Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Echo wakes up screaming, and he can’t stop.

Dimly, through the haze of red that’s descended over his vision and the white noise shrieking in his ears, he’s aware of more voices, panicked and worried, barely audible through his own screams. He thrashes wildly, uncertain of where he is and who’s around him, and then his terror only grows, because he can’t move. He’s in some sort of tiny box—a coffin. It feels like a kriffing coffin.

He cries out again. Is Tambor finished with him? He welcomes death, but not—not like this. Not buried alive, starving, suffocating. He claws fiercely at the walls around him, but his fingernails slide across smooth, flawless metal.

He can’t escape.

Suddenly he’s moving, blinded by a harsh, artificial light. A figure looms over him. Echo shouts and leaps for the figure’s throat. They’ve made a terrible mistake by releasing him. His hands wrap around the figure’s trachea—his eyes are blurry, he can’t see, but he hopes—oh, he hopes it’s Tambor himself.

A second figure slams on top of him. Echo snarls, baring his teeth as the first figure escapes from his grasp—and then he’s being pinned down, held against his will. Now Echo is thrashing, frantically trying to dislodge his captors because he can almost feel the prick of Wat Tambor’s needles, feel the machine they used to cut open his mind and expose the secrets he carried—

“Echo!” It comes from very, very far away. Echo ignores it. He doesn’t have time to listen to the cries of the dead. He has to fight. He has to escape.

“Echo!” There it is again. He gasps for air when the new figure slams a fist into his solar plexus, and the world shifts, tilts.

“No,” he gasps out. “No, no more, please—!”

He can’t help but beg. They’ll break him even harder for it, but he can’t help it, he can’t do anything else but beg. They already know his secrets, but the torture doesn’t stop. It never stops, he can’t take it anymore—

“Please…”

“Echo, stop!”

“Echo, it’s us, it’s us!”

Someone grabs his wrist. Echo flails for a moment, but then he realizes that he can feel it. He hasn’t been able to feel in that arm for months, not since Tambor replaced it with the cybernetic but didn’t bother reconnecting it with his nerves. That, out of all things, makes him pause, and though his vision is still murky he forces himself to stare up at the figure holding him down.

The very last thing he’s expecting is to see his own face staring back at him. His chest heaves as he sucks in air, and slowly, very slowly, he makes himself relax.

“Echo! You with us?” the clone says. It’s not one Echo recognizes, and the voice inflections are all wrong for it to be any of the 501st. “Kriff, mate, what was that?” The clone glances down. “Hey, Domino! What’s the hold up? Why didn’t you help your squadmate?”

Echo’s heart stops.

Domino…?

He lifts his head slowly, because he’s still not convinced this isn’t a trick. He’s shocked to realize that he’s in the clone barracks on Kamino. The tiny space he’d thought was a coffin is his bed.

“Wh—what?” he manages to get out, and it feels like he’s been swallowing shards of glass. His throat is raw. He remembers that he’s been screaming, and lifts a hand to massage his throat.

Is this real? Echo’s no stranger to hallucinations. Tambor likes to torment him with them.

“Domino? Any of you slackers alive down there?” the clone above him asks. He lets Echo go and gets back on the ladder. With his foot, he kicks at the front of someone’s bed—Cutup’s, if Echo remembers correctly. There’s a hiss as Cutup’s bed slides from the rack. Echo’s heart stops again as he lays eyes on his brother.

Cutup sits up warily, staring around with wide, wide eyes. The other clone nudges him.

“CT-4040, you wanna take care of this? Some of us are trying to sleep, you know,” he says, annoyed, and Cutup looks up. His eyes meet Echo’s, and they are horrified, startled.

“Echo…?” Cutup says, and then swallows. “What’s my name?”

The clone from before snorts.

“You don’t have one yet, remember? Ugh, this barrack is full of laserbrains.”

Echo knows better.

“Cutup,” he whispers. “You’re Cutup.” Then, because he feels like he has to, he continues. “And CT-782 is Hevy. Echo, Droidbait, Fives… Cutup, and Hevy.”

Cutup’s mouth drops open.

“It wasn’t a dream,” he gasps. “It wasn’t a—sithspit.”

Echo can’t breath. He can’t breath.

Fives emerges from a bed over, peering around through distrustful eyes as if he expects the scene to dissolve right in front of him. He blinks in confusion when he sees Echo, and then frowns even harder when Cutup shakily starts to climb up the ladder.

“You’re both dead,” he tells them matter-of-factly, and Echo feels something deep inside himself shatter.

“So. We died.”

Hevy’s voice is flat. They’re sitting in a circle, huddled down on the floor because none of them feel like sitting down on the benches. Besides, the benches are in a straight line, and right now they want to be as close together as they can. Echo, Cutup, and Fives have their backs against the wall, and Hevy and Droidbait have their backs to the hallway. It’s still early, so only a few clones are out and about. Fortunately, no one bothers them.

Echo is practically in Five’s lap. He can breath now, at least, but he’s still shaking—shaking, shaking, because this hallway is the one they lost Ninety-nine in—

Because Droidbait had been shot down by commando droids, because Cutup had been eaten alive, because Hevy had blown himself up to save them all—

He’s shaking. Fives is holding onto him tightly, and it’s helping a little, but not much.

“Yes, we died,” Fives confirms. Even though his hands are steady on Echo’s shoulders, his voice trembles. “We all… remember that?”

Everyone nods. Droidbait shudders.

“How is that possible?” he mutters. “We’re not Jedi. We can’t… see the kriffing future, or whatever it was. We can’t—it’s just not possible. How could we all have had the same dream?”

“Well, what did you dream?” Hevy asks him. Droidbait winces.

“I dreamed we passed the test,” he says nervously. “I dreamed we passed, and got stationed on the Rishi moon. Then… we were attacked. I… I died. I died, and I couldn’t do anything to help you because I was dead. ” His voice cracks at the end. Hevy grabs Droidbait’s forearm and holds on tight, keeping him grounded.

“That’s right,” Cutup says, monotone. “That happened. You died. We ran. I got… eaten.”

“Eaten?” Droidbait chokes out. “Eaten by what?”

Cutup shrugs. “A giant eel,” he says calmly. Too calmly. Echo’s seen soldiers try to do that—try and bottle it all in. In ARC training, they were taught that it’s better to let it all out as soon as possible. That way it’s easier to see if it’ll affect future missions. It’s not going to end well for Cutup if he continues to keep his emotions restrained.

“A giant eel?”

Droidbait’s breaths are coming faster, less controlled. Hevy grips him tighter. It looks painful, but Droidbait relaxes into the hold.

“Droidbait got shot. Cutup got eaten,” Hevy picks up. “Captain Rex and Commander Cody came. We took back the station, but more were coming. We set up a bomb.” He clenches his free fist. “It didn’t work. I stayed behind, and when the droids got close…”

“Hevy,” Cutup gasps. “Hevy, you didn’t.”

“I did,” Hevy confirms. “I blew it up myself. Took a whole battalion with me.” He grins, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

Then the three Rishi casualties turn to Fives and Echo, and Echo takes a shaky breath.

“Did you survive?” Cutup asks them hesitantly, as if he’s afraid to know the answer. Fives nods.

“We did,” he confirms slowly. “We survived.”

“Okay,” Hevy says. “Okay, so you two lived. What happened after that? Do your own stories line up?”

Echo glances at Fives, who looks back.

“We joined the 501st,” Fives says shakily. “Because we had nowhere else to go, and Rex liked us.” Echo nods slowly.

“Then… Kothlis. The Holocron. Ryloth. Geonosis. The Zillo beast. Kamino. ARC training. The… the Citadel.”

Fives’ breath hitches.

“Then I was the last one,” he breathes, but Echo’s not done.

“No,” he says. “No, I didn’t… I didn’t die there.”

The others don’t understand, but Fives freezes up. “You… didn’t die there,” he repeats numbly. Echo shakes his head.

“I didn’t.”

Silence. Fives is shaking now, too.

“If I had gone back—” he starts, but Echo elbows him before he can get any farther.

“If you had gone back, you would have died,” he says harshly. “You would have died, or the Seps would have gotten their hands on you, too.

“Echo…”

“They cut into my head, and took out all my secrets,” Echo forces out, becauses it’s better to tell them now than wait for them to find out later. “I don’t know how I died, because the last thing I remember is being tortured into unconsciousness. They were careful to not let me die, because I knew things—but I suppose they could have miscalculated that last time around.”

Droidbait, Cutup, and Hevy look pale. Fives sucks in a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

“Then I was the last,” he mutters, and shoots them a sideways glance. “You boys were lucky. You missed the worst of it.”

“The worst—how does it get worse?” Droidbait squeaks, a bit too loudly. A passing clone gives their huddled group a curious look, but Fives shoots him his patented ARC glare, and Hevy’s hand darts down to the hefty Z-6 rotary blaster cannon at his side. The clone moves on, fast.

“Umbara,” Fives says, then his face goes dark. “Ringo Vinda. The… the chips.” He squeezes Echo’s shoulders again. “Believe me, you got out at the right time.”

“Got out,” Echo repeats slowly. “Fives, I was tortured to death.”

“I was eaten.” Cutup reminds them.

Hevy and Droidbait don’t even bother to speak. Fives is already deflating.

“Sorry,” he says, completely sincere. “Sorry, I just… the war got worse. Be glad you weren’t there. So many people died. So many people betrayed us.”

“How did you die?” Hevy dares to ask. One of Five’s hands removes itself from Echo’s shoulder. When Echo looks up, Fives is running his hand along the back of his head, fingers prodding gently as if searching for something.

“I was shot,” he says faintly, as if he doesn’t even believe his own words. “Because I knew too much. Maybe the info broke me a little inside, because I wasn’t thinking straight. I see that now. I thought I could fix it. I thought that they would listen to me because I was an ARC, because I was a trusted soldier of the Republic. But they didn’t. All they saw was a clone. An expendable, who’d fought too hard, got banged around a tad too much. No one believed me, and when I got desperate… I made a bad call. So they shot me.”

“Who,” Echo asks, and he barely recognizes his own voice, because for the first time since he’s woken up he feels angry. Someone shot Fives. Someone on their side shot Fives. “Who killed you?”

Fives looks at him.

“I don’t know,” he lies. They all know he’s lying, but none of them call him out on it.

Not yet, at least.

“Okay,” Droidbait says. It sounds like he’s fighting off hysteria. “Okay, the dreams are the same. So… what does this mean?”

None of them answer him. No one knows what to say.

Finally, Hevy breaks the silence.

“I don’t know what it means, but I know it was real.”

They all know that. Echo can see it in their eyes—see the haunted looks, the way they hold themselves as if they’re expecting to be attacked at any moment. It’s worst in Fives, and he assumes himself, but the others have it bad, too.

They died, but now they’re alive. Cutup and Hevy don’t have their nicknames yet. Domino squad hasn’t even passed the test yet.

Echo stiffens, and Fives feels it.

“Echo?”

Echo straightens.

“We’re alive,” he says redundantly. He can’t help but say it again, because it’s so kriffing ridiculous and he feels like if he stops saying it, everything will go back to the way it was before. “We’re alive, and we know what’s going to happen.”

Surprisingly, Droidbait is the first to catch on.

“We could stop it,” he gasps. “We could stop everyone from dying!”

Hevy’s eyebrows shoot up. Cutup’s mouth drops open, but Fives sighs.

“Assuming it’s true,” he says. Echo shoots him a dirty look, so Fives holds up his hands defensively. “Listen, we don’t know anything for certain.”

“It was real,” Cutup insists. “It was real. I felt that thing tear me in half. I felt it chew me up and swallow. Don’t tell me it wasn’t real. It was.”

Fives shifts uncertainly. Echo twists so he can stare his fellow ARC in the eyes.

“Fives, think of all the things we could change if it’s real. If it’s not the same, we’ll know, and then that’s a whole different story, but if it’s the same… we could save men. Good men, who didn’t deserve to die.”

“We’re just clones!” Fives bursts out. “We’re not jedi! Right now, we’re cadets who haven’t even passed their final test! How are we supposed to change anything?”

And there’s the real problem. Fives is scared. He knows it’s real, just as the rest of them do, but he also has a point.

At the end of the day, in the eyes of the Republic, they’re just numbers. Who’s going to listen to them?

“I dunno,” Hevy says bluntly, and stands. “But we have to try. I, for one, am not going to make the same mistakes twice. We’re all going to live.”

When Hevy says it like that, Echo believes him.

“We’re going to live,” Droidbait repeats determinedly. He stands, too, clasping a hand over Hevy’s shoulder. “If anyone can do it, we can. We’re stubborn, remember?” He casts a nervous smile at Fives and Echo. “Besides, we’ve got two ARC troopers on our team, now. We’re practically unstoppable!”

Echo can’t help it. He laughs. Laughs, because he hadn’t expected anything but Wat Tambor’s needles for the rest of his life, and this—Droidbait’s contagious optimism, Hevy’s confident demeanor, Cutup’s daring wit, Five’s steady hand—is his wildest dream come true.

“Force, I hope I’m not dreaming,” he says, once he’s done laughing. “I really, really hope I’m not dreaming, because that would be cruel.”

Fives pinches him on the arm in the same moment that Cutup flicks the tip of his nose. The tiny hits sting. Echo laughs again.

“Let’s go save the Republic, boys,” he cries, and if there’s something slightly off with his voice, no one comments.

No one comments on the tears that are suddenly streaming down his face, either. Instead, Hevy and Droidbait sit again, pressing up against his sides while Cutup closes in and grabs his head, tapping their foreheads together gently. Fives stays right there at his back, stroking gentle fingers over his shoulders as Echo falls apart, and suddenly, for the first time in years, Echo feels safe.

Chapter Text

The test starts out fine, just as it had originally. They fall into the standard formation positions, with Hevy taking point as usual. The first set of orders are received, and Fives relaxes into the familiarity of the trigger beneath his finger and the soft recoil of his gun.

The test is easy, compared to the things he’d faced as an ARC trooper. Echo looks similarly at ease, even standing at one point and flat-out dodging a few straight laser bolts while he mows down a column of droids. Fives gives him a warning look after, though. Rookies aren’t skilled enough to pull off stunts like that. They’d had little time to discuss their situation before they’d been called to arms, but the general consensus had been to wait to ensure the validity of their dreams before they speak of it to anyone else.

Hevy is forging ahead. Fives feels a surge of annoyance at that before he can suppress it. Hevy’s actions here would likely get him killed on a real battlefield. Captain Rex would have never stood for it. Droidbait and Cutup are working hard, trying to hold the team together, but Fives can sense that they aren’t working as coherently as they had when they'd passed.

It’s only to be expected, after all. Fives gets a glance at Hevy’s face—his expression is twisted into a snarl, and that’s all Fives needs to see to understand why Hevy has all but abandoned them.

This is personal to him. Fives understands.

“Move up!” Echo shouts to him, and Fives obeys without thinking, trusting his brother instantly. He darts to the next barricade, throwing himself into a roll at the last second to avoid the stream of laserfire that streaks after him. He comes out of it next to Cutup, who shoots him a grin.

“This bringing back old memories?” he asks. Fives snorts.

“Plenty,” he answers.

Across the room, he can see Echo, who’s been pinned behind his own barricade. Hevy is next to him, while Droidbait hangs behind, occasionally poking his head up in an attempt to draw the droid’s fire.

“So, what’s the plan?” Cutup grunts. “Same as last time?”

Fives doesn’t respond, because across the field a pair of battle droids have been deposited right behind Droidbait and Echo. Echo sees it, and raises his gun, but Droidbait takes a second too long to notice. The droids lift their weapons to fire—

Fives moves on autopilot, firing two pinpoint accurate shots that streak over Echo’s shoulder and narrowly miss Droidbait’s head. It’s the kind of impressive aim developed from years of serving with the 501st, where Rex drills them at the range until their eyes blurr and they can’t stand straight. Echo is used to it, but Cutup and Droidbait cry out in shock, and even Hevy glances back at them.

“How’d you do that!” Cutup demands. “Fives, that was crazy!”

Echo is staring at him accusingly, and Fives shrugs at him.

A path is slowly starting to open as the droids are eliminated one by one. Fives watches Cutup take out one of the turrets before slapping him across the back.

“Let’s go!” he shouts, and dives out into the open.

This, this is familiar. Brothers at his back, and clankers in front of him. He wonders if it means something that he’s more comfortable with being in a firefight than he is dealing with their… dreams.

They’re charging the Citadel. Non-lethal lasers streak past him, and Echo takes up a position at his shoulder. Hevy is on his other side, heavy Z-6 whining as it spits out laserbolts.

Even though they aren’t working together as well as they can, Fives knows they’re going to pass.

Naturally, the second he thinks that is the second things go wrong.

A panel to their left retracts, depositing more droids onto the floor. Fives turns his weapon on them automatically before he even realizes what they are, and once he does, he checks his aim and fires more carefully. They’re commando droids, tougher to take down than the rest.

Suddenly, he realizes he’s running alone, and Echo is shouting at him.

“Fives, Fives! Help me!”

Fives disobeys his instincts and whirls around, putting his back to the commandos.

Echo is shoving Droidbait behind cover, desperately trying to defend them both from the droid’s counterattack. Fives sprints back, vaulting over the top of the barricade to join them. At first, he doesn’t understand what’s going on, and looks frantically at Echo for direction.

Echo takes his helmet off, and his eyes are hard. He reaches for Droidbait, still half-sprawled on the ground, and tears their brother’s helmet off, too. It’s only then that Fives realizes what’s happening.

Droidbait is gasping for air, eyes wide and unseeing as he stares blankly into space. He’s shaking, and he’d lost his grip on his gun somewhere along the way.

Fives swears.

Droidbait had been killed by commando droids. No wonder the sight of them is enough to trigger a panic attack.

Echo crouches in front of their terrified squadmate, grabbing his limp hands gently. Without taking his eyes off of Droidbait, he speaks.

“Fives, I’ll stay with him. Take the other two and get to that flag.”

Fives nods, determinedly tearing his gaze away from them and turning his attention back to the battlefield.

Fortunately, Hevy and Cutup had been smart enough to take cover once they realized they were down three men. Fives meets Hevy’s impatient gaze and almost signs something with ARC signals before realizing that Hevy won’t understand him. He grits his teeth in annoyance.

The first thing he’s doing once they get out of training is teaching them the ARC signs.

Screw it, he thinks, and leaps into open space.

He’s pulled crazier stunts.  

For a heartbeat, he stands alone against the citadel and the commando droids. He isn’t afraid (he had never known true fear until Umbara, anyway), but he’s tense, because if he gets hit he doubts Hevy and Cutup will be able to take the citadel alone.

Fortunately, Hevy’s not one to stand by and watch a good fight. Hevy and Cutup flank him as he charges forward, firing, and suddenly Fives’ heart clenches.

He’d never imagined he’d be able to fight with his original squadmates again. He’d forgotten what it felt like. Fives was ejected from his growth pod alongside these men. He knows them in a way he knows no other. He knows how they think, how they act. It’s the kind of teamwork that had taken the 501st years to develop, and even then their progress had been stunted by the constant loss of brothers.

He refuses to fail them all again.

It’s with that in mind that he switches mindsets, removing himself from the rookie level and bumping it up a few hundred notches. He’s dimly aware that their trainers and Shaak Ti are watching them, and will notice something is different—but he doesn’t care.

He’s still not convinced this is real. Even if it is, the chances they’ll be able to change anything… well, he’s not optimistic about it.

But Echo had seemed so determined, so excited to have a second chance. So relieved to be free of whatever horrors the Seps had put him through after the Citadel.

Fives doesn’t believe in the dreams—not yet, but Echo does, and that’s enough for now. It’s enough for Fives to try.

Everything flashes by so quickly, after that. Hevy and Cutup fall into step behind him, and in no time at all they’re at the base of the Citadel. There are a few droid stragglers, and Fives picks them off easily as Hevy and Cutup scale the tower—headshots, every single one of them, and he tries not to be proud because he knows he’ll get questions for it later, but he’s kriffing proud.

He’s not an ARC for nothing.

Hevy and Cutup grab the flag together, lifting it high, and it flashes green. Just like that, it’s over. They’ve passed.

None of them cheer this time.

Fives picks his way through the piles of immobilized droids, making his way back to where Echo and Droidbait had taken refuge. He doesn’t like what he sees when he gets there. Droidbait is still taking deep, gasping breaths, clutching onto Echo as if the other ARC is his only lifeline. His eyes are squeezed shut now, instead of staring blankly ahead.

Fives retrieves Droidbait’s gun from a few feet away and presses it gently into their panicking brother’s hand. Then he kneels at Echo’s side. Droidbait clenches his fist around the weapon. His shaking eases slightly. He opens his eyes slowly, and shudders when he sees Echo and Fives staring at him.

“I—I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I don’t know what—I don’t know why I panicked, I couldn’t, I couldn’t —”

“It’s alright,” Echo soothes. “It’s alright, just breathe. You don’t have to worry. We’ve got your back.”

“Sithspit,” Droidbait gasps out numbly. “Sithspit. I saw the droid and I couldn’t move.” He closes his eyes. “I’m going to die again.”

Fives jolts.

“Not if I have anything to kriffing say about it,” he snaps. “You’re not going to die, you dramatic son of a hutt.”

“We’re not letting you go again,” Echo says, tightening his embrace on their brother. “Listen to me. It’s not your fault. I know you. You’re me. You can get past this. We’ll help you. You aren’t going to die. Not this time.”

Droidbait nods weakly. He tries to pull away from Echo, but Echo doesn’t let him.

“Did we… did we pass?” Droidbait whispers in an attempt to change the subject. Fives manages a half-hearted grin. Droidbait isn't cured, but he’ll be alright for now.

“You kriffin’ bet we did,” Hevy chimes in as he and Cutup join them. Wordlessly Echo and Fives shift, making room to include their squadmates into their little circle, surrounding Droidbait in safety. From the loudspeakers above, Shaak Ti’s steady voice fills the large room.

“Ninety-nine, would you please send a cleanup crew to the training grounds?”

She sounds calm as ever, but Fives doubts his ARC stunts have gone unnoticed. Instead of dwelling on that fact, Fives offers a hand to help pull Droidbait to his feet. The rest of them stand as well, and they begin the slow walk out of the arena.

“They’re gonna ask why he and Echo stayed behind, you know,” Cutup points out quietly, Droidbait winces guiltily, but before he can apologize again Echo slugs Cutup in the shoulder.

“Doesn’t matter,” Echo says boldly. “We’ll figure it out. Just like we’ve always done, right boys?”

“Of course,” Hevy agrees instantly. “And look at it this way—we passed, first time. Now, we can start fixing things.” He casts a heavy look at Echo and Fives. “Right, guys?”

“Right,” Fives says unconvincingly, on autopilot. Echo gives him a strange look, but then he turns his attention back to Droidbait.

“We could blame it on a fall,” Cutup suggests, putting a hand on Droidbait’s shoulder apologetically. “A concussion, even. That would be enough to stop him from fighting.”

“Yeah, but then they’d expect to see symptoms of a concussion in him,” Hevy counters. “Also, I’m pretty sure they record every test. If they watch it too closely, they’ll see… well, they won’t see a concussion.”

Droidbait takes a deep breath. He seems mostly recovered by now—he’s walking shoulder-to-shoulder with Echo, almost too close, but that’s to be expected.

“We’ll have to take the chance that they won’t check the recordings,” Droidbait says. “What other option do we have?” They reach the lift that will take them back to the main bunker. As they step on, Droidbait sighs.

“Someone punch me,” he says. They begin to descend.

Fives understands immediately. So do the others, but Fives raises an eyebrow when all four of his squadmates turn to look at him expectantly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks gruffly. “Hevy’s the one who always goes looking for a fight! Cutup defies authority at every kriffing opportunity! Why am I the go-to for punching people?”

Echo snorts. “You’re the big, bad ARC trooper,” he says in amusement.

“So are you!” Fives points out incredulously. Cutup chuckles.

“You’re the one who just took out more than half of those clankers without even working up a sweat,” he says. “Besides, Echo’s too nice to punch someone unless they’re asking for it.”

Now it’s Fives’ turn to snort.

“That’s not true,” he says immediately. Echo doesn’t even bother denying it, he just shrugs, and completely fails to hide the smug grin that flashes across his face.

Droidbait huffs.

“Running out of time, here,” he reminds them impatiently. “There are no cameras in the lift, but there will be once we get off. It’s now or never.”

Fives groans.

“Fine,” he hisses as Droidbait turns to face him. “But remember, you asked for it!”

Droidbait swears at him after the hit lands, reeling backwards. It was a good punch, expertly placed. Fives had been taught by the best, after all.

Droidbait stumbles on his feet, dazed. Despite that, he flashes Fives a lopsided grin.

“Thankss,” he slurs. Hevy grabs him by the arm when he tilts again, steady support.

The lift stops. Hevy nudges Droidbait off the platform.

“I’m taking this idiot to medical,” he says loudly. “You guys coming?”

“Of course!” Echo says. “No man left behind, and all that. Let’s go!”

Fives glances at his fellow Rishi survivor. Despite Echo’s cheerful words, there’s a hint of darkness in his tone that Fives only recognizes because they’ve served together for so long. When he catches Echo’s gaze, he recoils a little at the terrifying expression on his squadmate’s face.

Echo looks determined. Not the good kind of determined. The bad kind, the kind that gets brothers killed. Echo looks ready for revenge. On who, Fives isn’t quite sure.

“We can fix it,” he reminds Echo softly. “We can change it. That’s what you think, right?”

Echo blinks, and the darkness is gone. Suddenly there’s a fire in his eyes—hope.

“Yes,” he confirms. “Yes, that’s what I think.” He gazes at Fives curiously. “I know you don’t think so.”

“I didn’t say that,” Fives says. “I just… don’t want to get my hopes up.”

Echo stops. Stops dead, right in the middle of the hallway. It surprises Fives so much that he nearly stumbles. Then Echo rounds on him furiously.

“If you can’t do that, then you didn’t learn a thing last time we lived,” Echo snarls, stepping closer so their chestplates nearly touch. “We survived because of hope. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten already.”

“We didn’t survive!” Fives hisses, and it’s so, so hard to keep his voice down. “We died, Echo. You were tortured!” All of his frustration is bubbling to the surface, like a geyser seconds from erupting. “I thought you had died, and then there was no point in hope! Then there was the chips—!”

He manages to cut himself off, because this is not the time or place to discuss that.

Echo is staring at him. Fives is shocked to see pity in his best friend’s gaze.

“Yes, I was tortured,” Echo says. “Yes, you died. But Fives, we can stop that from happening now. We know everything.”

Fives grits his teeth.

Not everything, he wants to say, but he doesn’t. He has to keep quiet about the chips for a little longer.

Echo continues. “We can save our brothers,” he whispers. “We can destroy the separatists. We can get revenge.” The darkness is back. It flares briefly before disappearing once more. “Come on, Fives. What do we have to lose?”

Fives swallows.

“We’re just clones,” he says weakly. “Just clones.” He remembers Umbara, remembers Krell barking out his serial number like he was a droid. He remembers Captain Rex, for all his military achievements and experience, being brushed aside like bantha fodder. He remembers being hunted like an animal through the streets of Coruscant.

Hevy scoffs, from behind him. Fives jumps. He’d nearly forgotten his other teammates were there. He’s so used to just Echo that he hadn’t even realized they’d stopped with them, and were doing their best to shield the quarreling ARCs from the stray clones walking the halls.

“You’re really gonna let that stop you?” Hevy asks scornfully, and Fives’ last barriers crumple.

“No,” he forces out. He stands up straighter. “No, I’m… I’m not.”

Fives will never again be just a clone. Neither will his siblings, if he can help it.

“We can do this,” he says hesitantly. Echo’s grin is brilliant.

“He’s right, boys,” he says to their squad. “We can do this. Now… let’s get Droidbait to medical. That bruise is starting to look pretty ugly.”

Cutup and Hevy laugh, and even Droidbait flashes a weak thumbs-up.

Fives clenches his fists to stop them from trembling as they resume the long walk down to medical.

Hope is a terrifying thing.

Chapter Text

The door opens, and Domino squad files in silently, snapping to attention once the door slides shut behind them. Echo glance at his squadmates and frowns at the nervous looks flashing across his teammates’ faces.

The Jedi hasn’t yet moved, still facing the opposite way. Echo takes a deep breath to steady himself, and clears his throat.

“You, uh, wanted to see us, general?” he asks. Next to him, Hevy shifts uncertainly, breaking regulation, but Echo feels like it’s a little justified because they’re all about two seconds from bolting.

“I did,” Shaak Ti says calmly. She finally turns around, and her gaze falls squarely on Echo. “I wanted to commend you for your actions during the final test. Remaining behind to defend a fallen comrade and instructing your fellows to continue onward shows a kind of battle awareness we rarely see in new recruits.”

Echo swallows as her gaze bores into him. Her expression is kind as always, but he feels like she can see right through him.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he forces out. She smiles, shifting her gaze to the rest of the squad.

“You should be proud. You worked hard to get to this point. Some had doubts about your worthiness, but you have finally proved ready to serve the Republic.”

Echo has to fight to avoid shifting anxiously in place. What does Shaak Ti want? Why has she truly called them here? Does she know? And if she does know… what is she going to do about it?

Her eyes fall on Droidbait.

“Have you fully recovered from your fall, soldier?”

Droidbait looks surprised to be addressed. He nods quickly.

“Yessir,” he answers. Shaak Ti smiles again.

“Excellent,” she says. Then she looks at Fives, who stiffens when she meets his gaze. Shaak Ti’s smile fades.

“As impressive as your actions today were, I did not call you here today to praise you,” she informs them grimly. Echo braces himself for the worst as she continues. “You are not the same men you were yesterday. Something has changed.”

She pauses there, as if expecting them to speak. None of them do.

“You carry a darkness in you,” Shaak Ti continues. “Sorrow and loss hangs heavy across your minds. The Force ripples around you uncertainly, almost as if you do not belong. You are anomalies, Domino squad. I have never before seen anything like it.”

They exchange nervous glances as the General closes her eyes, and the air seems to ripple around them before it settles. Shaak Ti nods, as if the whole mystery has just been solved.

“I wanted to ask you to explain yourselves. I was troubled by your grief, but now that you stand in before me… I am not so sure I want to know.”

Echo blinks.

“Sir?” he blurts out, confused. Shaak Ti taps her fingers on the railing next to her gently, a pensive expression on her face.

“Though the Force claims you do not belong, it does not reject you, either,” she explains, except Echo still doesn’t understand, so it’s not much of an explanation. “The darkness is swayed by determination, and potential.” She smiles. “I believe the burdens that ail you are difficult to carry, but the Force is rarely wrong. It seems to think you five are capable of great things. I admit, I am curious, but I am not one to argue with the Force.”

“Soooo….” Hevy drawls carefully, “You’re not going to report us and have us reprogrammed.”

Shaak Ti frowns.

“I would never have done so. You are individual beings, just as I am. The Force has chosen you.”

“Uhhh… does that mean we get to be Jedi?” Cutup asks, and he sounds just a bit too hopeful. Echo pictures his squad armed with lightsabers and can’t hold back a shudder of horror. The sheer amount of destruction from such a thing would be monstrous.

Shaak Ti actually chuckles. “No, my friend. You cannot wield the force as the Jedi can. But the Force is watching you. It senses your good intentions. It seeks to help you. I don’t know what for, but perhaps you do.”

“Creepy,” Fives mutters. Droidbait elbows him.

“It is with this in mind that I will send you off with a word of advice,” Shaak Ti says. “Listen to your hearts and your minds, soldiers. You are strong-willed and brave. With the Force guiding your path, you can do many great things. Although you cannot sense it, it is there—and if you trust in it, the Force will protect you. Do you understand these things?”

The urge to respond with a loud “Yes, sir!” is strong, but Echo resists it. He gets the feeling Shaak Ti won’t take such a conditioned response to be sincere.

“Ma’am, I’ll admit I don’t understand, not completely,” Droidbait replies before Echo can speak. “I won’t pretend to know how the Force works. You said it yourself—we’re not Jedi. But if it’s trust and belief you want… I can do that. We can all do that.”

Echo nods along with the rest of his squad, because Droidbait has summed up all of their feelings in one.  

“That is all I ask,” Shaak Ti tells them, and she looks proud. “You are dismissed, soldiers. I wish you luck on your deployment.”

They salute her, and begin to file out. Echo is the last one, but just before he steps out the door he pauses.

“Sir…” he begins hesitantly. “Are you… are you sure you don’t want us to tell you what’s going on?” He knows they haven’t discussed telling anyone else about their other lives, but Shaak Ti is a jedi. She knows the ways of the Force, and has enough connections that she could help them spread their knowledge of every battle that will happen up until Fives’ death. “I know you could help, sir.”

Shaak Ti shakes her head.

“I am not to know,” she tells him sadly. “Can you not feel it? The Force does not wish you to tell me.”

Echo frowns and tries to concentrate. He’s not feeling much at the moment, a little stiff from standing at attention, perhaps, but he doesn’t feel anything that could be the Force—

Oh.

There’s a deep tug at his gut that’s just strong enough to be noticeable. It pushes at him, and it feels wrong. Like he’s making a bad choice.

He takes a deep breath. “I won’t tell you,” he says, and the feeling of wrongness disappears. He shakes his head in shock and confusion.

“Why can’t I tell you?” he asks. She sighs.

“I do not know,” she answers. “But you must trust in the Force, Echo. It knows all the mysteries of the galaxy. If it advises you against something, you would do well to heed it’s advice.”

“I’ll try, ma’am,” he says uncertainly. Shaak Ti’s lips quirk upward.

“Do, or do not. There is no try,” she tells him with the air of someone quoting another. Then she waves her hand in a clear dismissal, and Echo realizes he’s overstayed his welcome. She doesn’t appear angry about it, however, tolerance and compassion still evident in her gaze.

He salutes and turns on his heel, leaving her to her next appointment. Her eyes bore into his back as he exits, and he knows, he knows that she’s still curious. But she obeys the Force, and will let them leave without answers.

He doesn’t yet know if that’s a good or bad thing.

“I don’t understand why we can’t tell anyone,” Fives grumbles, wiping down his gun angrily. The rest of them are seated around him in the barracks, similarly scrubbing down weapons. “It’s ridiculous. The kriffin’ Force can’t expect us to do everything ourselves! There’s only five of us, and the war spans across entire solar systems! There’s no way—! ”

“Hang on, hang on,” Cutup interrupts. “We know we can’t tell General Ti. She felt… wrong, according to Echo, correct?”

“Yes,” Echo confirms when Cutup glances at him. “It felt like a stomachache, sort of? But… deeper? It was hard to describe. But I knew I shouldn’t tell her. Don’t know why.”

“Well, maybe there are others who can know,” Droidbait suggests. “Not the General here, but perhaps someone else. Maybe… Sergeant O’Niner, or someone else.”

Echo almost snorts, and has to remind himself that the old Sergeant had been the only commanding officer Cutup and Droidbait had known before they…

Well. Before.

Hevy had known Cody and Rex, but only for a few hours. Regardless, Echo is pretty certain the Sergeant who will soon command them doesn’t need to know. He’d been a good soldier, but very by-the-book.

Echo has the feeling saving the galaxy will take breaking more than just a few rules. He remembers a time, way back at the beginning of his first life, where he had thrived underneath orders.

ARC training had beaten that out of him—to Fives’ delight. ARC troopers had to lead, not follow. Echo is grateful for it now.

“Maybe the Force knows we can handle it,” Hevy says proudly, wiping the grease away from the barrels of his Z-6. “I mean, we’re pretty good now, especially with two ARC troopers watching our backs.”

“Don’t get a swelled head, Hevy,” Fives says darkly. “You don’t even know a quarter of what went on after you died. It gets pretty rough.”

Echo nods in silent agreement, and then eyes Hevy carefully. “Listen, we can’t just rush in guns blazing and expect the galaxy’s problems to be solved.” He gives Hevy a meaningful look, but shifts it to Cutup and Droidbait as well. “We need to be careful about some things, otherwise we could make it much worse.”

Hevy frowns, but inclines his head in disappointed agreement. Echo sighs. It’s easy to forget that he’d fought battles as an ARC trooper for longer than they’d been alive. They’re still shinies. That’s going to have to change. None of them are dying this time around. Echo will make sure it.

Droidbait has finished cleaning his DC-15S and is fiddling around on a datapad. It beeps loudly as Cutup is opening his mouth to speak, and their heads swing toward the sound almost as one. Droidbait is frozen, staring at the screen, and his eyes are wide.

“Droidbait…?” Echo says, feeling a surge of worry, but then Droidbait clenches his jaw and lifts the datapad, spinning it around so they can all look.

It’s a set of orders, addressed to Droidbait, but Echo knows the rest of them will all have it, as well. He skims over the memo, ignoring the pompous flowery speech. The information he wants is at the very bottom, and his eyes lock onto the words.

Assignment location: Rishi Moon Outpost.

His blood runs cold.

Rishi had left deep scars on all of them. Droidbait and Cutup seem to have stopped breathing. Hevy looks sick. Fives’ fists are clenched so hard his hands are shaking.

Echo lets out a shaky exhale.

They’d known it was coming. If it had been different, then their dreams wouldn’t be relevant—but it’s the same.

But this time, they know what’s going to happen.

“The 501st is waiting for us when we survive this, you know,” Fives says gently. Hevy, at least, jerks in excitement at that, but their other two teammates are falling deeper into panic. Hevy had volunteered his life. He’s messed up, but not as messed up as Droidbait and Cutup, whose lives had been forcibly taken without warning.

Echo exchanges a worried look with Fives. Neither of them are PTSD-free, but at least they’ve been trained to handle it better. The others have no such training.

