jorick retorted. "It just about figures, doesn't it? This whole job has been a bust from the start."

He turned on Cody. "Bet we can't even take Gringov's ship."

"Not without being tracked," Cody answered. "You could risk it, though, try getting a new number. Even if the Republic locates you, it might not matter. The GAR has a lot better things to do than chase down a stolen shuttle."

Jorick shook his head, glancing at Tech as he stumbled to his feet.

Hunter looked between Jorick and the commander, who was watching the gang leader carefully. After a moment, Cody said, "Look. If you let us go, when I file a report on the situation I'll recommend we cut our losses and forget the shuttle."

The other men glanced at each other, then at Jorick, who appeared to be thinking it over. Hunter felt himself relax, just a little.

Noal scoffed. "We're already on the Republic watchlist. What's the matter, Jorick, you getting cold feet?"

Tech cleared his throat, his gaze flickering up to the roof. "I cannot see how he could avoid it. We are, after all, standing in eight centimeters of snow."

Hunter almost snorted, and Cody shot Tech a mildly amused look. The Rodian's large eyes grew wider, and everyone else just stared in complete confusion for nearly five seconds.

Noal recovered first. "I say we kill the three of 'em and bait the Marauder to get Gringov out here."

A couple of the bounty hunters shifted uneasily.

"Don't be a fool," Cody shot back, voice cold. "Gringov has nothing to do with us and couldn't care less if we lived or died. Also, he traded the Marauder in for a different ship – probably because, if I'm reading this right, he was well aware you'd be after him."

"Slimy son-of-a-Hutt," grumbled a human.

"Yeah." Jorick folded his arms, frowning.

Wrecker groaned and shifted. "Ow," he mumbled, brushing uncoordinatedly at the snow on his face.

As he started to get up, Jorick gestured to his men. "Come on. Everyone back inside. I need to think about this." He turned, observing the land around him, then pointed to three of the men. "Let's put you guys on watching the shuttle, just in case."

Noal grabbed Cody, and Wrecker followed closely. As everyone else crowded towards the door, Tech hung back for just an instant, his eyes flitting up to the roof, then to the grate.

Then Jorick shoved him inside, the other bounty hunters followed, and the front door was forced closed again.

Hunter glanced from the blood in the snow to his knife. With a few movements, he finished making the last two cuts, then carefully removed the grate and laid it on the shaft floor. After crawling to the very edge, he twisted around, replaced the grate as best he could, and climbed silently up to the roof.

Crosshair was just getting up from a prone position. "What are you doing here?"

"Regrouping." Moving lightly, Hunter joined him in the center of the roof. "What happened?"

The sniper tilted his head. "How long were you there?"

"Since right after the speeders blew up."

"Hm." Crosshair pulled his helmet off, looking more sour than usual. "Guess you know what happened, then. I couldn't figure out how to get involved without ruining our chances."

"Same." Hunter sat back on his heels. "I've got the grate open, we can go in that way. . ." He trailed off, thinking.

"And what?" Crosshair asked, reaching for a toothpick.

"Crosshair –" Hunter felt a sudden burn of exasperation and looked away, pinching the bridge of his nose as he bit back his temper. He didn't need his squad mate's tendency to question, and his usual difficult attitude, on top of everything else. The commander and Tech and Wrecker were prisoners, he and Crosshair were outnumbered ten to one, if not more, and the enemy was barricaded inside the base. . .

Still annoyed, he looked up in time to see the sniper frowning defensively down at the roof. "I was just asking," he muttered. "I . . . don't have a plan."

Oh. Hunter deflated. "Sorry," he said after a moment, then added, "I don't have a plan either."

He'd been trying to come up with one, but everything he considered seemed too dangerous for the others. The best one still seemed to be taking Jorick hostage, but would the other bounty hunters want Jorick enough to return the other prisoners? Or would Noal take over?

A toothpick bounced off his chest plate. "Guess we could use Wrecker's standard procedure of smashing everything we come across," Crosshair said.

The sergeant huffed. "Yeah, but Wrecker's the only one with enough muscle to pull that off." He tugged his helmet off and dragged a hand through his hair. "Look, we've got a way in, let's start with that. Any of those shafts go directly to the brig?"

A smirk flickered over Crosshair's face. "Yeah. . . It ends right above the control panel for the ray shields. Terrible security flaw."

"I'm starting to think they were put there on purpose," Hunter said, jamming his helmet back on as he got to his feet. "Let's use that to our advantage."

Crosshair reached for his own helmet and stood. "Right behind you, Sarge."

Chapter Text

Cody jerked as the muzzle of a gun was shoved under his jaw for the second time in ten minutes and Noal barked, "Don't even think about it!"

Tilting his head, Cody caught a glimpse of Wrecker, who was leaning sideways against the wall. At first Cody didn't understand, but then he heard a faint squawk and realized that Wrecker had just pushed his full weight against the skinny Rodian who'd been guarding him.

Noal gestured sharply, and Wrecker straightened up again.

"That was an adequate attempt, Wrecker," Tech approved, as Noal finally released Cody. "Though perhaps next time you should ignore your guard, and instead ensure that your elbow hits Noal in the face."

The Rodian's eyes got impossibly bigger, but the Twi'lek only snarled and jabbed Cody towards his cell. "You try anything and I'll blow his brains out."

"Sounds like you're gonna do it anyway," Wrecker mumbled, moving forward all the same.

"Yeah?" Noal deactivated the ray shield and removed Cody's cuffs. "Maybe I will."

When Tech and Wrecker exchanged mildly alarmed looks, as though calculating their chances, Cody cleared his throat. "Wrecker, Tech. Stow it."

Noal shot him a pointy-toothed grin and pretended to bow. "Thank you for your cooperation," he said. "Now get inside."

Cody obeyed and turned to watch as his shield was reactivated and the other two clones were put in separate cells. Then Noal and the other bounty hunters left, their footsteps dying away in the hall.

When the brig was quiet, Cody finally let out the sigh he'd been holding back. "I was hoping you boys would get my message and leave," he said resignedly.

"Oh, we got it!" Wrecker assured him, his voice loud through the metal wall that separated them. "But we weren't gonna leave if you were in trouble, so we had to come back and check."

"I see." Cody removed his gauntlet and used the back of one sleeve to clean the blood from his face. "And then you decided to blow up their speeders?"

"Actually," said Tech. "The goal was to cause a distraction, which we did, by sending some of their speeders into the forest. But then the bounty hunters came out and we did not have time to use the same procedure with the rest."

"So we blew 'em up," Wrecker finished happily, but then his voice lowered. "Uh, Commander, you okay? You weren't looking so good . . ."

"I'm fine," Cody assured him, hoping that Hunter and Crosshair were still free. "But it would be – preferable – to get out of here soon."

"I can try breaking the wall," Wrecker offered.

Cody opened his mouth to say no just as Wrecker threw himself against the wall and the entire brig vibrated.

"Ow," said Wrecker. "Uh, oops. My hand's stuck."

Tech gave an exasperated sigh. "In the wall?"

Noal rushed in and stopped short, his mouth agape. "How –?" he began, then stopped and gave his head a shake. "Did you punch through the wall?"

"Uh, nope!" Wrecker said, and there was a quick shuffling sound as though he'd turned. "Nope, you're, um, just seeing things . . . and stuff."

Cody reached up to squeeze the bridge of his nose, then froze as he heard a sound from above – a slight scrape of plastoid on metal –

Moving to the ray shield, he watched as Noal marched over to Wrecker's cell. While the blue Twi'lek was occupied with staring confusedly at Wrecker, who yanked his hand out of the wall with another 'ow', Cody risked a glance up at the grate that covered the ventilation shaft in the ceiling.

Between one moment and the next, the grate disappeared. Cody expected to see Hunter or Crosshair jump through. He didn't expect to see Crosshair suddenly hang backwards out of the shaft and fire his pistol. Noal whipped around, uninjured – surely Crosshair hadn't missed? – and then let out a yell as Wrecker picked him up from behind in a rib-cracking squeeze.

"Sorry," Wrecker said, sounding very unapologetic as he slapped the Twi'lek's gun out of his hand.

Crosshair backflipped out of the shaft and darted over to Tech's cell, pressing the release while Hunter jumped from the shaft, landing in a somersault. He rolled to his feet and ran over to Cody's cell.

"Commander!" he exclaimed, shutting off the ray shield. "Are you all right, sir?"

"I've been better," Cody admitted, but shot him a grin as he went to collect his weapons from Noal. "Nice job, kid."

"Thank you, sir," Hunter said, but his words were automatic. "We could fight our way out, Commander, but it's less risky to use the shaft."

"Understood," Cody said, stepping away from Noal. The Twi'lek, surprisingly enough, didn't have Cody's weapons. "Are there guards on the Marauder?"

"Only three." Crosshair sidled up next to him and held out a pistol. "We'll handle them."

As he accepted the weapon, Cody gave Crosshair a nod of acknowledgment and glanced at Hunter. "Lead the way, Sergeant."

"Yes, sir."

Wrecker held the gasping Twi'lek up by the collar and grinned. "Thank you for your cooperation," he mimicked, and hurled him into Tech's cell. Tech stunned him, Crosshair turned the shield back on, and then the squad of commandos ran to the opening in the ceiling.

Cody had just started to follow when another fit of coughing overtook him. Hunter skidded to a halt, glancing worriedly over his shoulder. "Sergeant," Cody said sharply, then coughed again. "I said, lead the way."

". . . Yes, sir." Hunter holstered his pistol and joined Crosshair, who dropped to one knee to give him a boost.

"Take the second right-hand turn you reach," Hunter said, then pulled himself into the shaft and vanished.

Tech followed him closely, but Wrecker gestured for the commander to go next.

After taking a slow breath, Cody made a series of quick but deliberate movements, stepping from the floor to Crosshair's knee, reaching to the edge of the shaft, pulling himself up with his weight evenly distributed between both arms, getting one knee on the edge –

And then he was in the shaft, crawling slowly after Tech and Hunter. He knew he would slow the team down, but he also knew that there was no point in going last. He would be incapable of holding off any attackers for very long. One of Jorick's men had to have heard the shots by now – he'd be surprised if there weren't guards waiting for them at the roof.

And yet, when Cody reached the opening above the front door, there were no guards in sight. Tech jumped down without hesitation, but Hunter stayed crouched on the roof to the left of the opening, one hand held out. Cody turned to face the building, gripped Hunter's wrist, and used his own hold on the roof to help lower his weight slowly. He was still straightening up when the sergeant landed next to him. Only a few seconds later, Wrecker joined them, followed by Crosshair.

Cody blinked against the glare of the afternoon sun on snow and looked at the others.

"Crosshair," said Hunter, jerking his head towards the Marauder. "Come on, we'll deal with the guards. The rest of you, wait here."

As the two of them ran off, Tech glanced at the base's front door. "We may want to prevent the other gangsters from following us," he said, transferring his gaze to the twisted remnants of speeder bikes. "Or at least to delay them. Wrecker, can you–?"

Wrecker interrupted him with a cheerful jostle. "Like you even need to ask," he said, marching off through the snow. Four seconds later, he was marching back, an entire speeder under each arm. Cody watched as the big commando stacked six of the destroyed vehicles against the front door and then braced them with two more that leaned upright against the whole stack.

"That'll slow 'em down at least a little," he said, dusting his hands off.

A single shot from the direction of the shuttle made Cody turn, but Crosshair appeared seconds later. "Shuttle's clear," he said.

Cody couldn't help but wonder if the cadets had killed anyone yet. Now was not the time to ask. But if they'd had to kill, and if it had registered, he'd probably have to keep a close eye on them for a bit. Most soldiers got some sort of reaction after a first kill and whether that reaction was immediate or delayed, shakiness or extra aggression, outright sickness, numbness, or a sudden inability to focus – experienced soldiers knew to keep an eye on the newbies.

But the gangsters were only stunned, and there were no signs of a struggle, which meant the cadets had stunned them from cover. Wrecker lugged all three of them to the side and dumped them under a large deciduous tree, then came back. "We leaving?" he asked, following the others up the ramp. "I mean . . . we're just letting them keep the base?"

As the sharp, cold air was replaced by the warm air inside the Marauder, Cody drew a relieved breath and glanced around for the medkit. "Well, what do you think?"

Hunter pulled off his helmet with a frown and gestured to the cockpit. "I think you need to sit down, Commander. Tech's got the most medical knowledge, he can check your injury."

Cody nodded and followed the others, seating himself in the co-pilot's chair while Tech fiddled around with the med scanner.

Dropping into the pilot's seat, Hunter activated the sensors. "Everything's still jammed," he mumbled to himself, setting his helmet on the dashboard.

Before anyone could answer, the medical scanner beeped and Tech said, "Oh. That is not good."

Instantly, everyone in the room was focused on him.

"What is it?" Hunter asked with a worried frown.

"His previous injury has partially reopened. There is blood in one lung. Technically, this is a partial pneumothorax."

The wide-eyed, hesitant glances from the other commandos made Cody chuckle quietly. "I survived the first one, I'll survive this," he told them. "It's nowhere near as bad."

"Nowhere near as bad?" Crosshair bit agitatedly on a toothpick. "Is that why you're the same color as the snow?"

Cody, who'd been watching as Tech read through instructions on the datapad, spared the sniper an unimpressed lift of one eyebrow. "Crosshair . . . that's impossible."

"Well, you're making a good effort," Crosshair mumbled, then glanced away as Cody turned fully to face him. "Sorry, sir."

"Oh," Tech said again, his frown much more pronounced now. "I . . . Commander, if the bleeding gets much worse, a chest tube will have to be inserted to drain the excess liquid and allow proper inflation of the lungs."

"What?" Wrecker yelped. "His lungs can't inflate? Oh, that's bad! We've gotta get him to a med center!"

"Calm down," Cody ordered, raising his voice a little. "I told you – it's not as bad as the last. It's only a slight tear, right, Tech?"

"Well, yes, but . . ."

"Good. Then I'll be okay. If worst comes to worst, I can tell one of you how to get the needle in properly." Cody looked at the readouts but saw nothing on sensors, which wasn't surprising. At this point, there was no reason for the bandits to attack. They were safer in the base. If they came out, the Bad Batch could get the Marauder ten meters in the air and blast all the attackers without even trying.

In an obvious attempt at trying to lighten the mood, Tech said, "Commander, I did not know you were trained in field medicine."

"I wasn't," Cody said dryly. "But I was awake when Stitch did it the first time, so now I know how to do it. For the moment, we've got something else to deal with."

"Taking back the base, sir?" Hunter asked, his gaze flickering to the others.

"Exactly." Cody tried to straighten in his seat, but Wrecker put a hand on his shoulder.

"Uh, better stay there, Commander."

"I wasn't going to stand, Wrecker. Now, troopers – listen up. This is a Republic base, and there's a lot here to protect. . . first of all, the base itself. It's one of only three places we have available to get cadets through their final stages of training before graduation. But we also have other things here that we need to protect, especially the data about our training modules and the troopers who are ready for deployment. There are communications from Tipoca City, stored there – possibly even data for direct comm channels to the commanders and generals."

Wrecker was nodding along, a serious frown on his face, while the other three stood still and listened.

"We can't let Jorick and his gang put that to use," Cody finished, looking at Hunter.

The sergeant straightened. "You want us to retake the base, sir?"

"We can do it!" Wrecker added, looking eager.

Tech and Crosshair glanced at each other before the sniper said, "Won't be hard, with the full squad."

"No." Tech pushed his goggles up his nose and tilted his head. "I believe there are approximately five of them to one of us. . . which is not even close to the number of opponents we have fought before."

"These are sentients, not droids," Cody pointed out. "But they're probably spread out. I know you boys can handle them."

"Yes, sir." Hunter hesitated. "Commander, will you be staying here?"

"Unless you think you need my help," Cody said, knowing exactly what Hunter was trying to say.

"No, Commander. I was – ah."

"Hoping you wouldn't have to convince me to stay on the ship?" Cody asked, holding back a smile.

"Ah . . ." The sergeant glanced to the side, looking embarrassed. "Yes, sir."

Cody smirked. "These bounty hunters are after Gringov, who's now an instructor on Kamino. This ship used to belong to Gringov, that's how they found us. Why is this relevant?"

"It means they also have a ship," Hunter said.

"Correct. And the sensors didn't pick up the ship, even though I ran a scan minutes before the bandits arrived. . ."

Tech lifted a finger. "Which means their ship is over ten kilometers away."

"Exactly," said Cody. "And I'm thinking ten kilos is a nice distance for the bandits to walk if they'd like to get off this planet."

The four commandos exchanged looks, and Crosshair's expression lightened in a quick smirk.

"Understood," the sergeant said, and stood, checking his weapons. "Bad Batch, form up! We've got a base to retake."

Chapter Text

When they reached the front of the base, Hunter skidded to a halt and knelt, pressing both hands through the snow to reach the ground. It didn't feel like there was much activity inside the base . . . After glancing at Crosshair, who signaled the all clear, Hunter took off his helmet and leaned his head sideways against the cold wall. Despite that, he still couldn't hear much sound or movement.

Straightening, he shot a look at the others, then put his helmet back on and stepped back to examine the roof. He usually had a better idea of where the enemy was, and made orders based on positions. . . but this time, he couldn't. And these weren't droids. Droids were nowhere near as dangerous – they couldn't think, react, or adapt the same way sentients could. Hunter knew Wrecker could handle himself just fine in a fight – he'd seen it often enough; but he wasn't so sure about the other two. More often than not, Crosshair and Tech who got landed in medbay after fights, and those were just squabbles with the regs. These were bounty hunters.

Wrecker jostled his elbow. "Hey, Sarge," he said, in what was probably intended to be a low voice. "What's up?"

"We have to retake the base," Hunter answered slowly, stalling for time. Much as he disliked it, he knew he had no choice. He'd just have to trust the others to handle themselves. "Taking the control room first would be best."

"Not necessarily," Tech said, and his eyes met Hunter's with an almost apologetic look. "It would stand to reason that most of the gangsters will be in the control room, and there are only two entrances."

Behind him, Crosshair shifted his weight. "And we'd have to deal with any others coming up behind us."

For an instant, Hunter felt the grip of uncertainty again as he realized that the first thing he'd suggested, on their first mission as a squad, had been severely flawed. Then, for some reason, Cody's words came back to him. "The others trust me to want what's best for them, and to make decisions accordingly. Do you know what would have broken their trust? If I had let that error shake my confidence so much that I'd given up my command and let someone else lead them."

Hunter clenched one fist and forced himself to focus on the present instead of on his uncertainties. He was the sergeant. It was his responsibility to see that the mission was carried out. Cody was depending on the team . . . and the team depended on Hunter. And even if he decided to bounce ideas off of them or use their plans instead of his own, he was still the one who had to call the shots.

"Okay," he said firmly. "Let's get inside and head to the brig first, get a sense of where everyone's at. Crosshair, I want you to hang back wherever possible – give us cover without showing yourself."

The sniper nodded once, and Hunter glanced at Wrecker. "Get me up there."

"Sure thing, Sarge."

Hunter jumped, landing in Wrecker's joined hands, and sprang upward again, grabbing the edge of the shaft as he reached it. Pulling himself inside, he crawled through and made way for the others to follow.

It was a short trip to the brig, even moving slowly. Within a couple of minutes, Hunter was lying on his stomach, glancing carefully around the room. The cells were all opened, the ray shields off, and Noal was gone. No surprise there.

Hunter somersaulted out of the shaft and twisted to land facing the hall. No one on guard, either. Either the whole group had barricaded themselves in one room, or they really didn't think the squad would be back.

The others crowded behind him.

"Let's check the bunkroom," Hunter ordered, and shot a quelling look at Wrecker. "Quietly."

Wrecker nodded that he understood, and they headed out. Crosshair moved like a shadow to Hunter's left, while Tech trotted along behind the sniper.

As they reached the bunkroom, Crosshair turned to enter, but the door stayed shut. "Locked," he whispered. "Do we try to get in?"

"Yeah." Hunter drew his vibroblade. "Keep watch for a minute."

With Wrecker and Crosshair guarding the hall, Hunter glanced at Tech. "Where's the lock?"

Tech tapped a finger halfway down the double-door, and Hunter slid his knife into the barely visible seam. The blade sank in with a quiet hiss of hot metal, slowed when it hit the lock, then snapped out the other side. When the doors sprang open, Tech poked his head in.

"All clear," he reported. He stepped inside and waited for the others to enter before shoving the doors back together. "Hm. There is no sign of any search having been made."

"Yeah." Crosshair gestured at Wrecker's unmade bunk. "They'd have taken the det charge, otherwise."

Hunter whipped his head around so fast that he had a crick in his neck as he stared, silently uncomprehending, at the explosive that was clearly visible beneath Wrecker's squashed pillow.

"It's not armed," Wrecker defended himself, sounding guilty. "I was just working on it last night and I kinda . . . fell asleep?"

"You – Wrecker –" Hunter shut his mouth, opened it, hesitated, and gave up with an aggravated gesture. Yelling at his older batchmate for being an absolute idiot could wait until they weren't in active danger.

Crosshair was glancing around the room, apparently unconcerned, and the sergeant made a mental note to yell at him, too. He'd obviously known, and just as obviously, he saw nothing unusual or problematic with Wrecker wiring explosives in the kriffing bunkroom. That, or he was acting like he didn't care just to annoy Hunter. Either way, Hunter definitely had a few things to say to him, and to Wrecker.

Tech, on the other hand, managed to look extremely displeased even with his helmet on. He turned stiffly to face Wrecker and muttered, "I dislike sleeping near projectiles."

"Sorry." Wrecker shrugged helplessly, one hand lifting to rub at his helmet. "I don't usually do it . . ."

Crosshair snorted. Wrecker elbowed him, and Hunter took a quick step to get between them. "Cut the chatter. Let's check out the rest of this level."

As it turned out, there was no one at all in the hallways, although the control room itself appeared to be sealed off. Everyone was probably holed up in there, waiting for an attack . . . or maybe, they were just waiting in the safest location they could find, so that they could leave the base under cover of darkness.

Tech managed to locate his datapad in the galley, though Hunter had no idea what could possibly have made him think of looking on top of the cooling unit.

"It is the most obvious place to hide something on short notice," Tech answered. "It is tall enough that the top is hidden from those of average height, and not a place one would generally search. Also, I was certain Commander Cody would not have left it in reach of the bounty hunters."

"Right. . ." Hunter glanced around the otherwise ransacked room. "Is the jamming device still interfering with your scans?"

"Yes." Tech tapped a few buttons. "Although – hm. It seems to have been moved to the lower level. That is interesting."

At that moment, Crosshair, who was standing near the weapons rack by the front door, turned to face them. "Our weapons are gone."

"Well, Cody didn't want the gangsters finding out about us," Hunter reasoned. "Maybe he put them in the armory."