“Alright, listen, boys,” Fives says. “It’s tough. No one said it was going to be easy. We’re carrying a lot on our shoulders—all of us are.” He pauses as their gazes drift towards him. “We can’t let it get to us. We have a job to do, soldiers. Look around you. See all those brothers? I’ve seen a world where they die in waves. We’ve got a chance to fix this. There’s…” he swallows nervously, “there’s a lot of things wrong in this war. There’s a lot of things wrong with us. But that doesn’t matter. I’m going to fight. Whatever I can do to ease the suffering of my brothers, I’m going to do. That includes us. We’ve got to push through our fears. I know we can do it.”

Echo can’t help it—he smiles. His mind flashes back to the assault on Kamino, where Fives had stood up in a hallway very much like this one and inspired courage and determination in a group of terrified cadets.

Fives does love his dramatic speeches. This one is particularly meaningful. Echo knows his fellow ARC still doubts their dreams, despite his words earlier—but he’s willing to cast aside his own worries to ease those of his comrades.

“Alright,” Droidbait says shakily. “Alright. We can do this.”

Cutup shudders, but then he takes a deep breath.

“We can do this,” he repeats. He closes his eyes and opens them, as if taking a moment to fortify himself against the coming storm. When Echo meets his gaze a moment later, his eyes are bright and defiant—Cutup is back to normal, for now. “So, what do we need to know? Us three still don’t know hardly anything that happens after Rishi.”

Echo sighs. “You know we were taken in by the 501st,” he begins slowly. “Captain Rex decided, since the Rishi base was destroyed and all, that we needed reassignment. Somewhere we could do some actual damage, instead of another defensive base. There were only two of us, so it was easy for him to fold us into a company who had recently lost a lot of men—”

“Uh, Echo,” Hevy interrupts. “Sorry, I know this is stuff we need to hear, but… we’re due on the landing deck in seven minutes.”

Echo blinks. “What?” he says. Hevy points to a line on the datapad.

They’re being shipped out. In seven minutes. Echo swears, and suddenly they’re scrambling for their belongings. It’s pure chaos for three solid minutes, and then Domino is running, sprinting through the hallways at top speed.

Echo cannot believe he’d lost track of the time.

His helmet is a little tight—he thinks it’s Droidbait’s, who’s just a hair slimmer than the rest of them. In the confusion no one had cared who’s helmet they were scooping up.

The story will have to wait just a little longer, as much as Echo’s dying to share—but that’s alright.

They’ll have plenty of free time to plan on Rishi’s moon.

Chapter Text

The Rishi Moon outpost is terrifying and familiar at the same time. It's the only place Droidbait has been to other than Kamino, so he's torn between celebrating seeing his second home again and bolting from the place that once was his grave.

Cutup and Hevy aren't doing well, either. Cutup can't stand to be outside. He panics if there are no walls around him, eyes darting about furiously in search of shadowy monsters. Hevy does his best to hide his unease, but he flinches every time he steps into the control room, eyes darting almost instinctively to where the explosives had supposedly been placed.

They're a mess. Echo and Fives are the only things keeping their resurrected team from falling apart.

Their very first day at the outpost, after Sergeant O'Niner had given them the rundown of the place, Domino squad had huddled together on their beds, and Echo and Fives had told them the whole story.

It had taken a long, long time. Echo handled the tale up until the mission where he'd been captured, at which point his already hoarse voice had stuck in his throat and he'd grabbed blindly for Fives, desperately seeking comfort. Fives had taken over then, gently explaining the Citadel mission and continuing further into the war. He told them about Umbara, about Krell, and his eyes were haunted as he spoke. Then… he had told them about the chips.

Droidbait knows he wouldn't have believed it if anyone else had told him, but it's Fives telling him this now—Fives, who shakes and chokes out his words as he recounts Chancellor Palpatine's treachery, and the loss of loved brothers. Fives is still devastated by the discovery, and when he finally stops talking (none of them had dared interrupt him, in fear of losing important bits of the story), they're all silent for a long, long time.

Cutup is tracing the back of his head softly, with a disturbed expression on his face. Echo has a comforting arm wrapped around Fives, and the two of them appear to be drowning in mutual sorrow. Hevy's expression is dark, fury etched into his face.

Droidbait… Droidbait feels numb.

It's a lot to take in.

Slowly, he reaches his hand to his head and prods gently at his skull just as Cutup is doing. He doesn't feel anything—hadn't expected to—but he feels he has to try.

There's a chip in his brain that will make him kill Jedi.

"How can we fix this?" Cutup breathes in horror. "How? We can't—we can't. Every clone has one of these chips. The Chancellor is the mastermind. If we can't tell the Jedi… who's going to believe us? We can't fix this—"

"If I knew how to fix it, don't you think I'd be doing it by now?" Fives snaps a little too loudly. "They killed me last time for figuring it out. I don't know how we're supposed to fix it."

Echo grips Fives' shoulder tightly and gives him a little shake. Fives shudders, obviously struggling to stave off a panic attack of his own, and Droidbait immediately forgives him for the outburst.

"Listen. It's a big job," Echo begins.

"Understatement," Hevy growls.

"It's a big job, but at least we know things," Echo continues to point out. It's a weak argument, but Domino squad latches onto his words regardless. "We've got the advantage of surprise. The droids, the traitors, the Chancellor—none of them have any idea we're coming. We were trained to save the Republic, remember?"

Droidbait flinches, because that just brings up a whole new set of issues.

Was our creation a lie? he wonders bitterly, and only realizes he'd spoken aloud when the rest of his squad looks at him.

"Maybe it was," Echo says calmly, keeping them grounded, "But that hardly matters now, does it? We exist. No one can change that. We exist, and we know all about the treachery of Palpatine. So what if they created us to be Jedi killers? We know the truth now. We can fight it."

Droidbait is hit with a sense of awe at Echo's words, because Echo had died before learning about the chips—this is his first time hearing about them, too, yet he is still able to encourage the rest of his team instead of panicking.

"Sounds to me like we can't fight it once it activates," Hevy grunts. "Then we'll be just like the rest of them, memories or not. Can we save the Republic before they activate?"

"We don't have to," Fives says. "The chips can be removed. Mine was, before."

They stare at him in shock. They hadn't been expecting that.

"Well then, what are we waiting for?" Cutup says. "Let's get them out already!"

Fives shakes his head. "I wish it were that easy," he tells Cutup sadly. "We won't be able to take them out for a while. We need an extremely skilled medic, or a specialty droid, and we don't have either of those here. There's a medic in the 501st who could do it. We'll have to wait for him."

"Who, Kix?" Echo says, and then stifles a grin. "He's younger than us, isn't he? Is he even off Kamino yet?"

"Doubt it," Fives answers. "You three will like him. Him and Jesse, and Hard...case…"

Droidbait recognizes that tone as Fives trails off. Hardcase is dead. Or, had been killed during Fives' first life. They all shift a little closer to Fives on instinct, reassuring him that he isn't alone. Fives relaxes minutely.

"We can save him this time," Droidbait says, because he feels like Fives needs to hear that. "He won't die. Not while we're still breathing." He looks around at his brothers. They look defeated already. Hevy, in particular, seems to be taking the information the hardest. Cutup still looks like he's about to keel over, and Fives and Echo seem to be lost in memories of the dead. For all of the two ARC's dramatic speeches and words of encouragement earlier, they're struggling to cope, and the retelling of the Republic's fate had brought up far too many bad memories.

Droidbait takes a deep breath, and does the only thing he can.

He laughs.

"Jeez, you guys look like we've already lost," he says. It's not really in his nature to act cockily like this, but someone has to, before all hope is destroyed before they've even begun. "Come on, boys, we're better than this! I died before I got a chance to tear the clankers apart, but I've got a second chance now, and I'm not about to waste it sitting in here moping about what hasn't yet happened in this life!"

Fives jerks his head up, eyes wide. Cutup stands up straighter, and Hevy's jaw drops.

"We've got plenty of free time here," Droidbait points out. "Tons of time to ourselves, to plan and learn and prepare. We can't expect to have a plan to save a whole galaxy in one evening. It's going to take a while. In the meantime, we need to do what we can to increase our skills. I, for one, am not going to die here again."

Echo smiles at him in approval. Droidbait takes a deep breath, turning to fully face the two ARCs.

"Teach us to be ARC troopers," Droidbait proposes determinedly. "We need every edge over the Separatists we can get. If you teach us what you know, we'll survive."

They're all staring at him now, and Echo isn't the only one smiling.

"Who are you, and what have you done with Droidbait?" Cutup mutters. "The real Droidbait would do almost anything to get out of extra training. Are we sure we don't have the wrong clone, guys?"

Droidbait frowns.

"That was before I died without taking a single clanker with me," he points out bluntly, and then feels bad when Cutup winces. He'd just been trying to lighten the mood, after all, so Droidbait shuffles closer to him, grabbing his brother's hand in apology.

Fives smirks. Just like that, he's back to normal, grief stowed away.

"You three want to be ARC troopers?" he asks, and oh, Droidbait does not like the tone of his voice. "It's not easy, shinies. You might prefer death." He's smiling, but somehow Droidbait doesn't think he's kidding. It's a smile that promises pain.

"Sir!" Droidbait says, because Echo and Fives definitely count as higher ranking than the rest of them. "We want to learn!" Cutup and Hevy echo him, determination replacing the blind panic and terror that had settled over them earlier.

Fives and Echo are grinning like their Life Days had come early.

"In that case, you'd better get some sleep, boys," Echo suggests slyly. "I think you're going to need it."

Droidbait knows ARC training will likely save his life. He knows that, he knows it's one of the most important things they can do to prepare for the war to come.

But he also knows he's going to seriously regret suggesting it.

Droidbait knows what dying feels like. He's done it before, after all, and it hadn't been fun. It'd been terrible. There had been violent pain, and then a sickening feeling of failure and horror as his vision had faded to black.

ARC training feels…remarkably similar to dying.

Droidbait had known he would regret suggesting it.

"Pick up the pace, you slackers!" Echo shouts from the other side of the gym. "You think you're tough, trooper? You're nothing! Move it, you worm-ridden filth!"

Next to Droidbait, Fives snarls something under his breath—a swear word in another language, no doubt picked up during a campaign in some far corner of the galaxy. They've been doing suicides for nearly an hour now, and Droidbait's vision is starting to swim from exhaustion.

"Droidbait, you're falling behind! Move it! Don't make me come over there!"

Yep, Droidbait is ninety-eight percent sure he's dying.

Cutup and Hevy are right there with him, though, gulping frantically for breath. Even Fives is having trouble maintaining Echo's demanded speed. The two ARCs rotate who's in charge each day, because even though they've done the training before, their bodies are young and don't have the ARC muscle mass anymore.

"Come on, you sorry excuses for bantha fodder! If you want your rations today you'll move those pathetic legs faster!"

"He's having way too much fun with this," Hevy gasps out as they turn around to repeat the drill for what feels like the billionth time. Droidbait chokes on a hysteric giggle and nearly falls flat on his face.

"I take back everything I said before about Echo being nice," Cutup pants raggedly. "He's a demon."

"What was that, Cutup?" Echo howls. "Are you looking for a beating, cadet?" Echo sounds positively gleeful. "Get on the ground, soldier! I'll have you doing pushups until you drop!"

"Thank the stars," Droidbait says, and falls to his stomach. Pushups are bad, but at least he's not sprinting anymore. Hevy and Cutup are right behind him, but Fives keeps running, and there's definitely a smug look in his eyes as he passes them.

"Wha—" Droidbait starts to say, rising up onto his knees, but it's far too late.

"Did I say you two could stop running?" Echo shouts. Droidbait realizes too late the order to drop had been for Cutup only. His addled brain had heard an order and reacted automatically, too tired to care who it was directed at.

"Fives, you son of a hutt!" Hevy gasps. "Why didn't you warn us—!"

"Give me seventy-five pushups, now, and then we'll try to find a suitable punishment for you three!" Echo snaps. Fives passes them again, and he's breathing hard, but smirking, obviously delighting in their torture.

"It won't all be like this," Cutup struggles to say, his words interspersed with inhales. "It won't be all—stamina training, it won't all be this bad—there's, there's—tactics, and hand-to-hand and firearms—"

Droidbait moans in horror. Tactics should be fine, but hand-to-hand is going to end in a lot of bruises.

"Less chatting, more working!" Echo orders, and Droidbait forces his shaking body to comply.

It hurts, it feels like he's dying (and it's only the fifth day!), but he knows this is going to keep him alive.

So he pushes through the pain, and lowers himself into pushup one out of seventy-five.

When they aren't working on stamina, shooting the range, sparring with each other, or reviewing complicated battle strategies, they're either sitting at a control panel watching the moon, or planning. Droidbait hadn't minded the numbing boredom that accompanied watching over the Rishi Moon the first time, but he's learned to despise it now, because this is where the worst of the stress rears its head.

There are other clones stationed with them, of course, so they can't speak out loud. Nub and O'Niner are good soldiers, but they're not supposed to know. Fives teaches Domino squad the ARC trooper silent language, which relies on a combination of hand signals and taps. It's not the subtlest thing, but O'Niner doesn't seem to care, which Droidbait appreciates.

Actually, the Sergeant is incredibly tolerant of Domino squad's intense training regime. He watches them sometimes, but never comments on the harsh workouts they're putting themselves through. He has no way to know it's ARC training, of course, but Droidbait had thought he'd at least ask them what they're doing. He doesn't.

They make multiple contingency plans for the Rishi invasion. They hide various explosives and ammo in vents around the base, and snoop around in search of the best vantage points.

Their first plan has Droidbait at the farthest back vantage point, next to Echo, away from the doors where he had been felled the first time. He doesn't complain. The firing range has no commando droid-shaped targets, after all, and there's no telling if he'll freeze up like he did before.

He has a nightmare, about a month before the remembered date of the attack. He dreams that he's standing next to his brothers, in front of the outpost, and there's a massive Separatist ship headed right for them. He tries to raise his gun, panic surging in his chest, but he can't move, and then suddenly the outpost disappears, and they're standing in empty space, suspended above a swirling mass of darkness.

His teammates scream. Droidbait watches as they are destroyed. Cutup is snatched away by a dark shape that dwarfs them all, and his screams are audible for a long time through the darkness before they're harshly silenced. Hevy disappears in a torrent of flame. Echo thrashes against hands that reach out of the darkness, crying out as they pull him to his death. Fives is the last. He hovers above the darkness in agony, reaching blindly for something Droidbait can't see, before he sags like a puppet with it's strings cut and drops into the chasm below..

The commando droids come for him, once he's alone. He hears them long before they arrive, the whirr of gears and clinking of mechanical feet echoing through the darkness. They don't shoot him like last time, though—this time they come with swords drawn, and Droidbait is powerless to do anything but scream as they cut into him.

He wakes up shaking, and he hadn't cried out in his sleep but his teammates seem to sense something's wrong, regardless. Cutup actually climbs into his bunk next to him, pressing their foreheads together comfortingly. Droidbait is embarrassed at first, especially when Echo clambers in as well (and that's an impressive feat, because their bunks are barely big enough for one clone, much less three), but then he realizes how reassuring it is to have his brother's weight covering him, keeping him safe, and he stops caring about being embarrassed. Hevy and Fives can't join in, for fear of breaking the bed, but they sit nearby and just watch, like they're keeping guard.

Droidbait stops having nightmares after that.

The date of the invasion draws closer, and Droidbait wonders fervently if they've done enough to prepare. It feels like they've done a lot, and he has the bruises to prove it, but he also knows better than anyone that a single moment of bad luck can destroy a lifetime of training.

He clings to the hope that it is enough, though, because if he doesn't, he knows he'll fall apart the moment the droids come into view.

Chapter Text

 Hevy can’t stop shaking. His hands tremble on the control panel in front of him. He’s not the only one having trouble, either—Droidbait’s breathing is irregular and shallow. Cutup is fidgeting nervously, and Fives’ fists are clenched. Echo is pacing in front of them. He isn’t technically on duty, but he’s refused to leave the control room for the past four hours.

Not that any of them are protesting.

Today is the day. The invasion will happen in a matter of minutes.

Hevy can’t help it. He’s terrified. He knows that they could fail—there’s a whole battalion of droids headed for them. Hevy also knows that if they do fail, he’d do the exact same thing he did last time. He would willingly sacrifice himself for the rest of his brothers on Kamino a second time.

He just… hopes that he doesn’t have to. Domino is family. He doesn’t want to leave them behind again.

His hand hovers over the kill switch of the all-clear signal tentatively. He knows he can’t pull it yet—Sergeant O’Niner is remarkably tolerant of most things Domino, but pulling the kill switch without (visible, believable) reason would garner every punishment in the book regardless of O’Niner’s attitude.

“You boys doing okay over there?” the Sergeant asks from across the room, as if hearing Hevy’s thoughts. “You’re being awfully quiet today. What’s going on?”

Hevy wants to answer him—he really does, but his throat isn’t working right.

You died today, in another life, he wants to say, but then the Sergeant will think he’s insane and put him on the next ship back to Kamino.

Fortunately, Echo covers for them.

“Nothing’s wrong, sir,” Echo says. “We’re just tired. We had a tough workout yesterday evening, that’s all.”

O’Niner fixes Echo with a disbelieving stare. “Oh, really? Then why are you here, Echo? You’re off duty. Wouldn’t you rather be resting than pacing around this room?”

Fives’ nose wrinkles in annoyance out of O’Niner’s view. The Sergeant has them, there.

“Admit it, boys, something’s wrong,” their commanding officer continues. “You going to tell me what it is? I could just order it out of you.”

Fives snorts, admittedly a little too loud, because O’Niner whips around to glare at the ARC. O’Niner is tolerant, yes, but he does not like being mocked.

“Think that’s funny, Fives? You want to be scrubbing the floor tonight?”

“No sir, sorry, sir,” Fives says in a weak attempt to rectify the situation. O’Niner glares at him for a moment longer before sighing and turning back to his own screen.

“Very well, I’ll leave it be,” the Sergeant says. “But if I feel whatever it is you’re hiding is affecting your work efficiency, I will hear about it. Understand?”

“Sir, yes, sir,” Hevy replies in unison with his brothers.

As if they would tell him. Hevy wonders what story they’ll come up with to explain themselves if he ever does ask. That should be the next thing they decide on, and Fives should not be in charge of it, because even though they love him, all of Domino, himself included, knows that Fives is crap at lying.

The alarm sounds. Hevy freezes.

The meteors.

For a few terrifying seconds none of them move, because they all know what this means.

It’s happening.

Fives clears his throat.

“Sir, incoming meteor shower,” he says, and it sounds casually spoken to an inexperienced ear, but Hevy can hear the uncertainty and worry in their brother’s voice. O’Niner nods curtly.

“Raise the shield,” he orders. Fives obeys. Hevy has to fight to keep his breathing steady. Droidbait is visibly trembling, and Cutup looks sick. Echo’s brow is deeply furrowed.

“You wanted excitement, Hevy.”

“Right. Oooohh, meteor shower.”

His own words a lifetime ago, laced with sarcasm, echo bitterly in his mind. Oh, how he regrets not taking this seriously the first time around.

It’s time for their plan to be put into action. Fives and Echo’s faces have gone blank as they put their helmets on, battle-readiness sinking in, and Hevy tries his best to imitate them. He’s only partially successful.

The base shakes as the meteors impact with the hurriedly erected ray shield, and suddenly Hevy’s shaking again, because now they’re on a timer.

There’s a lot they know about this day, but there’s also plenty they don’t know. Trooper Nub is out on deck alone right now, and Domino doesn’t know how long they have until the commando droids begin their attack.

It’s time to see if all their training has done them any good.

Fives stands up from his seat. O’Niner’s back is turned, so he doesn’t see the lightning quick ARC signs Fives sends to his squad.

Droidbait, Cutup, to the armory, his hands direct. Hevy, Echo, with me.

Hevy swallows and stands.

They move. Hevy’s Z-6 is propped just outside the door, right next to Echo and Five’s DC-15s. O’Niner finally realizes they’re abandoning their posts, and his surprised shout follows them through the hallway. None of them look back to their commanding officer. They don’t have time to explain.

Hevy follows Echo and Fives, scooping up their weapons and darting for the blast doors. Echo’s fist slams into the control panel nearly hard enough to crush it in his haste—fortunately the doors still open, and a surprised Nub jolts around at the sound of the door, tilting his head in confusion. Hevy can imagine they make quite a sight, bursting out of the compound fully armed and ready for a fight.

“Uh, guys? What’s going on?” Nub asks. Fives doesn’t answer, too busy scanning the horizon for the droids, so Echo strides up to the young clone and places a hand on his shoulder.

“Listen, Nub, we need you to go back inside,” Echo says gently. “We’re taking over your watch shift for a little bit. Go talk to Cutup, Droidbait, and O’Niner inside. They’ll explain everything, understand?”

“Uhhh—”

“Echo,” Fives interrupts sharply. “I have a visual. Two pods. They’ve started depositing droids already.”

Echo snarls out a curse under his breath, and gives Nub a little shove toward the base before moving into place at Fives’ side. Nub shakes his head and looks at Hevy beseechingly, as if expecting Hevy to explain. Hevy shrugs at him.

“Go inside and confirm to the Sergeant that we’re under attack,” Hevy suggests. “He’s probably giving Droidbait and Cutup enough trouble as it is.” To his credit, Nub takes the news of an attack very well. He takes a deep, steadying breath before nodding slowly and trying to move past Hevy, but before he can leave Hevy stops him one more time. “Listen, Nub. Don’t come back outside once you go in. And don’t let O’Niner come out, either.”

“What?” Nub blurts out. “Why not? We can help! We were trained for this, too, you know!”

“I know,” Hevy says. “Believe me, I know. But these aren’t normal droids. We’ve been training for specifically this for a long time, and you haven’t. If you come outside, you’ll get killed, and we’re not losing any brothers today.”

Nub shakes his head again. “Hevy, you can’t possibly expect us to sit back and do nothing! The droids are—!”

Hevy copies Echo, gently pushing Nub toward the door.“You won’t be doing nothing. You’re going to kill the all-clear signal and try to contact the nearest Republic reinforcements. Got it? Now get out of here.”

Nub finally obeys, casting one final confused look back at the squadmates as he leaves. The blast doors slide shut behind him. Hevy sighs in relief.

“They’re moving fast,” Fives says grimly, peering through his binoculars as Hevy takes his place beside the two ARCs. “And they’re deploying far more droids than I remember. Where are Droidbait and Cutup? They should have been here by now.”

“The Sergeant’s probably being troublesome,” Hevy grumbles. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he makes his way out here. He’s probably worried about mutiny, or something.”

‘We need those high-power rifles,” Echo says worriedly. “If we can’t get ahold of them soon, the droids are going to get close enough to shoot back.”

The blast doors open behind them, and Echo turns to see Droidbait and Cutup stepping out onto the platform as if summoned by their words. The high-powered sniper rifles in their hands are a welcome sight. Hevy doesn’t want to know how many people Fives had bribed to get his hands on one, much less two. The sniper rifles are specialty weapons, and expensive to produce, making them one of the rarest weapons in the GAR.

“Here,” Echo says impatiently, reaching out his hands. Droidbait hands the sniper rifle over easily, and Echo shoulders it with an easy familiarity, dropping down to his stomach at the edge of the platform. Cutup heads to the other side with the second rifle. The two of them are the most proficient at using the sniper rifles. Cutup’s accuracy through the scope had been massively impressive—better than Fives’, even, who tended to get too impatient to aim correctly with the precise weapon.

“Pick a mark, Cutup,” Echo orders quietly through their helmet comms. Hevy glances over at Cutup and frowns at the way his brother’s arms tremble as he holds the weapon. It’s barely enough to be visible, but more than enough to throw off a shot—especially at this range. He strides over to stand at Cutup’s side, finger resting lightly on the trigger of his Z-6.

“I’ve got your back, Cutup,” he says softly. “I’m watching for you, brother. Don’t worry.”

The tension running through Cutup’s body eases as Hevy speaks, and he lets out an audible sigh. Worry and fear are replaced by unshakable trust in an instant. No eels can get to him with Hevy’s large artillery guarding his six.

“Fire,” Echo commands, and Cutup’s first shot beheads the lead commando droid.

Hevy lets out a whistle of appreciation.

Droidbait is hovering in the middle of the platform, binocular shifting between the two sides and letting out little sounds of approval with each hit Echo and Cutup score. The Commando droids are visibly startled by the attack—they hadn’t been expecting anything like this, and their escape pods are far away from the caves and craters pocketing the planet. They try to run, but Cutup and Echo have been training for this moment for weeks. The droids don’t get too far. Some try to fire back, but the red plasma bolts of the small E-5 blasters don’t have enough range to reach them.

“That’s it,” Fives says tensely from his spot next to Echo. “That’s it, boys, keep them on their toes. We’ve got them. We’ve…” He trails off into silence. Hevy spares a glance at him—his body is stretched taut, as if expecting something to go horrifically wrong at any moment.

They all feel like that. Hevy doesn’t dare to feel relief. Not yet.

“Six left,” Cutup mutters. “Five. Four.” He misses a shot and hisses out a quiet curse. “Three. Two.” The last commando droid is scuttling towards cover, but Cutup hits it in it’s hip joint, and it goes down hard. With one final shot, the droid goes dark.

Cutup takes a deep, deep, breath, and doesn’t move.

Echo finishes with his side a moment later, and then they’re all silent, hardly daring to breathe. Waiting for more. Waiting for something else to happen. The wind kicks up as they stand frozen to the spot, watching the motionless escape pods.

Nothing moves.

Hevy swallows, and dares to think.

Was that… was that it? Did we actually…

Echo moves as if to get back to his feet, but Fives puts a hand on his shoulder and stops him.

“Wait. Wait for just a little…. just a little more,” he says, and his voice in unsteady. Uncertain. Fives is just as shaken as the rest of them. “We can’t risk… we can’t.”

He’s right. They can’t risk it.

Droidbait clears his throat. “I’ll go see if the others were able to kill the all-clear signal,” he suggests quietly. Fives nods and waves a hand.

“Good idea,” the ARC says. “Take Hevy with you. The Sergeant will be angry. It’ll be better if two of you go.”

Hevy spares a quick look at Cutup, who nods curtly. He’ll be alright for now. Fives is keeping watch, too, after all, so Hevy turns and walks toward the blast doors with Droidbait. The blast doors slide open. Hevy has one foot inside when Echo suddenly lets out a shout.

“Movement, nine o’clock!” he calls out urgently. “Too far away to get a good visual!”

Hevy whirls around. Next to him, Droidbait lets out a groan of frustration and nerves.

“Movement at three o’clock!” Cutup reports, voice wavering. “I can’t make it out, either! They’re staying just out of range!”

Fives growls.

“What the kriff are they?” he hisses. The tension is back, increasing tenfold with every moment of uncertainty. “Is it more droids? But only two escape pods landed!”

Something taps the back of Hevy’s ankles. He doesn’t feel it—his armor prevents that, but he hears the distinct click of plastoid alloy, and twists to look down behind himself.

It’s a helmet. A clone helmet, and Hevy stares at it in blank confusion for a second before he really realizes what he’s seeing.

His stomach drops as he comes to the sickening realization that it’s Nub’s helmet.

Nub, who had gone inside to kill the all-clear switch. So why was his helmet…?

Hevy looks up.

The commando droid crouched at the top of the ramp leading into their base stares back at him with cold, glowing white optics. The vibrosword in its hand is dripping with blood. Nub’s blood. The trooper’s limp body is motionless at the droid’s feet.

Next to him, Droidbait lets out a terrified, choked-off cry of horror.

Then the commando droid straightens, lifting the gun in it’s other hand, and Hevy’s limbs suddenly unfreeze.

“Droids!” he roars, louder than he’s ever shouted anything else before. He doesn’t raise his Z-6—there’s no way he’ll be able to lift the heavy weapon faster than the commando droid’s smaller E-5. Instead he dives to the side, colliding with Droidbait and tackling his petrified brother to the side. The red blaster bolt streaks past them, barely missing Hevy’s back.

He fumbles for his weapon once they’re out of the droid’s line of fire. He watches as Fives whips around and fires off three pinpoint accurate shots without even thinking, drawing in shooting in that smooth motion that Hevy’s been trying to perfect for weeks. The commando droid collapses into a pile of smoking parts, but two more round the corner.

“What the kriff —” Echo spits out, turning awkwardly with the sniper rifle. “Kriffing, how did they get in the base —?”

“No, no, this can’t—we stopped them!” Cutup gasps out. “We stopped them, the escape pods, how, what’s —!?”

“Don’t know, doesn’t matter!” Fives shouts. “Shoot them! Shoot them now or we’re dead!”

Hevy’s mind is shrieking in horror and denial, but his body understands the order. His Z-6 hums to life in his hands, spitting out plasma bolts and tearing the commandos down before they’re even halfway down the ramp.

Four more take their place.

“Back up!” Fives yells, and there’s a hint of hysteria in his voice. “Back up, use the crates for cover! Move now, Domino!”

Cutup and Echo are off like shots, diving behind the shipment of crates—but Hevy can’t move, because if he moves he’ll leave the frozen Droidbait exposed. He holds his ground, sweeping his machine gun from side to side and catching the commando droids in the stream of plasma bolts.

It won’t hold them for long.

Blaster fire streaks over his shoulders. Echo and Cutup are laying down cover fire. In an instant Fives is at Hevy’s side, grabbing Droidbait and hoisting their brother to his feet.

“Go, go now!” Fives screams, shoving Droidbait towards the safety of the crates. Droidbait stumbles, trembling violently, but he finds his balance and goes.

Hevy and Fives back up quickly, firing all the way, until they can slip into cover beside their brothers. Hevy’s ears are filled with shrieking white noise, confusion and fear mixing together and making it hard for him to process things. Lasers ping against the crates, rattling their feeble cover.

This is wrong. This isn’t suppose to happen. Nub and O’Niner were suppose to survive.

Hevy struggles for a long moment to shake off his emotions and settle into the warrior mindset the Kaminoans had designed for them, but it’s hard. Harder than it’s ever been before.

Because Hevy knows how this ends. He’s lived it.

He’s died with it.

Over the sound of blaster fire he becomes aware that his ARC brothers are speaking, yelling to be heard above the commandos. Cutup is struggling to hold them off alone, and Droidbait is sitting numbly on the ground, fists clenched around his DC-15S.

Hevy reaches toward him and grips his shoulders.

“Droidbait! Snap out of it!” he growls, and gives his brother a shake. “You don’t have time to freak out. We need you here and now. We’ve been training for this! Come on, pull it together!”

Droidbait jerks. For a moment Hevy’s afraid he’s made it worse. Droidbait’s breaths are coming faster and faster, on the verge of hyperventilating, until suddenly he seems to regain some control of himself.

“Hevy…” he says weakly. “Hevy, the droids. How did they—?”

“Blast it, I don’t know! ” Hevy snaps. “But I do know that they killed Nub and the Sergeant, and they’ll kill us all again if we don’t do something, so you need to focus!”

Droidbait shakes his head.

“No, no, no—we can’t let them— I’m not dying again. I’m not.”

“Then kriffing fight!” Hevy snarls, and turns to help Cutup without waiting to see if Droidbait will finally act. Cutup is doing a fine job of keeping the droids pinned down, but his single-shot sniper rifle isn’t very effective against the collective hoard. Hevy’s Z-6 helps, but the commando droids are adjusting to the resistance by now, finding their own pockets of cover to fire from and advancing faster than Hevy and Cutup can take them out.  

Fives and Echo finally return fire as well, their own weapons joining the fray. Fives slides into place at Hevy’s side, DC-15S providing the perfect contrast to the wide-spray of Hevy’s machine gun.

“We’ll hold them for as long as we can!” Fives shouts to him over the roar of battle. “There’s nothing else we can do!”

Ice shoots through Hevy’s veins at his brother’s words. They have nowhere to go. The platform ends at their backs.

They’re going to die again. Even though they had been prepared this time, even though they had trained for it— it wasn’t enough.

Hevy’s hands tremble on his weapon, but he keeps fighting, because what else is he going to do?

Over his shoulder, Echo suddenly lets out a cry of pain. Fives’ head whips to the side at the sound.

“Echo?” the ARC shouts worriedly, and his finger halts on the trigger.

The opening is small, but the commando droids take it. Two come surging forward while the more experienced ARCs are momentarily distracted, darting through the clone’s crossfire. Hevy manages to take one down before it can get too far, but the second twists away from his line of fire and leaps into the air. The vibrosword glints as it slashes through the air, and too late Hevy sees that Cutup is the droid’s target. Cutup sees it coming and tries to lift his sniper rifle, but he’s not fast enough. The sword heads right for his neck—

A blue energy bolt flies over Hevy’s shoulder, hitting the droid right between its optics. It collapses mid-air, missing Cutup by a mere foot, and the vibrosword skitters off the edge of the platform. Hevy turns to compliment Fives on the skilled shot, and is shocked to see that it’s Droidbait standing firmly behind him. The tip of his gunbarrel is smoking slightly.

“Good shot, Droidbait,” Cutup says quietly, voice full of approval and pride. Droidbait nods jerkily and grips his gun tighter. His free hand traces an ARC symbol in the air: the sign for “one”.

His first kill, Hevy realizes, and feels a surge of delight. At the very least, they’ve done this. Droidbait won’t die without taking anything with him, this time.

Echo has been shot. It doesn’t look too serious, but the blaster bolt tore through a section of his chest armor, and Hevy can see a hint of bloody skin beneath the tattered blacks through the hole. He’s still fighting, with Fives at his side.

Hevy can’t believe his eyes when the commando droids begin to fall back a moment later. From the surprised mix of curses and exclamations of awe from his brothers, they can’t believe it, either.

“There’s no way they’re giving up,” Cutup whispers incredulously. “No way. They’ve got us cornered!”

The blast doors actually slide shut, sealing the commando droids inside the base, and Hevy stops firing.

“What…?” Droidbait begins, hesitantly poking his head out of cover.

“Don’t move!” Echo snaps out, voice sharper than any whip. “None of you move! Stay behind cover!”

Hevy flinches and obeys, because that’s Echo’s ARC trooper tone, near impossible to ignore. Cutup and Droidbait mirror him, hunkering down even further behind their crates. Hevy looks at the ARCs. If anything, they’re more tense than they had been before, shoulders tensed and fingers twitching on the triggers of their weapons.

“Fives?” Hevy says slowly, searching for an explanation. Fives shakes his head.

“They aren’t retreating,” he warns them. “Commando droids don’t retreat. They’re planning something, and I don’t know—”

The blast doors slide open. Hevy tenses, but no commando droids come leaping through. Instead, a small, round object is rolled through.

Hevy’s heart stops.

“Get down!” he shouts.

And then the thermal detonator goes off, and the world disappears in a flash of light and a bang that makes everything else go silent.

He doesn’t lose consciousness—but it’s a close thing. When he can feel his body again he’s on his back, staring helplessly up at the dark sky. His ears are ringing, and his limbs are unresponsive.

“ ...lp… Hev… me! An… to!” he hears, as if from a long, long ways away. He groans and slowly manages to clench his fists. The absence of his Z-6 scares him more than anything else. Last time he had let go of it during a fight, he had died. Adrenaline shoots through his veins at that thought, and he drags himself up into a sitting position.

The thermal detonator had cleared away much of Domino’s cover, but not quite all of it—for the most part, Hevy’s brothers had been spared from both flames and shrapnel. Echo and Fives are already climbing to their feet on the far side of the platform. Droidbait is near Hevy, and appears to be unconscious, but Cutup—

Hevy can’t see Cutup.

Panic spikes through his body, and he whips around, searching for their squadmate. The ringing in his ears is just starting to fade, and suddenly he can hear a brother’s voice.

“Hevy, Hevy! Help me!”

Hevy jerks around, and catches sight of black-gloved hands clinging to the edge of the platform.

“Cutup! Hang on!” he yells, and his own voice sounds warped to his damaged eardrums.

Hevy dives for Cutup’s hands. He can see them slipping, and desperately grabs for them. He manages to close one hand around Cutup’s wrist, but the other misses, and he shouts in pain as Cutup’s full weight tugs brutally at his arm.

“Droidbait!” Hevy shouts, before remembering that Droidbait is unconscious, and Fives and Echo are a whole platform away. Cutup’s hand is slipping, slipping, but Hevy tightens his grip, because he is not going to let his brother fall.

Cutup scrabbles to grab onto him with his other hand, but the strange distribution of weight throws off Hevy’s sense of balance and nearly sends them both tumbling over the side. Hevy grits his teeth as the pressure on his arm increases, threatening to dislocate the limb.

Fives shouts from the other side of the platform. Hevy thinks their predicament has finally been noticed, but blaster fire rings out—the droids are back.

Cutup is slipping again.

Hevy refuses to let go .

Cutup looks up at him, tilting his helmet back.

“Hevy,” he says. It’s the first thing Hevy’s been able to hear clearly since the detonator, and he knows what Cutup is going to say before he does.

“No,” he spits out, grimacing at the strain. Cutup ignores him.

“Let go,” Cutup says evenly. He releases Hevy’s wrist himself, and it feels like the weight on Hevy’s arm has doubled.

“I won’t,” Hevy snarls through gritted teeth. “I won’t, don’t you dare—!”

“Help them,” Cutup urges. “Help them. They’re good, but they can’t do it alone.”

“We need you, too,” Hevy insists stubbornly. Cutup’s breath hitches.

“Let go, brother,” he says again, terrifyingly neutral.

Hevy feels the phantom heat of an explosion across his body—a different explosion, from a different time. He hears a droid’s voice, cold, mechanical— “Do we take prisoners?”