While Wrecker studied the barricade of metal chairs and crates that had been piled up inside the front door, Crosshair darted over to the armory. As the door opened, he went stiff, shoulders lifting towards his ears.

"What is it?" Hunter asked, joining him quickly.

A nearly silent hiss of displeasure was his only response. Hunter pushed his teammate aside and glanced into the room – which was completely empty of weapons. Every rack had been cleared - even the training weapons were gone.

"Uh . . ." Wrecker said, coming up behind them. "That's not good."

Crosshair shot him a disbelieving look. "Ya think? They're probably barricaded in, just waiting for us to walk into their nice little trap." He tilted his head almost meditatively and added, "If I get shot at with my own Firepuncher, someone is going to die."

"Yeah, you are." Wrecker snorted at his own joke.

"No." Tugging off his helmet, Crosshair gave Wrecker a disturbing grin and reached for a toothpick. "Someone else is going to die."

"Long as it's not one of us." Wrecker shoved his own helmet back on his head and peered suspiciously around. "Well, we've checked everything except the control room."

"Yes." Tech reached up to fidget with his visor. "At least, on this level. I suppose we must decide on the next course of action."

He, Crosshair and Wrecker all looked at Hunter - and, for some reason, the sergeant abruptly remembered when he'd questioned Cody about the camping site. "You want me to choose?" And Cody's even response: "You're the sergeant."

Hunter straightened. Turning, he looked at the closed control room doors, then back at his squad mates as an idea began to take shape in his mind.

Getting impatient, Wrecker rocked back and forth on his heels. "I guess the only thing left to do is storm the control room, right?"

"No." Hunter gestured with his pistol. "I think Tech was right about there being a lot of guys in there. If they put up a fight, we might win – but more likely we'll end up in medbay or dead . . . and I'm not sure which would be worse."

Crosshair snorted in agreement, though Tech narrowed his eyes in careful consideration. Before he could begin to list the pros and cons of either situation, Hunter motioned for them to come closer.

"Listen," he said, lowering his voice. "We're going to check out the lower level. Tech says the jamming device has been moved down there, so there are probably at least a few guards there too. We'll deal with them. Wrecker, I want you to bring 'em outside and tie them with your cable. Got it?"

Wrecker smacked one fist into the opposite palm and grinned. "Oh yeah, I got it."

"Good. While you're working on that, Tech can trap the lift. Once we turn off the jamming device and they see there are only four of us, the rest of the mercs will probably come running. That should clear the control room for Tech and Wrecker, but you guys will have to wait to go up until the bounty hunters get down to the lower level." Hunter looked at the sniper. "You and I have the most dangerous part."

Interest flickered in Crosshair's eyes. "Oh?"

"We're going to be the distraction."

Smirking, the sniper flicked his toothpick away and put his helmet on. "Sounds good to me."

"Okay." Casting another glance over his teammates, Hunter led the way to the lift and opened the doors. "Let's hope they think we're just more bounty hunters."

The ride down to the lower level was silent, but the air tingled with anticipation as Hunter counted down the seconds in his head. Three . . . two . . . one . . .

The doors slid open. A Weequay busy whittling a stick looked up at them and jumped violently, but as he opened his mouth to yell, Crosshair stunned him.

"Aw, I wanted that one," Wrecker complained. He stepped over the fallen Weequay, completely ignoring the stunned looks from the other two mercenaries in the room. One of them tried to activate his comm, apparently forgetting about the jamming device that stood nearby, then grabbed for his gun. It took him, and his fellow guard, a full three seconds to draw their weapons – they were only just starting to lift them when Hunter's and Wrecker's stun rounds took them down.

"Okay, Wrecker, get them out of here." Hunter glanced over his shoulder to see that Tech had completely ignored the short skirmish. He'd locked the lift doors open and was busy removing the exterior control panel. When Wrecker asked if he could use the lift, Tech responded with an impatient wave and turned back to his work.

Wrecker disappeared with the three mercenaries, Crosshair accompanying him just in case they ran into someone upstairs. Hunter located the ventilation shaft that led back up to the main level and removed the grate, then returned to watch Tech, who was elbow deep in wires. "What are you doing?"

"I am trapping the lift."

Hunter huffed. "Yeah, Tech . . ."

"Oh, you mean what specifically?" Tech shot him a quick smirk, looking a little too giddy for Hunter's peace of mind, and pulled several rectangles of metal out of his belt. "I am going to electrify the entire lift. The current will not turn on until the doors open – after I have closed them, of course, which I will not do until we are ready for the attack. For the moment, it is quite safe."

Hunter thought about that and decided to keep his distance anyway. "Just one pulse?" he checked.

"Unfortunately, yes. The surge will melt the connections, making a second electrocution impossible without replacement. And I'm not sure that the bounty hunters will even attempt to use the lift again, after seeing what happens to the others."

"They won't see it, if we can help it. We need them to get down here so you can get upstairs. . . Tech, can you wire it so it doesn't activate until the second time the lift is used?"

"Hm." Tech sat back on his heels. "Yes. I can connect it directly to my datapad and activate it on your signal. It might be good if I design some small, remotely activated EC charges."

"Later," Hunter said. "We'll let the first wave come – Cross and I will keep them busy while you and Wrecker get in the shaft. Then, once the second wave starts down, you electrocute them, head up the ventilation shaft and capture the control room."

Tech nodded, tested a wire against a small device he held, and then adjusted something and tested it again, unfazed by the small arc that spouted from the device. "That is sufficient amperage, I believe."

"I felt that from here," Hunter said, pressing his tongue against the roof of his mouth to remove the buzzing feel. "Pretty sure it's sufficient."

"Good." Tech shut off the current, then took a pair of pliers and twisted the exposed end around one of the small metal pieces. "And once we capture the control room – which is, presumably, where the weapons have been taken – we will be able to run a complete scan and ensure that no bandits remain."

"Right." Hunter looked up, hearing the lift return. "All set?"

"Yep." Wrecker dusted his hands off. "We tied 'em to each other and dumped 'em in the deadfall so they can't be seen from the control room."

"Good job. Tech, how long?"

"One moment." Tech laid out the four pieces of metal in a neat square that touched the walls and floor of the lift, then finished placing and securing the wire. "Whenever you are ready, Hunter."

Hunter met Wrecker's glance and jerked his head toward the jamming device. "Let's let 'em know we're here."

Chapter Text

As soon as the jamming device was turned off, Hunter gestured for Wrecker to take a position near the shaft. Tech locked the lift doors open, then followed him, pausing halfway there to smirk down at his datapad. "I believe they are surprised," he said, gesturing at the red dots milling around in the square that marked the control room.

"Good." Crosshair took up a position across the room from Hunter and leaned against the wall. "And they're gonna be more surprised."

"That's the idea." Hunter gestured to Wrecker. "We'll lead these guys on a bit of a chase while you guys take the control room. Lock yourselves in if you have to, and watch out for guards in the ventilation shafts up top."

"No problem," Wrecker said with a grin. "Tech and I'll handle it."

"Yes." Tech looked absently up from his screen. "As soon as I have dealt with the second wave of . . . ah. Here they come."

Hurried, hushed voices sounded above them, and the lift hummed to life and started to rise.

"Eyes open," Hunter warned, leveling his pistol midway down the locked-open doors. "They might have explosives."

"Understood." Crosshair stood a little tensely, arm rigid as he waited to fire – and the lift descended, the sound of the cables indicating that at least five people were inside.

"Hold fire," Hunter said, though his own finger tightened against the trigger as the gangsters' boots came into view. He could stun them before they ever saw their targets, but he had to make sure more of the bandits would come down.

Then he caught sight of the blinking detonator that the Rodian held at his left side. A smoke grenade.

"Wait!" he hissed sharply, when Crosshair's aim twitched to the Rodian. "We've got helmets, it'll give us good cover . . ."

Not one, but two smoke grenades were thrown. Hunter stood motionless while they exploded. Smoke flooded across the floor and crawled up the walls, hiding his squad mates from his view.

The bandits charged off the elevator, firing rapidly – and wildly. Hunter dodged two stun rounds and somersaulted, grabbing the Rodian around the knees. A quick shot to the chest dealt with that one.

He heard Crosshair take down another. Wrecker's and Tech's combined fire was mostly for show, but another bandit fell to their stun bolts.

The lift hummed on its way up. "There are more coming down!" Hunter yelled, doing his best to sound panicked. Then he turned his attention to the lift and shouted, "You'll never catch us, Jorick!"

"Because that sounds convincing . . ." Crosshair materialized beside him and sent a shot into the fourth bandit, whom Hunter could sense, but not see, through the swirling smoke.

"What?" Hunter glanced at him, nonplussed. "I was just . . . trying to egg them on."

"Yeah," drawled the sniper. "It sounds like you're playing escape and evade."

The sergeant stunned the last bandit and huffed, a little insulted that Crosshair thought he sounded like a second-year cadet. He didn't have time to retort, though, because the lift landed – and Tech set off the trap.

Waves of electricity buzzed and jolted through the floor and walls of the lift, dropping all five bandits in their tracks. That was half the bandits down . . . but only half.

Hunter darted over to the ventilation shaft and caught Wrecker by the arm just as he started to climb in. "Hold up. There are still another ten – that's too many for you and Tech to deal with."

Wrecker paused. "I thought they were gonna come down here."

"I don't know they will, now that we've taken down so many of 'em," Hunter admitted, wishing he'd thought of this sooner. "The jammer's gone, so they've got sensors too."

"True." Tech waved his datapad to get their attention. "But while we were in the barracks I located some useful equipment. I just enacted a simple but effective scheme which I discovered in the training manuals for ARF troopers. We – Wrecker and I – are now dead."

Hunter and Crosshair eyed him, then exchanged deliberate glances. Wrecker shoved his helmet back on his head and looked down at himself in concern. "We are?"

"Yes." Tech pointed to a small black circle set between Wrecker's gauntlet and vambrace. "These are localized jammers, which are widely used by the troopers of the Coruscant Guard. I will have to find out exactly who came up with them, but I believe that one of –"

"Tech," Hunter interrupted. "History lesson later."

"Ah. Yes." Tech adjusted his visor. "In short, we will not show up on sensors. As far as the bandits are concerned, we are dead. I expect more men will be down to deal with you and Crosshair."

"Right . . ." Hunter observed the smoke, which was settling as it cooled off. "Well, let's hope that's soon."

As if on cue, the lift sounded again and headed up, carrying the five stunned gangsters. Sharp, hurried whispers floated down the shaft from the upper level until the lift floor cut off the sounds.

"They'll probably dismantle your trap," Crosshair said, glancing at Tech.

"They will, though it will be a waste of time," Tech responded disinterestedly. "The trap is useless now. Hunter, I am trying to establish comms with the Marauder, in case we need to call in support."

"Support?" Wrecker poked him and grinned. "We don't need support. Besides, Cody couldn't come anyway."

"Obviously not." Tech looked sideways at him and narrowed his eyes. "I meant air support."

"Oh! Yeah, that makes sense." Wrecker swung his arms restlessly. "Those guys are taking a while."

"Probably unloading their teammates," Hunter replied, wondering how long it would take for the stunned mercenaries to recover. Would his squad still have only ten enemies to fight, or fifteen? The sergeant huffed. If he hadn't been so intent on stopping Wrecker from entering the ventilation shaft, they'd have been able to secure those five and keep them out of the battle. Ah, well. Something to remember for next time. . .

"Comms back online," Tech reported. "The enemy may be able to overhear us, so I recommend only Hunter and I use them, to maintain the illusion that there are two of us left."

Hunter nodded as he typed the proper code into his commlink. "Hunter to Marauder. Do you read, Commander?"

"Loud and clear, Sergeant." Cody sounded surprised. "Finished already?"

"No, sir. We're waiting for the next group to come down. So far so good, except they've got all the weapons sealed up in the control room."

"I see. I've located their ship and I'm keeping an eye on it just in case they've got someone ready to make a firing run."

"Understood. I think we've got things handled her, sir. Tech or I will report in if anything comes up."

"Got it. Cody out."

Hunter glanced at Wrecker and Crosshair. "Might want to shut off your comms, so you don't answer by accident if he calls us."

They obeyed, and Crosshair turned to stare at the still-empty lift shaft. "Anyone else wondering if they're waiting for the others to revive before coming after us?"

"Yeah," Hunter admitted. "We'll have to keep them busy. . . Tech, Wrecker, get in the shaft and into position. Move out only when we've engaged the enemy."

Tech scrambled into the opening and leaned against the side, then clambered onto Wrecker's shoulders as he entered. As they climbed into the upper tunnel, Hunter shoved the grate into place, then moved back to the front of the room.

It was quiet for a few seconds before Crosshair tilted a quick glance at him. "Two against ten?"

"I kind of like those odds," Hunter admitted with a grin.

"Yeah, sounds fair. Five each."

"Right," Hunter said thoughtfully. "But if they send fifteen, I get eight, you get seven."

The sniper hummed a faint laugh and gestured with his pistol. "Not if I get 'em first."

"Hm. We'll see about that." Hunter watched the lift shaft for a few seconds, then unsheathed his knife and spun it a couple of times before sliding it back into his vambrace and pressing a hand against the wall. He couldn't tell how many bounty hunters there were at the top of the lift, but he could feel a surprising amount of activity. "They're moving around a lot. Maybe they're planning something."

"Or they're panicking," Crosshair suggested, sauntering over to him. "Or arguing."

"Yeah, I don't think –"

"Maybe they're drawing straws to see who has to come down first."

Hunter rolled his eyes and turned to observe the length of the room. "If they do all come down at once we'll need cover. . . Wait."

"What?"

The sergeant ran to the control panel and switched on the laser field. "This control panel's the only real cover, right? Crosshair, take up position here. We'll make our own cover."

"You want to use the field as another barricade?" Crosshair asked, joining him.

"Exactly. The laser field will deflect shots, and –" He gestured around at the smoky air. "Visibility's not good. I'll lead them through, and they probably won't even see the field until you turn on the lasers."

The sniper looked from him to the control panel, then turned the intensity of the lasers all the way up before shutting them off. "Long as you don't walk into one," he said, but he was audibly smirking. "You thinking close range?"

"Yeah." Hunter drummed his fingers against the panel, thinking. He was good with a pistol, but he needed to play to his strengths here. . . and one of his greatest strengths was fighting in close quarters – and keeping out of range of attacks. After an instant of hesitation, Hunter handed his pistol to Crosshair. "You'll put this to better use. Keep me covered. I'll annoy them at close range, you take out as many as you can."

The lift jolted, then hummed lightly.

"You think this'll work?" Crosshair asked, readying both pistols.

Hunter ran to stand beside the lift doors and leaned back against the wall. "It'll work," he said, more confidently than he felt. "These guys aren't much better than droids."

Before the lift had even settled, another smoke grenade was thrown. Hunter quickly lost sight of Crosshair, who called, "There are ten, Sarge!"

Ten. I can work with that . . . Slipping up to the edge of the door, Hunter flexed his fingers and waited.

Crosshair fired three times, but only one man fell – the bandits must have taken the time to put on some armor.

Shots zipped through the air towards the sniper's position, lighting the thick haze of smoke with blue flashes. Two shots returned, a man fell, and Noal yelled, "They're over there! Split into groups, you nat koyi!"

As the men started to obey him, Hunter twisted between two mercenaries, landed a solid blow to the side of one man's neck, and leaped onto Noal's back. Wrapping an arm around his throat, he jerked his weight around, dropping them both to the floor. Several figures turned towards him, voices raised in confusion. Before the sergeant could knock out the Twi'lek, he was forced to roll aside to avoid being shot. Kicking Noal's gun out of his hand, he leaped to his feet and darted through the surprised group towards the laser field.

"That's the leader!" Noal shouted hoarsely. "Catch him!"

Footsteps pounded behind him, and Hunter ducked two more lasers, nearly all his awareness focused on the men behind him. For some reason, most of them had taken Noal's order literally, and were chasing their prey instead of trying to stun him. A couple steps later, he faked a stumble to let them gain on him. Now, they were in the center of the laser field, but Crosshair was still firing towards the lift.

"Crosshair!" Hunter yelled, dodging to one side as a wild shot flew past his ear.

"Relax," the sniper retorted, voice carrying evenly through the sound of running and shooting. "I have to time it just right. . ."

A hand jerked at his shoulder, and Hunter turned on his heel to land a hard punch against the Nikto's face. "Well, time it just right faster!" he shouted, snapping a kick into the Nikto's side.

A buzz of energy from all around him caught his attention, and he whipped around just in time to avoid a laser beam to the temple. Shifting red beams of light lit up the smoke all around and hummed against everyone in their path, taking down no fewer than five men. The sergeant grabbed a fallen blaster and made his way through the rest of the field without pausing, the occasional shot still flying his way. As soon as he was free of the field, he fired past Crosshair, aiming just above any lasers he saw.

Finally, the last enemy fell. Hunter ran to join Crosshair, who was leaning one hip against the control panel.

"Good job," Hunter panted. "Why didn't you turn the field off?'

"Busy," Crosshair answered laconically.

Hunter snorted. "Really?"

"No." The sniper pointed to the control switch, which was blackened with a long, narrowing streak. "Someone got in a lucky hit."

Hunter backtracked the shot to Noal, who was doubled over the control panel, gun hand outstretched. "Can we disconnect the power? I don't want those guys to be stunned to death."

It took them a few seconds, but eventually Hunter pried off the cover of the control panel and pulled the three main wires. "There. We've got to rejoin Tech and Wrecker. Let's secure these guys and get them outside."

"I can handle it." Crosshair pulled Noal off the panel and jerked his chin towards the ceiling. "Haven't heard any explosions yet, but you know how Wrecker gets when he's excited."

"Good point." Hunter tossed his cable to the sniper. "You'll need that. I'll comm you when we're secure. Don't take any risks."

"Please." Crosshair finished tying Noal's wrists together and dropped him unceremoniously on the floor. "You know me better than that."

Muttering under his breath, Hunter snatched his pistol from the sniper and headed back to the lift.

The top level was quiet. Hunter paused in the middle of the hallway, wondering if he should comm Tech. Maybe they'd already captured the control room? But if they had, they'd have commed already . . . and if Wrecker and Tech were still in hiding, Hunter contacting them would compromise their position.

After a moment, the sergeant decided to scout out the control room. It could be that they were waiting to attack from the vents until they had a good chance of success. If so, the sergeant might be able to give them that chance.

But as he approached the control room, he realized something was wrong. The doors were open, the pile of weaponry in the middle completely unguarded. And the grate was gone from the ceiling – so Tech and Wrecker had come in this way. It looked like there had been a brief fight, because there were laser burns on the wall opposite the vent.

Then Hunter's gaze landed on the bits of cable scattered over the floor, and he relaxed. Wrecker and Tech had already made their attack. They must have taken their captives outside, and would be back in a few moments.

Lifting his comm, Hunter said, "Tech, come –"

Muscular hands closed around his throat and yanked, a knee slamming into his back. Hunter's vision darkened abruptly, and his ears rang. The next instant, he was straightening, right hand closed around his knife, and the throttling hands were sliding away from his neck. The attacker stared back at him, wide-eyed, then blinked once. Hunter's gaze landed on his knife, which was buried in the human's neck, right through one of the jugular veins.

The man opened his mouth slightly, as though about to speak, then collapsed without a sound. The sergeant's knife stayed in his hand, and for several seconds Hunter could only stand where he was, staring at the blood which had streaked across his armor and was now spattering the floor.

"Hunter, come in," Tech's voice said. "Were you trying to contact us?"

Hunter lifted his wrist, answering automatically. "Yes. Just checking in."

"Ah. Well, we have finished handling Jorick and his men and are headed back inside. Have you finished on your end?"

"Yeah. Come on down to the lower level. We'll get the rest of the men outside and double-check the base."

"Roger that."

On the floor in front of him, the man shivered once and died.

Chapter Text

Cody watched from the cockpit of the Marauder as the commandos exited the base, carrying several bandits with them. Tech had the Rodian over one shoulder, and Hunter and Crosshair were carrying Noal, while Wrecker had a tied-up bandit under each arm.

One after the other, they tossed the gang members into the snow in front of where Jorick and the others had finally managed to get to their feet. None of the invaders were even bothering to attempt untying their hands. They just watched their captors warily and exchanged looks and mumbled to each other with various degrees of irritation.

Clearly, they had recognized the fact that they would be dead by now if the clones had wanted them to be, and they weren't about to take chances – or at least, most of them weren't. There were some that might still try to cause trouble. As Wrecker headed back into the base, Hunter lifted his hand and the Marauder's comm chirped.

"Reporting in, Commander," he said, his words strangely flat and careful. "The base is clear. Should we let them go?"

Cody looked at the sensors, but the gang's ship showed no signs of life. "I'll come out," he replied.

"Yes, sir." Hunter ended the call, and Cody looked outside just in time to see Wrecker come out, carrying another gangster. Blood dripped into the snow from the human's neck every couple of steps. If the bounty hunters hadn't been thoroughly beaten before, they were now – any of them who had been showing even slight signs of resistance fell still and then shifted closer together.

Shaking his head, Cody pushed himself to his feet and headed outside. Once down the ramp, he walked as quickly as he could manage, well aware of the dozens of eyes that tracked his progress. As he came to a halt in front of the group of mercenaries, his glanced quickly over all of them.

The tense silence grew, and a few of the bandits shifted uneasily.

"Jorick," Cody said at last, turning to the Weequay. "I'm going to give you and your men a choice."

The Weequay narrowed his black eyes in consideration, then shrugged. "What are our options?"

"Either get off Vinnda Prime and stay away from it for the rest of your lives, or turn yourselves in to the Republic."

The other bounty hunters immediately stirred and muttered, whispering among themselves. Jorick studied Cody for a long moment, then turned to his men. "Leaving sounds good to me. Anyone want to turn himself in?"

Nobody answered except Noal, who finally said, "We aren't going back to those filthy prison ships."

"Then get out," Cody told him. "I'm going to broadcast your transponder code and ship ID to the GAR . . . and I'm storing it in the defense systems and sensors here. If you ever come back, we'll know about it. Understood?"

"Yeah." Jorick eyed Cody for a moment longer. "What about Gringov?"

"Good luck," the commander replied. "You can risk your necks going after him if you want, but he picked a good place to hide out. I recommend you cut your losses."

Noal snarled, but didn't say anything.

"We'll see," Jorick said at last. "We might not be able to deal with him right now, but he can't stay hidden forever."

"That's not my concern," Cody said evenly, then turned to the commandos. "Did you get all their weapons?"

"Yeah," Wrecker answered, pointing to a stack a few meters behind him.

"Good. Put them on the Marauder." When Jorick opened his mouth to protest, Cody raised his voice. "We'll drop them off at their ship."