“I’m not letting go,” Hevy growls. He knows better than anyone that self-sacrifice is sometimes necessary—but not this time.

“I’ve got you, brother,” he says firmly. “I’ve got you. No one’s getting left behind.”

His arm kriffing hurts. The pressure is agonizing, and he knows it won’t be long until it’s tugged out of it’s socket. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to hold on then, but he’s going to try.

The platform suddenly lurches beneath them. Hevy staggers, slides. He nearly loses his grip.

“They’re cutting the support pillars below!” he hears Echo shout in panic, and a ball of ice sinks in his stomach.

The platform buckles again. Fives and Echo are shouting, shooting—but whatever they’re doing, it isn’t working. Hevy’s mind whirls. If the droids destroy the platform, it will be obvious that something happened to the base—but then, maybe they don’t care at this point.

There’s a strange groaning sound as somewhere below them, metal pillars buckle. Hevy looks into Cutup’s visor and tries to imagine his brother’s face behind it.

“Hevy…” Cutup says again, voice thick. Hevy hears more shouting behind them—perhaps Echo and Fives have finally noticed them, but it’s far too late.

The platform drops. It’s been cut away from the main base, and Hevy catches a glimpse of more commando droids hiding in the shadows of the cliff underneath it, armed with explosives and laser cutters.

Freefall rips Cutup away from him, and the world is spinning, spiralling, out of control. A brother plummets past him—he can’t tell who it is in the chaos, but the fear he feels is not for himself—it is for his brothers.

They’ve failed.

Chapter Text

Cutup wakes to darkness, and to a voice moaning in pain. He blinks up into the sky, staring numbly at the dark shapes around him.

His whole body hurts. Throbs, as if his skin is a plethora of bruises. He tries to sit up and hisses when the motion causes sunbursts of color to fritz across his vision.

What… what had happened? He remembers the meteor shower and the commando droids, but everything after that is… fuzzy. He reaches a hand up to hold his aching head and jumps when his fingers come away sticky and crimson. He hadn’t even realized he’d hit his head.

“I’ve got you, brother. I’ve got you,” he remembers hearing, and then…

The platform had fallen.

Where are his brothers?  

Sheer panic seizes him, and he blinks the haze away from his eyes to peer anxiously around at his surroundings.

The outpost is far, far above them, at the top of the canyon, and Cutup is at the very bottom. Large fragments of metal and durasteel are beneath and around him, crumpled and twisted from the impact. Cutup stares at them in numb shock and wonders how he isn’t dead.

He jerks when a deep groan of pain echos through the canyon. He struggles to his feet. Ignoring the pain of his body is easy—it’s one thing ARC training had taught him to do, and when the voice cries out again he’s able to pinpoint where it’s coming from.

Echo’s leg is broken. It’s twisted at a horrific angle that makes Cutup feel queasy just looking at it. Echo had lost his helmet sometime during the fall as well, and his eyes are glassy with pain. His fists are clenched shut, and he’s breathing through tightly gritted teeth. Cutup can’t imagine the pain he’s in.

“Cutup,” Echo forces out slowly as Cutup kneels at his side. “Cutup, where—the others…?” He starts to sit up. Cutup’s no medic, but he knows that sitting up is a bad idea. He puts a hand on Echo’s chest and gently pushes him back down. Echo’s breathing hitches, and his fingers claw gouges into the dirt as another wave of pain washes over him.

“I haven’t seen them yet,” Cutup says, struggling to keep his voice even. “But we’ll find them. If we survived, they did, too.” He sounds much more confident than he feels. “They can’t be far.”

Echo sucks in a harsh breath.

“They’re… gonna be fine,” he gasps out. “Fives was, was by me when we fell. Droidbait… unconscious, I think, but—” he breaks off with a hiss and clamps his teeth down on his lip. Cutup winces in sympathy and wishes that he knew what to do.

His sniper rifle had been lost in the fall, but the DC-17 hand pistol Fives had insisted he carry is still in it’s holster, miraculously unmoved. He presses the pistol into Echo’s hands.

“I’ll go look for the others,” he says quietly. “Stay here.”

Echo chokes out a humorless laugh.

“Not going anywhere,” he hisses out as Cutup gets to his feet.

There’s debris everywhere. Cutup picks his way through the destruction and picks up one of the droid’s E-5s along the way. It’s silent within the canyon—silent except for Cutup’s own breathing and the sound of his boots striking the metal. The dark rock walls stretch far above him, pocketed with holes that Cutup is not going to think about.

(He can’t afford to think about it. His brothers need him. He pushes past the fear that hovers at the edge of his mind and clenches his fists to stop them from shaking.)

He gets lucky. Only a few minutes into his search he lays eyes on a armored body.

Droidbait is still unconscious, and fortunately, that seems to be the extent of his injuries. He stirs weakly when Cutup shakes him but doesn’t wake, which isn’t a good sign.

He carries Droidbait back to Echo, who stills when he sees their limp brother.

“Is he…” Echo begins, voice fearful, and Cutup waves a hand quickly.

“Just unconscious,” Cutup explains quickly. Echo’s body sags in relief. “Watch him. I’ll go find the others.”

Echo nods. His jaw is clenched, and his face is scarily pale. Even so, he braces himself and rises to a sitting position, propped up against a chunk of metal. His chest heaves as the movement jostles his leg, but if he makes a sound, Cutup doesn’t hear it.

“Be careful,” Echo tells him shakily. “Don’t take any unnecessary risks. The others will kill me if you do something stupid on my watch.”

The others are probably dead, Cutup wants to say, because it’s true, and he knows they’re both thinking it. For Cutup and Echo to have survived is miraculous. For Droidbait to also survive, with hardly any additional injuries, even more miraculous. But the others—well, the odds are extremely high that at least one of them hadn’t made it. Cutup’s stomach rolls unsteadily at the thought.

“I’ll be back soon,” he says, and turns to leave—

A hiss cuts through the darkness. Cutup’s blood runs cold, and he stiffens. Echo’s eyes widen.

Last time Cutup had heard that sound, he had died.

“Kriff,” he mutters. “Kriff, kriffing —”

“Cutup!” Echo hisses. “Cutup, get ahold of yourself! Calm down!”

Cutup hadn’t even noticed that he had started to hyperventilate, and even once he does notice, he can’t stop. Movement flickers in the distance in the corner of his eye. He whirls, wildly pointing the E-5 into the dark.

No, no, no —leaving the base wasn’t part of the plan. They weren’t supposed to be down here, they were supposed to be up in the base, safe, protected —

“Cutup...” Echo says again. Cutup hears him, but it’s as if his brother is a long distance away. His whole body shudders. He sees a flicker of motion again, and catches a glimpse of a long tail as it slithers into one of the tunnels.

Jaws close like a steel trap around him, four teeth puncture his armor and slice into his skin, through his bones and organs — everything goes dark a moment later, but he isn’t dead, not yet, the eel drags him through Rishi’s underbelly for miles before it’s jaws finally tighten even further and Cutup screams even though no one can hear him anymore —

“Oh, Force,” he whispers brokenly. “I can’t—I can’t —Echo?” His voice trembles. He wants to run. He wants to hide, he wants to bury his face in his hands and not look until it’s all over.

“I’m right here, brother,” Echo says reassuringly. “You aren’t alone. You aren’t ever alone, hear me? I’ve got your back, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Echo’s right, but not in the way he’s no doubt intending. Echo’s not going anywhere, because he can’t. He can’t stand, he can’t even talk without flinching. He’s armed, but he won’t be able to defend himself, not really. Droidbait hasn’t moved, either. They’re helpless, and the moment Cutup realizes it he nearly falls over again.

If he runs, his brothers will die.

Echo is trying to reassure him, but Echo himself is in no position to do such a thing. Cutup is the only one who can defend them.

He clenches the gun in his hands, sets his jaw, and plants himself squarely in front of Echo.

He’s terrified, but he’s not going to let any of his brothers suffer the same horrific fate he did in his first life.

“Where is it?” Echo asks, hushed, because the eels are mostly blind, and only react to motion and sound. Unfortunately, even the minute motions of breathing are enough to alert them to Domino’s presence, but speaking softly should delay it for a few moments.

Cutup doesn’t respond, because he doesn’t know the answer. The hiss sounds again, much closer this time. Cutup has to fight not to flinch.

Captain Rex had, according to Fives, killed an eel with a single shot. The vestigial eyes are a weak spot, but Captain Rex is a legend. Cutup isn’t certain he can recreate such a shot.

He stiffens when he finally sees the creature, poking it’s head up out of one of the tunnels. It’s head sways back and forth, searching, and Cutup knows the exact moment that it locates them, because it’s mandible-like jaws flex open, and sharp teeth longer than Cutup’s forearm are exposed. Cutup’s head swims at the sight, and suddenly he can’t move.

“Clear your head, take a breath,” Echo says softly from behind him, voice steady but tense. “Feel the earth beneath you, the air above. Breathe. Focus. Relax.”

Cutup almost chokes. Echo is quoting their first drill instructor—the one who had taught them how to fire a weapon—and it’s ridiculous, but as he speaks Cutup can feel his body relaxing, reacting to the words just as he had done as a cadet.

“Breathe, Cutup,” Echo tells him, and now he isn’t quoting. It’s just Echo. “You can do this. Steady. Steady, brother. You’ve been trained for this. You’re a good shot. Just breathe.”

His voice is grounding. Cutup grits his teeth together and breathes, envisioning his fear draining out of his body, flowing down to the ground and disappearing in the soil. The tension running through his shoulders fades, and all at once his vision clears.

The eel hisses and starts to slither forward. It’s huge. Cutup nearly falters, but he catches sight of Droidbait’s motionless body below him and can’t turn away.

His vision tunnels, and suddenly he can see as clearly as he had been able to with the sniper rifle. The eel’s eye is a clear target, obvious and larger than he’d expected.

The eel’s long body tenses, preparing to strike, and Cutup knows he has to take the shot now, before it charges forward.

He fires. His shot is dead on, and the eel shrieks, a piercing sound that makes Cutup’s eardrums throb. A moment later it collapses, shaking the ground.

Cutup collapses, too. His legs won’t hold his weight anymore. His relief is so great that he feels dizzy.

Echo is grinning at him, when he finally looks toward his brother.

“Now that’s what I call an ARC-worthy shot,” Echo says. “Nice job, brother. How do you feel?”

Cutup pauses to consider the question (and to steady his breathing), and is surprised when he realizes the answer.

“I’m not afraid,” he replies softly. “I was afraid. I hadn’t realized I was good enough to kill it. But that was… easy. After I stopped being scared.”

Echo’s grin gets wider.

“I knew you could do it,” he says.

“Cutup! Echo!” a different voice shouts, and Cutup jumps, scrambling to his feet.

Fives and Hevy are picking their way through the debris. Echo lets out a cry of relief at seeing them, and Cutup sags, finally allowing himself to relax.

Fives is limping, and one of Hevy’s hands is visibly broken, but they’re alive.

They all survived. Cutup doesn’t know how that’s possible, but he is so, so grateful that it happened.

For now, they’re still in the game. Cutup isn’t ready to give up, and he knows his brothers aren’t, either.

They move to a shallow cave on the edge of the canyon—too narrow for eels to get into. Fives and Cutup carry Echo, hissing apologies every time they jostle his leg. Hevy carries Droidbait, who’s always been slightly lighter than the rest of them, slung over his shoulder as to not agitate his broken hand.

They’re broken and battered, but they’re far from beaten.

Fives checks Echo’s leg while Cutup helps Hevy make a splint for his hand. Droidbait finally wakes as they’re nursing their wounds, but Fives barks at him in that no-nonsense tone of his to stay down, at least until they can confirm he isn’t concussed. Cutup had completely forgotten about the blood on the side of his head. Once he’s done with Hevy’s hand he hisses as they trade positions and his own head wound is bandaged.

Then, they huddle together and try to decide their next move.

“So,” Fives begins slowly. “None of that went according to plan.”

“Understatement,” Hevy mutters.

“But that doesn’t mean we didn’t succeed,” Fives says. Cutup blinks at him in confusion. “We’re all alive, aren’t we? I’d say that counts as a success.”

“Sure, a success for us,” Droidbait contributes quietly. “But what about the rest of our brothers? If we can’t figure out a way to kill the all-clear signal, Kamino will be attacked.”

“And there’s other things to consider as well,” Echo says. “For one, the droids destroyed the platform. That didn’t happen the first time. Captain Rex and Commander Cody won’t be able to land, and they’ll suspect something’s wrong the moment they see it.”

“Well, that’s good then, isn’t it?” Hevy asks. “If they see something odd like that, they’ll be suspicious, and reconsider the all-clear signal. Easy, our job’s done.”

“Unless the droids shoot them down before they’re able to send a transmission to the fleet,” Echo says darkly.

“If they do that then the officers won’t report in, and the fleet will learn something’s wrong that way,” Cutup argues. “Regardless, someone will know that something’s wrong.”

Fives growls.

“If Rex gets killed on this kriffing moon, I’ll never forgive myself,” he hisses. Echo winces.

“Rex won’t die,” he says. “He’s too stubborn for that.”

Droidbait sits bolt upright. They all jump at the sudden movement. Fives is opening his mouth to yell at him, but then he notices the alarmed look on their brother’s face.

“If they shoot down the inspection team, they’ll be on a time limit,” Droidbait says. “Their goal is to invade Kamino, yes? So they’ll just move their timetable up. They’ll attack Kamino before anyone realizes the offices haven’t reported in.”

Cutup stares at him, horrified.

“Force. He’s right,” Fives says grimly. “They’ll move up the invasion, and if they do that, who knows what else is going to change?”

“That doesn’t mean we don’t still have time,” Echo reasons quickly. “Moving their timetable up no doubt caught the droid forces off guard. We’ve got a little bit of time, but not enough to sit around here and plan for a few hours.”

“So what do we do?” Cutup asks. Fives sighs.

“The way I see it, we’ve got two options. The first one is similar to…” he trails off, falling silent and tilting his head. A moment later, Cutup hears it, too—the sound of a ship’s engines, drawing closer and closer.

The unmistakable sound of a rocket-launcher firing is audible a moment later.

They scramble for their scavenged weapons and helmets. Echo almost tries to stand, the idiot, but Cutup punches him lightly in the chest before he can do so.

“Droidbait, Echo, you two stay,” Fives orders. Echo almost looks like he’s going to argue, so Cutup very, very lightly nudges his broken leg. Echo pales and tosses his head back in pain, eyes squeezing shut.

“You can’t help us,” Cutup reminds him gently. Echo glares at him but backs down. It must be akin to torture, Cutup thinks, for an ARC to be grounded like this.

“Cutup, Hevy, let’s move,” Fives says. Cutup and Hevy flank him as they exit the cave, and they look up just in time to see the Republic shuttle go down, flames billowing from its side. Fives swears in Huttese.

The shuttle careens past them, slamming into the wall of the canyon and dropping even further. Fives turns on his heels and sprints after it. Cutup and Hevy follow.

When the ship hits the ground, the whole canyon shakes.

The trajectory of the falling ship had taken it an unfortunate distance away from them, but that doesn’t deter Fives. The ARC sprints for the wreckage, and it’s only because of their training that Hevy and Cutup are able to keep up. Even so, they’re breathing hard by the time they arrive at the ship.

The remains of the ship are in flames. Two figures are visible, dark silhouettes against the blinding light of the fire. One seems to be half-dragging the other, struggling to escape the blast radius of the ship before the fire reaches its fuel source. Fives plunges forward and lends the survivors a hand, helping to drag the limp trooper away.

The ship explodes a moment later, just as everyone gets clear, and the shockwave tears Cutup’s breath away.

Cutup races to rejoin Fives, who is crouched next to the motionless newcomer. The ARC tears the limp trooper’s helmet off, feeling frantically for a pulse, and Cutup’s breath hitches at the sight of the blond hair.

Fives must feel a pulse, because he relaxes.

“He’s just unconscious,” he says, relief clear in his voice. “The impact must have knocked him out.”

“He was sitting in the front,” the other newcomer says, making Cutup jump. “He got the worst of it.” This clone’s armor is painted in orange. Cutup recognizes him instantly—because what clone wouldn’t? He snaps to attention instinctively. Hevy does the same on his other side.

“At ease, men,” Commander Cody says, waving a hand without looking at them. His gaze is focused on where Fives is checking Captain Rex over, searching for head wounds. “Are you three men of the Rishi station?”

“We were, sir, but we were attacked by commando droids,” Fives reports briskly. “We tried to hold them back, but we were on the landing platform when it was cut away from the base. Two of our squadmates were seriously injured. Our commanding officer was killed long before that.”

Cody sighs and takes his helmet off. Cutup has seen holos of his face before, but in full color the scar is even more intriguing. Cutup wonders how he got it.

“We suspected something was wrong, but we didn’t react fast enough to avoid the rocket. Where are the rest of your men?”

“We’re holed up in a shallow cave about a half mile south of here, sir,” Cutup tells him quickly. “We don’t have very much by way of supplies, but we’ve scavenged some weaponry, and we were coming up with a plan to take back the base when we heard your ship.”

Cody nods. “Good man,” he says, and Cutup has to fight to keep his chest from puffing out, because he was just complimented by the Marshal Commander. He’s admittedly a little starstruck.

“Sir, I believe Captain Rex can be safely moved,” Fives informs them. “If it’s alright, we’ll carry him back to the cave.”

Rex is heavy. Cutup isn’t sure if it’s his armor, or if their older brother got lucky and has more muscle mass than the rest of them. Fives and Cutup work together to carry him, and Hevy gets to walk up ahead with Cody, the lucky son of a hutt. Cutup isn’t jealous. He isn’t.

Halfway back to the cave, they pass the wreckage of the platform. Cutup isn’t really paying that much attention, at least, not until he trips over an object half-hidden in the dust and nearly drops his half of Rex. Fives curses at him as Cutup stumbles, struggling to keep his balance. He glances back up to see what he’d tripped over… and nearly drops Rex again when he recognizes the sleek shape of a GAR-issue sniper rifle—the very same one he’d used earlier.

“Oh,” Fives says when Cutup lifts it up to show him. “Now, that could be useful.”

Hevy, Echo, and Fives are very amused at how awed Cutup and Droidbait are towards the officers. They keep casting knowing looks at Cutup, who wants to punch them all (especially Hevy, who’d only known the officers for two kriffing hours before he’d died, so why the kriff is he acting so smug?), but Droidbait is all wide-eyed amazement, and makes no effort to hide it. At least Cutup is being subtle. Cody seems amused by it, too, very much aware of Droidbait’s impressed gaze. Unfortunately, the teasing looks don’t survive for very long, because as soon as Rex is settled and Domino has introduced themselves, Cody sits down and gets down to business.

“If the droids are attacking this base, they can only be after Kamino,” Cody begins. “We can’t let the Separatists get to our brothers. You five know this base better than anyone. I want any piece of information that could be considered useful, no matter how small. What have you got?”

“Sir,” Echo says before anyone else can speak. “Droidbait and I were brainstorming before you arrived, and we believe we came up with some semblance of a plan that may work.”

Cutup grins. Force forbid Echo ever take a few minutes to truly rest. Naturally he would come up with a plan.

“Let’s hear it, Echo,” Cody replies. Cutup nearly grins again. Cody remembering their names is just making Cutup admire him more.

Fives elbows him and leans closer to whisper in his ear.

“Careful now, Cutup. We’re 501st, not 212th. Don’t get too attached. You haven’t even met Rex yet.”

Cutup scowls and swats him away. If Rex is anything like Cody, Cutup thinks he’ll happily settle for either one.

“There’s a maintenance tunnel that leads from underneath the base straight to the command room,” Echo is saying. “We split into groups, and have one group act as a diversion outside below the base to lure the majority of the commando droids out. The second group can climb up the maintenance tunnel and clear out any droids remaining inside, then come around to trap the droids attacking group one in a pincer movement. From there we’ll be able to kill the all-clear signal and get a message out to the Republic fleet.”

Cutup grimaces. Said maintenance tunnel is the very place he’d died the first time around.

Cody looks surprised.

“It’s a good plan,” he admits. “Especially for a group of rookies.”

If only you knew.

“And, since Cutup brought back a sniper rifle, I can position myself on a nearby ridge and assist group one from afar,” Echo adds, almost as an afterthought. Fives jerks.

“Oh, no you don’t,” he growls. “You’re staying right here, Echo. You’re injured. You can’t fight.”

“That’s the single most incorrect thing you’ve said since we got here, Fives,” Echo replies without missing a beat. “I am not sitting this one out. There’s too much at stake.”

“It’s dangerous enough when you’re at full strength, and right now you’re crippled,” Fives says harshly. “You can’t even walk. I’m not letting you—”

Echo’s eyes narrow dangerously.

“You don’t get to order me around,” he snarls “Besides, I won’t even be within the line of fire. I’ll be hundreds of yards away, on a ridge, far above the enemy.”

“Echo, listen to me—! ”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Cody interrupts. “Fives, in an ordinary situation I would be inclined to agree with you. But we’re alone, against some of the toughest clankers in the army. We’ll need all the help we can get. If Echo says he can back us up, I believe he can.”

Five’s expression is resigned. Echo sits up straighter.

“I know I can help, sir. This isn’t going to easy, and I’ll die before I abandon my brothers to face something like this alone.”

“Well said, trooper. That’s the kind of attitude I look for in a man,” a hoarse voice contributes. Every head snaps around to watch as Captain Rex gets to his feet.

“Sir!” Fives snaps, and straightens to attention. Echo’s eyes go wide, and he stares at the Captain as if Rex has just told him that the war is over. Cutup exchanges a smirk with Droidbait. Now who’s fawning over the officers?

Cody grins. “Welcome back, Rex. It’s about time you joined the party.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t start without me,” Rex says, rubbing at his temples and wincing. “It feels like I got run over by a kriffing bantha.”

“All due respect, sir, you probably shouldn’t be upright yet,” Hevy tells him. Rex shrugs.

“It’s not the worst injury I’ve ever had, rookie. Not even close. Don’t worry about me, though. From what I could gather as I was coming around, we’ve got a bunch of clankers to scrap.”

“As usual,” Cody mutters. Rex’s smile is fierce.

“Well then, fill me in, men. What’s our plan of attack? I hope it’s a greeting worthy of the 501st.”

Echo’s answering smile is near-manic.

“I think you’ll approve, sir,” he says.

Cutup shakes his head. Now he knows where Echo and Fives got their insane streaks from. The entire 501st must be psychotic.

He’s starting to think they’ve actually got a chance.

The droids won’t know what hit them.

Chapter Text

Hevy loves being ARC.

Well, okay, so he’s not really ARC. But it sure feels like he is, because even though Fives and Echo’s training had been actual torture it was kriffing effective. Hevy moves just as silently as Rex and Fives do, shifting his weight in a way that even his heavy combat boots don’t make a sound. It makes Hevy feel confident—like he can do anything, beat anyone, take on the galaxy.

Of course, at this point they actually are against the galaxy (or most of it, at least), so maybe not that last one, but it does give him a much-needed boost of adrenaline.

(He doesn’t like to admit when he’s scared. None of the clones do, because fear is seen as a weakness in men bred to die. But everything is moving so, so fast. Too fast. It feels like yesterday that Hevy woke up back in Kamino, and very soon, he’ll have lived past the point he had died last time. He has no idea what to expect, and hasn’t had very much time to adjust. He feels like he’s justified in being just a little scared.)

Captain Rex is leading them up the narrow canyon path, towards the maintenance tunnel. Hevy has a very vivid memory of the man literally tearing a commando droid’s head off. It’s something he very much wants to see again.

He wonders if Rex has noticed anything different about them. ARCs don’t move like ordinary men do, and they think differently as well. Both the Captain and the Commander seem to be taking everything in stride—understandable, as the fate of Kamino is at stake, and they can’t afford to think about anything but the mission right now.

Still. Hevy doubts they haven’t noticed that Domino is slightly overqualified for a simple outpost mission. The real question is whether or not they’ll get flak for it later, after they’re off of this cursed moon.

He shakes his head in an attempt to clear it of stray thoughts, casting a quick glance behind him as he follows Rex. Fives is behind them, watching their backs. He nods curtly to Hevy when he notices the other’s gaze, and flashes a quick hand symbol at him with the fist not holding onto his weapon— pay attention. Hevy returns the nod and tightens his grip on the scavenged E-5 in his hands.

The maintenance tunnel is just up ahead. Hevy swallows when he sees it and is suddenly grateful that Cutup isn’t with them. He glances up toward the eel’s tunnel, but fortunately it doesn’t appear. Once they assemble in front of the grate, Rex taps his wrist comlink.

“Cody. We’re in position,” he breathes out.

“Copy that,” is the reply. “Green light us once you’re inside.”

“Will do,” Rex whispers. He turns to Fives and Hevy. Jaig eyes stare into Hevy’s soul, and he gazes at them in longing. What, exactly, had Rex done to earn them? Hevy really wants to know.

Get the cover of the tunnel off, Rex orders with a quick flash of hand signals. Hevy is already moving to obey when he realizes that the Captain had used ARC symbols—which none of them are supposed to know. He pauses, nervous anticipation tightening in his gut, but Rex doesn’t react other than to wave them on.

Fives lets out a little sigh that’s barely audible through his helmet and shrugs once before pulling at the grate covering the tunnel. It comes loose, and is deposited on the ground. It doesn’t matter if Rex knows they’ve been taught ARC signs—not right now. And it’s not worth the time to worry about. They’ve got much more pressing concerns.

Rex nods at them and waves a hand again. It’s time to begin the operation. Fives goes in first, going down on his hands and knees to squeeze into the tight space. Hevy follows him, and Rex takes the rear this time as they crawl into the dark.

Hevy doesn’t mind tight spaces, but this brings back a lot of bad memories. The last time he had crawled through this tunnel, they had just lost O’Niner, Nub, and Droidbait—and the moment they had emerged, they had lost Cutup as well.

The crawl takes an eternity and a mere minute at the same time. Every inch he advances is another inch towards the place that had become his grave. The confidence he had gathered earlier trickles out of his body faster than he can bolster it.

Keeping his armor from scraping across the metal sides of the tunnel is difficult. Even ARC training isn’t quite enough to keep them completely silent, so the faint click-click of plastoid alloy tapping durasteel follows them through the passageway. It makes Hevy nervous.

The tunnel winds through several turns and slopes upward, taking them back up into the base. Finally, light becomes visible ahead, and in front of Hevy, Fives comes to a stop.

We’re here, his hand flashes back to them, just visible in the dim light. Hevy takes a deep breath.

It’s time.

He turns his head to watch as Rex taps a button on his wrist comm, and the little light turns green. Outside the tunnel, Cody’s synced comm will have done the same. The signal has been sent.

They don’t even have to wait long. Even from inside the base they can hear faint blaster fire.

“Sir. The sentries have been destroyed,” a mechanical voice reports. “The surviving clones have opened fire from below, in the canyon.”

Echo had really been the one to take out the sentries that stood on the ledge where the platform had once been. The droids aren’t aware of him yet, which is good, but they do know about Cutup, Droidbait, and Cody down in the canyon below.

“Send out two squads to take care of them,” a second mechanical voice replies. “Squad one, to the ledge. Fire on them from above. Squad two, into the canyon. We will wipe the survivors out.”

Fat chance, Hevy thinks viciously.

“Roger roger.”

Metal feet click on metal as the droids scatter. Fives crawls closer under the cover of their clanking, and peers through the grate as the commandos pass, oblivious to their presence. Hevy squeezes closer to his brother so he can look, too. The command center has mostly cleared out—there are only four commando droids still sitting at the desks.

O’Niner’s body is abandoned on the floor. Hevy swallows away the lump in his throat at the sight. O’Niner had been a good man, loyal to the Republic and fully dedicated to keeping his men safe.

They had wanted to save him. Kriff, they had wanted to save him so bad. He and Nub hadn’t deserved their fates, either time around.  

A surge of rage rolls through his body. He’s angry. His trigger finger twitches restlessly.

Rex taps his shoulder three times. Another signal, one that they had previously decided on. Hevy taps Fives’ shoulder three times, passing the signal along. Fives nods once, and lifts a hand.

Three.

Hevy tightens his grip on his gun.

Two.

He exhales, braces himself. Tries not to think about how close it is to the time he’d died last time. The others have been lucky so far, no one’s died when they had before… but their luck has to run out eventually, and Hevy’s the last one.

One.

Fives twists and kicks the grate out, executing a neat roll and coming up on one knee with his blaster at the ready. Hevy is right behind him. The droids don’t react in time to return fire. Hevy and Fives’ first shots take out two droids, and as the other two rise, reaching for weapons, Rex emerges from the tunnel as well. His twin pistols fire one after the other, with the deadly accuracy the Captain is known for. The droids collapse.

Hevy lets out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“Well, that was significantly easier than I had expected,” Fives mutters, and then winces when Captain Rex shoots him a look.

“Don’t jinx it, shiny. We’ve got the easy part. It’s the others down in the canyon that are going to have a rough time.”

“Sorry, sir,” Fives says. Since Hevy is standing close to him, he hears Fives mutter, “I kriffin’ knew you were going to say that,” under his breath, and grins.

“Alright, let’s move,” Rex barks out. “To the armory, men. We’re not finished yet.”

“Wait,” Hevy says. They turn to him. Hevy motions towards O’Niner’s body. “We can’t leave him like this, Captain. He deserves better than that.”

Rex glances down at the body and nods slowly. “Your CO?” he asks quietly. Hevy nods. Rex sighs. “Go ahead, then. But keep it quick. The others are counting on us.”
“Sir,” Hevy acknowledges. Fives falls into step behind him as they kneel by O’Niner’s side. Neither of them speak for a long moment.

“Sorry, sir,” Hevy finally says, low enough so that Rex can’t hear. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. We were going to save you. We…” he trails off. Fives bows his head.

“Thank you, sir,” the ARC contributes quietly, “for never questioning us, for letting us grow as we needed to. Sorry we couldn’t do more.”

There’s no time to do anything else except for move his body partially under a desk, out of the way. It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing, especially in the short amount of time they have.

Afterwards they flank Rex as they run for the armory, allowing the Captain to take point. When the round a corner two commando droids are marching towards them, and it’s only pure instinct that keeps Hevy from taking a blaster bolt to the head. He throws himself to the side as the droids fire. The bolts miss him by mere inches. Fives takes one down, and Rex literally rams his shoulder into the second to knock it off balance. The Captain has too much momentum to slow himself down, so he uses it to his advantage instead, and Hevy is given the incredible opportunity to watch Rex tear a commando droid’s head off for the second time in his life.

It’s just as awesome now as it was before.

Continuing onward, they don’t encounter any more droids, but the armory is close to the main entrance, so they can hear other droids firing on their brothers below. It’s good incentive to hurry up. Hevy relaxes quite a bit as he wraps his hands around a Z-6, hefting the comfortable weight and discarding the cursed E-5.  Fives switches out his smaller DC-15S for the larger version, a DC-15A.

“Status, Cody?” Rex asks into his comm. There’s a moment where the only reply is static, and Hevy starts to worry, but an instant later Cody responds.

“It’s playing out just how Echo predicted,” the Commander says. “They started firing on us from above, and a few minutes later more of them came down into the canyon. We’re pinned down, but no one is hurt.” A yet goes unsaid but is implied. Hevy grimaces.

“We’re on our way to assist,” Rex says. Where do you want us first, the ledge or the canyon?”

“Ledge,” Cody replies instantly. “We—Droidbait, on your left—good shot! We could handle the ones on the ground much easier if we weren’t having to duck our heads down every other shot. And Echo can’t support us as much until the ledge is taken care of. If they manage to see him, they’ll have a good angle to flush him out, and he can’t move well enough to avoid them.”

“On our way,” Rex says. Hevy and Fives are already moving, anticipating Rex’s next order.

They sprint down the ramp that had once led to the landing platform. The blast doors are wide open, revealing narrow ledge of metal that extends from the base—the only remnant of the platform that had survived. There are seven commando droids perched on it, firing down into the canyon where Cody and the others must be pinned.

Hevy lets his Z-6 act as their greeting. The Commandos aren’t expecting an attack to come from behind. Three fall to Hevy’s machine gun before they are able to turn around, and Hevy lurches into cover behind the corner to avoid their retaliation.

“Well, that’s one way to get their attention!” Fives shouts from across the hall.

“It always works!” Hevy shouts back, grinning despite the blaster bolts whizzing past them. Rex snorts, but then shakes his head.

“Less chatter, more shooting, men!” he orders.

“Sir, yes, sir!” Hevy replies, and whips around the corner to get off a few shots.

The commando droids are confused. They’re smarter and more efficient than ordinary battle droids, but that doesn’t change the fact that they’re droids. Their artificial minds don’t handle an ambush well, especially with their commanders out of commission. Between Hevy, Fives, and Rex, they take the droids down with little difficulty. The last droid isn’t even picked off by them—Echo finally has the ability to shoot without worrying if he’s going to be seen. The final droid goes down from a sniper round to the head.

“Cody, the ledge is clear,” Rex reports. Fives and Hevy pick their way through the droid parts to peer down into the canyon.

Cody, Droidbait, and Cutup have taken refuge among the wreckage of the fallen platform, far below. The twisted metal serves as excellent cover both from above and from the side, where a squad of commando droids are firing at them. It’s a good defensive position, but it’s far from perfect. Even as Hevy watches, a blaster bolt impacts with the metal far too close to Cutup’s head for comfort. Fives lets out a wordless snarl at the sight.

“We should go help them—” he begins, but Rex puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Easy, soldier. They can take care of themselves. We’ve got our own job to do,” the Captain reminds them. Fives huffs out a sigh that’s a mixture of frustration and nerves.

The sound of a high-powered sniper rifle cuts through the night. Hevy’s head snaps up just in time to watch as Echo opens fire on the commando droids below him. Echo has found the perfect sniping position on the ridge across from them, and is laying on his stomach to provide cover fire.

“They’ll be fine,” Rex emphasizes gently. “Let’s go. We need to shut off the all-clear signal.”

Fives reluctantly draws back, and they head back into the base.

When they return to the command center Rex sits down at a console and tries to deactivate the all-clear signal. Hevy exchanges a grim look with Fives. They both know what Rex is going to find, so it’s not a surprise when Rex lets out an angry curse.

“They’ve hard-wired the all clear signal and sabotaged the transmitter. We won’t be able to get any transmissions out, much less alert the Republic!”

Rex’s comlink suddenly beeps. “We’re mopping up the last of the droids, but we’ve got a bigger problem on our hands,” Cody reports grimly. “There’s a Separatist Fleet coming out of hyperspace above us, and they’re sending landing craft down.”

“Kriffing—” Rex swears. “Get up here once you’re done. The signal has been hijacked, we can’t warn the fleet.”

“Copy that,” Cody says gruffly. Hevy frowns. Something… doesn’t feel right. Things are playing out mostly as they had before, with a few minor differences on the clone’s part, but not much variation by the droids. Their next step is to hold the droids off while they set up the explosives to blow the base, but Hevy can’t shake the feeling that something’s off. He takes his helmet off and glances at Fives.

“You alright, brother?” the ARC asks him in a low voice. Hevy shrugs.

“Dunno,” he replies. “Got a bad feeling about this.”

Fives takes his own helmet off and frowns.

“More so than usual?” he questions, and Hevy knows that’s his nice way of saying, “Is there really something wrong or are you just nervous because you died here last time?”

“I’m not sure,” Hevy replies quietly. “It’s just… everything’s happening pretty similar to last time. That’s… kind of strange, isn’t it? We’ve changed things, so shouldn’t the droids change, too? Didn’t Echo have a theory about this? Butterfly effect, or something like that? Things are supposed to be different.”

Fives frowns.

“I… you’re right,” he says. “That is strange. But we haven’t changed things that much, have we? Apart from all of us surviving.”

“The carrier’s getting closer,” Rex reports, startling them out of their hushed conversation. “It’ll be here soon. Cody, are you guys finished yet?”
“Just barely,” Cody reports. He sounds slightly winded. “We’re on the move.”

Hevy wracks his brain. There has to be some reason why he’s feeling uneasy. He runs the rest of the plan through his head. The droids land, they attack, but the clones set up explosives and get out before they…

Wait a moment.

Hevy jerks around and grabs Fives’ shoulder.

“Fives, the landing platform doesn’t exist anymore,” he says urgently. “It’s gone, remember? The droids won’t be able to land.”

Fives blinks.

“You’re right,” he says. “Well, that’s good then, isn’t it? Less work for us.”

“Maybe,” Hevy says. “Or, maybe they’ll look for somewhere else to land. They want this base badly, remember? And there’s only one other spot stable enough for them to deploy troops.”

Fives’ eyes go wide.

“The ridge,” he breathes out. He grabs for his communicator.

“Echo, come in,” he orders sharply. There’s a hint of fear in his voice that Hevy has never heard before. “Echo, can you hear me? You have to get out of there, now.”

“Fives? What are you talking about?” Echo responds. “I’m fine. They’re not even going to know I’m here.”

“Not if they land right on top of you!” Fives snaps. “You have to move!”

Echo lets out a gasp of realization. Through the comm they hear shifting gravel, as if Echo is trying to stand, before their brother hisses in pain.

“I can’t move fast enough to be gone before they see me,” he says, and even though he’s in the worst position possible his voice is still calm. “I might just have to hunker down and hope they don’t land a cruiser on me.”

“Forget that. I’m coming to you,” Fives snarls. “I knew this was a bad idea, I told you—”

“Don’t even think about it, Fives,” Echo responds sharply. “I’m going to be fine. You’re needed. Domino needs you in command. I’m not worth — oh, kriff. ”

His voice drops out and is lost in static. There’s a clatter of boots as Droidbait, Cody, and Cutup storm into the command center.