Wrecker hurried to obey, and Cody glanced at Tech. "Take care of the transponder code and ID, Tech."

"Yes, Commander."

"Crosshair, Hunter – you can untie them, but cuff them together in pairs. Jorick, your men will have to bring your teammate's body back with you, unless you want to bury him here. Take your pick."

"Ground's frozen solid," Jorick muttered reluctantly. "We'll take him with us."

Cody nodded, keeping one hand on his pistol as Crosshair and Hunter paired up the mercenaries, cuffing one's right hand to the other's left.

Jorick assigned four of the bounty hunters to carry the body on a canvas. After watching the ones in front struggling to hold the corners of the material, he added, "We'll take shifts."

By the time Hunter was cuffing Jorick and Noal together, Tech and Wrecker had finished their tasks and were back.

"I take it you can find your ship from here," Cody said.

"Yeah." Jorick jerked his chin towards the snow-covered hill behind the base. "Ten kilometers that way, maybe a little farther."

"Good. Start walking. We're not leaving the planet until you've left it, so don't get any ideas. And remember – if you come back, we'll know, and I'll personally send squads to hunt you down."

Jorick rolled his eyes. "Like we would."

As he turned away, Cody raised his voice. "Oh, and Jorick? Don't even think of selling the base's location to anyone. If this base is attacked, ever, I'll be going with the assumption that it's your fault. You won't be able to hide."

The Weequay shrugged again and met Cody's eyes. "I've got no interest in your army or your war," he said. "I could have killed you and didn't – you could have killed me and didn't. Far as I'm concerned, we're even. We'll go after Gringov on our own terms."

Cody inclined his head and stepped back, folding his arms as the group of mercenaries set off through the snow. Nobody spoke until they were several hundred meters away.

Finally, Wrecker stirred. "Uhh – we're not gonna stand here until they reach their ship, are we?"

"No, Wrecker." Cody shot him a quick smile. "We're going into the base to secure it and lock down everything. Then we'll drop off the mercenaries' weapons. Once they've left the system, we'll head back to Kamino."

"Okay." Wrecker started off, then stopped short. "Hey, Commander, can we get something to eat first? I'm starved."

"Of course you are," Crosshair said, but his words lacked their usual sharpness.

Cody ended up sending Crosshair inside to grab some ration bars, but Hunter couldn't manage more than one bite. His stomach was churning, and his mouth was too dry. He swallowed with an effort, then turned away from the others and held the bar out to Wrecker.

"Ya sure?" Wrecker whispered loudly. Hunter frowned and nodded – why did his older teammate have to pick now, of all times, to hesitate when it came to having more to eat? Fortunately, nobody commented or seemed to notice.

Cleanup took a while. Cody took Tech and Crosshair inside, while Hunter and Wrecker were sent to deal with the disaster caused by the exploding speeders. They shoved the twisted metal into a pile, a short distance from the doors, and left it.

About an hour and a half later, when the bounty hunters were a good eight kilometers away, Hunter and Tech took the Marauder up and flew to the mercenaries' shuttle, which was silent and empty. They dumped the bundled weapons in the snow, then returned to the others. Both flights were quiet, as Tech was focused on piloting instead of talking, and the sergeant had nothing to say.

When Hunter finally entered the base, for the first time since the battle, the blood on the floor was gone. He checked twice, but not even the slightest trace remained.

"You still good, Commander?" Crosshair's voice came from near the barracks.

"Yes," Cody replied, and two sets of footsteps approached Hunter's position.

For some reason, the sergeant found himself moving quickly to the control room to join Tech, who was resetting all the systems.

A moment later, Wrecker came in, grinned, and walked up behind Tech. Before Hunter could decide whether or not to say anything, Wrecker leaned his forearms heavily on Tech's shoulders, nearly causing the shorter commando to faceplant against the control center.

"Wrecker!" Tech yelped. "Get off!"

"Oh, whoops!" Wrecker straightened up, an unconvincing look of innocence on his face. "Didn't see you there, sorry. . ."

Adjusting his goggles viciously, Tech spun back to his work.

Hunter watched silently.

"All set, lads?" Cody said, entering the room with Crosshair. The commander was moving easily enough, but his face was pale.

"As soon as I complete this, we will be," Tech answered. "Ah – for the most part, that is. I've vented the laser field room for an hour at this point, but it may take longer than we have to really get rid of the smoke."

"Don't worry about it," Cody told him. "I'll be sending a repair crew in once we get back to Kamino. Just lock everything down and get your things. We're headed back to the Marauder to wait until Jorick's gone."

Picking up his Firepuncher from where he'd set it in the corner, Crosshair narrowed his eyes at the floor for a few seconds, before saying, "And then it's back to Kamino."

"Oh . . . yeah, that's right." Wrecker slumped.

"Yeah." Cody's gaze flitted among all four of them. "It's back to Kamino, where you boys will be given your designation as troopers of the Grand Army of the Republic."

Tech stopped working and glanced over his shoulder to exchange a silent but skeptical look with Crosshair, and Wrecker turned to Hunter, who tilted his head, almost unwilling to hope. The commander didn't seem to mind the fact that none of them answered. He let the silence continue for several moments before saying, "Tech? You almost done?"

"Oh. Yes. One moment." Tech finished up whatever he was doing and unplugged his datapad. "There. We are clear to move."

They locked the base doors and headed to the Marauder. The surrounding area was quiet, and the setting sun cast long, blue-tinged shadows over the snow.

When they entered the shuttle, the squad members hovered just inside the doorway, all of them watching Cody as he trailed up the ramp after them.

Noticing their looks, he raised an eyebrow. "You need me to assign tasks or something?"

"No, Commander." Tech headed for the cockpit, and Wrecker followed.

Shaking his head with a smirk, Cody hit the control to retract the ramp. He didn't seem to notice the thin line of blood between his lips.

"Ah . . . sir?" Hunter said, and gestured to his mouth.

Cody pressed a hand to his lips and glanced at his bloodied fingers. "Hm," he said, then apparently forgot about it because he turned to Crosshair. "Keep an eye on those sensors, Crosshair. I want us in the air as soon as Jorick's ship takes off."

"Yes, sir."

As Cody moved towards the cockpit, saying something about having Tech comm Kamino, Hunter stayed where he was. Everything suddenly seemed too normal – the quiet blinking of sensor lights, the sound of the comm chirping as the long-range transmitter warmed up, the casual way everyone was speaking and moving. . .

The sergeant took off his helmet and flipped it around in his hands. There were drops and streaks of blood on the faceplate. Hunter wondered if the man had realized he was dying. Everything had happened so fast. He still couldn't remember exactly what he had done – he couldn't remember anything between being grabbed and seeing his knife in the human's neck.

What if it had been one of his squad mates behind him? Would he have ended up killing one of them? Maybe not Wrecker. But Tech, or Crosshair? That man, the way he slipped from living to dead – that could have been Tech or Crosshair.

His thoughts spun wildly, and it wasn't until he nearly dropped his helmet that he realized he was shaking. Closing his hands tightly around the helmet, he hurried to the bunkroom.

"Where's Hunter?" Wrecker asked, about seven minutes after the clones had boarded the Marauder.

"Probably cleaning up from the battle," Crosshair answered, eyes fixed unblinkingly on the sensor array. "Tech, they're lifting off."

"I'm on it." The Marauder lurched slightly as Tech took her up.

To his right, Cody kept his hands ready on the co-pilot controls. He'd noticed the sergeant's disappearance a few minutes ago, but there was still the chance Jorick would decide to fly over the base and pepper it with turret fire, just for spite. Fortunately, the Weequay seemed to be keeping his word. The red indicator for his ship turned and headed out of atmosphere.

"Tech, follow them," Cody ordered, then held his breath to keep from breaking into another spell of violent coughing. It was just as well that they were only about four hours from Kamino, he thought.

Only a few seconds after the Marauder cleared atmosphere, Jorick's ship entered hyperspace and vanished from the sensors.

"Excellent." Cody turned to Crosshair. "You have the coordinates for Kamino set?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Wrecker, take over for me." Cody stood.

"The course is plotted and entered," Tech reported, then tilted his head and shot Wrecker a slight smile. "We can enter hyperspace whenever you are ready."

The bigger commando stared at him, then broke into a grin. "Aw, man, I get to bring us into hyperspace? This is gonna be so cool!" He grabbed the hyperspace lever and pushed it forward.

As the stars jumped into streaks, Cody turned and left the cockpit. He stood near the main door for a moment, but heard nothing that would guide him. . . though past experience told him that the sergeant would probably have headed to the closest empty room.

Walking quickly, he approached the bunkroom and pressed the door controls. The door wasn't locked – good.

The lights were on, and Cody immediately spotted Hunter sitting on a weapons locker in the corner, elbows on his knees. His breathing was audible, and he kept opening and closing his hands against his head.

Cody observed him for a few seconds. When Hunter showed no immediate signs of aggression or physically lashing out in a panic, the commander went over and sat down on the locker beside him. The sergeant didn't even look up – he just kept staring blankly at the floor, breathing unsteadily while his fingers dug into his temples.

"Hunter," Cody said.

It took a few seconds for the sergeant to respond, the realization that Cody was there visibly entering his face even though he never looked up. "Sir," he said at last, voice unsteady.

"What is it, Hunter?" Cody asked quietly, as though he didn't already know.

"I don't know," Hunter mumbled, throat tight. "I just keep –"

When he stammered and fell silent, the commander turned to face him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "What is you're seeing?"

I don't know, sir –" His breathing came harder, eyes suddenly unfocused.

"Deep breath, Sergeant," Cody ordered, gripping him harder. "Now another. . . One more. Good lad."

Another half minute passed while Hunter slowed his breathing. At last, shaking his head with a slight jerk, he lowered his hands to his lap and clenched them into fists.

"Sorry, Commander," he said. Despite the neutral tone and the lack of expression in his features, his eyes were glazed. "Nothing's wrong, sir, I just – I – I don't know."

"You don't know what?" Cody asked.

". . . I don't know – why, sir." The sergeant's gaze slipped to the floor.

Cody hummed thoughtfully and didn't answer for a moment. Finally, he said, "My first kill wasn't easy either, son."

For the first time since the commander had entered the room, Hunter looked at him, eyes wide with astonishment.

"For some people, it's easier," Cody said. "For some, it isn't. Killing a man at long distance – that's one thing, especially in a battle where it's kill or be killed. But killing at close range, especially when you've only ever taken out droids . . . it's a shock."

The sergeant let his breath out shakily, rubbing his right hand against the opposite forearm. "I didn't even know he was there," he mumbled. "I don't even know how I killed him so fast. I didn't know I was doing it, sir. I just – he grabbed my throat, and it just happened."

Cody nodded. "Because your training kicked in, Hunter. You've trained all your life to defend yourself. That's why you don't remember doing it – it was instinctive. You'd never think twice about it if it had been a droid, would you?"

"No, sir. . ." The sergeant slumped back against the wall, head bowed. "But a droid shutting down isn't – it doesn't matter, sir, it's just a droid."

"I know," Cody told him. "It's not easy to face death, especially when you're the one who's caused it. But it's necessary. If someone was about to shoot one of your squad mates, you wouldn't hesitate to shoot him, would you?"

Hunter shook his head. "No, sir. But – I just . . . I guess I hadn't realized how – dangerous." He paused to swallow.

"How dangerous you are?" Cody prompted.

Hunter hesitated, then nodded miserably. "I just keep thinking – what if it was one of the others. What if – one of them scares me and I just lash out like that. I can't undo that, sir, it's, it's not – reversible."

"Unlike fixing droids," Cody said. "I know, Hunter. But remember, you'll know when you're truly being attacked. Your squad mates would never try to throttle you like that, right?"

The sergeant stared at him for several long seconds before giving a jerky nod and relaxing visibly, though he was still pale and trembling.

Cody sat next to him, not speaking. He clearly remembered having a similar conversation with Fox, though the positions had been reversed. Then, it was Fox talking sense into Cody, who had been attacked in the middle of a scouting mission. One of his assailants ended up dead, shot three times through the chest, and the other got away with only a blaster wound to the side – and a broken wrist, courtesy of Rex, who had been the one to capture the man.

There were several nights where Cody had woken abruptly, haunted by the memory of his assailant's eyes as he died. All the knowledge in the galaxy about how justified Cody had been couldn't get rid of that. On Kamino, he'd been taught that killing sentients wouldn't affect soldiers who had been properly trained, but the fact remained that most clones were strongly affected by their first kill, especially of another humanoid.

Cody had often wondered whether that reflected poorly on the clones' training, or on the Kaminoans' understanding of human nature. Something in sentients seemed to rebel against death.

Hunter stirred next to him. "It doesn't stay, does it, Commander?"

"No." Getting carefully to his feet, Cody turned to look down at him. "It'll get better with time, especially if you let it alone."

"Yes, sir. . ." Hunter stood, then stared at his helmet as though in realization. "I should finish cleaning my gear," he said abruptly.

"Yeah, that's a good idea." As the sergeant continued to stand motionless, Cody wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "Hunter, don't think too much about what you could have done differently. It'll only make you question yourself – and not in a good way."

Hunter stayed quiet for a few seconds, then nodded his understanding. "I'll do my best, sir."

"I know you will, trooper." Cody tightened his grip briefly, then released the sergeant and headed for the door.

On his way out, he cast a look back and was relieved to see that Hunter was getting his cleaning kit, moving a little slowly, but purposefully. It was the soldiers who got lost in their own heads that were the hardest to keep safe.

Sighing quietly, Cody headed back to the cockpit. Seeing troopers cross that line never got any easier.

Chapter Text

For as long as Hunter could remember, the Kaminoans had been the ones to give himself and his squad mates medical checkups. Usually, the Bad Batch were stuck with the finheads doing all the poking and prodding and recording. But when the team exited the Marauder at about twenty hundred hours to find a team of reg medics waiting, it was different. Ignoring the Bad Batch's hesitance and half-mumbled mentions of having been ordered to always report to a Kaminoan doctor, the clones herded the squad and Cody into medbay and assigned them each a cot.

Cody's medic – a first-generation clone who was named Hypo and had his namesake tattooed on both cheeks – made the Commander lie down. Then he gave Cody pain meds and prepped him for a needle decompression, giving a running commentary the whole time: "I thought you swore you'd be careful, sir. Wait a moment, are you telling me you walked around with this injury after the battle was over? What were you thinking?!"

A loud sigh, followed by a hopeless shake of Hypo's head punctuated that statement before he reached for a long needle. "All right, I'm going to give you an IV, Commander, just let me see your left arm – thank you. . . Hm, that bruise on your face isn't helping your looks any, but there won't be lasting effects, far as I can tell. . ."

A young medic approached, and Hypo accepted the datapad, glancing down at the scan of Cody's lungs. "Seriously, Commander, do you have a death-wish? I warned you those stitches would come loose!"

He tossed the datapad aside and sat down next to Cody, pulling on a pair of disposable gloves. "Okay, sir, how's the pain level now? Any improvement?"

Impressively, Cody listened to the entire tirade without changing expression, except to roll his eyes once. Hunter wondered if the Commander heard this a lot; maybe all clone medics were similar. If so, he hoped even more than usual that his teammates wouldn't cause any trouble.

Unfortunately, some of the Kaminoan scientists had learned that the commandos hated being in medbay. After that, there were several times where a lack of cooperation got the Bad Batch stuck with extra tests and exams and overnight stays; eventually, the squad had figured it out and started to cooperate just to get out faster.

But there were no Kaminoans here . . .

As Hunter really noticed that for the first time, he glanced at his teammates, sure each of them would start to test the limits as soon as it was his turn for a checkup. And they did, in one way or another. But instead of responding with cold authority and silent threats, the clone medics simply gave as good as they got.

Overall, the whole post-mission checkup was chaotic, mostly silent, occasionally vicious, and all-in-all vastly preferable to the cold, impersonable Kaminoans and their clinical heartlessness. Kaminoans didn't care if their patients were in pain or not, since their only interest was to get them functional again, and they didn't care what their patients wanted. They simply injected and tested and sedated without ever mentioning what they were doing, or why.

Clone medics, though, seemed interested in the wellbeing of their patients apart from functionality, and even took care to make sure the Bad Batch were comfortable, but they were in no way pushovers. These medics did let their patients know what they were doing – even if they refused to take 'no' for an answer.

When Tech jerked away from a needle, eyes narrowing, the medic pointed at the ceiling and demanded excitedly, "Tech, what's that?!" Blinking, Tech looked up – and the medic jabbed him and jumped out of range of his retaliatory swing. It was the easiest and fastest blood test he'd ever been given.

When Crosshair folded his arms tightly and insisted he "hadn't been injured, now get your cold hands off!" the medic pulled a massive hypo out of his belt and said, "I'll show you cold. Give me your wrist now, or I'll sedate you and brace it anyway."

The sniper glowered at him, but the medic glared back impressively and readied the hypo, holding it in a reverse grip. It only took a few seconds for Crosshair to give in, even if he did keep grumbling about how a muscle sprain wasn't an injury, and everyone did have to listen to Tech's longwinded explanation about all the ways in which Crosshair was wrong.

Tech and Hunter carefully didn't watch when Hypo jabbed the needle between Cody's ribs, but the Commander got through the procedure without even catching his breath. Obviously, Hypo had given him the good stuff.

Wrecker was mostly cooperative, though to be fair, he usually was; at least, he was when he didn't need active treatment. He sat through the usual scans without glaring or snapping or threatening. In fact, the only trouble with him was that he asked three times if he would have to stay overnight, despite the rookie medic saying, "No" each time. The fourth time he asked, Hypo barked from his end of the room, "You will if you don't shut up!"

Wrecker shut his mouth with an audible clicking of teeth, which made the youngest medic cringe all over, which made Crosshair snicker, which made his medic sigh loudly and tell him to hold still and stop ruining the scans.

As for Hunter himself, he held still for most of the scans, idly listening to Hypo call out numbers and terms that meant absolutely nothing to him. He only jumped once, when a scanner buzzed unexpectedly next to his ear. The medic didn't say anything about it, though, or look at him in the reproving, threatening way the Kaminoans did with their fishlike eyes. He only grinned easily and said, "You're cleared, Sergeant."

Hunter got up, fidgeting with his knife as he joined his squad mates near the doorway. The four of them hovered until Hypo approached, removing his gloves as he smiled briefly at them. "Okay, troopers, you're cleared. Get out of here and make sure you get some food and – Cody!"

Immediately, everyone looked at the Commander, who was already half off the cot and blinking in confusion at the needle still between his ribs.

Hypo stomped back over, muttering imprecations under his breath, and made his patient lie down. "Sir," he said coolly. "Did I tell you to leave?"

"Yes," Cody answered, and he looked honestly perplexed.

"You have a needle in your side," Hypo pointed out.

"Yeah." Propping himself up on his elbows, the Commander glanced down at his side. "You can get it out, though, right?"

". . . One moment, sir, hold that thought." Hypo picked up a chart and scanned through it, then hummed. "It was two hundred milligrams, right?" he asked, whatever that was supposed to mean.

"Yes, sir." The medic who had treated Wrecker moved forward. "I double checked."

"Hm. Well, between that and the blood loss I wouldn't be surprised." Hypo raised an eyebrow, sighing as he turned back to his patient. "Cody, I want you staying here overnight. Now, get some rest. That's an order."

"Understood." Cody lay flat on his back, tugged the blanket carefully up to his chin, and shut his eyes.

The Bad Batch stared silently at the Commander, then at Hypo.

A few seconds later, Wrecker's medic shifted a little and cleared his throat. "You guys ready?"

The Bad Batch turned as one to look at him – and then back at Cody. None of them had ever left a teammate alone in medical, except when forced to. Hunter tilted his head, thinking. This was different. . .

Straightening, Hypo set down a chart he'd been glancing through and eyed the Bad Batch. "Well?" he asked. "What are you waiting for? You're cleared, go on, get out of here."

"Ah –" Hunter glanced at his teammates. Tech shrugged, Crosshair frowned, and Wrecker rubbed the back of his head. At last, the sergeant cleared his throat, hesitating for several seconds before asking, "Will the Commander be all right, sir?"

Hypo raised an eyebrow and folded his arms. "He's in my medbay, isn't he?"

When the commandos still didn't move, the chief medic crossed the room, keyed open the door, and gestured to the hallway outside. "Get some food and rest up. Go on, beat it."

After another long pause, the Bad Batch obeyed.

The next morning, Hunter woke to the sound of scuffling. He squinted at the chronometer, which read oh-six-twenty, before rolling onto his back. At the sudden creak-crash of two people falling to the ground, he sighed. Flinging an arm over his eyes, he tilted his head slightly until he could just see Crosshair and Wrecker wrestling on the floor over some small item or other.

"Wha's'it?" he slurred. His mattress shifted as Tech, who was dressed in his fatigues, sat down at the opposite end of the bed with a loud huff of displeasure.

"Ow!" Wrecker yelped, and then the thumping and crashing increased momentarily before cutting off with a thud and a yelp from Crosshair.

Reluctantly, Hunter dragged his arm down from his face and glanced at Tech. His youngest teammate only rolled his eyes, by way of explanation, and went back to reading.

With no other answer forthcoming, the sergeant finally turned his head. Wrecker was sitting on the floor, one arm wrapped around Crosshair's shoulders to hold him still while the other hand held a blaster cartridge as far as possible out of the sniper's reach.

"Really?" Hunter got up, stretching and biting back a yawn. "I thought you'd at least be fighting over something interesting."

Wrecker glanced at the cartridge, shrugged, and tossed it over one shoulder, which meant his and Crosshair's fight had once again been sudden, unplanned, and without an actual cause. Nothing new there.

As Hunter noticed that all three of his teammates were wearing their dark red fatigues, he tilted his head. "Not getting geared up?"

"No. Not much – Wrecker!" Crosshair broke off to wriggle free of Wrecker's hold, then scrambled to his feet and out of the older clone's range. "There's not much point when we aren't going to be training."

Hunter glanced at Tech, who nodded. "Our training schedules were cleared when we left Kamino, and Commander Cody is still in medical."

"And none of the arenas are free!" Wrecker added, slouching sorrowfully. "We're gonna have to wait around all day."

"I have told you before," Tech said. "If you would only find something to occupy yourself with that does not involve shooting or blowing things up, you would not have to deal with being so utterly bored."

Hunter opened his mouth, and Crosshair interrupted. "Before you ask, no, none of the shooting ranges are free, either. Not on this level, anyway . . ." A devious look crossed his face.

"No," Hunter said immediately. "You know we're not allowed to use the ranges on the other levels, Crosshair."

"Whatever." The sniper gave a lackadaisical shrug and turned to climb the bunk ladder. "It was worth a shot."

Wrecker chortled. "Heh – worth a shot . . . Get it, Tech?"