“Guys, the Separatist ship just landed on Echo’s ridge!” Droidbait gasps out. “What are we going to do, we can’t—!”

“I’m going out there,” Fives growls. “We’re not losing him. We’re not.”

“You won’t lose him,” Cody says suddenly. “Echo is more than capable of taking care of himself. Have a little faith, boys. He’s injured, but he’s far from helpless.”

“He’s against an entire battalion,” Cutup whispers worriedly. “Not even an ARC can do that alone…”

“Every moment we spend standing here talking about it is another moment Echo is on his own,” Rex finally cuts in.

“I’m going,” Fives insists angrily, and shoulders his gun—but Rex holds up a hand to stop him.

“Fives. If you go to him now, Domino squad will lose two members.”

Fives freezes, and Hevy winces. It’s a low blow, but a necessary one. Rex’s gaze is a complicated mixture of sympathy and steel.

“We’re wasting time,” Cody says. “Listen, we need to—”

“Blow the base,” Hevy interrupts. “We need to blow the base, and the faster we do it faster we can help Echo. I haven’t heard blaster fire yet. He’s laying low, waiting for us. The mission comes first.”

“Blast it,” Fives hisses. “Blast it, fine.” He whirls and fixes Droidbait and Cutup with a terrifying look. “The liquid tabanna. Now, boys. We don’t have much time.”

Droidbait and Cutup turn on their heels and disappear into the base. Rex and Cody appear slightly startled by Fives’ sudden orders, but neither of them protest.

“Hevy. Go pick out some heavy artillery from the armory. We’re gonna need it if we’re going to save Echo.”

Hevy spares a glance at the officers. Rex gives him a very tiny, tense, nod, so Hevy obeys.

He’s worried. The officers aren’t blind, or stupid. They know something’s up, and the only reason they haven’t confronted Domino about it yet is because there are much bigger problems at hand. Eventually that won’t be the case, and Hevy isn’t looking forward to that conversation once they’re safe.

Despite his brother’s panic, Hevy isn’t too worried for Echo. If any of them are capable of hiding from a droid battalion with a broken leg, it’s him. Echo is smart, and resourceful. He’ll keep his head down, and he’ll have a backup plan if he’s found out.

Fives’ war-long bond with Echo is a strength, but it’s also a weakness. Their dependence and devotion toward each other is a distraction, and sure way to get killed if they aren’t careful.

That being said, Hevy does understand. All of Domino does. That’s why he obeys.

He leaves the armory with a two rocket launchers in his hands and several extra rockets tucked under his arms. Fives nods in approval when Hevy returns, barely glancing up from the complicated set of wires he has in front of him.

Droidbait and Cutup bring in the liquid tabanna. They move it over to Fives, who wires the containers into his contraption with such ease that Hevy knows Fives has done it before—either had learned it sometime out of necessity during the war, or had learned after the failure that resulted in Hevy’s own death.

Whatever he does, it’s fast, and it works. The datapad detonator syncs up with the explosives flawlessly.

“It’s time to clear out,” Fives says. “The explosives are live. As soon as I touch the button they’ll go off.”

“Alright, everybody out,” Rex orders. “Down the maintenance tunnel, men. Move.”

Just like that, the officers are back in charge. They go out the tunnel, dragging heavy weaponry behind them.

When they emerge on the other side, Hevy can hear the clatter of dozens of clankers starting their slow march toward the base. Five’s hand is shaking on the detonator, and he reaches for the button—

“Not yet,” Cody says. “Wait for the droids to get inside. Then we’ll blow it.”

Fives lets out a deep breath. Cutup puts a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to steady him, and to some extent, it works.

Then, Fives’ comm goes off, and a voice fills the air.

It’s not Echo’s voice.

“—we do with him?” a droid is saying. “He claims to be the only one left alive. But we know that isn’t true. Should we contact the general?”
Hevy stiffens, and ice shoots through his veins.

Echo’s been found out. He’d no doubt activated his comm to alert them to that fact.

“I don’t know,” a second droid replies. “Do we even take prisoners?”

Hevy’s breath hitches. It’s not quite the last thing he’d heard in his past life, but it’s close enough to make his heart skip a beat.

“Who knows,” the first droid answers. “Maybe he knows where the others are hiding. Tell us something useful, clone!” There’s a meaty thud—like one of the droids has struck Echo across the face.

“You clankers won’t get a thing out of me,” Echo says coldly, and his voice breaks their group out of their shocked stupor.

“We need to get him out of there, now,” Droidbait says numbly. “They’ll kill him.”

“Agreed,” Rex says. “We split up. I’ll stay here with the detonator. You five go get Echo.”

They don’t argue with him. Fives hands the detonator off to Rex.

“Listen, if you can help it try to wait to rescue him until some of the droids go into the base,” Rex tells them. “Once you start firing, they’ll turn around if they’re not already inside, and then we’ll be in for a real firefight.”

Fives nods tightly. Hevy wonders if he’ll listen or not.

They start to climb the ridge. Near the top they have to keep their heads down as a massive squadron of droids pass overhead, moving for the base. Hevy tightens his grip on his rocket launcher as they wait and listens as the droids continue to argue over what to do with Echo. They try to make him stand, and, upon his uncooperative response, force him to. Echo bites down on a cry of pain that makes all of Domino shake with fury.

The instant the droids pass they’re moving again, and to speed up their ascent they turn to their grappling hooks. They scale the last segment of the cliff to reach the top of the ridge in record time and peer over the edge at the landing craft.

There’s only a few droids milling about, left behind to guard the ship while the rest go check out the base. As such, it’s easy to locate Echo. He’s standing stiffly at the edge of the ridge, all of his weight on his uninjured leg, with a gun at his head and a gun at his chest. His helmet is discarded on the ground at his feet.

They’re still not quite close enough to hear the conversation with their own ears, but the words are still coming quietly through Fives’ comm.

“Walk, Republic dog.”

“I can’t,” Echo answers through gritted teeth. The droid holding the gun to his head presses it into his temple.

“Walk,” the droid repeats.

“I’m injured,” Echo hisses back. “I can’t move, you rustbucket. My leg’s broken.”

“The clone is broken?” the second droid repeats. “It’s not worth keeping, then. Too much trouble.”

Hevy tenses. Next to him, Cody raises his own comm.

“Status, Rex?” he whispers.

“Not yet,” Rex replies in frustration. “Not yet, just a little longer …”

“You’re probably right. We’ll find the rest of the clones soon, anyway, we don’t need this one.”

“Rex,” Cody says again, more urgently. “We’re running out of time!”

“I know!” Rex responds sharply. “Almost… almost…!”

“Good point, Sergeant. Get rid of it, then.”

“Kriffing—!” Fives snarls, and makes as if to heave himself up onto the ridge. Cody stops him.

“Wait,” he says, but his voice is tense.

“If we wait any longer, they’re going to shoot him!”

The droids take a step back and angle their weapons at Echo’s face. Echo’s eyes go wide, and his breathing picks up, audible through his comm.

“We have to do something!” Droidbait protests. “Commander, please —he’s going to die! We can’t lose him so soon!”

“You’re clear!” Rex suddenly shouts. “You’re clear, go, I’m blowing the station!”

Domino doesn’t need to be told twice.

The base explodes behind them, and they charge in, blasters firing even as their hearing goes out from the explosion. It feels like the whole moon shakes. The droids are startled by the explosion. They turn just in time to watch the blaster bolts streak towards them—more than are necessary, by a lot, but Domino doesn’t care.

The other droids start to raise the alarm. Fives raises a hand and flashes out a handful of signals. The team splits on his orders smoothly, just as they’d practiced. Cutup streaks off towards Echo, while Droidbait and Fives hang back with Cody to pick off the droid stragglers. Hevy shoulders his rocket launcher and aims it inside the open door of the the landing craft.

“This is for O’Niner and Nub,” he says, and fires. The rocket streaks into the ship and explodes. It isn’t enough to destroy the landing craft, but it is enough to destroy any remaining droids inside. Hevy lights it up once more just to be safe, baring his teeth in satisfaction as flames begin to devour the ship.

He watches as Cody, Droidbait, and Fives take care of the rest of the droids. They’re standard battle droids, with poor processing skills and even poorer aim. They go down fast, especially since most of them are still reeling from the double explosions—gyros thrown out of order from first the base, and then their ship, detonating spectacularly.

When the final droid falls, Hevy doesn’t waste any time standing around. He heads straight for Echo, picking his way through the sparking droid parts. Cutup has forced their injured brother to lie back down, and Echo appears too exhausted to protest. Hevy drops to his knees next to his brothers and tugs off his helmet, dropping it down into the dirt.

Other than the bruise across Echo’s face and the way his leg must be throbbing, he’s unharmed. Cutup is checking him over anyway, muttering angrily under his breath and cursing the Separatists with curse words in various languages (mostly picked up from Fives). Droidbait and Fives join them a moment later, clustering around their wounded brother and peering at him with wide eyes.

Hevy’s shaking again, and he’s not the only one.

That had been too close.

Echo grins at them weakly.

“Nice of you all to finally show up,” he says. His voice echoes around them. Hevy’s confused by it until he realizes that both Echo and Fives’ comms are still on. Fives flicks his off and smacks Echo’s shoulder. It’s a weak hit, not meant to hurt, but Echo groans theatrically anyway. Hevy can feel much of the tension in his shoulders uncoil at the banter.

“You kriffing moron,” Fives says, voice thick with relief. “I told you it was a bad idea. But you didn’t listen.”

“Sorry,” Echo apologizes weakly. “But it was necessary, you know. The ground team wouldn’t have been able to get indoors in time, and—”

“Force, Echo, we know, ” Cutup interrupts. “You don’t have to apologize. We’re just glad you’re alright.”

Commander Cody joins them, speaking quietly into his comm as he approaches.

“Men, I have good news,” he says. “Captain Rex is unscathed by the explosion, and is making his way to our position as we speak. The battalion was wiped out, along with the base, and the Republic fleet is entering the system.” He offers them a proud smile. “The mission is a success.”

Suddenly, Hevy’s throat clogs up. He turns his head and stares at the flaming remains of the Rishi base, and tries not to remember the sensation of flames eating through his armor and tearing him apart.

“I always did hate that place,” he manages to choke out. It’s almost like a dream. He watches the base burn in the distance and clenches his fists. Last time, that had been him. But not this time. This time, they’re all alive, and Hevy is half expecting the image in front of him to fall apart at any moment, disappear, fade to black and take his brothers away again.

But it doesn’t. It’s real. He leans back and closes his eyes.

He’s alive.

Droidbait laughs. It’s a light sound, lighter than Hevy’s heard in a long time.

“We did it!” their brother cries, and tosses his helmet to the ground. “We did it, we’re alive!”

A rebuke is on the tip of Hevy’s tongue, because Cody is right there —but the Commander has already seen most of Domino’s secrets, even if he doesn’t understand them. Hevy decides that there’s not much more they can do to condemn themselves, so he joins in, and Force it feels good to laugh.

“Good work, Domino,” Fives says. He sounds exhausted, and Hevy doesn’t blame him.

They’ve succeeded. It’s been their singular goal for so long now that Hevy almost can’t believe it just happened. He raises his head towards the sky and takes a moment to just breathe.

He’s alive. They all are, and if Hevy has anything to say about it they’re all going to stay alive.

Dimly he’s aware of Captain Rex joining them, and quietly reporting on the movements of the Republic fleet as they chase the Separatists out of orbit. Hevy’s never heard this part of the story before—Echo and Fives like to skip over the aftermath of Rishi, and Hevy doesn’t blame them. He sits at Echo’s side with his brothers around him and a stupid half-grin on his face, stunned by his own relief.

The Republic sends gunships to search for survivors a few minutes later. As the ships descend, and Rex and Cody stand to wave and shout.

The joy and thrill of success and life is almost enough to make Hevy forget about all of the other problems that have just become relevant in the wake of their survival.

Almost.

But not quite.

This is just the beginning, after all.

Chapter Text

When they disembark from the gunship, the 501st welcomes them with cheers.

It’s so achingly familiar. So much so that it doesn’t seem real—like a dream, or rather something out of Fives’ wildest fantasies. He never thought he’d be back here, never imagined that he could experience this with all four of his batch-mates behind him.

It feels like he’s home, and with every step he takes into the depths of the Resolute Fives relaxes further, tension he hadn’t even realized existed crumbling.

The gunships had deposited them in the middle of the Resolute ’s main hangar. Fives doesn’t recognize many of the clones clapping and shouting around him, though that doesn’t change the sensation of safety and belonging. Many of these brothers are dead, in the original time, and had been for ages. Even when he does see an armor pattern he recognizes, or hears a distinct lilt to a voice, he can’t always place the name. Fives has seen a lot of brothers come and go. Despite his best efforts to remember them all the names slide from his mind, like grains of sand slipping from his fingers.

They get swarmed by enthusiastic brothers once they’ve gotten a decent ways away from the gunship. It’s impossible not to be swept up in the excitement. Hands reach out, slapping armor and ruffling hair. Even Echo, perched on a stretcher being held between Hevy and Cutup, sits up to grin and accept the compliments.

It had been like this last time, too, except Fives and Echo had been in too much shock to care that they had just saved their home planet. This time, they’re all alive, and Fives gets to watch as Droidbait turns bright red under the attention, as Cutup joyfully bounces beneath the praise, as Hevy basks in the shouting and does plenty of it in turn.

The officers don’t bother to push their ways through the throngs of men. Celebration is necessary, especially now, for the sake of morale. Rex is slapping backs with just as much enthusiasm as his troops. Cody, for his part, stands shoulder-to-shoulder with Rex, just at ease here as he would be among his own men—slightly more dignified than the members of the 501st, but there’s a pleased smile on his face.

The three shinies (well, Fives won’t be able to call them shinies for much longer, will he?) are staring around at the Venator-class Star Destroyer with wide eyes. Fives fights back a grin and remembers when that had been him and Echo. They’re shown images and holos of the Republic’s best ships on Kamino, but to actually be there in person is a completely different experience.

A trooper with a backpack comes their way, sidestepping the celebrating crowd. Fives does recognize this man—it’s Sergeant Coric, medic-in-training and one of the six Teth survivors. He zeroes in on Echo with single-minded determination, and upon reaching the stretcher’s side, plunges a syringe of painkillers into their injured brother’s neck. He and Echo exchange brief, quiet words that Fives can’t quite make out, but Echo doesn’t look pleased. Eventually, he nods in what appears to be reluctant consent, and Coric motions for another trooper’s assistance as they take the stretcher from Hevy and Cutup.

They’re obviously taking Echo to the medbay, and while that act itself doesn’t bother Fives, he does end up tensing a little. He’s spent the last few months hyperaware of every single one of his teammates—it’s hard to convince himself to unwind, to let the rest of the 501st take care of them for a change. He has to physically make an effort to relax.

Despite his attempt hide his unease, Droidbait shoots him a strange glance, and leans closer to him.

“Want me to go with them?” he whispers. Fives sighs. Trust Droidbait to realize what’s wrong so quickly.

“He’s in good hands. You don’t have to,” Fives tells him. Droidbait lifts an eyebrow.

“You’re still worried, though. You’ll feel better if someone else goes with him.”

“You aren’t wrong,” Fives replies softly. “It would put me at ease, but only if you want to. You’d miss out on the festivities.”

Droidbait glances over to the crowd, where Hevy and Cutup are gleefully reenacting the battle to the immense enjoyment of their audience.

“It’s more their scene than mine,” he says in response. “Besides, I don’t mind. None of us like to be alone.” He flashes Fives a quick grin and pats him on the shoulder before turning to join the procession of medics, but he only makes it a few steps before an orange gauntleted arm crosses in front of his chest. Commander Cody stares Droidbait down. His expression is carefully neutral, but there is a hardness to his eyes that makes Fives nervous.

“Stay here, men. We’ve got some things to discuss,” Cody tells them slowly. Fives winces, and Droidbait opens his mouth.

“But sir, Echo—”

“Will be fine with the medics, Droidbait. You can go see him as soon as we’re finished with our talk .”

Sithspit.

“Of course, sir,” Droidbait says anxiously. He sends Fives a panicked look, who can do nothing but shrug in horror and cluelessness. He has no idea how they’re going to get out of this one.

Maybe… maybe they should tell the officers the truth. It would be easier, after all—especially since Echo is the only proficient liar in the squad.

“Alright, boys, that’s enough! Bring it down!” Rex shouts over the celebrating brothers. Once the hanger has quieted significantly Rex points to Hevy and Cutup. “Come on, you two. Once you’re debriefed, you can get back to celebrating.” The gathered clones let out a hearty cheer at the end of his statement, and Cutup and Hevy snap out quick salutes before jogging over to join the rest of Domino.

Cutup takes a look at Fives’ face and blanches slightly, eyes going wide in question. Fives isn’t quite sure what expression he’d had, but it obviously hadn’t been good. Fives chooses to explain with two simple hand signals.

They know.

Hevy clenches his jaw and appears to be preparing to say something, but before he can do so Captain Rex and Commander Cody step close, motioning for Domino to follow as they turn.

“Come with us, men,” Rex says quietly. He sounds completely normal, to Fives’ surprise. He wonders what his Captain thinks of all this and tries not to picture Rex as he’d last saw him—with an expression of shock and horror on his face, as Fives had slipped from the land of the living in his arms.

The officers lead them down a hallway into a room with a conference table in it. Rex and Cody set their helmets down on the wood surface, motioning for Domino to do the same.

“Take a seat, gentleman,” Rex says neutrally as he himself sits into a chair. “It’s been a long day. I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

Fives swallows nervously and obeys. He sucks in a surprised breath at the way his body aches afterwards. He hadn’t realized how tired he was until the moment he’d gotten off of his feet, and suddenly his head swims in a disorienting combination of relief and exhaustion.

Dimly he’s aware of his brothers sitting as well. Cutup lets out a groan next to him, and Droidbait all but collapses into his chair with a gasp of relief. Hevy exhales shakily and puts his head down on the table.

All of a sudden, the only thing Fives wants to do is climb into the nearest bunk and sleep for a week.

The officers are watching them carefully. The corners of Rex’s mouth twitch upwards in a fond expression—one that Fives has seen him wear time and time again, and the sight is almost like a punch to the gut.

He never thought he’d see that look again.

“Easy, boys,” Cody tells them. “Easy. Take a moment. Relax. Breathe.”

Fives breathes, and frowns. Part of his ARC training had included obtaining mastery over his own body and emotions—including PTSD and exhaustion. He swallows and reaches deep inside himself, restraining his weaknesses with an iron grip.

They aren’t out of the fire quite yet. Rex and Cody have questions, and Fives can’t afford to relax until it’s all over. He has to stay strong for just a little longer.

As soon as he locks away his fatigue he raises his head, sitting up straighter. His squadmates have the physical side of ARC training, but not the mental side. Rex and Cody allow them a few minutes to wind down. Once everyone has appeared to settle, the officers exchange a quick glance.

“Gentleman,” Rex begins. “To start with, congratulations are in order. You five saved the Republic from what would have been a devastating attack. If that doesn’t deserve a medal, I don’t think anything does.”

Fives watches him warily, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Cody steeples his fingers together and lays them on the table in front of him. “Your entire squad performed at a level that is difficult to achieve even among the most skilled troopers,” he says. “It was very impressive, especially for a group of shinies. In fact, one might wonder if you even are shinies.”

“You’re hiding something,” Rex concludes. His voice is still on the side of gentle, but there’s an edge of firmness to it. “You know ARC signs, and had aim good enough to rival that of the 501st. Your plans were excellently developed and well executed. I’d like to think it’s just the results of very good training, but I think we all know that isn’t the case.”

Domino tenses further with every condemning word. Hevy catches Fives’ gaze, and Fives immediately sees the question in his brother’s gaze: “Do we tell them?”

Fives wishes Echo were here. Echo would know exactly what to say—whether that be the truth, or some twisted form of it.

His brothers are all staring at him now, with identical deer-in-the-headlights looks, trusting Fives to make the right call. Fives bites the inside of his cheek and makes a decision.

He trusts Rex with his life—and the lives of his brothers, as well. If anyone deserves to know, and can be trusted to keep their secret, it’s their Captain, and their Captain’s most reliable friend.

Fives takes a breath. “Sir,” he says. “You… aren’t wrong. We—”

His voice sticks in his throat. It startles him more than anything else, because suddenly he can’t get words out. He can still breathe just fine, but his vocal cords refuse to cooperate.

“We—” he tries again, and is stopped just as fast.  

“Not yet.”

The voice is barely audible, a mere whisper in the wind, but Fives knows instinctively he hadn’t imagined it. His brothers around him jerk in surprise. They’d heard it, too. When he looks at the officers, they are perfectly collected, watching Domino patiently.

They hadn’t heard.

Shaak Ti’s words suddenly come back to him. He remembers: “ Although you cannot sense it, it is there—and if you trust in it, the Force will guide you.”

Had that voice… been the Force?

The Force could talk?

Fives is so confused. So are his brothers, who keep glancing around the room as if expecting an ethereal figure to appear. But the officers will get even more suspicious if Fives stays silent for much longer, and, well… if that was the Force, it would probably be best to heed its words.

“Sirs. We can’t tell you yet,” Fives says, trying to convey more confidence than he actually feels. “Maybe we can eventually, but until then, we have… uh, we have been ordered to keep our silence.”

That last part is a lie—and Fives is a bad liar. Rex’s eyes narrow.

“Who issued you those orders?” Cody asks skeptically. Fives freezes, mind frantically searching for something convincing—

“General Shaak Ti, sirs,” Cutup says, coming to his rescue. And his answer is… technically true, from a certain point of view. “Under her authority, we can’t answer your questions yet. We’ll be able to tell you eventually, but we don’t know when.”

The officers exchange another glance—this one is longer, and it feels like the older men are having a silent conversation. Eventually, Cody shakes his head, and Rex sighs.

“I believe you’re telling the truth,” he says. “But I don’t like it.”

Fives doesn’t like it, either, because some part of him had really wanted Rex to know.

Why couldn’t they tell him?

“So, men, now the question is, what do we do with you?” Rex asks. “I was planning on folding you into one of my units, but if you’re under orders from Shaak Ti maybe it would be best if we got your squad transportation back to Kamino—”

“No,” Fives interrupts immediately, and then realizes that he’d just interrupted his commanding officer. He winces before continuing. “We’re authorized to be folded into whatever squad you’d like, Captain. Now that the Rishi base is gone, our standing orders are obsolete. Let us help where we’re needed.”

That’s all true, if a little bit deceiving. Their original orders were simply to defend the Rishi base, but if the officers want to assume there was some alternative motive to those orders originating from Shaak Ti, well, Fives isn’t going to correct them.

Rex nods slowly. “Alright,” he says. “I’ll have to confirm your transfer with General Ti, but after that, we’ll see about putting you into a squad.”

Shaak Ti will be surprised by the call, but Fives is fairly certain she’ll roll with it.

Commander Cody shakes his head. “Is there anything you can tell us?” he asks.

“Yes, sir, there is one thing,” Droidbait answers. Fives shoots him a surprised look. “Our mission’s end goal is to end this war and to save as many brothers as we can,” Droidbait continues. “We are loyal soldiers, and we’ll do anything we can to help the Republic. It’s the same goal as any other clone out there. Don’t think of us any differently than the others just because we know ARC signs.”

Rex smiles.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Droidbait,” he answers, and Fives breathes out another sigh of relief.

It’s not what he had wanted to happen, but it could have been much worse.

“It talked to you?” Echo repeats. “I didn’t know the Force could talk. It’s a force. Kind of in the name.”

“That’s what we thought, too,” Fives tells him. They’re clustered around his bed in the medbay. There are only two chairs in the room, one of which Droidbait had claimed with a slightly out-of-character snarl at Cutup, who had tried to beat him to it (and failed). He seems to be halfway asleep, not that any of them blame him. Hevy is seated smugly in the second chair, leaving Fives and Cutup to perch awkwardly on the edge of Echo’s bed, taking extreme care not to jostle their teammates’ leg.

“Huh,” Echo says. “Well, what did the Force say?”

Fives frowns.

“It said, not yet, ” he quotes. “Which doesn’t… it doesn’t make sense to me. Why can’t we tell the Captain? He’s probably the first person I did want to tell, and now I don’t know what to do.”

Echo hums thoughtfully. “There must be a reason.”

“Or maybe the Force is just screwing with us now,” Hevy mutters darkly. Echo shakes his head.

“I refuse to believe that,” he replies. “We’re here for a reason, Hevy. There must be a reason. Listen, here’s my theory—if we told Captain Rex we knew all about future battles, he’d probably start asking us for information. He’s the kind of man who cares for his men—he doesn’t want to see any of us killed, if he can help it.”

“Why’s that a bad thing?” Cutup asks.

“If he starts to rely on us for information, he’ll be less confident when making decisions on his own, because he’ll be afraid to change what happens so our information isn’t relevant. But things are already changing. Rex needs to be at the top of his game. If he doubts himself, or is constantly turning to another to help him decide what to do, his effectiveness in battle will be cut in half. It’s the same deal with the Commander. Well… at least, that’s my best guess.” He shrugs. “Who knows if it’s actually correct, though.”

“It’s the most solid theory any of us have been able to come up with,” Fives tells him. To his credit, Echo does try to hide his pleased grin, but he doesn’t do a very good job.

Footsteps approach the room, and Coric reenters the medbay. He has his helmet tucked under his arm, and grins when he sees Domino clustered around his patient.

As much as Fives misses Kix, he is extremely grateful their younger brother is still on Kamino right now. If Kix were here, Domino would have been in for a chewing-out instead of a smile, because visiting hours technically ended two hours ago.

“Somehow I knew you’d all be in here,” Coric says wryly. “But considering the circumstances, I’m willing to let it go this time.” He lifts an eyebrow at Echo, who has the decency to look guilty. “You’re supposed to be resting, Echo. I can’t let you get into the bacta tank until you’ve slept for at least eight hours.”

Echo shrugs sheepishly. “Sorry,” he replies. “I really don’t have a good excuse.”

Coric rolls his eyes.

“Don’t make me sedate you,” he threatens half-heartedly. His gaze sweeps across the room, taking in the way Cutup’s shoulders are slumped and how Droidbait is practically asleep in his chair. Hevy is staring off into space. Fives knows for a fact that there are dark bags underneath his own eyes—he can practically feel them.

“Okay, I’m prescribing at the very least eight hours of sleep for your entire squad,” Coric says in a tone that leaves no room for argument. He turns to Fives. “Take them down to the barracks and ask for Del. He’ll get you set up with bunks, and then I don’t want to see any of you here but Echo for the next twenty-four hours. Am I understood?”
Fives doesn’t bother arguing. Instead he nods and motions for his brothers to follow him. Cutup nudges Droidbait awake, and nearly has to do the same with Hevy. Eventually, they all make it to their feet, and Fives leads the way down towards the barracks.

Despite their exhaustion, the journey through the star destroyer is still exciting enough for the shinies to perk up. There’s a lot going on, and a lot to take in. By the time they make it to the barracks everyone is a little more coherent—but still stumbling on their feet.

Fives flags down the first trooper he sees and asks for Del. The trooper points him towards a corner, where four clones are lounging about on their bunks in their blacks. They get to their feet as Domino approaches, and one steps forward.

“Are you guys Domino squad?” he asks. Fives nods. The man holds out a hand. “I’m Del. Coric told me you’d be coming.” Fives shakes his hand and suddenly realizes that he remembers Del—like Coric, he had been a Teth survivor. He glances around at the other three and concludes that they’re all Teth survivors—the only Teth survivors, at that (excluding the Captain).

“You’ve been folded into our Company, according to Captain Rex,” Del tells him. “I’m squad leader here. This is my mechanic, Nax. Coric is our medic, and those two are Attie and Zeer.”

The new clones nod as their names are called. Attie gives them a little wave that reminds Fives dimly of Droidbait.

“I’m Fives,” he replies. “This is Cutup, Hevy, and Droidbait. Echo is in the medbay with Coric.”

“Good to have you,” Del tells him. “Welcome to Torrent Company. We’re platoon two, Beta squad.”

Fives blinks in surprise. The first time he had lived, he and Echo had been folded into a small squad outside of Torrent, and had been there for months before being moved again.

It’s just as Echo had said. Things are already changing. Fives isn’t sure if this change is for better or for worse, though.

“We have bunks set aside for your squad already, Fives,” Del tells him, and gestures towards a couple of the beds. Fives takes one look at a pillow and nearly sways, the iron lock on his emotions rusting and wavering.

Del shoots him a knowing look.

“We do have some things to discuss, Domino, but I think that would go over better after you four get some much needed rest. Does that sound alright?”
“More than just alright,” Cutup groans, and flops face-first into the nearest empty bunk. He says something else, too, but his face is pressed into the mattress, so no one has any idea what it is. Attie and Droidbait snort at the same time, then glance at each other, grinning. Fives can already see that friendship blooming.

Hevy sighs and climbs up to the bunk right above Cutup’s, shedding armor as he goes. His chestplate thunks loudly on the floor, making the assembled troopers wince. Hevy doesn’t seem to care, and no one has the heart to rebuke him for it.

Cutup is already asleep. He hadn’t even taken his armor off.

Fortunately for Domino, the sleep cycle is fast approaching, so they don’t have to worry about napping while everyone else is up. Droidbait’s fingers fumble clumsily at his armor, he’s so tired, but eventually he gets the plastoid alloy off and has just enough state of mind to lay it down properly before collapsing into another bunk.

Del’s hand comes down gently on Fives’ shoulder.

“Rest, brother,” he says. His gaze meets Fives’, and there is understanding in the other squad leader’s eyes. “They’re all safe now. You can relax.”

Fives relaxes. It feels like a ton of bricks has been lifted from his shoulders, and this time he really does sway on his feet. Only Del’s steady hand keeps him from falling.

“Kriff,” Fives whispers softly. “Kriffing… we’re alive. ”

He has to say it. He always has to say it now, just to remind himself that it’s real.

“You’re alive,” Del confirms. “They are, too. You did good, brother, and now you can take it easy.”

It’s so tempting. So tempting, but still, something is stopping him. He grasps Del’s forearm with his hand and holds the other clone’s gaze.

“You’ll… you’ll watch them for me?” he asks slowly. Del nods.

“Of course I will,” he replies. “You’re with us now, and we look out for our own.”

Only then does the rest of Fives’ resistance crumble.

Everything after that is a bit blurry. He barely remembers taking his own armor off and climbing into the bunk above Droidbait. Sleep comes easily, for once in his life, and it is dark, dreamless and peaceful.

They are finally safe.

Fives wakes up twelve hours later, groggy and absolutely starving. He hasn’t eaten since the morning of the attack, and as a result his head spins when he sits up. There are lines across the side of his face from the creases of the pillow.

“Back to the land of the living, Fives?” a brother says.

“Somewhat,” Fives replies slowly, blinking against the light of the barracks. He peers over the side of the bunk to see Cutup and Hevy sitting cross-legged on the floor across from Zeer and Nax. There are cards strewn on the ground between them—they’re in the middle of a sabacc game. Fives stares down at his squadmate’s cards and raises an eyebrow.

“You two are getting destroyed.”

“Yeah, we know,” Hevy grumbles.

“Isn’t it great?” Cutup says enthusiastically at the same time. Cutup is the best sabacc player in Domino, and had gotten so good at it that he could easily beat the rest of his squad. It had become boring for him, then, and now he seems delighted to finally have competition.

Fives swings his legs over the side of the bunk, unwilling to fully get up yet. The bunk beneath him is empty.

“Where’s Droidbait?” he asks. Cutup puts a card down and grins up at him.

“Over there, with Attie,” he says, and points. Fives glances over to one of the tables in the barracks, where Droidbait and Attie are deep in conversation, waving their hands excitedly. Fives grins. He had seen that one coming a long ways away.

“What are they talking about?” Fives asks, and finally slides off his bunk onto the floor. He sits next to Hevy, who appears to be seconds away from throwing his cards down in frustration.

“Who knows?” Zeer answers. He’s one of those brothers blessed with a larger muscle mass than most—his chest is broad, and there are thick calluses on his fingers that can only be obtained from handling heavy weaponry for long hours. “It’s Attie, so it could be anything ranging from the sunrise to the logistics of the Separatist Army.”

Nax puts a card down and snickers as Hevy groans again. The mechanic has a buzz cut, so when he tilts his head, Fives can see lines of ink running behind his ear. It appears to be something written in binary—three little clusters of ones and zeroes. Fives wants to ask what it says, but he doesn’t, just in case it’s personal.

“Hey, speaking of the Separatists,” Nax says, “You just woke up, so you haven’t heard yet. We’re on leave for three days. Apparently the Separatists were so stunned when we stopped their surprise attack that they’ve gone into hiding.”

“That’s good,” Fives says. “We can have a few days to assimilate before we have to fight.”

At the other end of the barracks, a squad of clones come in, laughing and nudging each other playfully. Del follows them in, looking a tad annoyed. Fives grins at the squad leader’s peeved expression.

“Del’s a stickler for rules, isn’t he,” he says. Zeer and Nax nod.

“He wasn’t, at first,” Nax tells him. “But Teth changed him a lot. Teth changed all of us. He just wants to keep the rest of us alive, since we’re all that’s left.”

Fives nods, and feels his respect for the man increase.

Del joins them and sits down on what must be his bunk. He’s holding a datapad, and he passes it to Fives. Fives already knows what it is, so he skims it for appearance's sake before handing it off to Hevy. Cutup scrambles closer to read over his shoulders. After a few heartbeats, their jaws drop at nearly the same time.

“They’re giving us medals?” Hevy says incredulously. “I mean—that’s—”

“Well deserved, from what I hear,” Del says. “The Generals of both the 501st and 212th will be there. It’s quite an honor.”

Attie and Droidbait make their way over, drawn by Del’s return. Hevy passes the datapad to Droidbait, whose eyes go wide as he reads it.

“Two Jedi?” he asks. “Isn’t that—isn’t that overkill, just a bit?”

“Well, we helped both Captain Rex and Commander Cody,” Fives reasons. “So it would make sense that their Generals are both there.”

“Awesome,” Attie breathes. He nudges Droidbait in the ribs. “Hey, how much do you think I could sell a Jedi’s autograph for?”

“Here, in the ranks? No one would buy it from you. You’d have to go to Republic Civilians if you wanted to get anything for it,” Droidbait answers without missing a beat. He nudges Attie right back, who shoots him a grin.

Without warning, Fives’ stomach growls. It’s loud. Cutup snorts. Even Del grins, so Fives glares at them.

“What? I haven’t eaten in more than twenty-four hours,” he justifies. “I was about to go to the mess when Del came in with the news.”

“I’ll come with you,” Hevy says, abandoning his cards. “I’m sick of sabacc. There was no way I was gonna win, anyway.” Hevy is easily the worst sabacc player in Domino. He’s too impatient to stick to a good strategy, and always ends up getting beaten as a result.

“Why’d you even play if you knew you were going to lose?” Droidbait (who has a scarily impressive poker face but can never remember all the rules to the game) asks. Hevy grimaces and points accusingly at Cutup.

“He convinced me to play. I knew it was a bad idea, but he was insistent, and I was bored.”

“At least we weren’t playing for credits,” Cutup says with a grin. Zeer chuckles and slaps Cutup on the back.

“Not this time, brother,” he rumbles. “But next time, we’ll rob you of everything but your armor.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, but Cutup doesn’t have anything except his armor,” Fives says dryly. Cutup yelps in betrayal.

Fives stretches and takes a deep breath. “I’ll be in the mess if anyone needs me, and then I’m stopping by the medbay to check up on Echo.”

“He’ll be in bacta by now,” Del reminds him, but Fives just shrugs.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m going down there anyway. Anyone else coming?”

He isn’t surprised when all of Domino decides to accompany him. Attie and Nax come as well. Zeer wanders off to the range, and Del stays behind to do paperwork.

It’s… different. Fives walks the hallways of the Resolute with Domino at his back, chatting meaninglessly with their new brothers. Different, but not bad different. It’s still familiar, still full of life and warmth and safety.

It feels like home, and for the moment Fives forgets about the chips, the betrayals, and the deaths—and just takes a moment to be happy.

He thinks he’s earned that much, at least.

Chapter Text

The medal ceremony two days later is a bit overwhelming. Droidbait steps out into the hangar and is completely floored by the sight of the entirety of Torrent Company standing at attention on either sides of the bay. He almost freezes in awe, but Echo (a day out of bacta and hindered by strict orders to take it easy) claps him on the back, prodding him forward.

Generals Kenobi and Skywalker are waiting for them at the center of the men. Droidbait feels a strange mixture of excitement and anticipation shoot through his body at the sight. The Jedi don’t look like much at first sight, but Droidbait knows with absolute certainty that these men are warriors just as his brothers are. Skywalker moves with a surety in his step that oozes confidence and strength. Kenobi’s movements are more refined—his stride is graceful and poised, but there is hidden tension in every motion, like a loth cat preparing to pounce. They are compatible opposites. Droidbait watches them, and easily understands how they work so well together.

Kenobi is the one to present Droidbait with his medal. The Jedi gives Droidbait a kind smile, one that Droidbait’s never seen directed at him by anyone but a brother. He decides very quickly that he likes the 212th’s General.

“On behalf of the Republic, we thank you for your valiant service,” General Kenobi says. It’s a scripted line, one said at most, if not all, clone congratulatory ceremonies, but when Kenobi says it, it sounds sincere. “And, we honor your comrade’s sacrifices.”

Droidbait’s heart skips a beat, and he clenches his jaw in guilt.