"Oh, I 'got it'." Still reading, Tech flopped backwards across Hunter's bunk. "I failed to find it particularly amusing, that is all."

Hunter opened his locker and pulled out his fatigues, trying to think up something to keep them all busy before they decided to scatter around Tipoca City for the day. Last time that had happened, Hunter had gone to practice with his knife in a corner of a mostly empty gym.

Not an hour in, he'd gotten six calls, one after the other: four from Kaminoan and clone instructors, because Tech had somehow managed to shut down an entire flash-learning class from across the hall; one from a clone captain who had broken up a fight between Crosshair and thirteen regs at the shooting range; and one from a clone pilot who couldn't land because Wrecker had accidentally knocked himself out in the middle of an obscure landing platform while testing a stun grenade and could-you-get-up-here-sergeant, flight-control-said-you're-somewhere-nearby.

So Hunter had dragged Wrecker off the platform, Tech away from the class he'd disrupted by testing out his new deactivation program ("I apologize, I forgot I was still in the system, Hunter!") and Crosshair out of the brig, in that order. Then he'd kept them in the barracks the rest of the day.

"Well," the sergeant said hesitantly. "I guess we could go check in on Cody."

"I thought we weren't allowed in medbay," Wrecker said, confused.

"Yeah." Crosshair, perched on the upper bunk, frowned down at him. "The reg medics threw us out, remember?"

"They did not throw us out." Tech paused. "Well. Not physically."

"No . . ." Hunter paused halfway through buttoning his shirt to glance at him. "But something tells me it would have gotten physical."

In fact, he had the feeling that if he and his squad mates had stood in the medbay door much longer, even if they hadn't actively started any trouble, the medics would have.

"Hypo told us to get some rest," Tech said. "We have done so. Besides . . . He is not currently on shift. There is only one medic logged in."

"Tech, get out of the medbay system before you get caught," Hunter ordered. Then he adjusted his bandana and glanced sidelong at his teammates. "We'll grab some food first, and then we can just . . . check in. For orders."

His three teammates followed without argument.

The medbay was dim and silent, except for a faint humming that came from a computer in one corner, when the commandos stepped through the door. The medic who stood beside the computer, tallying something on his manifest, looked up, and Hunter blinked.

"Hypo," he said, then shot a look at Tech's confused frown. "I . . . didn't think you'd be here, sir."

"I don't always log in." The CMO smiled blandly, then returned to his work. "Just got here about five minutes ago. Did you want something?"

"We thought we'd check in with the Commander. For orders."

"Cody's still asleep," Hypo said, jerking his chin at the cot. "It could be a while. Hang around if you want, but keep quiet or I'll throw you all out on your ears."

Hunter tilted his head in acknowledgement, almost smirking at the mental image of Hypo tossing Wrecker out on his ear, then crossed the room to the cot next to Cody's.

Crosshair perched next to him, and Wrecker and Tech sat on the opposite side, all of them hanging their legs over the edge like they were on some sort of infantry transport.

"Ahh . . . Listen, cadets." Hypo approached, one hand planted on his waist as he gestured with the datapad. "That's not really what I meant when I said, 'hang around'."

"Oh," Tech considered. "Then where do you want us?"

"You might consider using those chairs in the far corner." Hypo's voice couldn't have gotten any drier if he tried. "Because that's where visitors are supposed to wait. We medics prefer to keep our patients calm, and not have their blood pressure go off the chart because they wake up to a bunch of people staring at them."

Hunter, who hadn't even noticed the waiting area, got up hastily. "Yessir," he mumbled, and the four of them beat a hasty retreat.

It was only half an hour later that Cody woke up. A glare from Hypo kept the commandos from approaching until after the medic had taken the Commander's vitals and helped him sit up. Then Hypo headed back to the computer desk and sat down to work.

At that point, Hunter assumed it was safe to move in.

Cody looked up with a faint smile as the squad approached. "Hey, lads. Have you been here all night?'

"Nope!" Wrecker said cheerfully. "We got out right away. Uhh. . . how are you feeling, Commander?"

"Never better," Cody assured him.

A disbelieving snort from the computer desk made everyone glance over to where Hypo was apparently intent on his work. When the medic didn't look up, Cody exchanged cautious looks with the cadets, then said, "Did you hear from Commander Havoc yet?"

"No, sir," Hunter answered, then checked his comm to be sure.

"Hm." Cody glanced around and lowered his voice. "Where'd my datapad end up?"

"It's on Hypo's desk," Crosshair muttered back. "He's practically touching it."

"I see . . ." The Commander quirked his mouth, nonplussed. "What about my commlink?"

"Also on the desk."

Cody sent a narrow-eyed look at Hypo, who was occupied with filling out a form, then met Tech's gaze.

"Diversion?" Tech whispered.

A faintly amused gleam entered the Commander's eyes as he inclined his head, ever so slightly. Then he twitched his fingers to signal the squad back and turned, sitting on the edge of the cot. The instant he pretended he was about to stand, Hypo jumped to his feet, and came quickly around the desk.

"Hold it, Commander."

Crosshair and Wrecker moved closer to Cody as well, as though concerned he was about to collapse, while Tech hovered behind them. They were all being ridiculously obvious, but it didn't matter – it only took Hunter three seconds to reach the desk, pick up the commlink and datapad, and slip them into Tech's ready hands.

"You can leave soon," Hypo was saying, as Hunter ducked between Wrecker and the wall to stand beside Cody. "But there are several hours yet before you have to leave, sir; there's no rush."

"Fine," Cody relented. "I'll wait."

As Hypo went to his desk, Tech turned slowly, careful to stay facing him. Crosshair palmed the commlink from Tech's right hand and slipped it to Cody while Wrecker managed to get hold of the datapad. Cody had just activated the datapad, and everyone was exchanging congratulatory smirks when Hypo spoke again.

"Next time you want your datapad and commlink, sir, just ask."

The Commander didn't even blink at being caught, though Hunter and his teammates did.

Cody opened his communications and observed, "In my experience, medics always say 'no'."

Hypo smirked, and Hunter thought the expression was a shade on the unsettling side.

Sure enough, the next instant the medic took a sip of caf and said, too innocently, "I already sent the scans from last night to your CMO, Commander."

With that, he stood up and left the room at a brisk walk.

Chapter Text

After the members of Bad Batch left the medbay, Cody spent a good portion of the day sleeping – at Hypo's insistence – in between speaking to Havoc and reporting via commlink to a couple of different generals. General Shaak Ti thanked him for his help and, at his request, filled out the flimsiwork he sent her.

His conversation with Obi-Wan Kenobi went a bit differently. After standing against a wall so no one would be able to tell he was in medbay from the other end – no need to look unprofessional, after all – he was put through to the Negotiator.

A blue projection of General Kenobi popped into existence, speaking to someone else out of sight. A few seconds later, he turned around, then jumped in surprise. "Oh, Commander Cody. Hello there."

". . . Hello, sir," Cody said.

"And how has your time on Kamino been?" the general asked politely.

"Ahh –" Cody blinked at the unexpected question. "It's been – fine, sir. Ended up working with a few shinies on their off-world training mission."

"I see." Obi-Wan nodded. "Well, how soon do you think you could rejoin us? I spoke with the Council today, and we are likely to be heading for the Mid Rim soon."

Cody wanted to remind Obi-Wan that the Jedi was the general, and should order him to be back by a certain time rather than asking, but he refrained. Instead, he cleared his throat and said, "Actually, General, I was just calling to report that I'm scheduled to return to the Negotiator tonight. ETA, twenty-one hundred – unless you want me there sooner, sir."

"No, no, this evening is perfectly adequate." Obi-Wan brushed an invisible piece of lint off his impeccable robe. "Tomorrow afternoon will be the earliest we leave Coruscant, and your officers have kept the Negotiator and the men in perfect order without the slightest issue."

Cody highly doubted that. There had probably been many slight but hastily handled conflicts and moments of disorder that the Jedi had simply been unaware of. "That's good, sir," he said.

"Indeed, especially as we may be heading into an active war zone." The general tilted his head, frowning thoughtfully, then looked up. "I trust you are all right, Commander?"

"Perfectly all right, thank you, sir. I'll be fit for full duty in a couple of days."

"Excellent." The general tugged at the end of his beard. "I ask only because Chief Medical Officer Stitch was in quite the rage this morning. I was under the impression that you were on the verge of death until he explained otherwise."

"It's how he copes, sir," Cody said.

". . . Copes?" General Kenobi asked.

"Yes, sir. With the frustration of being a medic, I mean. I did – inadvertently – undo some of the work he'd done to heal me, sir. Being a CMO is not a job I'd wish on anyone."

"You promoted him," Obi-Wan pointed out mildly, with an audible smile. "Very well, Cody. Meet me in briefing room C8 at twenty-two thirty to discuss the upcoming campaign."

"Yes, General." Cody saluted.

Obi-Wan bowed, and the call ended.

As the commander sat down on the edge of the cot, in an unusually good mood at the idea of heading out for his first real campaign, Hypo huffed. "Being a CMO is not a job you'd wish on anyone, Commander? It's not a job I would wish it on anyone."

Glancing up from the message he was sending to Colt, Cody asked, "Then why do you teach all the rookies?"

"So I can palm the job off on 'em soon as they're halfway capable of dealing with ungrateful troopers who ruin our perfectly good efforts to keep them healthy," Hypo growled untruthfully.

"Eh, you know we appreciate all the work you do," Cody said easily, sending the message. Then, unable to hold back his smirk, he looked up. "Why, if it weren't for you, Hypo, I'd have been out of this medbay hours ago!"

"Sir," Hypo said. "I swear . . ."

"Try not to," Cody advised. "It's a bad example for the shinies."

Hypo turned away, but not fast enough to hide his own brief grin. The next instant, his voice was back to its usual gruff tone. "Commander, all I have to say is, you're kriffing lucky the Two-Twelfth needs you."

It was a few minutes before eighteen hundred when Cody entered the hangar bay, armored and geared up for the flight back to Coruscant and the Negotiator. A couple of troopers were fueling the commander's ARC-170 and performing preflight checks.

No one else had entered the hangar yet, so Cody went to the wide open doors and took off his helmet to savor the constant evening breeze. Beyond the doors, the setting sun gleamed dazzlingly on the endlessly surging waves. Kamino was a planet of nearly constant storms, but there were also breaks in the clouds.

Two troopers approached him from behind, their boots clicking in tandem against the polished floor. Without turning around, Cody said, "Well, how'd it go?"

"Flawlessly," Colt replied, stopping on his left. "The transfer was a lot easier than expected – thanks to the general."

"Yeah." Havoc took off his helmet and ran a hand through his hair, causing it to stand wildly on end. "She sent it straight to the top."

"Ah, good. No snags in the forms?"

"None," Colt said, showing him the datapad screen. "They weren't even in the system, so we didn't have to worry about transfer forms."

"Yep." Havoc grinned. "Looks like your problem troopers are set to go, Cody."

"My problem troopers?" Cody asked. "I thought you were the one having trouble teaching them."

Havoc silently put him in a headlock.

Colt just as silently interfered, catching Havoc by one elbow and wrist so Cody could slip free.

"I still say they're your problem troopers," Havoc said.

Cody, who was busy smoothing his hair back into some semblance of order, shot him a narrow-eyed look.

"They certainly are now," Colt cut in firmly, folding his arms.

"But they haven't even graduated yet." Cody tilted his head. "Or did you manage to get them past that?"