Nub and O’Niner shouldn’t have died.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Fives receiving his medal from General Skywalker. His brother is… tense. He’s standing at attention, but far too stiffly, and his knees are locked. His expression is almost blank as the Jedi pins the medal to Fives’ chestplate. Skywalker doesn’t seem to notice, moving on to Cutup, and the moment he is out of view the tension eases out of Fives’ body.

It’s strange. Fives admires and trusts General Skywalker with his whole being, and has said so dozens of times. Droidbait tries to make eye contact, but Fives is staring off into space, and doesn’t even glance at him.

Fortunately the rest of the ceremony isn’t actually very long. Unfortunately, the 501st are still very much in a celebratory mood, and the moment the Jedi dismiss them Droidbait gets whisked into the bustling crowd before he can make his way over to Fives for answers. It takes a while to extract himself from the throngs of brothers. Droidbait is starting to wonder how the 501st ever gets anything done if they party this much.

Eventually he manages to find Echo, who’s chatting with two clones in the shadow of a gunship’s wingspan. Echo takes one look at Droidbait’s face and barks out a laugh.

“A bit overwhelming, isn’t it?” he says gleefully, and Droidbait can only sigh and nod. Echo grins. “You’ll get used to it. It isn’t normally like this, anyway. The 501st rarely gets downtime, and even when they do it’s not usually spent partying. This is a special occasion.”

Droidbait shrugs.

“I’m sure I’ll get used to it, and I don’t actually mind, but I wanted to talk to Fives. Have you seen him?”
Echo takes one look around the chaotic hangar and shakes his head.

“Nope. And if he put his bucket on, there’s no way you’ll find him in this mess. We haven’t painted our armor yet.” A flash of annoyance crosses his face as the ARC glances down at his armor. “Speaking of which, we need to do that as soon as possible. I’m not looking like a shiny for any longer than I have to.”

The two clones standing nearby him chuckle and slap Echo on the back.

“He saves the Republic one time and thinks that means he’s not a shiny,” the first one says teasingly. Echo shoots him a good-natured grin, but there’s just a hint of smugness in his eyes.

“Aw, shut up, Ringo. You’re just mad you didn’t get a medal.”

Ringo snorts. “Why would I want a medal? A medal for us is like saying, ‘Congratulations, you didn’t die!’ I’d like to stay alive for as long as possible, thanks, and that means not being in situations where getting a medal is the alternative option to death.”

Someone slings an arm over Droidbait’s shoulders as he starts to turn away from Echo and company. For an instant he tenses, but then he sees that it’s just Attie, with a wide grin on his face.

“Congrats, brother!” Attie crows. “How does it feel to be a hero?”

Droidbait considers for a moment.

“Not much different,” he confesses. “Louder, I guess. The medal keeps clattering against my armor.”

Attie chuckles. “Allow me to help with that, then,” he says slyly, and makes a swipe for it. Droidbait swats his hand away.

“Back off, heathen,” he growls, but the effect is ruined when he’s unable to keep a straight face.

“Oh, come on, Droidbait. This is the last time we’ll get to celebrate for a while. We’ve got to take advantage of it while we still can,” Attie tells him. Droidbait sighs.

“I know that, but really, I wanted to ask Fives a couple questions—”

“Can’t it wait?” Attie says, and his expression suddenly turns mischievous. “Because I’ve got something in my back pocket that I think you’d really enjoy…”

Droidbait pauses.

“If it’s spice—”

“No!” Attie protests vehemently. “Kriff, no. I’m not an idiot! Also… it’s better than spice, I’d say.”

He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a tiny orb wrapped in thin paper. Droidbait gives it a doubtful look, observing the way Attie cups his hand to prevent any other brothers from seeing it.

“What, really? You don’t know what this is?” Attie asks incredulously. He unwraps the tiny thing and places it on his tongue, letting out a moan of appreciation. “It’s candy! From Naboo!” He reaches back and pulls two more out of his pocket. “Here. You absolutely have to try one.”

Droidbait reaches out, but before he can take one another voice cuts through their conversation.

“Is that contraband I see?” Echo sing-songs, sidling up to Attie and snatching the candies from Attie’s hand. Attie squawks in protest, diving for Echo’s arm, but the ARC evades him. “Shame on you, boys! This is against regulations!” He pops one in his mouth as he speaks and sighs in bliss. “If we don’t crack down on the illegal candy dealers, the whole GAR could be compromised!” His gaze turns sly. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to turn all of your product over to me, gentleman.”

“Not a chance!” Attie cries. “Not even under threat of court-martial!” His hand rests protectively over his back pocket. Without taking his eyes off of the threat Attie flicks another candy towards Droidbait, who barely manages to catch it. Curiously, he eyes it for a long moment before unwrapping it and putting it in his mouth.

It’s euphoric. Droidbait gasps at the sweet taste, eyes going wide. It’s a million times better than anything else he’s ever had—clone rations aren’t very diverse in taste. He sucks on the little sphere and rolls it around in his mouth, savoring the delicious flavor.

Droidbait decides that candy is his new favorite thing in the galaxy.

Echo grins, and takes a step forwards. Suddenly Droidbait’s brother towers over them like some sort of predator. Attie tenses, and Droidbait makes a quick decision. He steps in between his brother and Attie, determined to defend their stash.

“So be it, then,” Echo growls dramatically. Then he charges.

Droidbait and Attie take one look at the rushing ARC and flee like the whole Separatist army is behind them.

Some battles just aren’t worth fighting. Sometimes, it’s safer to just run.

(It turns out, candy isn’t exactly against regulations, just heavily frowned upon—and Attie is the unofficial dealer of sweets for all of Torrent. Droidbait tries not to look too pleased when he learns that, but he doesn’t do a very good job. Both Echo and Attie smirk at him knowingly, and Attie quietly presses three more of the little orbs into his palm.

They’re all gone within the minute.)

It isn’t until later that night that Droidbait remembers  he had meant to confront Fives about his discomfort around the General. Sometime during the sleep cycle, when everyone else is asleep, Droidbait is woken by hushed voices above him. He opens his eyes. It’s dark in the barracks, but he can just make out two pairs of legs dangling from the bunk above him—the two clones are sitting side by side.

“I’m telling you the truth, Echo!” Fives hisses softly. “Why would I be lying about something like this?”

“I… I know you aren’t lying,” Echo whispers slowly. His voice is sorrowful. “I know you aren’t, but that doesn’t make me want to believe it.”

Fives sighs. “Look, I—I had hoped he’d believe me. I thought he would. I trusted him with my life, with my brother’s lives—but he didn’t believe me. You know how close he is to the Chancellor. Maybe…”

“No .”

“No, what? Echo, you can’t just dismiss the possibility that he’s—!”

“The General is not part of this. Maybe he didn’t believe you, but that’s different. After fighting beside him for so long you can’t honestly tell me that you think he’d do that to us.”

“I thought that about the Chancellor, too—”

“But you don’t know the Chancellor. Not like we know General Skywalker,” Echo interrupts. “Perhaps… perhaps he’s being fooled just as we are. He cares for us, possibly more than any other Jedi cares for their troops. I know that with every fiber of my being. Maybe the only way for the Chancellor to fool him as well is to get up-close and personal.”

“And maybe you’re wrong,” Fives murmurs. “I can’t—I can’t trust him. I don’t want to trust him. What if the same thing happens? What if he turns on us like the Chancellor already has?”

Fives’ voice had started to get louder as he spoke. Echo shushes him. In the bunk across from them, Hevy shifts, muttering something unintelligible in his sleep. Fives and Echo freeze until Hevy settles, letting out deep, steadying breaths.  

“We don’t have a choice but to trust him—at least, not until we can get more information on the chips. Fives, we can’t afford to not trust General Skywalker right now. Regardless of what he did at the end of your past life, he’s a good man. He treats us well, and he’s a strong leader. There could have been a number of reasons why he didn’t believe you the first time. You have to admit, it does sound a bit far-fetched if the information isn’t presented right.”

Fives sighs again.

“You… you’re right,” he agrees slowly. “You’re right. I know the General. He’s not the betraying type. He’s just as loyal to us as we are to him.”

“Patience,” Echo advises softly. “Patience, brother. Once we get evidence, we’ll be able to fix things. We can prove this to the Jedi. We just need a little more time.”

“Time… do we have time? There’s a war going on. With every second, hundreds more of our brothers die,” Fives says glumly. “And how the kriff are we going to find this blasted evidence, anyway? We can take the chips out, sure, but that isn’t going to be enough.”

“I don’t have all the answers, Fives,” Echo tells him gently. “I don’t know how we’re going to do it. But we’re going to try, and keep trying even if it kills us. We’re behind you every step of the way, too. There’s five of us this time, between us all I think we’ll be able to figure something out.”

There’s a brief pause.

“Such an optimist,” Fives finally grumbles. “It’s sickening.”

Echo lets out a chuckle.

“‘M only an optimist when you need me to be,” he replies. “Listen, it’s getting late. Go get some rest. Sleep on it. You’ll have a clearer mind in the morning.”

“Fine, fine,” Fives mutters. Droidbait closes his eyes and evens out his breathing as Echo climbs down and makes his way to his own bunk, the one right beneath Coric’s.

Droidbait’s mind is swirling with thoughts that make it hard to rest. He doesn’t know what to think of General Skywalker anymore—there’s so much he doesn’t know yet, both about this world and their past world. A solid conclusion on what to believe is far too hard to come by, but eventually he pushes his doubts to the back of his mind and steadies himself.

He can’t afford to distrust their commanding officer now, just as Echo had said. It’s too risky to do so, especially this early in the war. Droidbait knows Rishi was only the beginning. There’s far more difficult trials ahead, after all, and if Droidbait hesitates, he’ll die.

Sleep doesn’t come easily. Eventually it does come, but it is uneasy.

There is no end in sight to the deception, and Droidbait is very much afraid of what is to come.

Leave ends the next morning, and the 501st are finally shipped out. It’s one thing to be on board a vessel on leave, it’s another thing entirely to be on an active-duty, soon-to-be-on-the-front-lines cruiser. Infantry divisions haven’t been given their in-flight duties quite yet, but Droidbait watches as the ship’s crew darts through the hallways in what appears to be organized chaos, barking out orders and talking into radios with technical terms that Droidbait couldn’t ever hope to understand. He steps out into the hallway just outside the barracks and is nearly bowled over by a flustered mechanic. It’s more than enough to convince him to return to the relative safety of the bunks. The majority of Beta squad is seated at one of the barrack tables, studying datapads or performing various acts of weapon maintenance.

“I’m glad we don’t have to get involved in that mess,” Cutup says as Droidbait joins them, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder at the bustling hallway. Del frowns, pausing slightly in his polishing of a DC-15A.

“Don’t get too comfortable. The only reason we aren’t involved right now is because they don’t want incompetent infantrymen like ourselves getting in their ways. Once we jump to hyperspace and settle into a routine they’ll start assigning us jobs.”

“If you’re lucky, it’ll be a simple patrol through the core, or guard duty,” Attie chimes in. “If you’re unlucky, it’ll be hard labor. Unloading gunships, carrying heavy tools, etc cetera.”

“I don’t mind those jobs,” Zeer protests. Attie points double finger guns at him and mimes firing.

“That’s because you, dear brother, are built like a wampa. The rest of us didn’t get so lucky.” Fives and Nax chuckle.

“Hey, hey, don’t wake Coric,” Hevy reminds them, and everyone stops for a moment to peer guiltily at the medic, fast asleep in his bunk. He’d pulled a triple shift at the medbay earlier, and even though they hadn’t been deployed there’d been no shortage of minor injuries—and several broken limbs, mostly resulting from intoxicated stunts that hadn’t ended well for the transgressors.

“Hey, newbies,” Nax suddenly says, tilting his datapad forwards so the rest of them can see what he’s looking at. “This report says we’re getting another shipment of 501st-blue paint later today.”

“Excellent,”  Echo exclaims. “I’ve been waiting for that since I got out of bacta.”

“So eager!” Attie teases. “You already know what you’re going to do with your armor?”

“I’ve got some ideas,” Echo tells him, and the corners of his mouth twitch upwards a little.

An alarm blares through the ship—simply alerting the passengers of an impending jump to hyperspace. The jump is a smooth as it can possibly be with a class as big as the star destroyer, so no one goes toppling over. Droidbait, Hevy, and Cutup are caught a little off guard by the jerk, but it isn’t enough to throw them off balance.

“Right, then,” Del says, and stands up. “Stay in your blacks, men. We’re taking a squad trip up to the training rooms while we don’t have anything better to do.”

“Ah, our first team sparring session,” Nax says. “This’ll be one to remember.” He sounds cocky, and a bit smug. Across from Droidbait, Fives smirks.

“Don’t you dare underestimate us,” he challenges, and gets to his feet. “You’ll regret it if you do.”

Nax grins back at him, all teeth. His eyes glint. “Bring it on, shiny. Let’s see what you’re made of.”

Droidbait has full confidence in his brother, but something about the way Nax stands puts him on edge. Attie seems to sense his unease and leans close to whisper in his ear.

“Nax fights dirty,” he tells Droidbait quietly. “And he’s ridiculously flexible. It’s hard to pin him down. Even though he’s a mechanic, he can beat everyone else almost easily. Even Zeer.”

“Let’s move, troops,” Del orders (still at a reasonable volume, because they’re going to let Coric sleep for as long as he needs to). Droidbait follows the rest of Beta out into the hall, and quashes down the brief flare of nerves that suddenly ignite in his gut.

This is going to be interesting.

They throw names into a helmet to decide who fights whom. To Fives’ dismay, he does not draw Nax’s name—in fact, Fives draws the blank slip of paper, because without Coric they only have nine people. He sulks on the sideline as the rest of them draw their opponent’s names.

Echo is the one to get Nax. Cutup is with Attie, and Hevy gets Del. Droidbait is left with… Zeer. Which is not good. Attie winces and claps him on the back.

“Don’t worry, he knows his own strength. Good luck!”

“Thanks,” Droidbait replies sarcastically, but Attie only grins before jogging his way over to Cutup.

Del directs them in stretches for a few minutes before calling for Cutup and Attie to take their places on the mat. When he calls for them to begin, neither Cutup nor Attie wait to let the opponent take the first move—they throw themselves at each other.

Fives and Echo had done a fantastic job of teaching the rest of Domino hand-to-hand. Even so, their two-month crash course hadn’t managed to teach them everything. They had gotten used to fighting each other—used to what their batch mates were thinking and how they would react to certain moves. Fighting against someone completely unfamiliar is visibly throwing Cutup off. Attie isn’t particularly fast or strong, but he makes up for it in pure form. His positioning is flawless, and his footwork is impressive. ARC hand-to-hand is much more unpredictable and volatile… and in the end, that’s what hurts Cutup the most. He’s so used to the tricks the ARCs like to pull that the structured, traditional form catches him off guard.

Cutup is on the defensive for the majority of the spar, blocking Attie’s kicks and punches and slowly being pushed towards the edges of the mats. Just when his blocks start to turn desperate, Del calls a halt to the match.

“Not bad,” he tells them. “Not bad at all. Cutup, you have some work to do, but you’ve got tons of potential. Keep up the good work. Spar against people other than your batchmates, and you’ll be able to adapt much easier to take on any combatant.”

“Thanks, sir,” Cutup says glumly, and casts a forlorn look at Fives. Fives claps him on the back.

“Chin up, soldier,” he says. “We couldn’t teach you everything in such a short time. You held your own against a seasoned fighter. That’s something to be proud of.”

Nax and Echo go next. Nax does fight dirty. He goes for the face, for between the legs, and pinches and prods whenever he can’t get decent leverage for a good hit. At first, they seem evenly matched. They cross the mats several times, searching for openings and testing for weaknesses. At one point Echo manages to hold Nax down, but the mechanic twists underneath him in an impressive display of flexibility, throwing Echo off.

They are grappling in the center of the mats, struggling to overthrow each other, when suddenly Fives lets out a scoff.

“Come on, take him down, Echo,” he calls impatiently. Echo glances away from Nax for a split second to raise an eyebrow at Fives, and then shakes his head, shoving Nax away from him. Nax recovers his balance quickly, but not quickly enough. Echo darts towards him far faster than he had before. He sweeps Nax’s legs out from under him. Another moment later, Echo has Nax pinned on his stomach, with an arm twisted behind him and a knee in his back.

Attie lets out an impressed whistle, and Zeer hums in approval. Droidbait cheers. Del’s face remains impassive, but he does raise an eyebrow at Echo.   

“You were holding back?” he asks. Echo shrugs nonchalantly as he releases Nax, who scowls in defeat.

“If you want to call it that, sir,” he answers. “I’d say a better definition is playing my cards close to my chest.”

“Hmm,” Del says by way of response, and then moves on without another word on the subject. “We’re next, Hevy.”

“Yessir,” Hevy says boldly, and steps up to fight.

Del… does not go easy on Hevy. He’s the most experienced of the Teth survivors (excluding the Captain), and it shows. Not a single movement is any wasted. In fact, for the first long minutes of the fight he just lets Hevy rail on him. Every move combination Hevy knows, he throws at their squad leader. Some of his attacks are quite impressive, but Del is steady as a rock, and patient as one, too.

Predictably, Hevy starts to get frustrated. His attacks begin to be interspersed with curses, causing Attie to giggle, and Echo to sigh in exasperation. Hevy’s aggression and temper had always been a weak point of his, and even though Echo and Fives had attempted to break him out of his bad habits, they had only been partially successful.  

“C’mon, fight back!” Hevy finally complains. He’s panting hard. Del, on the other hand, looks almost perfectly composed. “This isn’t even a spar!” Next to Droidbait, Echo facepalms.

“He never learns,” Fives mutters, just a hint of amusement in his voice.

“You’re good, but you’re young,” Del says calmly. “Eventually, you’ll learn how this goes, but apparently, that day is not today.”

“What—?” Hevy starts to stay, but that’s as far as he gets, because Del springs into action, slamming an elbow into Hevy’s jaw. Hevy had expended his energy on his futile attacks earlier, and isn’t fast enough to block it in time. His whole body goes limp as he drops. Droidbait lets out a gasp and almost runs forwards in concern, but just as quickly as he’d gone down, Hevy begins to stir.

“Ugh, I… what? How long was I out?” he asks blearily, surprised to find himself on the floor. Del extends a hand towards him. Hevy takes it warily.

“Not even ten seconds,” Del answers. Hevy winces as he’s pulled to his feet, and rubs at his jaw. An angry purple bruise is just beginning to appear, and it’ll no doubt look horrific in a few hours.

“Aw, kriff,” Hevy mutters. He doesn’t appear to have a concussion, but it’s always better to be safe than sorry when brain trauma is involved. Fives makes him sit down on the sideline to check him over while Droidbait and Zeer take the mat.

Zeer is big. Bigger than any other brother Droidbait has seen. Droidbait himself is slightly smaller than the average clone. He can’t help but wonder if somehow this was done on purpose, but Del’s expression is professionally neutral as he watches them step up onto the mats.

Zeer smiles at him. It’s probably supposed to be reassuring, but it makes Droidbait nervous.

“Come on, then, little brother,” Zeer says. “Do your best. I won’t hurt you.”

“I know you won’t,” Droidbait replies automatically, because he knows that without a shadow of a doubt. Zeer won’t hurt him. No brother would truly ever hurt another unless there was good cause. A couple of bruises hardly qualify as hurt, though.

“Go on, Droidbait! Show ‘im who’s boss!” one of his brothers shouts in encouragement—he’s not sure which one, because his field of vision is narrowing until the only thing he’s focused on is his opponent.

If he tries to grapple with Zeer, he’ll lose for sure. Droidbait can’t match Zeer’s raw strength. At the same time, it’s foolish to believe that just because Zeer is big, he’ll be slow. Zeer is large, yes, but he isn’t overly bulky. He’s likely just as fast as any other brother, so Droidbait doesn’t have the advantage in speed, either.

It’s starting to look like he doesn’t even have a chance at winning.

He gathers his courage and tentatively begins to strike out at Zeer. He’s just testing the waters, and it proves to be a good decision. As he circles around the mats, experimenting with half-hearted blows that Zeer easily deflects, he realizes that Zeer’s limbs are longer than usual as well. He’s got tons of range.

That is also a very bad sign.

Zeer gets bored with his circling pretty quickly, and steps towards Droidbait. For an instant, Droidbait panics. He throws a desperate punch at his opponent, but it’s clumsy, and leaves his right side completely open. Zeer takes advantage of it ruthlessly. A knee grazes Droidbait’s ribs. He just manages to throw himself to the side fast enough to avoid the worst of it, and even then it’s chilling to realize that Zeer’s holding back—not because he’s trying to hide his skills, or because he’s being kind, but because at full strength he could easily break Droidbait’s ribcage.

He dives to the side and rolls back to his feet, mind frantically searching for a solution. Zeer comes after him again, lashing out, and Droidbait has enough sense of mind to remember what he’d learned on Rishi. He blocks the punches, turning his body with the blows to lessen their impacts. It still hurts, and eventually Zeer gets in a good hit across Droidbait’s chest. It sends him tumbling towards the edge of the mat. When Zeer pursues him a second time, Droidbait dodges his punch. To his surprise, Zeer stumbles. The momentum from his attack takes him off balance, and his long arm flails for just an instant.

For a half-second, Droidbait sees an opening.

But he’s too far away to do anything about it.

Zeer recovers, and pulls his arms closer to his body. He narrows his eyes at Droidbait. He knows Droidbait saw the slip-up, and is determined not to make the same mistake twice. Droidbait has to find a way to make him do the same thing a second time.

They play cat and mouse for a few minutes, and Droidbait collects a few more bruises. Zeer isn’t untouched, either, though—Droidbait manages to get a couple blows in from behind, across Zeer’s back and side.

Droidbait tries to be patient, but Zeer is well aware of his flaws, and is being cautious now. He’s holding his arms close, and his punches are more refined.

He’s hyperaware of his arms… but not so much his legs.

His footwork is nothing special, not like Attie’s had been. If he was guilty of overextending his arms during punches, it was quite possible his legs would do the same during a kick, or even a large stride. Droidbait thinks about Nax and Echo’s spar, and makes a decision.

He throws caution to the wind and charges Zeer head on. Zeer is surprised by the change, but braces to meet him—but Droidbait darts to the side, making as if to aim another blow at Zeer’s ribs.

Zeer is caught off balance, and still a bit confused. One of his legs jerks to the side to keep Droidbait from flanking him, but the other is supporting his full weight, and is stuck in place for an instant —

Droidbait reverses direction, steps into Zeer’s personal space, and knees him right between the legs.

“I’m sorry!” Droidbait wails guiltily, for what feels like the hundredth time. “I didn’t—well, I did mean to do it, but I didn’t mean to!”

That doesn’t make any sense, and he knows it doesn’t, but he has no better way to explain himself.

Zeer is on the ground, hunched over and breathing through gritted teeth. He doesn’t appear angry—in fact, there’s amusement flashing across his face alongside pain—but that doesn’t make Droidbait feel any less guilty. Del is hovering over Zeer in silent support. In the background, Fives, Echo, Hevy, Cutup, Attie, and Nax are still cackling.

“That’s the way, Droidbait!” Nax cheers gleefully in between bouts of howling laughter. “That’s it, brother, keep that up and you’ll be unbeatable!”

Droidbait shifts his weight from one foot to the other anxiously and peers down at Zeer again. He seems to be recovering now, and offers Droidbait a tiny grin.

“Nice hit,” he says, and tries to stand. He doesn’t get very far before he inhales sharply and abandons the effort, sinking back down to the floor. Droidbait winces.

“I’m sorry!” he repeats. Zeer laughs weakly.

“If I left an opening that obvious, I probably deserved that,” he says. “Regardless, you won fair and square, Droidbait. There were no rules against cheap shots, after all.”

Del actually chuckles at that, and slings an arm around his squadmate. He tugs Zeer to his feet.

“Is it bad enough to need either the medbay or Coric?” he asks, as the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. Zeer grimaces.

“Don’t think so,” he replies. “I can walk it off. Just… just give me a second…”

It sounds like Fives and Hevy are literally choking on their own laughter. Echo is attempting to compose himself, but every time he gets close he starts snorting again. Nax is impossibly smug. Attie and Cutup are muttering to each other, chuckling, and Droidbait doesn’t even want to know what those two are up to.

“Alright, gentleman, I think that’s going to be it for the day,” Del announces. His serious demeanor isn’t very effective with Zeer hanging off of his shoulder for support. “Back to the barracks, then. Let’s go!”

Droidbait still feels guilty, but Zeer grabs onto him, limping forwards a few feet. Now that he can at least walk, there’s clear mirth on his face.

“Really, brother, it’s fine. It was a good hit. I didn’t see it coming at all. Relax a bit, I’m not angry.”

He’s completely sincere. Droidbait relaxes.

“Thanks you,” he says, and helps their momentarily crippled squadmate back to the barracks.

The hangar bay feels like an art studio. Like many other brothers scattered around the area, Droidbait is standing above his pure white armor, with a paintbrush in hand and a can of blue paint at his feet.

He doesn’t know to do.  

His armor is a blank canvas in front of him, and all around him brothers are getting to work, painting careful designs and patterns into armor. Making it theirs. But Droidbait has no idea what he wants his armor to look like. Each time he tries to imagine a design, it doesn’t stick. It’s not him. He hesitates, and lets out an exasperated sigh.

“No ideas, Droidbait?” Cutup asks glumly from next to him. Droidbait shakes his head.

“You’ll think of something, boys,” Echo encourages. He’s already gotten started, and Droidbait feels it’s safe to assume his armor is pretty much the same as it was in his first life. The ARC is busy painting two bold stripes on either sides of his helmet. “It took Fives a long time to decide what he wanted last time.”

“Fives? But what about you?” Hevy asks. Echo grins.

“I had a little help from the Captain last time. This time, you four are gonna do it.”

“Do what?” Droidbait asks. Echo waves a hand.

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll tell you after you finish your armor. Get going!”

“That wasn’t particularly helpful, Echo,” Cutup points out. He turns to Fives, who has been uncharacteristically quiet since they stepped into the hangar. Fives is holding his paintbrush loosely, and he’s frowning deeply. “How’d you decide what to do, Fives?”

Fives sighs. “My first armor set had a stylized painting of a Rishi Moon eel on the helmet, and a Z-6 blaster cannon stenciled onto the left shoulder. I kept the eel once I became an ARC.”

Cutup is staring at him with wide eyes, and so is Hevy.

“Why?” Cutup asks quietly. “Why would you do that?”

Fives puts a hand on his shoulder.

“To remind myself why I fight,” he answers. “For a Republic victory… and for the safety of all my brothers.” He takes a deep breath. “I thought, maybe, this time, you’d want the eel. I’ll think of something different.” Echo inhales sharply in surprise at his fellow ARC’s words.

“I—” Cutup begins, and cuts himself off, glancing at the ground. “Fives, that design is yours. I have no right to take it from you.”

“Consider it a gift, then,” Fives says gruffly. “I can show you the design. It’s nothing special, but—”

“Fives,” Cutup interrupts firmly. “I don’t want the eel. It doesn’t mean the same things to me that it does to you.”

Fives’ mouth snaps shut, and he blinks at Cutup.

“But you killed one,” he points out. Cutup sighs and closes his eyes for a brief moment.

“Yeah, I did. I guess it should mean something more to me, since it killed me before, but… it doesn’t. I’ve moved past it. If anything, the eel is the last thing I’d put on my armor. It’s a symbol of my own fear. I’m stronger than that now. My armor is going to represent something from this life, not the first one. I appreciate the offer, but I’ll think of something on my own.”

Fives nods. “Alright. I understand. I’ll change it, anyway—I mean, it’s—it’s not really me anymore, either—”

“Liar,” Echo accuses. “He’s so attached to that armor pattern that he used to draw it just for fun every time he got his hands on a piece of flimsi.”

“If it makes Cutup uncomfortable, I can’t keep wearing it around!” Fives argues, but Cutup steps closer to him, holding Fives’ gaze.

“Fives, it doesn’t make me uncomfortable at all,” he reassures gently. “Draw the design. I have a feeling it suits you.”

Fives’ expression smooths out, and suddenly there is relief evident on his face.

“Thanks, brother,” he mutters, and returns to his armor to begin painting.

Droidbait turns back to his own armor, and is surprised to notice that while most of Domino had been distracted, Hevy had begun to paint. He’s drawing surprisingly detailed blue flames curling around the sides of his helmet, and looks fairly pleased with himself.

“Cool,” Cutup tells him. “But, why fire?”

“Because it’s awesome,” Hevy rationalizes. Droidbait shrugs. They can’t argue with that. “But also because of Rishi,” Hevy continues. “The double explosions started a new life for us. We’re rising from the ashes of our old life. Also, can’t fire represent… like, rebirth, or resurrection, or something?”

“Yep,” Cutup confirms. “Good call. I like it.”

Droidbait sighs and looks at his armor again. When, exactly, had been the moment he’d felt like a new life had begun? The explosions had certainly been spectacular, but he doesn’t think that’s quite the right moment to reflect on.

All at once, he remembers, and very slowly, he traces the ARC sign for one into the air.

Shooting the commando droid—his first kill—had been the moment Droidbait had felt he’d finally changed something. In the heat of the moment he’d been too high on adrenaline to truly appreciate the moment, and it wasn’t until afterwards, when they had taken refuge in the cave, that he had gotten to sit back and grin in triumph.

He’d never felt more alive as he had in that moment, and the sensation had only continued. Each time he’d scrapped a clanker after that, it was accompanied by a fierce sense of pride and determination. He’d taken out seven commandos in total, and then four more battle droids during Echo’s rescue. Droidbait had made careful note of each kill, committing them to memory almost automatically.

Rex has tally marks on the sides of his helmets. Droidbait knows they aren’t for droids—they’re most likely for completed missions, since the Captain’s kill count is no doubt much higher than Droidbait’s will ever be. But… Droidbait likes the idea.

He takes his paintbrush and puts eleven blue tally marks on the chestpiece of his armor, right above his heart—two groups of five, and one straggler.

“What’re those?” Echo asks curiously, stepping behind him. Droidbait stares at his armor. It’s still mostly blank, except for the tallies. But it isn’t blank in a bad way. To Droidbait, it looks like potential.

“One for every droid,” he explains. Echo grins.

“It's not a bad idea, brother. A lot of boys try to keep their kill count like that, but all they lose track eventually. Are you sure this is the way you want go?”

“I’m not going to lose track,” Droidbait says firmly. “And I’ve got plenty of room for more.” Just to add a bit more color, he paints the fin of his helmet blue, and adds a little target onto each side of his helmet. “I’m Droidbait, after all,” he tells Echo. “I draw them in as a target, but then… I get to add to my tallies.”

Echo barks out a laugh. “Bold, ‘Bait. I like it. And fortunately for you, with what’s coming I think you’ll fill up that armor pretty quickly.”

Which isn’t a good thing, but Droidbait grins anyway.

“Aw, kriff,” Cutup complains. “Now I’m the only one left.” Hevy’s still working on his flames (he’s moved onto his gauntlets now), and Fives is finishing up his eel.

“You don’t have to paint it right now, you know,” Echo tells him. “We’ve got time. Maybe you’ll be inspired after we get deployed.”

Cutup frowns. “You’re not wrong. I just… nothing seems right, you know? Not yet.”

“I do,” Echo says. “It’s not a big deal. Plenty of brothers wait to customize. Don’t worry about it.”

“Yeah, okay,” Cutup agrees softly. He does, eventually, paint his shoulders with four dots in a square formation, and one more dot in the center—a five, on a die. Or, a five on a domino. He also paints a single blue stripe down the center of his chest, stopping just above his stomach. His helmet, he leaves completely blank. It’s just enough to make him recognizable, but small enough that he can safely add to it later when he wants to.

“Looks good, gentleman,” Echo tells them. “There’s one more thing I need a hand with, though. Several hands, actually.” He directs them each in dipping their left palms into paint and placing their handprints on the same spot over Echo’s chest. Their fingers overlap just slightly, but Echo doesn’t seem to care. Eventually he has each of Domino’s hands combined to form a single handprint on his armor, and he smiles in satisfaction.

“There we go. Now, it’s finished,” Echo says. Fives grins and pats Echo’s shoulder with his clean hand.

“You know, this paint isn’t likely to come out of our gloves, you know,” he says, raising his left hand pointedly. “It’s meant for plastoid armor and gunships.” Echo shrugs, and pointedly dips his own left palm into the paint bucket.

“It’ll be our thing, then,” he says. “Five of us, five fingers. Hard work ahead of us, but that’s what hands are for. Blue, for the 501st. It suits us, I’d say.”

Droidbait looks down at his own blue palm and feels a surge of pride.

“Yes, it does suit us,” he agrees softly. He looks around the hangar, at his brothers, happy and learning and developing their own individual personalities.

He wishes it could stay like this forever, but that’s not an option. Has never been an option, not for the clones.

He knows that eventually, the other shoe will drop—and it will probably happen soon.

Droidbait just hopes Domino will be ready for it.

Chapter Text

“All units, prepare for contact. All units, prepare for contact.”

The voice blares through the cruiser at a deafening volume, until Echo can barely think, much less focus on anything other than what’s been drilled into his head since he was first created. He’s used to it, though—the shinies aren’t, and all three of them jerk in surprise at the alarm. They’d been unloading a gunship full of equipment in the hangar bay, and Hevy drops the supply crate he’d been carrying. Cutup swears as it lands on his foot. Droidbait’s eyes go wide.

“To the barracks” Echo reminds them curtly. He scoops his helmet up from the floor, puts it on, and turns on his heels. Fives is right behind him, with the shinies taking up the rear. He remembers this like it was yesterday. It had been his and Fives’ first experience serving with the 501st, and while nothing truly life-changing had occurred, it had still been important.

As they join the crowd of men all sprinting for the barracks, Echo takes a moment to set his mind into mission mode. The first time this had happened, Echo and Fives had watched each other’s backs diligently, still on edge from the loss of their batchmates. This time, Echo and Fives have three backs to watch, besides their own. Echo doesn’t think anything is going to go wrong, but there’s always a risk.  

“We’re coming out of hyperspace into a hot zone,” he reminds Domino through their helmet comms. “It’s gonna get rough soon. Brace yourselves, men.” Fives and Echo had made sure to brief Domino thoroughly on everything they remembered from this event. Even so, there were still multiple unknown factors involved. The ARCs hadn’t been part of Torrent Company last time, and had only caught onto the tail end of the fighting, small as it was. This time, they would no doubt be in the thick of the fighting, repelling the droid’s boarding parties from the ships.

As they round a corner, sprinting for the barracks, the Admiral’s voice cuts through the chaos via the ship-wide comms.

“We are preparing to emerge from hyperspace. The 327th are counting on us for support! Battlestations, men!”

“The 327th would be…?” Hevy says curiously. “You told us the number, but not who’s in command.”

“General Secura and Commander Bly. The Star Corps,” Fives answers smoothly. “They’ll get out of this just fine. Remember, boys, we stay far away from the deploying gunships. Only one of them makes it through the fire, and it’s the one that the General is on. We’ll have our hands full with rocket droids soon, anyway. Stick with us, and stay sharp. That’s an order.”

“Copy that,” the shinies reply in unison. Droidbait’s steps falter for just an instant before he recovers, and Echo shoots him a concerned look.

“Shouldn’t we… shouldn’t we warn them?” Droidbait asks slowly. “If only one ship is going to make it… men are going to die. We could…” He trails off, and slows. Domino slows with him, glancing around at each other in uncertainty.

“Droidbait…” Fives says. “You know we can’t do anything—”

“Why the kriff not?” Droidbait says aggressively. Echo blinks, taken aback at Droidbait’s sudden frustration. “Why not? Our brothers are going to die, and we know how to save them!”

“He’s not wrong,” Cutup agrees. “The General doesn’t have to know. We could just tell the men, and let the General worry about going out there. We can’t just let them go to their deaths!.”

Echo lets out a sigh.

“I understand what you’re saying, but we can’t do that,” he says regretfully. They’ve long since stopped running, and are hanging by the side of the hallway. “We can’t start changing everything. Then too many things will change, and we won’t be able to fix anything.”

“So we’re just going to let them die?” Cutup blurts out. “Echo, we can’t—”

Hevy puts a hand on Cutup’s shoulder, silencing him.

“Listen. If we warn those clones, the only gunship flying will be the General’s. If the General’s ship is the only one in the sky, it’ll be the sole target of the Separatists. The odds of getting shot down are monstrous, then, even if it is Skywalker. We can’t afford to lose him. We’re clones, Cutup. We aren’t superhuman, or force-sensitive. In the end, there’s not really that much we can do to protect our Generals. But the one thing we can do is act as living shields for them—take the brunt of an attack so that the Jedi can live to fight another day. I’d do it in a heartbeat, even now. I know the rest of my brothers would, too.”

Echo and Fives nod grimly. Hevy is right. All of them would give their lives for their commanding officers even now, after knowing so much. After a moment’s hesitation, Droidbait and Cutup nod slowly as well.

“I… I understand,” Droidbait says, but he doesn’t sound happy. His voice wavers ever so slightly. Even as Echo watches, Droidbait pulls himself together, squaring his shoulders and drawing himself up. “Just… we have to fix this. Soon, sir. Brothers are dying.”

“We know, ‘Bait,” Echo tells him. “We know. We’ll do our best.”

“Alright, we can’t dawdle any longer!” Fives reminds them sharply. “Droidbait, Cutup, are we good to keep moving?”

Droidbait and Cutup straighten. “Sir, yes, sir!” they shout in unison. Fives nods, urging them back into a run. Fortunately, the barracks are close. They file into the room and nearly smack straight into the rest of Beta squad. Del, at the front, nods in approval when he sees them.