"No, they still have to pass the last test, same as the others," Colt replied. "But after that, Cody, they're under your command. For all intents and purposes, they don't exist in the regular records, and they don't have a commanding officer."

"Got it." Cody scanned through the flimsiwork, then gazed out to sea once more. In a few minutes, the commandos would be here. It would likely be a month before they were able to leave Kamino. Once they did, though – well, Cody knew he'd probably have missions ready for them before they even got to the Negotiator.

"And the Marauder?" he asked.

"Already transferred," Havoc replied. "They can bust that thing up to their heart's content and no one will care. Well – except them, when they have to fix it themselves."

"Excellent."

As Havoc checked his comm, Colt rocked back on his heels, following Cody's gaze to the horizon. They stood in silence for a long minute before the ARC trooper said, "Cody, where are those pictures?"

Havoc looked up like an akk-hound scenting blood.

"No," said Colt.

"What pictures?" Havoc asked.

"Pictures?" Cody asked, pretending confusion. "What pictures, sir?"

"Don't sir me, Cody," growled Colt.

"Oh! I know what you're talking about." Cody quickly accessed the holopics and tilted the screen toward Colt, flicking through a few in particular. "You mean these ones?"

Havoc leaned over his shoulder and choked. "Colt! Are you feeding the birds?!"

"NO," Colt said, taking a step forward as Cody held the datapad out of reach. "I was trying to get the little buggers off my hands. They kept – landing there. Probably trying to steal my gloves for their nests or whatever it is birds do with . . . ah –"

"Blaster-resistant material?" Havoc finished.

Colt's expression stiffened in silent defeat, but his statement had been so blatantly false that Cody took the time to raise an eyebrow at him.

"Nice try, Colt," he said.

Looking faintly embarrassed, the older commander shrugged.

Havoc took Cody's datapad and flicked through a couple more. "You know, these would've been useful the past couple months, Colt. Blackmail material to keep you from giving me all the late-night drills . . . Hm. I'm gonna kill Fox for not sending 'em to me."

Colt opened his mouth, then shut it with a stern look. "One moment. How do you know Fox took them?"

"Uh." Havoc glanced at the ceiling, apparently thinking fast. "Um."

"You put him up to it, didn't you?"

"Not – exactly." Havoc lifted his chin, gazing out over the glimmering water. "It was what you might call a moment of joint inspiration. I didn't realize he'd carried through on it, though."

Colt shook his head. "I expected Fox and Wolffe to give me grief," he said, voice dark with disappointment. "Not you, Havoc."

"But, Commander Colt!" Havoc opened a closeup shot of Colt gazing down at a white bird that was clearly eating a piece of ration bar from his hand. "Don't you think this would inspire the rookies?"

"How," Colt grumbled.

"They could see for themselves that you're flesh and blood, just like them, not an ancient garu-bear in mismatched armor."

Cody snorted. Having attended several citadel sessions after his own graduation, he knew that Havoc shouted and roared at troopers every bit as much as Colt did, if not more.

The older ARC trooper, who was very proud of his red and blue armor, turned away with a huff and headed back towards Cody's starfighter. "You're one to talk."

"So are you," said Cody amicably, glancing at his chrono. The Bad Batch should be showing up any second.

The two ARCs glanced at him, bewildered, and Cody rolled his eyes. "You and Blaze and Blitz and all the other ARCs who train troopers . . . you shout and yell and terrorize the cadets during training. Then you eat and joke with them in the mess hall."

Colt tried to look unconcerned.

"And," Cody went on, "you act like you're constantly overwhelmed by having to deal with incompetent and underperforming troopers. And yet you've been putting in extra time helping out a couple of the less cooperative squads. Letting them rerun tests, I hear?"

"That was General Ti," Havoc said quickly.

"Hmm," Cody said, putting away his datapad. He didn't get the chance to heckle his previous classmates very much, and he intended to take advantage. "It took you several hours of work to get that flimsiwork through, and you did it all to help a few cadets."

"What's your point?" growled Colt.

"That you lot," Cody said loftily, "are all saps."

Colt and Havoc stared in joint outrage and disbelief.

"Hypocrite," said Colt.

Havoc nodded, slowly.

Commander Cody frowned, mildly confused, but then someone cleared his throat hesitantly behind them, and the three commanders pivoted to face the members of Bad Batch. They were dressed in their red fatigues, probably just back from the showers after running laps around Tipoca City. That had been Hypo's idea – he'd finally had it with their buzzing in and out of medbay all day long and kicked them out permanently.

"Right on time, squad," Havoc said crisply, whipping out his datapad. "Commander Cody is heading out soon, but first, we have some news for you. Your official designations have been assigned."

Wrecker's eyes widened in excitement, and Hunter glanced between Cody and Havoc, but the other two stood without changing expression.

"I had to take the numbers from one of the mostly defunct batches," Havoc explained, eyes softening. "Experimental batches. . . But I figured that would fit with your squad of experimental commandos. Some of the numbers are still in use. For example, one of the maintenance clones, old Ninety-Nine, still has his number in the system. Nine-nine-zero-one."

"Ninety-nine?" Hunter tilted his head. "I think we've seen him, sir. He helps out in the arenas a lot?"

"Yeah." Colt stepped forward. "He never had a chance to even start training, but he's one of the best soldiers I've ever met. Now, Commander Cody says you performed exceptionally on your mission and stepped up when it counted. You haven't officially graduated yet, and you'll still have to go through the final test. But as far as the database is concerned, you are soldiers in the Grand Army of the Republic."

Havoc reached into his belt pouch and took out four small, round chips, which were made to fit into the inside of the left vambrace. "We designated numbers in order of age using the first available number. Wrecker, you're nine-nine-zero-two. Hunter, nine-nine-zero-three. Crosshair, nine-nine-zero-four. Tech, nine-nine-zero-five."

Looking slightly dazed, Hunter slipped the chip into its proper slot, then looked at each of the commanders. "Thank you, sir! Ah – sirs," he corrected quickly.

"Aw, yeah!" Wrecker shouted, throwing an arm around Tech and lifting him bodily off the ground. "We're soldiers now!"

Tech squirmed free. "We still have to pass our final tests," he reminded him, but his eyes were bright with excitement behind his goggles.

"Yeah . . ." Crosshair's voice was as even as always, but he couldn't seem to get rid of the slight smile. "But that won't be a problem."

"Yeah? Well, we'll have to see about that." Colt folded his arms. "We're not going to take it easy on you, Bad Batch, so don't think you're out of the ocean yet. I know what you're capable of now, and I know what your weaknesses are."

"Yes, sir," Hunter said, clearly fighting a grin.

Colt stepped closer to the squad, and Cody smirked, already knowing what was coming.

"Remember!" Colt shouted, gesturing widely to them. "When that arena test comes, you have to perform to my satisfaction to pass! Not Cody's, not Havoc's. What they've put you boys through will seem like a blue milk run compared to what I'm going to make you go through! If you're not crawling on the ground by the time you reach the end of the test, it's not hard enough!"

The four commandos faced him silently, not moving a muscle.

"If you don't cover each other, you won't pass the test. If you break Rule Number One – if you even start to leave one of your teammates behind, you fail." Colt clenched a hand at his chest, then pointed sharply at them. "The four of you will prove to me that you're soldiers, not just a group of skilled cadets. You will prove to me that you're ready to be in the field, or you will find yourselves staying on Kamino with the other failed batches for the duration of the war. AM I UNDERSTOOD?!"

Together, the four squad mates snapped salutes and responded. "Sir! Yes, sir!"

"Good." Colt fastened a final stern look on each of them. Then, speech over, he turned and gave Cody a firm handshake. "Don't get killed out there," the gruff ARC said, meeting his eyes briefly before stepping back.

Havoc was next. "Thanks for the help, Cody. I'll keep these guys in shape and ship them out to you when they graduate."

"Understood." As Havoc went to join Colt, Cody turned to the Bad Batch.

Hunter hesitated, glancing sideways at his squad mates, but when none of them budged, the sergeant stepped forward. He seemed to consider his words for a moment, but ended by saying simply, "Thank you, Commander. For . . . everything."

Cody nodded his acknowledgment, then reached forward to shake his hand. "You're welcome, Sergeant."

As he moved on to Tech, he said, "The Marauder has been transferred for your squad's use. It's the only shuttle you're getting, so don't crash it."

"Yes, Commander!" Tech tilted his head, suddenly. "Ah – I mean, no, Commander, I will not crash it. It would be hard to – it flies so well. . . Hmm, there are some modifications I could add to make it even more maneuverable . . ." He trailed off in thought.

"Right." Cody held his hand out to Wrecker – who reached forward and engulfed him in a hug so strong that Cody was thankful he'd decided to wear his armor.

"Aww, we'll miss you, Commander!" Wrecker said, setting him back on his feet.

"Not for long," Cody replied. "I forgot to mention – your squad won't have an official chain of command."

Hunter tilted his head. "We won't, sir?"

"No. Once you graduate, you'll receive your commission. But officially, your squad won't have anyone to report to." He clasped Crosshair's hand, then stepped back.

"And unofficially, sir?" the sniper asked shrewdly.

"Unofficially, you lot are under my command." Cody gave them all a brief smile. "And that means if you'd better be showing up on the Two-Twelfth's command ship within a standard month."

"Yes, Commander!" The four troopers saluted, and Cody returned the gesture.

Then, with a final glance at Havoc and Colt and the ocean beyond the hangar, he entered his starfighter.

After Cody's fighter vanished into the cloudy haze that was once again gathering over the ocean, Hunter headed for the hallway door, his squad trailing behind him. There was another month to go, but that was it – they'd be soldiers. He and his teammates had actually succeeded – thanks to Cody's guidance and Havoc's and Colt's help.

Hunter knew that if Cody hadn't been around, Havoc would eventually have gotten through to him, but it would have taken longer. And without the other ARC troopers and General Ti, the Bad Batch would still be experimental units only. The last test would be hard, but Hunter already knew he and the others would pass. They'd passed the citadel challenges for fun before, when the Kaminoans weren't watching. Even if it was much harder this time, they could do it. And they would do it, because it was no longer about getting high scores or being evaluated by the finheads.

As they neared the doorway, Havoc raised a hand from where he stood beside Commander Colt. "I have a question, Sergeant," he said.

"Yes, sir?" Hunter stopped walking to face him.

"Cody filled out the mission report. It seems he expected you to leave Vinnda Prime when those gangsters caught him – or at least once you found out he'd been caught. But instead you invaded the base. Why didn't you leave him?""

Hunter blinked, then turned to glance at his teammates, who had gathered behind him. Crosshair and Tech looked mildly insulted, while Wrecker just looked confused.

"Why would we do that?" Wrecker demanded.

"Yeah . . ." Crosshair's gaze slid from Havoc to Colt and back.

"I'm just curious about your reasoning," Havoc replied.

"I don't think we considered leaving," Hunter said after a moment. Maybe he should have? It had never even occurred to him.

"I certainly did not consider it," Tech joined in. "I am certain that if any of us had thought about it, it would have been brought up, at least."

Colt snorted. "It didn't occur to you that twenty-odd mercenaries might be too many for you four to deal with?"

Hunter shrugged slightly. "I don't think we thought about that either, sir."

"So –" Havoc studied them. "In short, it never occurred to you to leave to get help?"

"No, Commander." Hunter kept his tone respectful, but couldn't hold back a quick, mischievous grin. "Leaving a man behind sir? That would break Rule Number One."

Colt snorted and turned to leave.

"And besides," Hunter added, glancing again at his teammates with a grin. "It's just . . . not our style."