“Grab your weapons. Double time, troopers. We’ll be coming out of hyperspace any moment now!”

Domino’s weapons are prepped and ready to go. Echo grabs his DC-15A and joins Beta, pleased that the rest of Domino complies just as quickly. Beta squad is fully armed and ready to go in seconds. Just as they’re making their way out the doors, the whole ship jerks violently. Echo has to fight to keep his balance. The tremors don’t stop there—they only get worse. He recognizes the tell-tale sounds of heavy blaster fire impacting against their shields.

“We’ve come out of hyperspace,” Nax informs them grimly. “We’re entering the planet’s atmosphere now.” The whole ship shudders from the strain of quick atmospheric entrance. Beta squad rushes past a window, and Echo catches a glimpse of flames licking at the sides of the star destroyer.

They burst into the main hangar just as the gunships are starting to leave. Ahsoka Tano is the last person to step on board, stumbling slightly as the ship vibrates. Del calls Beta squad to a halt as the gunships rise into the air, and Echo lets out a sigh of relief. He isn’t sure what he would have done if Del had ordered them onto a ship.

“We’ll wait for the next gunships, troopers,” he announces. “Stay at the ready.”

Echo knows there won’t be any more gunships. Soon the rocket-droids will start to invade, and the infantry troops will be too busy fending them off to bother making the trip to General Secura’s fleet.

“Who was that?” Hevy asks. Echo blinks.

“Who was who? You mean, the Commander?”

Hevy, Cutup, and Droidbait send Echo blank looks, and Echo curses again. There’s so much the shinies don’t know. He’s told them about Ahsoka before, he knows he has, but hearing about things and seeing them are completely different.

“That was Commander Tano,” he explains quickly. “She’s General Skywalker’s padawan, and just as fierce of a warrior as any brother. We’ll get to serve with her a bit more after General Secura’s rescue.”

The ship rocks violently again, and another alarm begins to go off. Echo keeps his breathing steady, and allows the low thrum of battle-calm to settle through his body, until his breathing and his heartbeats are calm and controlled.

It’s time for the real fun to begin.

“Rocket droids from the enemy ships have begun to infiltrate the hull!” Admiral Yularen’s voice cries from the speakers overhead, right on schedule. “All units, move to defend the ship’s main reactor!”

Fives straightens.

“Let’s move, men. Here’s the plan—”

“Alright, our orders are—” Del begins to say at the same time, and then there’s a split second of awkward silence where their squad captain and Fives stare at each other in confusion. Fives backs down with a dip of his head—rightfully so, he’s not in charge anymore (despite the fact that if it really came down to it, Domino would follow Fives over anyone else). Del is a sergeant, and currently, Fives is little more than a shiny in rank.

“We’ll fall back to the reactor,” Del says, after casting a strange look at Fives. “There’s a hull breach along the way that we should be able to contain. The gunships that already took off will have to do. They’re not going to get any more support as long as those rocket droids are swarming the ship.”

Droidbait and Cutup’s shoulders slump at his words. Echo swallows and clenches his jaw, shoving his emotions into the iron box ARC training had required him to develop. Droidbait and Cutup are taking this hard. Hevy seems to be alright, and Fives and Echo have been doing it for ages. Echo’s not sure how to teach Droidbait and Cutup how to cope with their brother’s deaths, yet.

Beta squad forms up easily enough. Even if they haven’t yet had the chance to practice squad formations, every clone knows how it should go. Del takes point, with Fives and Nax at his sides. The rest of the men form up behind him on either sides of the hallway, with the heavy gunners placed in the middle and Coric near the back. Echo is the last man, just behind Coric as their rear defense.

The droids aren’t hard to find. The breach is just above a central corridor, and when Beta turns the corner they see that several clones have already begun to retaliate against the incoming super battle droids.

“Cover, boys!” Del barks out, and Beta obeys, plastering themselves to the walls behind the ridges of the hall.

There’s a hole in the ceiling, and the rocket-droids are pouring in. Echo hisses out a curse. For every droid shot down, two more take it’s place. The clones already firing acknowledge Beta’s arrival with rallying shouts, appreciating the assistance.

Cutup is crouched in the hollow across from Echo, squeezed next to Coric. Echo flashes a quick set of ARC signs at him after ensuring that Coric is suitably distracted:

SBDs stronger armor, but dumber brains. Bad strategizers. Weak points at knees and hip joints to incapacitate. Several shots to torso will take it down. Pass along.

Cutup signs back an affirmative and, after a quick glance at Coric, passes the message to whichever member of Domino is in front of Echo. Satisfied that his message is being passed along, Echo tightens his finger on the trigger finger of his weapon. The shinies have never fought supers before. Echo hopes his info is helpful.

There’s another secret to taking down super battle droids that isn’t simple enough to communicate through signs. It’s more of an instinct, than a technique—the type of instinct that comes from months of battle. Echo and Fives had eventually developed a scarily accurate feel for where to aim on the torso to bring a battle droid down the fastest. It varied for each droid. Since they were mass-produced so quickly, there was plenty of room for error in their production. A sense of where a droid’s plating was slightly thinner than usual, or where delicate mobility wires could be severed with a well-placed shot, was something that could only be learned through experience, not taught.

Echo double taps two droids in a row with his weapon, taking the first down completely and immobilizing the second. Returning fire forces him to slide back into cover a moment later.

For what feels like ages, but in reality could have barely been five minutes, Echo’s world narrows to his blaster, the droids, and Cutup across from him. He worries for the batchmates he can’t see, but he can’t afford to waste brainpower on wondering if they’re alright. If he was truly scared, he could open a channel via helmet comms, but they don’t need the distraction any more than he does. Droids are still pouring through the gap, and while they aren’t getting very far, they aren’t stopping, either.

Cutup is doing well. Echo can only see about half of his attempts to fight back, because he has to focus on not getting shot himself—but from what he can see, his brother is doing a fine job. Instead of focusing on taking them down, something that he can only accomplish by hitting the same droid three or four times, he’s focusing on tearing the droid’s knees and hips apart, rendering them unable to move. The whine of two Z-6s, from both Hevy and Zeer, reassure Echo that even the incapacitated droids are being taken care of. It’s standard procedure for heavy gunners to sweep their weapons over fallen droids every so often to take out any stragglers that may have survived.

A distant explosion rocks the ship. Echo knows it to be General Secura’s cruiser finally succumbing to Separatist fire, and new alarms begin to blare yet again.

From somewhere in front of him, a brother lets out a cry of pain. Echo’s stomach drops in fear. He peers around his cover recklessly and nearly takes a blaster bolt to the face for his foolishness.

A helmet comm channel opens, originating from Del.

“Zeer took a hit to the shoulder,” he reports grimly. Echo hates that he breathes a sigh of relief that it isn’t one of Domino, but he can’t help it. “He’ll be alright, but we’re a man down all the same. We’ll be getting more company soon—General Secura’s flagship has gone down. The droids will focus on us now.”

“Blast it,” Attie swears from somewhere in front of Echo. “Is there no way to seal the breach?”

“Sure,” Nax shouts sarcastically. “Just give me a few dozen sheets of durasteel, a full team of mechanics, and a couple hours, and I’ll have that sealed right up!”

“Cut the sass, Nax,” Del commands sharply. “Any ideas, men? I’m— ugh —I’m open to suggestions!”

“Couldn’t we just seal the blast doors at each end of this hallway?” Fives suggests. “It wouldn’t solve the problem completely, but it would trap the droids in here and prevent them from getting any further.”

“And it’s better than this,” Hevy points out. As if to punctuate his words, a fresh wave of droids descend into the ship from the sky. They’re accompanied by varied curses in multiple languages from Beta.

“Not a bad plan, but since this hall is at the outer sections of the ship, the blast door controls are only operational if there’s a sudden drop in oxygen from a breach in space, or a manual override. We’re in atmosphere, so the system sees no need to seal us from the outside,” Nax explains. “It’s a precaution meant to stop the blast doors from closing every time there’s a hull breach, because if it happens while we’re in atmosphere and we crash, a fast evacuation of the survivors has to happen, and that can’t occur if the blast doors close.”

“Well, that’s just great,” Zeer growls, voice thick with pain. “Now what are we supposed to do?”

Echo crouches back against the wall and closes his eyes.

He could, in theory, perform the manual override. While he had been in Tambor’s… care, the scientist had taken great pleasure in hooking Echo’s mind up to different systems. Partly just to test his neural-tech advancements, and partly because it put strain on Echo’s mind that could not be replicated through physical torture.

What Tambor hadn’t expected was for Echo to actually learn from those occasions. He doesn’t have the implants anymore—the ones that had been wired into his brain, lighting his nerves on fire but allowing him to plunge his mind into streams of data. Those had disappeared when he had been reborn, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t remember. It would make things harder, doing everything manually, but he knew enough that he could.

“Look for a control panel somewhere on the walls,” he tells Beta. “I might be able to access manual overrides from there.”

There’s a moment where no one speaks, and the only sound is blaster fire from the droids.

“Found one,” Droidbait finally says. “Right by me. I’m on the other side of the hall than you, Echo, and a few feet in front.” Echo risks a glance out into the hall and spots his brother just in front of him—fortunately alone, so it won’t be too tight of a fit in the pocket of cover.

“Let’s lay down some cover fire, men!” Del commands easily. “Echo, on my mark.”

“Yessir,” Echo replies, and tenses in preparation. The sounds of blaster fire increase, and Hevy’s Z-6 whines. The tell-tale scraping sounds of droids hitting the floor makes Echo grin.

“Now, Echo,” Del says, accompanied by a hum of approval by Fives, and Echo doesn’t even look to ensure he’s clear. He trusts his brothers completely. Without hesitation he throws himself across the hallway. A few stray blaster bolts fly past his body, but not close enough to worry him. Beta had done their job well, distracting the droids at the front of the advancement so that Echo’s dash takes them by surprise.

He nearly hits the wall on the opposite side next to Droidbait because he can’t slow his momentum in time, but Droidbait steadies him.

“Right there,” he tells Echo, gesturing towards the floor. There’s a small control panel low on the wall, covered by a thin panel. Echo crouches to tear the panel off, discarding it as Droidbait whips out of cover to fire a few shots.

The access panel is small. Echo clenches his jaw as he examines the tiny ports, and even tinier circuits. Droidbait jerks back into cover and casts him a nervous look.

“Echo?” he questions. Echo takes a deep breath.

“I can do this,” he says. “Do you have a datapad on hand?” He can do this. He can’t plug into systems himself and let his mind analyze the numbers, but he can plug in with a datapad and let his eyes do the hard work. Droidbait reaches into one of the pouches around his waist and pulls out a datapad, handing it off without hesitation.

The datapad’s interface wire connects into one of the tiny ports. However, when Echo plugs it in he notes the dangerously close position of one of the electric wires to his operation. He’ll have to be careful not to jostle anything too dramatically, or he’ll be at risk of being electrocuted.

When he activates the datapad and sees the numbers running across the screen, something inside his head perks up. His brain recognizes the combinations, even if Echo himself doesn’t—which shouldn’t make sense, but Echo doesn’t pretend to understand. He doesn’t know exactly what Tambor did to his head. Part of him doesn’t want to know.

Regardless, his eyes flick around the screen, comprehending things faster than Echo thought he would ever be able to.

“I can activate the existing blast doors on either side of the droids,” he reports quickly. “It’ll seal off the section with the breach.”

“There’s a couple droids past the blast doors just now!” Droidbait calls back. Echo grits his teeth.

“We’ll have to deal with those ourselves,” he says. “Sergeant, permission to—”

The ship lurches.

“Taking evasive manoeuvres!” Admiral Yularen shouts over the ship comms. “Repeat, evasive manoeuvres, hold on!”

Echo remembers why—they had been forced to suddenly disengage with the General’s malfunctioning ship, so that the Resolute wouldn’t be dragged into hyperspace along with the smaller ship. However, just because he understood why didn’t mean he had been prepared for it. He’s thrown to the side, and yelps in pain as electricity jolts through his body. He’d tapped the electric wire, and suddenly memories, unwanted and unbidden, flash to the front of his mind—

At first when he’d been captured, they had strung him up like any other prisoner of higher rank, helplessly suspended within an electric field and pumping him full of lightning to try and get him to talk. Echo hadn’t told them anything of importance, just his serial number and rank as he’d been trained to do. His original interrogators had been unaware of what being ARC meant, exactly—that he had been trained to resist torture of this kind, and would kill himself before revealing anything. They’d worked on him for so long with the same wattage of electricity that Echo had even started to grow accustomed to the pain. He didn’t even cry out anymore.

Then, Tambor had come.

“The clone won’t tell you anything, not if you continue in this manner,” Tambor had said, voice impossibly smug even through the machinery over his face. “Increase the wattage to level eight.”

“But sir, the level seven is the last level where his survival is guaranteed —”

“He’ll survive it,” Tambor had said, staring straight at Echo. Echo had bared bloodstained teeth at the Separatist in defiance. “This one is different. In fact, I’m taking over this project personally. Am I understood? Raise your efforts to level eight.”

Level eight had hurt, but Echo had lived.

Level nine made him scream.

At level ten, he’d blacked out, and woken pinned down in Tambor’s labs — too effectively to even consider killing himself an option.

He’d wished for the electricity, after that, because it had been bad; but not nearly as bad as the rest of the things Tambor put him through for months and months on end —

No.

Echo drags himself out of the memories with massive effort, panting hard. His hands are shaking. He’d dropped the datapad sometime during his flashback, and Droidbait is glancing back at him, concern written in the lines of his body. Echo flashes a sign at him for alright, and they both ignore the way his hands tremble as they clumsily form the sign.

“Echo, status report on the doors!” Del demands. Echo jerks and picks up the datapad.  

“I can close them on both sides,” he reports quickly, struggling to put himself back into mission mindset. “The few droids that are in front of the doors on both sides will have to be dealt with separately. The rest will be cut off from the rest of the ship.”

“Do it,” Del commands, and Echo punches the appropriate command. There’s a hiss as the blast doors slide closed and seal. Echo can hear the droids trying to blast their way through, but their weapons aren’t sufficient enough to break through.

“You cut one right in half, Echo,” Fives says approvingly. “Good timing.”

Echo’s hands are still shaking—whether it’s from being electrocuted or from his own fear, he doesn’t know.

“Focus, Fives,” he reprimands his brother gently. “There’s still a few stragglers.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Fives says casually. Echo peers out of cover just in time to watch Fives step out into the hallway. Hevy, Nax, and Del are still firing from cover, gunning down the five droids that had made it past the doors. The last droid tries to go after Zeer, crouched in cover and nursing his shoulder. It reveals it’s back, where it’s rockets are, in the process. Fives squeezes out a pinpoint accurate shot that strikes the super battle droid right where the fuel for it’s jetpack is stored held. It explodes gloriously. Zeer nods in thanks.

Echo sighs in relief.

“What about the other side?” Attie reminds them nervously, fingers tapping along his gun nervously as he steps out of cover. “There were droids past the blast doors there, too.”

“There were also more brothers down there,” Cutup says. “They’ll take care of the surviving clankers. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

Coric pushes his way past everyone and goes to Zeer, inspecting his wound carefully. He pulls Zeer to his feet after a moment and nods approvingly when Zeer shifts his Z-6 to his non-injured arm.

“He’ll be fine,” Coric announces. “Bacta will heal him up fairly easily, but it’s a painful one all the same.”

Zeer huffs in annoyance and frustration.

“Sorry, Sergeant,” he apologizes to Del. “Got reckless. Didn’t get to cover fast enough.”

“Be more careful next time,” Del tells him firmly, but there’s warmth to his voice. “We’d never forgive you for going down in a pathetic little skirmish like that.”

There’s a few other clones who’d been caught up in the fighting, not part of Beta squad. One of them, Echo recognizes from the streaks of blue paint running down his helmet—Denal.

“Good shooting,” Denal compliments them. “And good idea, whoever got those blast doors closed.”

“Yeah, nice job, Echo!” Fives compliments, slapping Echo heartily on the back. Echo doesn’t mean to do it, but he flinches from the hit. His mind is still struggling to stay in the present, racing to stay ahead of devastating memories. Fives notices. His exuberant joy diminishes slightly as he steps just a tiny bit closer to Echo than usual in silent support.

“Good work, Echo,” Del says approvingly. “Where’d you learn to hack like that?”

Echo frowns.

“Dunno, sir,” he replies. “I’ve always been kind of good at it. The numbers just make sense to me.” Which isn’t a lie, but it’s stretching the truth a lot.

“Well, it was impressive,” Del says. “Would you object to more training on that kind of subject, soldier?”

Echo freezes up, because the very last thing he wants to do is hone the skill given to him by the Separatists, no matter how useful it may be. He swallows nervously.

“No objections, sir,” he lies, forcing the words past his lips, because he can’t exactly refuse something suggested so kindly like that. It would appear too strange.

His hands have stopped shaking, finally, but it feels like they still are, and Echo doesn’t know how to make that stop.

The droids are eventually fully cleared off of the ship. Droid poppers get rolled into hallways containing trapped droids, and all breaches are fully sealed off as the Resolute returns to space. The troopers get the news that Domino already knows a few minutes after successfully deactivating the last of the droids: Generals Secura and Skywalker, Commanders Tano and Bly, and Captain Rex had all been on a malfunctioning ship that had shot to hyperspace before it was able to dock with Resolute. Their destination is unknown, and the bridge is working on tracking their trajectory to estimate where the officers could have ended up. Admiral Yularen is placed in full command of the ship, and to the clones’ pleasure, he orders infantry to stand down and get some rest.

Beta squad takes those orders to heart.

The return to the barracks is full of good-natured congratulations and victory cries. Echo sticks close to Fives, and Domino forms up around him as a shield, sensing how close he is to falling apart even if they don’t fully understand why. Coric disappears, presumably to the medbay, with Zeer in tow.

When they reach the barracks, Del takes off his helmet and turns on his heel, facing his men with a pleased expression on his face.

“Well done, Domino. Your first battle with the 501st was a success. Even if you were still shinies after Rishi, you definitely aren’t anymore.” Cutup, Droidbait, and Hevy straighten proudly. Even in his delicate state Echo smiles at the sight.

His brothers are growing. It’s amazing to watch.

Once Del officially dismisses them from duty, Fives nudges Echo gently.

“What do you need?” he asks quietly. “What are you thinking right now, Echo?”

Echo’s shoulders slump.

“To not be alone,” he admits softly. “Rigging those blast doors brought up some… bad memories. Details I haven’t shared yet. Not even to you.”

Fives nods in understanding. “Want to share?” he offers carefully. Echo grimaces and glances around the barracks. Most of Domino is hanging close still, watching over Echo just in case he needs more support. The Teth survivors are nearby, too, though, unaware of Domino’s plight.

“Not here,” Echo whispers. “Sometime later, when we’re alone.”

Fives nods in understanding.

Echo manages to calm himself as the squad settles, stripping off their armor and basking in the joy of a successful mission. Hevy is grinning, describing every detail of his version of the fight to anyone who will listen—and then the whole squad, when he is unable to single anyone out for discussion. The Teth survivors are amused by his excitement and humor him, nodding at appropriate times during his triade. Cutup just mostly seems relieved it’s over, and stretches out on his bed to relax. Droidbait sets his armor out on the floor and pulls out the little can of blue paint he’d swiped. He and Attie spend several minutes very seriously discussing the placement of Droidbait’s newest tally marks. Eventually they settle on placing them on Droidbait’s right forearm—nine more tally marks, on the arm he holds his weapon in. Droidbait is irked that there aren’t more of them.

“I took down more than nine,” he complains, “but I didn’t deactivate them, just incapacitated, so they don’t count.” Echo snorts.

“Who made up that rule?” he asks. Droidbait wrinkles his nose.

“I did,” he admits. “It doesn’t feel right to count them. They weren’t my kills.”

Echo laughs. “You’ll get the hang of taking down supers soon enough,” he says. “We’ll practice with them plenty, once we get the Captain back. Patience, little brother.” Droidbait sighs in acceptance at his words.

“Remember when that was us?” Fives says to him fondly, as they sit side by side at a barracks table with nothing but memories on their minds. Echo nods.

“I do remember,” he says. “It feels like it was such a long time ago.”

“It was,” Fives confirms. “A lifetime ago, and at the same time, just mere moments ago.” He laughs. “This is still insane.”

Echo agrees with him wholeheartedly, and wonders if they’ll ever get used to it.

 He had thought he had recovered from the flashback, but he was wrong. He dreams of Tambor that night. A hand on his shoulder wakes him, and Echo nearly sends the poor trooper to the floor in his panic. Fortunately, it’s only Hevy.

“Kriff, Echo, it’s just me,” he hisses. “You alright?”

Echo shudders and sits up, reaching out to Hevy apologetically. “Just a nightmare,” he explains. Hevy winces.

“Glad I woke you, then,” he whispers. “We’re having a meeting. There’s an empty room that won’t be in use this late into the sleep cycle. Coming?”

Echo glances around the dark room. Fives and Cutup are already gone, and Droidbait is heading quietly out the door. He gets to his feet, moving silently, and nods once, motioning for Hevy to lead the way.

The selected room is small, and only one hallway down from the barracks. It’s perfect for five troopers to convene in, seated at the small round table in the center of the room.

“Right,” Fives begins softly once they’re all seated. “We’ve got a lot of things to discuss.”

It’s an understatement. They have a galaxy of things to discuss. Echo takes a deep breath.

“I suppose I’ll kick us off, then,” he mutters, and tells them about Tambor’s experiments. Tells them about being more machine than man, in the end, and how he’d been able to hack into computers with his mind and prosthetics alone. Tells them how the skills had translated to this life, somehow, and how he’d closed the blast doors.

He doesn’t know how he’d expected them to react, but he’s surprised when they hardly even blink at the news. They’ve heard other things from Echo’s torture that are just as bad, after all. Hevy, on his left side, and Cutup, on his right, place hands on his shoulders supportingly. Fives’ eyes narrow in anger, but not towards him.

When he’s finished, Fives nods, and takes a deep breath.

“You alright, Echo?” he asks. Good to continue? is what he’s really asking. Echo meets his eyes and nods. He’s good. It feels better now to have talked about it, just as he’d known he would, so the meeting continues.

“We have to tell someone about what we know,” Droidbait says next. “We have to tell someone who’s higher ranking than us. Who can actually do something about these things.”

Fives nods. “I agree. If we can get someone higher ranking on our side, we’ll be able to figure things out much faster.”

“But who?” Cutup asks. “Who can we tell? Who will the Force allow us to tell? I haven’t exactly felt any warm, fuzzy urges to go blurting our secrets around.”

They’re all silent after that for a long moment, because none of them have a clue what to do.

“What about General Kenobi?” Hevy suggests slowly. “We could try him, next time we work with the 212th.”

Echo blinks, and nods in approval.

“Not a bad idea,” he says. “General Kenobi is a good man, and a skilled negotiator. His skills would come in handy. I vote we give it a try.”

“Alright,” Fives says. “We’ll try it, next time we get the chance.” He glances at Echo. “There’s always General Unduli, or General Koon,” he suggests. “They’re options as well.”

“Does it have to be a Jedi?” Droidbait asks. “There are other clones who have some amount of authority. Commander Bly, for one—or Gree, or even Fox—”

“No,” Fives snaps, so suddenly that Domino tenses. “Not Fox.”

Droidbait looks confused, but he doesn’t argue. Fives’ tone had left no room for debate.

“Not much has changed yet,” Cutup says, then glances at Echo and Fives. “Right? So far, everything you’d experienced has happened again.”

“To be fair, we haven’t changed very much yet,” Echo justifies carefully. “The results of Rishi were the same, even if the method was slightly different and you three survived. We haven’t told anyone besides—well, General Ti doesn’t really count—so, we haven’t told anyone, either. There hasn’t been any opportunity for change.”

“Is that what we want?” Hevy asks. “Do we want it to change? That will get rid of every advantage we have.”

Fives frowns. “There’s also the fact that we can’t afford to change some things. Like with what happened today. What if we change something, and it only makes things worse?” He sighs. “I wish I knew the answers to these things, gentleman. This is why I want a Jedi on our side. They’re much better at predicting these kinds of things.”

Cutup nods. “So, step one. We notify a Jedi.”

“Not necessarily step one, but high priority,” Fives corrects. “If it’s not the right Jedi, don’t bother. General Ti told us to trust the Force, and I think we should listen to her advice.”

“So what, exactly, is our main goal?” Hevy asks. “To end the war? To remove the chips? To…” his voice drops dramatically in volume, “get rid of the Chancellor?”

“Why not do all three?” Fives says, with a grim smile. “Let’s aim for the top, boys. That’s the only way we’re going to end this once and for all.”

“How? How are we going to do this?” Droidbait contributes quietly. “We’ve been back for months and we’re still no closer to figuring out what to do.”

He has a point, and neither Fives nor Echo have an answer.

“We have to tell someone,” Cutup reinforces. “Then we’ll have more options, and another mind to help us figure out what the kriff to do.”

“Easier said than done,” Echo says softly in response, and they all hang their heads, easily recognizing the truth in his words.

“So, we’re going to keep waiting,” Hevy states. He doesn’t sound angry, or dejected—his words are neutrally spoken, and seem to hang in the air.

“For now,” Fives confirms with a huff. Fives himself doesn’t appear happy about it. “What else can we do, brothers? We have to trust in the Force.”

“I hate this, this awful waiting,” Droidbait says, shaking his head. “I hate it. People are dying.”

Fives puts a hand on Droidbait’s shoulder. “We act too soon, or recklessly, and even more people will die,” he says gently. “We can’t rush into this, ‘Bait. The whole galaxy is on the line, here. Too many things that could go wrong. We’re in the middle of a balancing act, and if we make one mistake, everything will fall.”

Awfully poetic, for Fives, and effective. Domino collectively takes a deep breath, more at ease with the concept of more waiting after Fives’ careful words.

Patience is key, if you’re looking to change the galaxy. Echo knows this for a fact, and he can see the rest of Domino accepting it, as uneasy as it makes them.

They just have to hold out a little longer.

There’s too much at stake for them to risk rushing this.

Chapter Text

Naboo is green. It’s nothing like Cutup has ever seen before. Kamino is blue, always, and Rishi is nothing but brown rock, with tiny gray patches of lichen in some of the deeper canyons. To see so much green is startling, even from orbit high above the planet.

A hand claps Cutup on the shoulder, and he jumps. Fives grins at him when he turns around.

“Gorgeous, isn’t it?” he says. “There isn’t another planet as nice-looking as this one.”

“Yeah,” Cutup agrees, glancing down out of the Resolute’s window again. They’re in the port side mess hall, the farthest one from their barracks, but it’s also the only mess hall with a window. It was much busier than normal at a time like this, full of clones all vying to get a glimpse at the new planet.  “It’s like a giant green emerald, in space. Does it look this good from the surface, too?”

Fives shrugs. “I wouldn’t know,” he admits. “I’ve never been to the surface.”

Cutup blinks at him. Behind them, Droidbait and Hevy, who had been chatting at a nearby table, glance up in surprise.

“What do you mean, you’ve never been to the surface?” Hevy asks. “I thought—” he cuts himself off to glance at the brothers eating and talking nearby. “I thought you’d done this before,” he finishes in a softer voice.

“I haven’t,” Fives clarifies. “My squad wasn’t called down to assist during this mission, so we stayed up here on the ship. I don’t even think it was Torrent who was called, actually, so we might have to sit this one out.”

Hevy tries and fails to not look disappointed. Droidbait kicks him under the table, but it doesn’t do much since they’re both in full armor, minus their helmets.

“So, do you even know what’s going to happen?” Cutup questions. Fives shrugs again.

“I’ve got a pretty good idea,” he says mildly. “From what I remember, there’s some droid base hidden in one of the swamps. It gets shut down within a day and a half.”

“Oh,” Cutup says. That doesn’t sound too bad—nothing that any other company won’t be able to handle.

The mess hall door opens, and a flood of men stream into the room. Some head for the food, others for the window, but one detaches himself from the throng and plops into the open seat next to Droidbait.

“Hey, Echo. How’s—” Droidbait begins, except Echo interrupts him with a theatrical groan, putting his head down on the table.

“It’s fine,” Echo groans (his words are slightly muffled, through his arms—he hadn’t bothered to pick up his head). “It’s fine, I’m enjoying it well enough, I guess. But you can only stare at a computer screen for so long before you start to get a headache.”

Echo’s more extensive programming training had begun once the commanding officers had been recovered from their little excursion to the tiny, neutral planet of Maridun. After some initial trepidation, he had come to almost enjoy the training, as disturbing as the origin of his skills were. It was rare that he was seen without a datapad these days. His training had continued even throughout the brief trip to Orto Plutonia—a mission Domino had not actively participated in, but they had stayed busy throughout the duration of their General and Captain’s absence.

Beta squad was growing quite proficient. They’d drilled squad formations and practiced endlessly at the range. Domino clicks with the Teth survivors like puzzle pieces. Cutup loves training with the rest of Beta. It makes him feel complete. Like he’s truly part of something bigger, not just a lowly outpost operator on the edge of the outer rim. Between Echo’s steadily advancing computer skills, Coric’s medical training, two heavy gunners, a mechanic, and several other miscellaneously skilled men, they have an extremely wide range of abilities on their side. Cutup hopes they’ll be the best someday.

Fives pats Echo on the back. “Chin up, brother. You get through this training, you’ll be a better man for it. In several ways.”

Echo lifts his head and sighs, rubbing futilely at his temples.

“I’m sure you’re right,” he says. “It’ll be useful, for certain, at some point. But that doesn’t mean I can’t complain about it.” He glances around at them. “What were we talking about, before I came in?”

“Naboo,” Hevy answers. “But there really wasn’t much to tell. Sounds like whichever company gets sent out won’t have any problems.”

Echo blinks and glances at Fives very, very quickly.

“It’s Tide Company, I think,” he tells them slowly, and then looks at Fives again. Squints at him, actually, considering something. “Fives, you didn’t tell them about—?”

“No,” Fives interrupts bluntly. The two ARCs have a silent conversation for a moment, eyes locked, and then Echo frowns and tears his gaze away.

“Fine,” Echo says. “I don’t like it, though.”

Cutup is curious now, and a quick glance at the others shows that they are, too. He’s envious of the way the two ARCs can converse like that—without words, without handsigns—just expression, trust, and experience that can only be gained from years of service together. The rest of Domino is working on it, they’re just… not quite there yet.

“What are you talking about?” Droidbait inquires carefully. Fives waves a hand at him.

“We’ll tell you later,” he answers. “It’ll be fine. Shouldn’t affect us at all.”

Fives can’t lie to save his life, but he doesn’t appear to be lying now. In fact, his expression is impressively neutral. Echo doesn’t look happy, but he’s letting Fives take the lead on this.

“Oh, come on!” Hevy complains. “I hate it when you guys do stuff like this. Just tell us what’s going on, won’t you?”

“It’s not something we’ll be able to change,” Fives tells them, and they’re all surprised by the seriousness he’s suddenly emanating. “Even if we tried, it probably wouldn’t end well. Echo and I don’t know enough about it to get involved. We’re staying out of this one.” His voice shifts again, until it’s a command tone. “Am I clear, men?”

“Sir, yes, sir,” Cutup says in unison with Hevy and Droidbait, almost on instinct. “But sir, what if something goes wrong and we need to know—”

“Sometimes ignorance isn’t a bad thing,” Fives interrupts. “Just… be patient for a bit. Once you do find out, you’ll be grateful we didn’t get involved.”

Hevy huffs in exasperation. Droidbait shakes his head, and Cutup sighs.

“Fine,” he relents. “We trust you guys more than anyone else, we just… don’t like to be kept in the dark.”

“I get the feeling you’d try something stupid if you did know,” Echo contributes quietly. “Sit back, let Tide Company handle this one. They’ll be okay.” He glances at Fives again, shakes his head, and mutters something under his breath that Cutup doesn’t catch. “I’m going to head to the barracks. I might crash a little early tonight. There’s only an hour until sleep cycle starts, anyway.”

“I’ll come with you,” Fives says immediately. They stand. “Anyone else want to join?”

“In a minute,” Hevy says. “I haven’t gotten a good look at Naboo yet.”

“Me neither,” Droidbait chimes in, glancing at the window a little ways from them. Cutup just shrugs. The ARCs leave, and the moment they’re out of sight the rest of Domino huddles closer together.

“Alright, what the heck is going on?” Hevy hisses quietly. “Why are they hiding stuff from us? We’re supposed to be a team. How are we going to save the Republic if those two start keeping secrets?”

Droidbait fidgets in his seat.

“To be fair, if they’re keeping something from us it’s probably for a good reason,” he justifies carefully. “After all, we are inexperienced. They could just be worried.”

“They’ve got no reason to be,” Cutup says. “Torrent isn’t even going to be involved in this one. Even if we wanted to join in, we couldn’t.”

“Yeah,” Hevy confirms. “But I’m still confused. What, exactly, are they being so secretive about?”

“Listen, does it really matter?” Droidbait interjects. “We have to trust them. Everything will fall apart if we don’t. If they think we shouldn’t get involved, they’re probably right.”

He has a point. Cutup nods slowly, but Hevy snarls.

“We aren’t helpless!” he protests. “They trained us to be like them! We can take care of ourselves!”

“We’ve experienced a grand total of two firefights,” Droidbait argues. “They’ve probably fought in hundreds. I, for one, am going to let them make the calls.  Even if it’s something strange like this. The Captain likes to say that experience outranks everything, remember? He says it all the time during training.”

Droidbait’s reasoning is sound. Cutup feels himself cooling down, and Hevy seems to deflate finally, as well.

“Alright,” he says. “Fine, fine. I don’t like it, though. This had better be a one-time thing.”

Droidbait sighs and pushes himself to his feet.

“I’m headed back to the barracks,” he announces. “I actually got a look at Naboo before any of you guys came in.”

Cutup snorts. “Sly, that,” he tells his brother. “I’m going to stay up for a little bit, actually. I think I can get my hands on a sniper rifle, at the range. Just for practice. It’s been awhile since I’ve handled one, and I don’t want to get rusty.”

“Fair enough,” Hevy says, and claps him on the shoulder. “Good luck. Normally I’d come with you, but my Z-6 needs a little bit of maintenance work done before she’s ready for battle again. Want me to call someone from Beta to join you?”

Cutup considers for a moment. “No, it’s okay,” he answers eventually. “Who knows, maybe even a few minutes away from you knuckleheads will improve my aim.”

Hevy slugs him in the shoulder for the jest, grinning.

“Alright,” he says, and joins Droidbait in heading for the door. “Have fun, then. We’ll see you later tonight?”

“Of course,” Cutup answers. He picks up his helmet from where it lies at his feet and puts it on as Hevy and Droidbait exit the mess hall.

He’s excited to get his hands on a sniper rifle again. He’d grown somewhat attached to the one on the Rishi Moon. It had felt right in his hands. He sets his shoulders back and heads for the range.

He’s only been shooting for a few minutes when the commotion starts.

Well, actually, that’s not true. When the commotions starts, he looks up from the gorgeous weapon in his hands and realizes that he’s actually been shouting for an hour and a half, so it’s… slightly more than a few minutes. Eh, details, details. Cutup doesn’t mind staying out so late, but he hadn’t planned on it—he’d just lost track of time.

The sounds of dozens of footsteps passing the range makes him pause, lifting his finger off of the trigger and glancing uncertainly towards the door. He would have been notified if he’d been needed—someone would have contacted him. Regardless, he unloads the sniper rifle in a well-practiced motion and sets it back on the rack before crossing the mostly empty range to poke his head out the door.

There’s a company of men running past, in the direction of the hangar. Cutup glances at the insignia sketched onto one of the passerby’s armor and recognizes Tide Company’s brand—a crescent moon over a basic sketch of a wave.

Tide Company must be preparing to ship out to Naboo. Cutup watches in fascination as they go flying past. Eventually, he steps out all the way into the hallway. It’s late—the sleep cycle has already started, and if he doesn’t return soon the rest of Domino will tease him for losing track of time again.

“You there! Soldier, a moment!”

Cutup jumps at the shout, then relaxes, believing that someone must be talking to one of Tide Company—except a moment later a someone grabs his shoulder, spinning him around. Cutup blinks in surprise, snapping to attention automatically as he notices the designs on the other clone’s armor—it’s a lieutenant.

“Sir!” he barks out. “Is something wrong?”

“Not exactly,” the lieutenant answers. “I’ve got a squad two men down. Jay and Trigger are still in the infirmary. I can deal with being one man down, but two is worrisome, especially when we’re headed into the unknown like this. An extra pair of eyes should keep them out of trouble. What company are you from?”

“Uh, Torrent, sir, but—”

The lieutenant goes to his commlink and taps a button. “Captain Rex, permission to borrow a man from Torrent? He’s the first free man I’ve come across and we don’t have time to find anyone else.”

“That’s fine,” Captain Rex replies, voice slightly distorted from a gunship’s distinct engines humming in the background. “Let him notify his own squad, but make it quick. We need to be in the air within the next five minutes.”

“Copy that,” the lieutenant says. He deactivates the comm and motions for Cutup to follow him. “You heard the man, Torrent. Make your call on the go, we need to get under way.”

Cutup is so shocked that it takes him a few moments to react. The lieutenant is already several steps ahead of him by then, so he has to jog to catch up. His mind is whirling, and suddenly his heart is beating far too fast.

“Sir, um, I don’t know if—”

“It’s fine, rookie, don’t worry about it. We do this kind of thing all the time in the 501st. It’s just to make sure no squad is less prepared than any other.”

Cutup bristles at rookie just a bit, because he’s not a rookie—not anymore. But he doesn’t voice his protests, nor does he attempt to discourage the lieutenant’s idea. The officer’s voice had left no room for argument, so he swallows down his nerves and falls into step just behind his momentary commanding officer.

He decides to call Echo, because between the two ARCs, Echo is far less likely to chew him out for something that isn’t even his fault. Fortunately his brother picks up quickly, on external comms.

“Hey, Cutup,” Echo answers. “Are you coming back anytime soon? It’s getting a little late, how much longer are you —”

“Echo,” Cutup interrupts him. “I’ve been… recruited. A lieutenant from Tide has ordered me to join them to help a squad two men down.”

There’s a split second of silence. In the background, Cutup hears someone who could only be Fives exclaim, “What?!”

“Cutup, where are you?” Echo demands. “You—” He breaks himself off, and it’s fortunate that he does, because the lieutenant can hear everything Cutup can. Echo takes a deep breath. “Okay, we read you. Just… stay alert, alright?” There’s something strange in his voice, something that’s making Cutup nervous, and he wishes they’d pressed the ARCs harder for more information about this mission. He’s regretting not doing so now, and something tells him Echo and Fives are regretting not telling them, too. “Don’t let your guard down at any time, Cutup. You hear me? Any time.”

Cutup swallows nervously. Echo’s warning him, that much is for sure, but he can’t say anything else, realizing other men are likely nearby.

Why hadn’t the ARCs warned them about this mission earlier? Cutup takes a deep breath.

“I’ll be careful,” he responds. “Don’t worry about me, Echo. I’ll be back soon.”

Echo inhales sharply, audible even through the comm. “Just… don’t do anything stupid, brother. If you come home with injury number five, we’re going to have issues.”

Cutup blinks in confusion as he steps out into the hangar behind the lieutenant. He’s only been injured once…?

Oh. The strange inflection of his voice on the word ‘five’... something about Fives. Is Fives coming? How in the world is his brother going to pull that off?

“I copy, Echo,” he replies carefully. “See you in a bit.” Then he hangs up, because the lieutenant is glancing back at him, motioning him into a gunship. The men inside welcome him and the lieutenant as they steps inside with slaps on the back and grins that he can’t see (but senses, beneath their helmets). Captain Rex is there, too, speaking quietly to someone (probably General Skywalker) over his comlink.

“You the replacement, for now?” a Tide clone asks, elbowing Cutup playfully. “Good to have you on board, brother. We’re always in need of extra eyes.”

Cutup grins—admittedly a bit tensely. “I thought as much, from looking at Tide’s scores at the range,” he quips, and gets pounded on the back several more times for his boldness. Good-natured chuckles fill the gunship as the doors slide shut, sealing them all inside.

Cutup is nervous. He knows something is off about this mission, he knows that he’s not supposed to be here. Something is terribly wrong, but he can’t leave now, not without calling his own loyalty into question. That’s not something he can risk. In silence, he listens as the gunship rises up into the air and lets the grin slip off of his face.

“What’s your name, brother?” one of his temporary squadmates asks.

“Cutup,” Cutup answers. “Yours?”

“Sergeant Docks,” the clone introduces. “I’m in charge of this squad, so you’re under me. You’ll be taking the left-mid position of a standard triangulated formation, understood?”

Cutup salutes. “Yessir,” he snaps out. “I’ll do my best, sir.” Docks nods at him in approval.

“Listen up, men,” the lieutenant suddenly says, addressing the rest of the squad. “This is an important mission. We’ll be capturing a Separatist base that’s been found buried beneath a swamp, and recovering the Senator of Naboo, who was taken captive. Naboo is a vital system to the Republic, it cannot fall. We must succeed here, am I understood?”

“Sir, yes, sir!” Cutup shouts with the rest of the men, just as the flight of the gunship becomes unsteady with atmospheric entrance.

Captain Rex ends his commlink conversation and draws his DC-17s. “Lock and load, boys,” he orders. “We’re the advance team, so we’re going in first. At the ready, men!”

Cutup grips the DC-15A someone passes him and tries to steady his breathing.

He’s going to get chewed out for this by the ARCs later, he can practically sense it. Echo and Fives didn’t want any of Domino involved for some reason. But what else is he supposed to do but follow orders?

For now, he just needs to focus on surviving the fight, so his brothers will have someone to yell at after this is all over.

“Are you kidding me?” Fives snarls. “Are you actually kidding me— kriff. This is bad. This is really bad.”

Cutup has just hung up, and Fives is pulling on his armor at top speed, movements almost frantic in haste. Echo is doing the same, but he’s not quite as fast as Fives.

Cutup is going straight down into the hands of the Blue-Shadow Virus, and he doesn’t even know it.

“You guys alright?” Droidbait asks, peering over at them in confusion from his spot at the barracks table. “What’s with the armor? Is everything—?”

“Cutup got himself into trouble,” Fives barks out. “I’m going to go get him out of there. All of Tide can’t fit into a single set of gunships, there’s bound to be at least one more group going out.”

Droidbait’s eyes go wide. Hevy had been dozing on his bed, but he sits up at that, jerking to his feet.

“What? We’re coming too!” He reaches for his armor.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Fives growls. “This is dangerous enough as it is. You’re not coming.” The chances of losing someone will increase dramatically with every man Fives allows to join him.

“Yes, we are,” Droidbait argues. “Cutup is in trouble. We learned this the first time we took that test on Kamino. We never leave a brother behind.”

“Yeah,” Hevy agrees. “Whatever the problem is, we’ll take it down. I don’t care if it’s droids or bounty hunters or even sith, we’ve gotta help him—”

“No,” Fives hisses. “You aren’t. Coming. Is that understood? It’s not—” He cuts himself off, shakes his head, and snatches a DC-15S from the rack on the wall. “It’s not something you can fight, hothead. That’s why it’s so dangerous.” He remembers seeing the handful of survivors brought back to the Resolute after the virus had been cleared from the underground base—remembers how sickly they had looked, with dark bags beneath their eyes and discolored veins crisscrossing visibly just beneath their skin.

He remembers that a few men had still died even though the Generals had brought back a cure.

Echo is nearly finished dressing, but as Fives turns and rushes for the door he turns back.

“Echo, stay.”

Echo freezes just before putting his helmet on, and they all see the look of fury that flashes across his face.

“Fives,” Echo snaps out dangerously, but before he can continue, Fives lets out a tortured breath, pressing a fretful hand to his head.

“Echo, please. If the virus—if we both die, they’ll need someone who knows things about the war to lead them. And… they deserve to know the truth.”

Echo deflates, shoulders slumping. “They should have known the truth in the first place, but I don’t think it would have changed anything,” he says regretfully. “Cutup got recruited. Even if he had known what was going to happen, he wouldn’t have been able to get out of it.”

Fives balls his fists. “I’ll bring Cutup back,” he swears. “I promise you guys that. Stay here. I won’t be too long.”

Echo nods once. His eyes meet Fives’ for an instant.

Don’t die, his expression begs. Fives sets his jaw.

I won’t, he makes his face say. He fills it with determination and confidence, and then whirls on his heel, exiting the barracks at a full-out sprint.

He’d thought it would be best to not reveal the full story of Naboo. He’d thought it was a kindness. Droidbait and Cutup, especially, had been very distraught by knowing what was going to happen to some of their brothers but not being able to do anything about it. Fives had thought it to be for the best that they not even be made aware of it, if only to spare their consciousnesses for a little longer.

He’d worried they’d try to take the situation into their own hands, like they’d wanted to do earlier.

They’ll be furious with him and Echo when they learn the truth. Fives had made a bad call, by not trusting his brothers, and he knows there will be consequences for it.

Later. He’ll worry about that later. For now, he needs to make sure Cutup returns to them alive.

The secondary attack team is just taking off when Fives barrels into the hangar bay. He swears when he sees the gunships beginning to take off and redoubles his efforts, feet pounding against the metal floor beneath him. Someone in the last gunship sees him coming, and the side doors remain open for an instant longer than usual—long enough for brothers to reach out and hoist him into the gunship just before the doors close.

“That was close, brother,” a clone tells Fives as the ARC recovers his breath. “Nearly didn’t make it. You would have gotten so many demerits for that—”

His voice suddenly cuts off, and Fives knows it’s because he’s noticed Fives’ armor is lacking the distinct crescent moon and wave insignia of Tide Company.

A hand grips Fives’ forearm firmly, but not aggressively. Fives looks up into the helmeted face of a brother whose name he does not know.

“Kriff, mate, you know how much trouble you’ll be in for this?” the clone asks incredulously. The rest of the clones are quiet, even the two squad leaders who must be present based on the number of men inside. “You’d better have a good reason for this.”

The only reason he hasn’t been kicked out yet is because they’re already under way.

Fives heaves a sigh. He is going to be in trouble for this, but that’s nothing he isn’t used to. The only difference is that he won’t have the kama and pauldron to protect him this time around.

“I have the best reason to come,” he explains. “I’ve got a batchmate down their, recruited with the advance team. He’s good, but he’ll do better with a squadmate watching his back.”

The clones are silent for a moment longer, watching him carefully. Fives knows they understand what he’s doing and why—the real question is, will any of them report him on it?

Dogma would have, had he been here.

Fortunately, there are no Dogmas among the crowd today. The clone holding his arm releases him and pats his shoulder once.

“Be careful, brother,” the man says. He’s probably a squad leader. “We can’t protect you from the higher-ups, but we’ll help you if we can.”

Fives nods in silent, sincere thanks and takes a deep breath to let a wave of battle-calm wash over him. He’s never been to Naboo—this is new territory for him, and the first time this event had occurred he’d been little more than a shiny still. He hadn’t bothered to go over the fine details of the battle, and he regrets that deeply now.

He’s going to have to wing it.

Fortunately, he’s always been good at that.

As they had approached Naboo on the ship in the days before they had reached the planet, the ship-wide sleep cycles had been adjusted minutely until they were aligned with Naboo’s night and day. As a result, it’s dark when the doors of the gunship open. Cutup has to squint to make out anything below—not that there’s much to see. It’s a literal swamp down there.

“We’re approaching the hot zone,” the Captain Rex informs them over the rush of the wind and the whine of the gunship. “We’ll be rappelling in, there’s not a big enough open space for the gunship to land.”

A ways in front of the gunship, an explosion is visible through the trees. The gunship adjusts its course to head towards it.

“Commander Tano’s begun a distraction,” the pilot informs them. “We’ve been instructed to give her a hand.” The gunship steadies, hovering over the jungle and disturbing the cloud of smoke that had gathered from the explosion. “We’re over the drop zone, boys, stay safe out there!”

“Drop the ropes!” Captain Rex orders. “Let’s move, men!”

Sergeant Docks grabs onto the rope and backs out of the gunship, rappelling down into the darkness below. Cutup is right next, and without hesitation he follows—he’s done this in training before, and he’s not about to show his nerves to men who aren’t even in his Company.

It’s a long way down, but he grips the rope tightly as he descends. He catches a glimpse of the jungle at the ground level as he passes—and then he’s going even lower, inside an underground facility lit by harsh artificial light and streaks of blasterfire. When he reaches the floor he drops off of the rope and instinctively moves for the outside of the hallway, returning fire at the droids who have appeared farther down the corridor.

There’s a few SBDs, and a horde of ordinary battle droids. Cutup takes careful aim and lets instinct take over. He takes down two battle droids in quick succession—the first, right in the head, and the second in it’s chest. A super battle droid starts to advance, aiming higher—at another clone who’s rappelling down from the gunship. Cutup takes a quick step forward and incapacitates it with a well-placed shot to it’s hip joint, sending it crashing to the floor before it can take the shot.

“Down!” someone shouts from behind him. Cutup drops without a thought, barely avoiding a stream of blasterfire that streaks over his head. Sergeant Docks hits the deck next to him, and both of them wince when they hear a brother cry out in pain.

Cutup scrambles to his feet. He’s raising his gun again and struggling to steel himself against the wave of droids in front of them, when a blurr darts past him, headed straight for the droids.

He doesn’t really get a good look at whoever it is, but that doesn’t matter, because a moment later he notices the bright green blade slashing through the air. Commander Tano is fast. Agile, too—she bounces off the walls themselves, deflecting the droid’s fire with ease and grace that Cutup is immediately envious of.

He almost forgets to fire, actually, he’s so impressed. She’s deadly and aggressive, cutting the droids down and leaving them in smouldering pieces on the ground. In the wake of her charge, more troopers press ahead, firing all the while. Captain Rex runs past Cutup, twin pistols blazing in his hands.

“Forward, come on!” he urges. Cutup takes a deep breath and follows.

Commander Tano is making it a little hard to focus. Cutup is enchanted by her lightsaber. It acts as an extension of her body, whirling through the air in captivating arcs of green. He watches it deflect a dozen blaster bolts in quick succession, and realizes with a start that her skill is the only thing keeping him and his brothers from harm.

He’s never seen a Jedi fight in real life before. The recordings they show on Kamino don’t do it justice. Cutup is in awe, and he isn’t the only one.

“Kriff, she’s fast,” a Tide brother gasps out next to him. “How many clankers does she go through per battle? Her kill count is probably off the charts!”

“Focus, boys!” Sergeant Docks chides, taking down a battle droid the Commander hadn’t quite gotten to yet. “We’re not out of trouble yet!”

As if summoned by his words, two droidekas round the corner, and Cutup swears under his breath.

“Rollies!” someone cries. The droidekas unfold themselves. Cutup frantically takes aim, as do most of his brothers, but they’re too slow—the shields go up, and the droidekas start firing.

Two brothers go down before anyone can react, and then the clones are shouting, halting their advances and searching desperately for cover that simply doesn’t exist in such a narrow hallway. Commander Tano places herself directly in front of them, deflecting all that she can, but it’s not quite enough. Another brother falls, this one too close to Cutup for comfort. There’s only seven clones left.

“Fall back!” Commander Tano orders. Her voice is strained. The droidekas have a much higher firing rate than any other droid, and she’s being pushed back by their attack. The clones obey, clustering closer together behind her in an effort to stay inside her protective range.

They lose two more men. Cutup grits his teeth and keeps firing, even though he knows it won’t do any good. The droideka’s shields are holding, and no one has large enough weaponry to penetrate them.

“I can’t hold them!” Commander Tano grunts out. Cutup tenses, ready for the full order to retreat, but before it can be issued, the whole hallway trembles, and then the ceiling starts to cave in. Cutup nearly panics until he realizes that the ceiling is only crumbling in a single spot—right above the clankers. The rubble crushes the droidekas even through their shields. When the dust clears, General Kenobi of all people is standing in the middle of the wreckage, looking pleased with himself.

Cutup’s jaw drops. He’s glad he’s wearing a helmet.

“Need some help?” the General asks. Commander Tano lets out a sigh of relief as several clones drop down from the hole in the ceiling—a bomb squad, if their almost entirely orange armor is of any indication.

“So good to see you, Master Kenobi,” the commander says. She uses her free hand to wipe sweat from her forehead as she joins the Jedi Master. Rex motions for the surviving clones to follow as the Jedi begin to move forwards again.

“Things are going well,” Cutup hears Kenobi say. “The lab is secure, and hopefully Anakin has reached Padmé by now.” The Jedi reach the split in the hallway a moment before the clones do, but Cutup knows there’s more trouble because Ahsoka re-activates her lightsaber.

“We’ll keep the droids occupied!” Ahsoka shouts as General Kenobi and the bomb squad take off in the opposite direction. Her lightsaber is already a green blur, spinning gracefully through the air and leaving trails of light in its wake.

Between the glorious sight of Naboo earlier, and now this, Cutup decides that green is his new favorite color.

There’s not as many droids in this section as there had been in that very first hallway. The Commander doesn’t need any help—there’s only three of them, and her blade cuts through the machinery as if it’s butter. Once they’re taken care of, the Commander turns back to her men.

“You boys okay back there?” she asks, and there’s a quick flash of uncertainty that crosses her face when she realizes there’s only four of them left. All at once Cutup is struck by how young she is. She’s tough enough that he hadn’t bothered to consider her age. He remembers what Fives had said about her earlier— just as fierce of a warrior as any brother —and believes it wholeheartedly.

“We’re good, kid,” Captain Rex says. “What’s our next move?”

Commander Tano considers, recovering seamlessly from the falter. “We might as well search out some more clankers to fight while my Master and General Kenobi are occupied with the virus bombs. Let’s clear the whole base.”

“We’re with you, Commander,” Rex replies, nodding once in approval. “Let’s go, men! On the double!”

Cutup falls into step behind the Captain. There’s not too many of them left. The Captain, Cutup, Sergeant Docks, and the man from Tide who had been equally impressed with the Commander earlier are all that’s left. Cutup doesn’t know what had happened to the lieutenant who’d recruited him earlier.

In all honesty, Cutup can’t believe he’s alive. He’d acted no differently from the clones who’d been killed earlier—pure luck had kept him from sharing their fate.

“Sir,” Cutup says quietly to the Sergeant as they run. “I was recruited on short notice for this mission. What are virus bombs?”

Sergeant Docks explains. Cutup sort of wished he hadn’t, because there’s a sinking feeling in his gut as he realizes that neither of the ARCs had said anything about the Blue Shadow Virus.

Something bad is going to happen. Cutup can almost sense it.

They’re racing through another hallway searching for something to shoot when the Commander’s commlink lights up. General Skywalker’s voice is audible.

“Ahsoka, we’ve got another situation. Send all the clones to search the facility! We’ve got a missing—” Commander Tano leads them around a corner, and they nearly run right into General Skywalker’s team. General Skywalker blinks at them and shuts his comlink off with a deft motion, continuing in person. “We’ve got a missing bomb, and a trigger-happy mad doctor on the loose.”

Oh, no. Cutup can easily see where this is going, and why the ARCs were so reluctant to reveal what they knew. The Blue Shadow Virus is a legendary plague, one the clones actually had been taught about due to the massive amounts of planets that had succumbed to the disease years before. It’s an important section of the galaxy’s history. For an airborne strain to exist… Cutup can’t even imagine the damage it would do to a human body. He tightens his grip nervously around his weapon.

Somehow he knows the virus is going to be released. Knows it as sure as he knows Kamino is wet.

Perhaps he can stop it. He’s here already, despite the wishes of his brothers, so he might as well try and fix it. Men will die if he doesn’t.

Commander Tano orders a sweep of the facility. For a while, Cutup is distracted with searching for the missing virus bomb, scanning rooms full of strange science experiments that put him on edge. They even find containers full of the original virus, contaminated water that appears normal… though everyone knows better.

Cutup is getting more anxious with every second that ticks by, half expecting the virus-leak alarm to go off any second.

From the Commander’s commlink, Senator Amidala’s voice cuts through their frantic search as they’re running to the next room.

“Ahsoka, I found the last bomb!”

Commander Tano immediately swerves down a different corridor to head for the other woman’s coordinates. The sudden motion catching the clones off guard. They have to scramble to keep up with her.

“Stay there!” Commander Tano instructs the Senator firmly. “I’ll get the bomb squad.” She switches frequencies. “Bomb squad, this is Commander Tano. Send a man to meet us at Senator Amidala’s coordinates, immediately. She’s got the missing bomb.”

“Copy that, Commander,” a clone replies. “I’m sending Graham.”

“Tell him to hurry!” Commander Tano says urgently. “We don’t have very much time!”

They take two more turns, following the Senator’s coordinates, and burst into the room where the woman and gungan are. Senator Amidala is holding the explosive, eyes a little wide as she watches the timer tick down.

“The droid got away, but we managed to get the bomb,” she informs them. She’s obviously nervous, but she remains composed. Cutup is dimly impressed with the way she stows her fear away.

Footsteps approach, and a bomb squad clone who could only be Graham bursts into the room. His helmeted gaze zeroes in on the explosive, and he shoves his way through the rest of the clones who aren’t fast enough to move out of his way. Cutup has to jump out of his path to avoid being pushed aside.

“Sorry, Senator, I’m thinking you should probably hand that over to me,” Graham says as he strides up to her. The Senator hands it over instantly.

“Oh, come on, that was to be my souvenir!” she mock-complains, but there is a slight tremor to her voice. Commander Tano puts a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Graham gets to work. Everyone is silent as he does so—afraid to speak and distract the specialist from his job. That being said, despite the danger and the ticking down of the timer, everyone inches closer, intrigued by the very item that could kill them if Graham makes a single wrong move.

The timer ticks down, closer and closer. Graham’s fingers are wedged deep into the inner workings of the device. After what seems like an eternity, he reaches for the pliers he’d set on the floor next to him, and cuts one of the larger wires so quickly that if Cutup had blinked, he would have missed it.

Graham’s final motion is so fast and so sudden that everyone gathered around him automatically flinches back, but then he exhales in relief and sets the bomb down.

“Deactivated,” he says. Cutup can imagine the pleased half-grin on the other clone’s face as he continues and says, “Plenty of time to spare.”

Cutup glances at the frozen timer and shakes his head disbelievingly. Bomb Squad troops are truly something else, because based on the timer another few moments would have killed them all. Graham doesn’t even look rattled.

Everyone takes a moment to breath, because that had been awfully close.

“Nice job, Graham,” Commander Tano compliments. “You’re a lifesaver.” Captain Rex claps a hand onto Graham’s shoulder approvingly.

“Just doing my job, sir,” Graham says, but he’s proud, and rightfully so.

Cutup hears more words being exchanged, but he can’t really concentrate on them now, because… it’s over. They’ve succeeded. The bombs have been stopped, the droids are taken care of, and the Generals seem to have cornered the mad scientist.

It’s over, and… nothing bad had happened. The virus hadn’t been released.

Cutup hadn’t changed anything. Had he? His mere presence couldn’t have been enough to stop the virus from being released.

...Could it have been?

He’s so confused. He’s learned to never let his guard down in situations like this, but… everything seems to have worked out.

Can he afford to relax? After all… the day is saved. They’ll leave this facility soon enough, and then Cutup will be on his way back to the Resolute.

He finally takes the risk—he relaxes, and allows the tension of uncertainty to drain from his limbs.

The mission is over. They’ve won.

And as far as Cutup knows, they’ve done a much better job this time then last time.

If there had been room to pace in the gunship, Fives would have been pacing. He has to settle for shifting uneasily instead, something that he knows is making the other clones curious, but he can’t help himself.

The second advance team had been denied entrance to the facility. Extra troops, in the confined space of the underground lab, would only hinder those already inside. The gunships have been hovering for what seems like ages, waiting to see if a call for reinforcements will be made.

Fives is getting anxious. He needs to get down there and get Cutup out, immediately —but he can’t. The gunship doors are firmly closed, and even though his brothers have allowed him to join them, he’s not so sure they’ll let him get away with such a blatant level of disobedience.

“I’m sure your batchmate is fine, brother,” one of the clones attempts to reassure him, but Fives refuses to be reassured. None of them know what’s coming, understand what’s about to be released into the world.

A voice comes over the comlinks—General Skywalker’s voice. Fives tenses in anticipation, but the words the Jedi says are not the ones he wants to hear.

“The day is ours, gentleman. We’ll be out of here soon. Team two, you can return back to the Resolute. We’re nearly finished.”

Fives swears under his breath and clenches his fists. The Virus will be unleashed soon, just on the crest of victory. No one sees it coming.

There’s a mixture of cheers and complaints coming from the clones around him—some happy for their Company’s success, and others disappointed they won’t get to see action.

“Alright, we’re headed home,” the pilot announces, and the gunship’s engines start to whine in preparation to stop hovering and return to the Star Destroyer.

Fives sets his jaw and makes a decision. He’s not leaving Cutup down there alone.

There’s an emergency door-open button covered by glass on the side of the gunship. Fives steels himself and shatters the glass with his elbow, hitting the button in the same motion. An alarm sounds as the doors slide open.

The sun is just beginning to rise, on Naboo. It nearly blinds Fives for an instant, but he squints against the natural light and shifts closer to the edge of the ship.

“What the kriff are you doing?” a brother asks incredulously. The other clones are scrambling in alarm, confused and struggling to figure out his intentions. Fives looks down into the jungle as the gunship lurches unsteadily. “Soldier, stand down! Stand down!”

Fives is expecting the hands that reach out for him. He bats them away with ease and secures the end of a rappelling cable to the gunship, letting it dangle down to the ground below.

“Are you trying to get killed?” someone shouts.

Far below, an alarm starts to go off inside the facility, audible even this far up. Fives remembers skimming the reports of this mission in his first life and recalls what that means: They’ve discovered that one of the bombs is missing it’s core, and that the virus could be leaked at any moment.

It won’t be long until the virus is really leaked and the base goes into lockdown. Fives only has a short window of time before he’s locked out. On top of that, the gunship is moving now, just beginning to pick up speed. He has to go, now.

“Are you crazy?” a clone yells.

Fives takes a deep breath.

“A little,” he answers, and jumps.

Chapter Text

The toxin is blue. Cutup sees it coming—they all do, just as the toxin alarms are starting to go off for real.

Then they’re all sprinting, because if they don’t make it to the safe room they’re dead.

Panic rises in his throat. He’d settled into the idea that they’d succeeded. Now, everything Cutup had believed is falling apart. He barely manages to keep pace with the others, too busy struggling against his own horror as he runs.

He’d been wrong. They hadn’t stopped the virus after all.

And now everyone’s going to pay for it.

The virus is coming, and when Cutup risks a single glance backwards, it’s gaining on them. Tendrils of cobalt mist surge through the air, a tsunami of the intangible. Cutup has to fight down another surge of fear at the sight, because it’s beautiful, in a twisted sense—beautiful death, like the vibrant colors of a venomous reptile. And that makes it so much worse.

The Commander and Captain Rex pull ahead. The safe room is close, but not nearly close enough. Cutup sees the doors start to slide shut, and thinks they’re all dead men already. That revelation is enough to make him stagger, sheer hopelessness nearly overwhelming him—but then Commander Tano skids to a halt, lifts her hands, and freezes the doors in place with her mind.

“Get inside!” she orders, and they obey her instantly. The Captain ushers Cutup and the Tide man in first, and then they reach back to pull Sergeant Docks and the Captain in. Captain Rex wedges a DC-15S between the doors to stop them from closing.

“Hurry!” Docks cries, pulling at the doors to try and keep them open just a little bit longer, but it’s not easy. The DC-15 jammed in between the doors is trembling from the force being exerted on it. Cutup scrambles to hold the doors in place, too, and together all four clones are able to keep the doors open just long enough for the Commander to dive through, leaping almost parallel to the ground to make it through the tiny space. The Virus is right on her heels. The instant she’s through, Rex knocks the gun out from between the doors, and the rest of the clones release their holds on the door. The safe room doors slide firmly shut.

For a long moment, all five of them are silent save for their harsh breathing, struggling to recover from the adrenaline rush. The virus alarm is still wailing faintly in the background, but it’s faintly muffled through the blast doors. It has the strange effect of making Cutup feel detached from reality for a few disorienting moments,  until he is able to steady his breathing and stand up straight.

“Everyone alright?” Captain Rex asks. They give him an assortment of affirmatives in reply, still a bit on the breathless side. Commander Tano hauls herself off of the floor, where she’d landed after her spectacular jump. She rubs her side.

“You boys okay?” she repeats, so they answer the question again. “Good. I think we managed to outrun it, so we should be safe for the time being.”

“Ahsoka!” General Skywalker’s voice cuts through the air from the Commander’s comm. “What is going on down there?”

Ahsoka motions for the clones to relax as she turns away to answer her Master. Cutup sighs and leans against the wall gratefully. Sergeant Docks joins him, taking his helmet off and sighing.

“Glad you’ve made it this far, Torrent,” he tells Cutup quietly. “You’re good. The Lieutenant picked well. Remind me your name, soldier?”

“Cutup,” Cutup answers. “And I’m pretty sure the lieutenant picked randomly. I’m lucky, that’s all.” Or unlucky, since he was even picked in the first place, but of course he doesn’t say that out loud.

The Tide shiny joins them a moment later, and Captain Rex follows. The Captain glances at Cutup’s armor and nods once when he sees the five dots on Cutup’s shoulder.

“Domino, right? It’s Cutup, isn’t it. Good to see you, brother.” Cutup gives him a sort of half-hearted salute that Rex waves off casually. “I was wondering who it was who’d been recruited from Torrent. Glad to have you by my side again.”

Cutup can’t stop the grin that spreads over his face behind his helmet at that.

The Tide shiny doesn’t know anyone besides Captain Rex, so brief introductions are done. The shiny is called Tipper, and he’s fresh from Kamino. His speech mannerisms are a lot like Hevy’s, though he’s a little less confrontational than Cutup’s teammate. Cutup decides that he likes him.

The four of them are just starting to relax when the Commander lets out an annoyed huff and strides back over to join them. The men straightened automatically at her approach.

“Looks like we’re going to be stuck in here for a few, boys,” the Commander informs them apologetically. “The safe room doors can only be opened from the outside now that the virus has been released. Senator Amidala should be able to assist us, but it’ll take some time… and there are also some surviving droids to worry about. They’ll try to escape the facility, and release the virus as they do. The good news is that the mad doctor behind all this was captured by Master Skywalker and Master Kenobi. They were outside when the base went into lockdown, so they’re safe for now.”

Beside Cutup, Rex lets out a sigh of relief at the news that his General is safe. Then, the Captain shakes his head.

“Commander, if the Senator opens those doors…”

Commander Tano winces. “We’ll be contaminated instantly, I know. But we can’t let the virus affect the rest of this planet. We’ve gotta scrap those droids before they can escape. Besides, the Generals are looking for a cure. They’ll find it for sure, so there’s no need to worry.”

So, they’ll have to go out into the cobalt mists of death. Cutup sets his jaw in determination. The Commander is right—too many would die if the droids are allowed to escape.

Clones are expendable. Republic citizens are not. Cutup glances at Docks and Tipper (who have both taken their helmets off) and sees the same expressions of resolve on their faces. They’re all willing to throw themselves into the virus to protect Naboo. That’s what they’ve been created to do.

Domino will never forgive Cutup if he dies here, but Cutup firmly believes that the safeguarding of an entire planet is much more important than the lives of four clones. The rest of Domino are capable of functioning without him.

Commander Tano sighs heavily and sits down with her back against the wall.

“We might as well get comfortable,” she tells them. “Who knows how long we’ll be here?” After a moment’s hesitation, they join her, sliding down the walls and leaning back, relaxing the best they can considering the circumstances. She’s right, after all. They can’t go anywhere.

For a long moment, everything is quiet. Cutup shifts anxiously. He’s always been unsettled by silence, and eventually he can’t take it anymore.

“So…” he begins slowly, “Anyone bring sabacc cards?”

Tipper snorts. Docks rolls his eyes. Rex lets out a long-suffering sigh. Commander Tano giggles.

Cutup frowns. “What?” he asks. “I was just asking.”

“Cutup, your sense of tact needs some work,” Rex tells him, but there’s a hint of amusement in his voice.

“I wish we had sabacc cards,” Tipper bemoans. “That would make things a little more interesting, at least.”

“I never learned to play,” Commander Tano tells them. Cutup blinks incredulously.

“What, really? Every clone learns to play. It’s about one of the only things we can get away with on Kamino for non-training related fun.”

“And still technically against regulations,” Rex reminds them. “Though that’s never stopped anyone.”

Tipper smirks. “Including yourself, Captain?” he asks daringly, and they’re all taken by surprise when Rex laughs.

“Including myself,” he confirms. “Though Commander Cody usually tears me up when we play.”

Commander Tano looks intrigued.

“Teach me?” she asks.

“Uh, hang on, I’m not sure General Skywalker would approve—” Rex tries to say, but he’s far too late.

“Of course,” Cutup answers the Commander. “Anyone will teach you. When we get out of this mess, just ask any trooper. They’ll get you up to speed.”

She grins.

“Sounds like a good time,” she says, then shoots Rex a sly look. “My Master doesn’t need to know, right, Rex?”

Cutup stifles a chuckle as Rex sighs yet again. The light conversation is just enough to distract Cutup from their current situation. He’s grateful for it, and he’s sure the others feel the same way.

“Sorry, but I’m afraid I only know Captain Rex’s name,” Commander Tano tells them, continuing the conversation. “Mind introducing yourselves, boys?”

“Sergeant Docks, sir,” Docks says. “I’m with Tide company.”

“Any reason behind the name?”

Docks tilts his head. “I used to spend all my free time sitting in the hangar docks on Kamino, watching the waves and rain. I found it soothing. Naturally, my squad made fun of me for it, so Docks it was.”

Commander Tano gave him a smile, and turned to Cutup. Cutup grimaced.

“The name’s Cutup, sir. And I, uh… well. I got it for being insubordinate to one of my trainers. I may or may not have made one too many sarcastic comments. He decked me good for it, and called me a cutup. I liked the sound of it, and then it stuck.”

The Commander laughs again. Tipper’s head snaps up.

“Which trainer?” he asks curiously.  

“Ah, it was Bric,” Cutup answers. Tipper lets out an incredulous sound.

“Kriff, you’re brave,” he says. “I remember Bric. He’s a good trainer, but if you aren’t the top of the class he hates your guts.”

“What about you, trooper?” the Commander asks him. “Your name?”

The shiny grins proudly. “Tipper, sir,” he answers. “Because I always tipped the scales, when my batchmates and I were in combat training.” He shrugs. “Whether it was for better or for worse depended on the day.” His face falls suddenly after that, and he looks down at the floor. “They’re dead now. My batchmates, I mean,” he finishes quietly. Cutup winces and feels a surge of sympathy for the younger clone. Rex puts a hand on Tipper’s shoulder in silent support.

In the unsettling silence that falls after, everyone hears the sudden beeping of the alarm on the one of the consoles. Cutup jumps to his feet along with the others. He tenses nervously as Docks leans over to read the characters flashing across the console’s screen.

“No, no, no,” Docks mutters fearfully. “Some of the virus got in here! We didn’t close the doors fast enough!” His words feel like a punch to the gut. Cutup swallows in horror, suddenly grateful he’d kept his helmet on… if the helmet filters are even enough to keep the virus out. It’s possible that the virus’ molecules are small enough to infiltrate armor seals.

Rex’s fists are clenched as he turns to Commander Tano.

“We may be dead men,” he tells her softly. “But we can still stop those droids once we get out of this room.”

Commander Tano nods determinedly, and then glances around at Dock’s fearful face and Tipper’s nervous expression.

“Don’t worry,” she reassures them all. “My Master will find a cure. We’re not dead yet!”

She’s right. For a brief moment, Cutup feels a surge of hope.

Then, Tipper lets out a painful sounding cough, and all of Cutup’s optimism disappears in an instant. Slowly, they all turn to look at the shiny with a growing sense of horror. Tipper’s eyes are wide.

“Kriff,” he mumbles, and coughs again—twice this time. The force of them rock his entire body. “ Kriff.”

“Hang on, Tipper,” Commander Tano tells him. Her voice is much more anxious now. “Hang on. We’ll be out of this soon.”

Cutup takes a deep breath in an effort to steady himself—but it ends up doing the opposite. When he inhales he becomes aware of a strange pressure starting to build in his lungs. The need to cough grows exponentially once he’s aware of it, and he nearly chokes at the suddenness, ripping off his helmet to cough several times. His throat feels raw afterwards.

“Helmet filters are useless against it,” he tells Captain Rex, who takes his helmet off with a grim frown.

“The longer we’re trapped down here, the closer droids have to releasing the virus,” the Captain says. “We’ve got to find out some way to get these doors open. Take a look around, see if you can find anything we could use to—”

Without warning, there’s a metallic click as the doors unseal. Everyone stares at the door in surprise. Commander Tano grins.

“Looks like Senator Amidala found us!” she says triumphantly. Blue mists pour in as the doors slide open. Cutup holds his breath instinctively at the sight until he realizes that it’s pointless to do so. He’s already contaminated.

“Senator Amidala, I’m glad you—” Ahsoka starts, stepping forwards as the doors open far enough for them to see their savior… and then she cuts herself off.

“Sorry, Commander. I know I’m not who you were hoping for,” a clone’s voice says. Cutup’s eyes go wide.

No. He couldn’t have been that stupid. He wouldn’t have willingly trapped himself down in here, in almost certain death.

He wouldn’t have.

Right?

The clone steps through the door, mist rolling past him so he nearly looks like some sort of wraith. Cutup’s breath catches in his throat.

The Rishi eel etched onto Fives’ helmet is unmistakable. Fives glances around, and the tension in his shoulders eases slightly at the sight of Cutup.

“Hey, brother,” he says in a casual voice that does not fit their situation at all. “It’s good to see you.”

Cutup finds his voice again.

“Well, it’s not kriffing good to see you!” he hisses. “Blast it, Fives, what are you doing here? Don’t you know what this stuff is?” He strides right up to his brother, poking a finger in Fives’ chest. “Now we’re both going to die, you idiot!”

Fives reaches up and pulls his helmet off. His expression is sympathetic, and serious. Cutup is frozen by his gaze when their eyes meet.

“I wasn’t going to let you face this alone, Cutup,” Fives tells him softly. Soft enough so that their audience, whom Cutup had nearly forgotten, can’t hear. “I knew the risks. I couldn’t let you do it alone, brother. That’s why I came.”

Cutup almost chokes on the wave of emotions that rise up in his throat.

“Why,” he asks breathlessly. “Why, Fives? The others need you. You’re the only one who knows…” He doesn’t finish, but he doesn’t have to.

Fives leans forwards, pressing their foreheads together gently. It’s an old Mandalorian expression of comfort, one Fives and Echo had both picked up during their official ARC training.

“I’m not losing a batchmate so soon if I can help it,” Fives growls. “It nearly killed me last time, watching as everyone else died one by one. It’s not going to happen again.”

Cutup shivers at the sheer determination in Fives’ voice. “But now we’re both stuck down here,” he says sorrowfully. “And we’re both going to—”

“We’re not,” Fives snarls. “We’re not. It may not be something we can fight with blasters, but there are other ways to fight it.”

Someone clears their throat behind them. Cutup steps back from his batchmate and winces when he sees Captain Rex standing behind them, arms crossed. Commander Tano is beside him, with Sergeant Docks and Tipper watching curiously from farther back.

“Not that I’m not grateful to you for getting us out of there,” Captain Rex says sternly, “but why, exactly, are you here, Fives?”

Fives sighs and straightens to stiff attention.

“I bluffed my way onto a gunship and came with Tide Company’s second wave,” he answers honestly. “When they were called back, I rappelled from the gunship and entered the facility just as it was going into lockdown.” He pauses and takes a deep breath, face carefully blank. “I will submit to any punishment, sir. I probably broke half the protocols in the regs just now.”

His blatant integrity surprises Cutup, and it seems to catch Rex off guard as well. The Captain frowns deeply.

“Why did you come in the first place, soldier?” he asks.

“Why do you think, sir?” Fives answers without hesitation. Rex’s gaze drifts to Cutup for an instant before snapping back to Fives.

“Alright, I know why,” the Captain admits. “And ordinarily I’d give you a piece of my mind for it, but we’ve got more important things to worry about than your disregarding of basic regulations.”

“Sir,” Fives acknowledges with the air of someone resigned to horrendous punishment. “I’m not sorry, sir. I’ll be of help to you here, and we both know it. But after this is over, I will submit to whatever sentence you give me.”

Rex exhales and nods once. “Alright. We can’t waste any more time on this. Fives, fall in. We’ll discuss everything else later, understood?”

“Yessir,” Fives says passively.

“We need to find Senator Amidala,” Commander Tano says, stepping forwards. “Once we do, we’ll be able to take care of any remaining droids.”

“Well, fortunately you won’t have to go far,” a female voice cuts in. Cutup turns to see the Senator herself running down the corridor, with the hapless gungan in tow. They’re both wearing protective biosuits, undoubtedly protected from the clouds of poison hanging in the air around them. “We were going to get you out of the safe room, but it looks like someone beat us to it.”

“Not by long,” Commander Tano answers. The Senator stares at the padawan, sorrow flashing across her face.

“I’m so sorry, Ahsoka,” Amidala says. Commander Tano gives the older woman a soft smile.

“Don’t worry about us, Senator,” she replies. Then her expression hardens. “We still have a job to do.”

“There aren’t very many droids left,” Senator Amidala informs them. “We saw some headed towards the south entrance.” Sergeant Docks coughs roughly in the background. Everyone shoots him a nervous look. Commander Tano sets her jaw.

“As long as we’re able to, we’ll help you destroy the droids before the breach the compound,” the padawan says determinedly.

“You take the North corridor, and we’ll take the South. We’ll meet in the middle, right beneath the entrance” Senator Amidala says instantly. Cutup’s respect for her grows as she takes the DC-15S Captain Rex offers, shouldering it easily. She’s obviously fought before.

“Sergeant Docks, Fives. With the Senator,” Rex instructs. “Cutup, Tipper—you two are with me and the Commander.”

Fives frowns. “But sir—”

“You’re on thin ice as it is, Fives,” Rex reminds him. Fives’ mouth snaps shut. He nods mutely in acceptance and follows the Senator out into the hallway with Docks.

As much as Cutup hates to be separated from his brother, especially now, he recognizes the logic of Rex’s squad choices. Sergeant Docks and Fives are the most experienced men available besides the Captain himself, and are fully capable of protecting the Senator and Gungan from harm.

“The North Corridor isn’t far,” Commander Tano says. “Let’s move! Those droid’s can’t escape!” She takes off, diving fearlessly through the toxin and into the hallway. Rex is on her heels, and after a split second of mutual hesitation Cutup and Tipper follow.

The billows of cobalt toxin hanging in the air like smoke make it hard to see. Every step Cutup takes disturbs the virus, sending clouds swirling as he runs through them. The Commander’s lightsaber is activated, and it serves as a beacon in the darkness. Cutup keeps his eyes fixed on it as they weave through the facility.

It doesn’t take them very long to enter the North corridor. The clicking steps of droids echo through the hallway, so Cutup knows they’re headed in the right direction.

As they approach the outskirts of the base, the clouds of virus thin out a little, so it’s a bit easier to see. They turn one last corner and nearly smack right into a battle droid.

“What the—?” it gets out, and then Commander Tano beheads with in a smooth slash. The handful of droids scattered down the rest of the hallway turn at the other’s cry.

“Blast them!” one shouts.

“Forwards!” the Commander cries. Rex, Cutup, and Tipper try to keep up as she surges towards the droids. Blaster bolts streak past them.

Cutup takes two droids down on the go, bracing his weapon at his shoulder. Just behind him, Tipper lets out a shout of victory as he turns one to scrap himself.

The last droid attempts to back up, firing at the Commander. Ignoring the Captain is it’s fatal mistake. Rex double taps it in the chest, and it goes down instantly.

“The entrance is just around the next corner!” Commander Tano cries. There’s the sounds of blasterfire up ahead—it sounds like the Senator’s squad are already making a move on the fleeing droids.

They round the corner just in time to see Sergeant Docks take down the last visible droid, but the Senator is sprinting for the ladder leading up to the exit, so at least one of the droids must have made a run for it. Captain Rex follows her, and both the Captain and the Senator point their weapons up towards the droid at the same time.

“Stop! Don’t open that hatch!” Senator Amidala cries.

“Ha! Too late!” the droid crows—and then it makes the mistake of trying to shoot the hatch open. The blaster bolt bounces off of the smooth metal, ricocheting until it nails the stupid droid right in the processor. It falls off of the later with a satisfying crunch. Cutup chuckles despite himself.

“Pride comes before the fall,” he quotes, and pretends that he isn’t pleased with himself when Commander Tano lets out a short laugh. It’s an old quote from some ancient Cerean text that Cutup only remembers because Echo had read it sometime during training and had quoted it nonstop to Hevy for weeks.

“Literally, this time,” Tipper adds, and Cutup snorts.

“You alright?” Fives asks as he slides into place besides Cutup—and then coughs quietly, attempting to stifle it.

“I’m fine. It hurts more if you try to stop it,” Cutup reminds him glumly. Fives coughs again instead of responding, and Cutup feels a shock of fear race through him. For all of Fives’ confidence that they would both survive… he’s not so sure he can believe the same.

It hasn’t been long enough for the sickness to set in completely. Coughs are still few and far in between, but each time Cutup coughs it lasts longer and hurts more. He doesn’t want to know what it will be like in a few hours.

That is, if he’s even alive in a few hours.

“We need to make a full sweep of the base,” Commander Tano instructs. “Stick together this time. We don’t know exactly what we’re facing. Everyone good to keep going?” When everyone nods, she activates her lightsaber again. “Let’s move out!”

Cutup steels himself and stays close to Fives as they begin to run again. He’s not glad that his brother is dying alongside him, but he is glad that he’s not alone.

An hour later, they’re somewhere in the middle of the base when the Separatist facility sees fit to throw a few nasty surprises at them. Cutup shouts in alarm when two droidekas roll around the corner of the corridor they’re running across, somewhere near the middle of the base.

“Stay back!” Captain Rex shouts. “Take cover! Let the Commander handle it! Draw their attention!”

Cutup plasters himself to the side of the hall to make himself less of a target. Fives is right next to him. They fire at the droidekas, bouncing blaster bolts off of their shields and distracting them from the Commander’s lithe form. She’s fast enough that they they can’t turn to fire on her before she leaps up, landing right on top of one of their shields. Her deactivated lightsaber goes through the shield easily, and when she activates it, the the tip plunges through the first droideka’s head.

Commander Tano is leaping to the second droideka when from behind him, Cutup hears the Gungan shout, “Meesa help!”

“Kriffing —no you don’t,” Fives hisses. “Don’t interfere!” he shouts louder, but it’s too late. Somehow the Gungan has gotten his hands on a blaster. He fires, nearly hitting the Commander. The droideka zeroes in on the new challenger. Fives swears as it takes aim. Before the droid can fire, Senator Amidala leaps from out of nowhere, tackling the Gungan to the ground. They go down hard, and the droideka’s shots go right over them.

Commander Tano finishes the second droideka off before anyone is hurt, and leaps gracefully to the ground as it collapses. Cutup lowers his weapon. A strange hissing noise is filling the air, and Cutup can’t figure out what it is—until Senator Amidala pushes herself to her feet and turns to face the rest of the group. The rubber tube providing her with oxygen has been separated from the suit, leaving a gap in her helmet.

“Senator, your suit’s been compromised,” Captain Rex tells her sorrowfully. Commander Tano races to join then, kneeling at the Senator’s side.

“I’m so sorry,” Commander Tano says. The padawan’s face is screwed up in anguish as Senator Amidala removes her helmet. The Commander’s orange skin is already showing effects of the virus—there are dark bags under her blue eyes, and the veins just beneath her skin are starting to darken. Cutup is sure his own skin looks the same underneath his armor.

“Ahsoka… don’t blame yourself,” the Senator says. Her voice is resigned. “These things tend to happen in a warzone.”

Fives snarls under his breath. Cutup glances at him.

“No, they don’t,” Fives hisses in explanation. “If the Gungan hadn’t been an idiot, this wouldn’t have happened. The Senator is too nice for her own good. Now she could die.” Sergeant Docks is next to Fives on the other side, and gives a tiny nod of agreement.

“He is a representative of Naboo, though, so keep your voice down,” the Sergeant reminds them. “ Technically we have to take orders from him.”

“Uh, no,” Tipper deadpans softly, so immediately that Cutup chokes on a laugh that sends him into a coughing fit.

His lungs hurt. It’s getting hard to breath, now, so it takes much longer for Cutup to recover this time than he would have liked. When the violent reactions finally stop, Cutup is gasping for air that hurts just as much coming in as it had coming out.

“For the record, laughing makes it worse,” he tells his hovering brothers hoarsely. Over by the Senator and the Commander, who are climbing to their feet, Captain Rex coughs. Everyone flinches when he does. It’s wrong. Their Captain shouldn’t be going out this way.

“We’re nearly finished,” Commander Tano tells them. She hasn’t coughed yet, but her voice is duller—it lacks the life and optimism that it had held earlier. In some ways, that’s even worse than hearing the Captain cough. “Keep it up, boys. We only have a little bit more to search.”

“We’ve got your back, sir,” Cutup tells her, and the rest of the clones murmur in agreement. Commander Tano doesn’t offer them a smile as she turns and starts down the hall again. The clones exchange worried looks as they fall in behind her.

If Cutup concentrates, he can feel the virus sapping the strength from his body. He can tell that his brothers can feel the same thing, because none of them are moving as surely as their training has taught them to. Cutup can’t move without making sound anymore. Fives can’t either, and even more disturbingly, neither can the Captain. Tipper is lagging behind a little, and Sergeant Dock’s breaths are coming in harsh, ragged pants.

The reality of it sets in further with every second that goes by—they’re dying. A heavy sense of despair settles over the group—even Fives, whom Cutup knows is clinging onto the last shreds of his hope.

Every time Cutup looks at his brother, he is struck by an overwhelming sense of guilt. Fives will die down here because Cutup just had to be at the range that night. If he’d gone back to the barracks with his brothers, he wouldn’t have been recruited, and Domino wouldn’t have been involved at all.

It’s all his fault.

The next few hours pass as a pain-filled blur. Eventually they find the last few droids at the final entrance to the base. As they round the corner Commander Tano puts on a burst of speed, hacking the final two clankers into oblivion with absolutely none of her usual grace. She stumbles once the last one is dismantled, groaning, and finally begins to cough. She has to lean against the entrance’s ladder to catch her balance.

“Ahsoka, are you alright?” Senator Amidala asks. The Commander doesn’t push herself off of the ladder immediately, which is telling.

“I’m alright,” the padawan lies. When she finally turns back towards them, Cutup is stunned at how sickly she looks. She sways on her feet, clutching to the ladder for all she’s worth. Captain Rex shoulders his way through the men and sidesteps the Senator, placing a careful hand on the Commander’s shoulder.

“You did good, kid,” he tells her calmly. “The droids are all taken care of. Let’s set up camp right here, so as soon as the Generals return with the cure we’ll be ready and waiting at an entrance for them.”

“Good call, Rex,” Commander Tano says weakly. “Let me… I have to contact my Master first.”

“I’ll give you a hand,” Senator Amidala says. She helps the Commander get to her feet. Once she’s standing the Commander is able to keep her balance, but her shoulders are slumped, and her head lolls as if she’s having a hard time keeping it up.

While the two women contact the Generals, Rex turns to the men. He takes off his helmet. His face is deathly pale, and dark veins crisscross his cheeks.

“We won’t be able to do much soon,” he tells them grimly. “Do a quick search of the nearby area, find anything that might be useful, and gather it here. Then get comfortable. We can’t do anything but wait from here on out.”

They scatter without saluting him. No one has the energy to do so. It’s here that Cutup’s vision starts to blur—whether it’s from the pain slowly spreading from his chest to his whole body or a side effect of the actual poison, he isn’t sure. Fives puts a trembling hand on his shoulder and guides him to sit down against the wall, pulling his helmet off. Cutup coughs.

“Stay here, brother,” Fives tells him. “You’ve done enough for now.”

Cutup opens his mouth to complain, because he’s not helpless yet, but instead of words, he coughs again. It’s getting worse, and not just in him—Fives himself coughs as he leaves, nearly doubling over from the force of it.

Cutup zones out until he hears voices drawing closer again. Tipper slumps to the ground next to him, shoved into place by Docks, who similarly insists that Tipper has done enough. Tipper doesn’t even try to protest, just tilts his head back against the wall and breathes raggedly. His eyes are screwed tightly shut. Cutup doesn’t have the energy to comfort him.

When Fives returns, Cutup peers up at him blearily. He’s ashamed that his brother is working and he is not, so he tries to stand, but Fives pushes him back down before he can get far. Cutup hates that he’s grateful for it. Even just attempting to stand had sent pain through his body.

“We didn’t find too much,” Fives says, talking just loud enough so that Tipper can hear, too. He takes of his helmet. The black veins make Cutup cringe. “There is a water pipe nearby, though. We should be able to tap into it.”

Water sounds amazing. Cutup’s throat aches from coughing so much.

As Fives moves closer, Cutup suddenly realizes that he’s limping. He doesn’t remember Fives taking a hit during their skirmishes.

“What’s wrong with your leg?” he asks slowly. Fives shrugs a bit guiltily.

“I may or may not have jumped out of a gunship,” he answers, and Cutup knows it’ll only make things worse but he can’t swallow the laugh the bursts from his throat. That’s such a Fives thing to do.

Then he stops laughing, because Fives has been running around the base with an injured leg this whole time. Cutup hadn’t even noticed. How hadn’t he noticed?

“Hey, hey!” Fives is suddenly saying. He’s shaking Cutup, who gasps from the lance of agony that overwhelms him at Fives’ assault. “You have to talk to me, Cutup. Don’t zone out like that.”

He’d zoned out again? Cutup hadn’t realized. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “‘M just tired.”

“I know,” Fives says. “I am, too.”

Cutup blinks at him slowly. The world is starting to go just a little fuzzy at the edges.

“Sit down with me, then,” he offers. “You’re tired too. And injured.”

Fives shakes his head.

“No, not yet,” he tells Cutup gently. “I knew it would be like this. I was prepared for it. I knew it would hurt, so I can resist it better. That’s why I’m here. You’ve got to stay with me, understood? Echo and the rest will kill me if I don’t bring you back.”

Cutup flinches.

“M’sorry,” he slurs out. “M’sorry, Fives. This is my fault—”

Fives claps a hand over Cutup’s mouth.

“It’s not,” he says firmly (but still gently, which Cutup is grateful for). “You didn’t choose to come here, and you didn’t force me to follow. I made this choice. I wasn’t going to lose you so easily.”

“Earlier you said… we could fight it?” Cutup asks him doubtfully. Fives nods.

“Just stay awake,” he tells Cutup. “That’s all you have to do to fight it, is stay awake. I know you’re strong enough. You want to live, right?”

Cutup grits his teeth.

“Yeah. I want to live. There’s still stuff to do. We have to fix things. We have to—”

Fives shushes him. “Good. As long as you want to live, you haven’t given up. I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to make sure you live. You trust me?”

Cutup does trust Fives. He nods a weak affirmative, and Fives smiles.

“Stay awake,” he tells him, and goes to talk to the Captain.

Staying awake is hard. Especially because it hurts. Slipping under, succumbing to the darkness, will take the pain away, but he promised Fives he wouldn’t sleep. He promised, so he fights it.

He spends an indeterminable time trapped between varying degrees of clarity. In one moment, his senses are dulled, and he’ll feel brief sensations of hands skirting against his face, or hear the gentle murmur of a brother’s voice. In the next moment everything is sharp and painful. Senator Amidala kneels in front of him at one such moment, and wearily he notices that her eyes are brown with gold flecks scattered through her irises—a detail he never would have taken the time to notice ordinarily. She dabs a wet cloth across his forehead, and the coldness of the rag is so startling to him that it hurts. He blinks, and everything goes fuzzy again. He catches a glimpse of blond hair, and hears muffled coughing that could be his own just as much as it could be someone else's.

He’s in a state of lucidity when the Commander’s strength finally fails her. He’s surprised it's taken this long. She’s smaller than the rest of them, and her body is less developed—her own willpower is the only thing that’s been keeping her going until now.

Captain Rex catches her as she falls, and everyone with enough strength left to watch pretends not to notice the way his arms shake at her weight (little as it is).

Cutup loses time again, the next time everything goes fuzzy. His own breathing is loud and uncontrollable. For a while he uses the sound to ground him, coughing weakly every other inhalation and wondering how long they’ve been here for.

When sanity returns to him once more, Fives is kneeling in front of him. His brother looks terrible. Cutup says so without really meaning to, and realizes that he’s still somewhat delirious despite the rare clarity of his senses. Fives grins at him, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Yeah? You don’t look so good yourself,” he rasps out hoarsely. “Look in a mirror lately? We make a sorry pair.” Cutup doesn’t have the resilience to respond. When Fives leans forwards to squeeze some water into Cutup’s mouth, Cutup’s eyes drift past him to notice a limp body in the background, covered by a scavenged tarp. He jerks in realization, immediately regretting it when the motion sends waves of pain through his feeble body.

“Who,” he gasps out. “Who, Fives?”

Fives shakes his head sorrowfully. “The Sergeant,” he answers softly. “Tipper’s still holding on, but barely. The Senator won’t leave his side. Captain Rex is trying to help the Commander, but he’s not going to last long.”

Cutup’s next exhale is shaky, tainted by hopelessness. Sergeant Docks had been a good man. He hadn’t deserved to go out in such a stupid way. None of them did.

“What ‘bout you?” he gets out. Fives shrugs, flinching slightly at the motion.

“I’m fine,” he lies. “Stay awake, it won’t be long now.” Fives tries to stand… and can’t. His brother’s limbs refuse to cooperate.

“Sithspit,” Fives groans. “Blast it, not now! We’re so close, just a little longer…”

Cutup’s entire body aches. Coughing sends throbbing agony through his nerves, and he can practically feel his lungs failing.

“Fives…” he starts weakly. “Fives, stay with me... for a bit? Then get up.”

Fives stares at him. They both know he won’t be getting up again. Fives shuffles closer to Cutup so they’re shoulder to shoulder against the wall.

“Just stay awake, Cutup, you hear me?” Fives repeats. “We’re strong enough to beat this. We’ve got things to do, remember?”

“Docks was strong,” Cutup whispers. “Now he’s dead.”

He can’t see Fives’ face anymore, but he can feel his brother tense at his side.

“Don’t,” Fives says. “Don’t you dare think like that. I’ve got you, hear me? We can beat this.”

Cutup wants to respond. He really does, but his tongue refuses to obey him.

“Hey, Cutup. Talk to me, brother.”

Cutup opens his mouth again, but words won’t come out. Black spots suddenly swirl across his vision, blinding him for a few disorienting moments.

“Fives?” he tries to say, but it sounds more like “Fvvss?” His eyelids are heavy.

“Hey, hey. Stay awake! We’ve got stuff to do, remember? You only have to last a little longer, then you can sleep!”

Cutup moans. He hurts. He wants to sleep.

“Cutup! Stay with me, brother, don’t give up now! Don’t make me have come down here for nothing!”

Cutup knows he needs to stay awake. He tries, he tries , but it’s not easy. He thinks he zones out again, because when he opens his eyes just a crack Fives is shaking him again. The only problem is, he can’t feel it. Fives is shaking him but Cutup can’t feel it at all.

Fives is calling his name. Cutup can hear it, but as if Fives is a long, long ways away. Darkness is creeping across his vision, making everything fade—

Kriff. He’s losing. He’s losing, he can’t hang on to consciousness—

“Cutup, keep your eyes open! Stay here, just a little longer! No, no—can you hear me? Cutup! You can’t—please, you have to hang on! I didn’t come this far just to watch you die! Stay awake! Cutup! Please… stay with me, brother! Cutup? Cutup!”

Chapter Text

Hevy isn’t a big fan of waiting. He’s a man of action. The inability to do anything bothers him more than he likes to admit. Especially now, when Fives and Cutup are unconscious in the medbay, still struggling against the effects of the virus and still in quarantine.

It’s been three days. Hevy’s so impatient that the slightest touch from any brother makes him flinch.

Echo is much better at waiting than Hevy is. The ARC bears everything stoically, going about his business with just a hint of tension in his actions to show for how worried he is. Hevy, on the other hand, paces every opportunity he gets, when Del isn’t putting him to work to get his mind off of his teammates.

Droidbait… well.

Droidbait is furious.

Their teammate doesn’t get angry very often. He’s stuck with two ARCs, a prankster, and a heavy gunner for teammates. With such volatile squadmates, he’s scarily proficient at keeping his cool through all sorts of schemes.

This time, a line has been crossed, and Droidbait practically radiates rage. He’s barely spoken to Echo since Fives went after Cutup, and he hasn’t really spoken to Hevy, either. The rest of Beta squad doesn’t entirely understand what’s going on, but they’re more than willing to accommodate Droidbait, who’s avoiding Domino and is rarely seen without either Attie or Nax at his side.

Hevy understands what his brother is feeling. They’ve been betrayed. Cutup and Fives are still in critical condition until they wake. If the ARCs had revealed what they had known in the first place, perhaps none of this would have happened.

That being said, Hevy isn’t as upset about the whole thing as Droidbait is. Sure, he’s worried for his brothers, but the righteous anger Droidbait has summoned seems pointless in the long run. His initial annoyance at the ARCs had wore off once Fives and Cutup had been brought back to the Resolute. As damaging as it had been to withhold important information, Hevy trusts his brothers. There had to have been a reason for it. He doesn’t know what it is, but he does know one thing—if Droidbait’s fury continues unchecked, it will tear Domino apart. Echo is already battling a great deal of guilt, and Droidbait’s refusal to speak to him is only making things worse.

Hevy has to do something.

He finishes a patrol shift through the ship’s main reactor and returns to the barracks to find that Droidbait is getting ready to leave on a shift of his own with Attie, Zeer, and Del. Echo is nowhere to be found—probably getting in extra training—and Nax is napping in his bunk, the grease streaks on his face indicators of the double shift he’d pulled earlier.

Hevy makes a quick decision.

“Droidbait,” he says, marching in and grabbing his brother’s arm. “We need to talk. Give me a few minutes?”

Droidbait doesn’t quite recoil from him, but it’s a close thing. Hevy hasn’t betrayed him, not like the ARCs have, but in Domino’s most recent arguments, Hevy had generally been against Droidbait. Cutup was the one to normally take Droidbait’s side.

“I’m on duty in five,” Droidbait tells him firmly. His eyes are dark. “Can we do this later?”

Hevy glances up and blinks in surprise to see that Attie and Zeer have tensed. Zeer has his helmet on, but Attie doesn’t, yet, so Hevy can see that his narrowed gaze is aimed right at Hevy.

They’re protecting Droidbait, and Hevy’s heart sinks. Has Droidbait’s faith in them truly been shaken so much that the rest of Beta thinks he needs to be protected from Domino?

All of Beta squad will be torn apart at this rate. Hevy has to do something before the damage becomes irreparable. The fact that Droidbait hasn’t actually pulled away from Hevy’s grip is a good sign. He takes a deep breath and makes a decision.

“No, I don’t think it can wait,” he says, and the words come out calmer than he’d known they could. “We need to talk, as soon as possible.”

Droidbait exhales harshly. “Hevy, I can’t just—”

“We’ll manage without you for a few minutes,” Del says. The Sergeant shoots Hevy a knowing look. “It might be for the best that this gets sorted out now.” Del knows as well as the rest of them there are dozens of issues at play here that could potentially destroy the squad’s efficiency. His calling them out is enough to get Droidbait to slump in acceptance.

“Fine,” Hevy’s batchmate says bitterly. “Let’s talk.”

Attie takes a step forwards. “You sure, DB?” he asks quickly. “You don’t have to—”

“No, Hevy’s right. This needs to be resolved,” Droidbait says. He finally pulls his arm out of Hevy’s grasp and spins on his heel, heading for the door. Hevy can do nothing but trail after him, hoping fervently that he’ll know what to say to cool his brother down.

Droidbait leads him to the little conference room Domino had used as a meeting place several weeks earlier. The door slides shut behind them, and for a moment a long, awkward silence ensues. Neither of them sit at the table. Droidbait leans against the wall, eyes narrowed, and Hevy shifts his weight between his feet nervously. Finally, he licks his lips and opens his mouth.

“Droidbait—”

“I already know what you’re going to say, Hevy,” Droidbait bursts out. “But you know what, the ARCs were wrong. They were wrong not to tell us what was going on. I don’t care what Echo thinks. Withholding information like that to spare our feelings of all things isn’t justifiable. This is a war, for Force’s sake, and we were bred for it. They might have thought it to be for the best, but how the kriff are we supposed to save the galaxy if they won’t even trust us with the most basic details—?”

“Droidbait, I wasn’t going to try to convince you that they were right,” Hevy interrupts. Droidbait stops, staring at him suspiciously. Hevy takes a deep breath.

Kriff, this is hard. Hevy’s not meant for this. He’s more of a shoot-first-ask-questions-later kind of clone. Words have never been his strong point, but he has to try, for the sake of his brothers.

“Listen, you’re right,” Hevy tells Droidbait placatingly. “You’re completely right. They should have trusted us, even though it would have hurt. It hurts more now than it would have then.”

Droidbait starts to relax, just a little bit.

“Of course, I would have wanted to try something to spare our brothers,” Droidbait continues to argue. “Of course I would have wanted to. How could I have not? But I wouldn’t have done anything. Even though I don’t like it, we can’t risk changing anything so soon. I know that, and so does Cutup. So why didn’t they trust us? It was selfish of them not to tell us, and dangerous, too.”

“I agree,” Hevy concurs, and he watches Droidbait relax even further, now that he’s aware he won’t have to defend himself. “We have every right to be angry at them. This isn’t something that we can allow to be repeated.”

Droidbait nods gratefully, glad to have someone else share his views. Then he frowns and arches an eyebrow.

“You wouldn’t have pulled me aside just to tell me you agree with me,” he points out.

“You’re right,” Hevy admits. “Hear me out before you say anything, okay?”

Droidbait crosses his arms and waits for Hevy to continue. Hevy takes a step closer to him, silently imploring his ordinarily rational brother to listen to reason.

“As justified as being angry is right now… we can’t afford to be,” Hevy begins. “There’s a lot at stake. I know you know this. If we let something like this drive the squad apart, we won’t be able to get anything done, much less save the Republic.”

“They should have—”

“There’s a lot they should have done, brother. Listen to me. They may be ARCs, but they’re humans, too. They make mistakes. They let their emotions get in the way of the mission. The whole reason they didn’t tell us everything in the first place was that so we wouldn’t have to go through the pain they did the first time around. They did it because they care for us, ‘Bait.”

“That doesn’t make it right.”

“No, it doesn’t. But their intentions were good, even if nothing else was. They made a mistake. I don’t think they’ll make it again.”

Droidbait is quiet for a few seconds, considering. Eventually he sighs and looks at the floor.

“So, what, you’re saying we should just forget this happened? It wasn’t anyone’s fault that Cutup got recruited. That’s not the issue. The problem is that they didn’t trust that we could handle the truth!”

“I know!” Hevy snaps out. “I know, Droidbait.” He has to take a moment to calm himself down. It’s almost instinct to get frustrated, but he knows that’ll only make things worse. “I think they know, too. If you’d been paying attention you’d have seen that Echo’s barely eaten since Fives left. He doesn’t talk to either of us. He’s so guilty he can barely function, Droidbait. They know they’ve messed up. It won’t happen again. I’m confident in that.”

Finally, finally, Droidbait’s expression softens.

“You’re right,” he admits. “But I won’t forget this.”

“None of us will,” Hevy says solemnly. “We don’t need to forget to continue working as a team, though. We only need to forgive.”

Droidbait stares at him for a long moment. Eventually, a tiny grin plays across his face. “Is that really you, Hevy?” he asks suddenly. “Where did that even come from? I didn’t think you had a prudent bone in your body.”

Hevy smiles. The tension is dissipating, taking Droidbait’s anger with it.

“I couldn’t let this continue,” he says “Beta squad has enough problems as it is, between us and the Teth survivors.”

Droidbait grimaces.

“They’re angry, too,” he tells Hevy guiltily. “They don’t really know why, but they know we’re upset, and that’s enough for them.”

“Great,” Hevy groans. “If they start asking questions—”

“They won’t,” Droidbait reassures. “They know better than anyone to leave painful baggage alone. They’re angry because we’re hurt, but they won’t ask unless things get really bad.” He shakes his head. “Thanks to you, they shouldn’t. I’m sorry, brother. I let my frustration get the best of me.”

Hevy reaches out and grasps his forearm firmly.

“You’re alright, ‘Bait. I’m hardly one to talk, considering I’m usually the one in your position.”

Droidbait peers at him curiously. Hevy blinks at him.

“Uh. Droidbait?”

Droidbait jerks. “Sorry. Just making sure you weren’t Echo in disguise. You’ve got a diplomatic side to you, Hevy. I never would have expected it from you.”

Hevy can’t even take offense to that, because Droidbait’s right. Hevy hadn’t expected it either.

“Desperate times, an’ all that,” he says gruffly. He has a reputation to uphold, after all (assuming it isn’t already demolished). “Don’t you have a shift to get to?”

“Yeah,” Droidbait says. He lets go of Hevy’s arm and heads for the door. When he opens it, he stops just before stepping out into the hallway to look back and meet Hevy’s eyes.

“Hevy. Thank you,” he says. The sincerity in his expression startles Hevy. “You’re right, about it all. I’ll fix this.”

“I know you will,” Hevy tells him. “Good luck.”

Once Droidbait leaves, Hevy feels… different. It’s the same feeling he gets when he’s just gunned down a whole column of clankers by himself. It feels like success. Like victory.  

He doesn’t understand it, but he appreciates it all the same. He’s done something good, that much he knows.

A few hours later, Echo and Droidbait walk into the barracks side by side. Droidbait is speaking softly to Echo, who has a hesitant smile on his face. Del, Attie, and Zeer enter in behind them, a steady calm resonating from them that hasn’t existed within the squad for days. Hevy sighs in relief.

They’ll be alright.

Now, they just need Cutup and Fives to wake up.

“Fives! Fives!”

Fives jerks and opens his eyes as the voice calling to him is nearly drowned out by the sound of an explosion. Sheer instinct has him scrambling to get to his feet, and he nearly bangs his helmeted head against the head of the clone bent over him.

“Blast it, Fives, watch it!” the brother snaps, leaning back. “Can you walk? We need to move!”

Fives stares into the man’s visor in shock.

“Kix?” he whispers uncertainly, because there’s no mistaking the commanding tone or the medic’s sigil on the clone’s shoulder. His gaze travels. He glances around Kix’s body and freezes up at the sight of the dark, foggy landscape stretching beyond them. Luminescent plants and the harsh lights of blaster bolts in the distance are the only sources of light Fives can see.

He’d recognize Umbara anywhere.

“What—Kix, what’s… why are we on Umbara? What’s… where did you come from? I thought—”

Kix groans and grabs Fives without ceremony, heaving him to his feet.

“Great, you’re concussed,” the medic hisses. There’s dried blood on his gloves, but Fives barely notices in his shock. “Just what I need. Listen, we’ve set up a medical station a couple hundred feet away, hidden by the plants—”

Another explosion sounds. The ground trembles. Behind them, Fives can hear brothers crying out in pain. Kix’s fingers twitch.

“I’m not concussed,” Fives says. “I was just confused for a minute. Go help the others,” he orders. Kix snorts.

“I’ve heard that one before—”

“Fives! Kix!”

A brother barrels out of the mists in front of them. Fives’ heart skips a beat as Hardcase skids to a stop. How he’d been running so quickly with a Z-6 in his arms is a mystery.

“Sergeant Appo’s squadron took heavy casualties,” Hardcase says quickly, taking Fives from Kix’s grasp. Fives tries to pull away from them, because he’s not concussed, but they don’t let him. “Six, including Appo, are critically injured. They’re at the bottom of the ridge. Captain Rex is headed there to provide support, but they need a medic—”

Kix is already sprinting away. He disappears into the darkness. Hardcase slaps the back of Fives’ helmet lightly.

“Got yourself into trouble, eh, ARC?” he teases. “I’m not surprised.”

Fives blinks at him uncomprehendingly.

“Hardcase—I thought… I thought you were dead,” he gets out. “What—Umbara shouldn’t—where’s my squad?”

“Heh, I’m not dead yet,” Hardcase tells him lightly. “Though I think Kix will kill us both if you don’t sit down soon.”

“No—Hardcase, listen, where’s Echo?”

Suddenly Hardcase’s body language turns serious, and his shoulders slump. “Ah, you’re really concussed,” he mutters. “Brother, I’d sugarcoat it, but I don’t think you’d appreciate that. Echo’s dead. Has been for a while.”

“Wha—no, he isn’t,” Fives says. He furrows his brow. This isn’t right. Something’s off. Fives is confused.  

Hardcase heaves a sigh. “I’m sorry, Fives.”

Fives jerks. No, this is—this is wrong. He knows he shouldn’t be here, he should be… somewhere else. Why is he on Umbara? Umbara had been ages ago. Wait, that isn’t right. Umbara… hasn’t even happened yet. He pulls himself out of Hardcase’s grasp.

The reset. The Force. Domino squad.

“I’m dreaming,” he whispers. “I’m dreaming, aren’t I.”

“I wish you were dreaming,” Hardcase tells him seriously. “Come on, we have to get you to medical. The longer we wait here the bigger the chances are that we’ll be seen—”

An explosion goes off right next to them as a tank round comes close. Hardcase stumbles, and they both go crashing to the ground. Fives lifts his head out of the dirt and feels a surge of fear at the sight of the dozens of Umbarans emerging from the mists, weapons blazing in the darkness.

“Kriff!” Hardcase hisses, scrambling to his feet. He lifts his Z-6 and lets out a barrage of return fire. The Umbarans stop advancing, but they don’t retreat, either.

“I won’t be able to hold them back!” Hardcase shouts. “Can you walk?”

Fives takes a deep breath and gets to his feet. Blasterfire rips around him, but instead of retreating he holds his ground and shakes his head.

“This isn’t real,” he says. “Umbara is far, far in the future. And if I have my way, it’s never going to happen at all.”

The world around Fives ripples and shifts. Objects that had seemed solid before disappear into smoke. The Umbarans freeze where they stand. Hardcase flickers in front of him like a ghost.

“Fives, are you alright?” Hardcase asks, turning to look at Fives over his shoulder. He’s a figment of Fives’ imagination, and doesn’t notice that anything’s wrong. He reaches out to tap Fives on the shoulder, but Fives moves away from him.

“Sorry, Hardcase,” he says with a heavy heart. “You’re dead, but I know how to make it so you aren’t.”

“Fives?”

Fives ignores him, and starts to walk away. Fortunately, he’s made the right call. Umbara fades into nothing around him. Hardcase doesn’t speak again, so Fives assumes he disappears, too.

“Where do you think you’re going, clone?"

Fives doesn’t stop walking. He’s seen this all before. Umbara had haunted him until he died in his first life, and has continued to haunt him in his second. He knows if he turns, he will see Krell. He doesn’t look back.

“Your ignorance will not save you.”

Fives clenches his fists. He’s beaten this dream hundreds of times before. This time is no different. If he keeps going, eventually he’ll wake up.

The Besalisk laughs. Fives stiffens at the sound. Krell taunts him in his dreams, mocks him for his brothers’ deaths, but the laugh is new, and it catches Fives off guard.

“So quick to abandon your brothers,” the traitor muses. “I’m surprised at you, clone. I had expected you to race to their defense.”

A clone voice, desperate, in pain— “Fives, please—please, you’ve gotta do something, Fives— !"

He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t. But he does it anyway. He turns to look.

Krell is a ways behind him, just as Hevy had suspected, and he has one gigantic fist clamped tight over Hevy’s throat, holding his weakly struggling brother in the air. Droidbait is on his knees at Krell’s feet, eyes wide as the tip of a lightsaber hovers by his face. Krell’s second saber is positioned over Cutup’s exposed chest, where he lies immobilized under one of Krell’s feet. Echo is slumped facedown on the ground in front of them, and Fives doesn’t know if he’s dead or not.

His dreams of Krell have never included Domino squad until now. Numbly he wonders what’s changed.

“This is a dream. I’ve had enough nightmares to be able to recognize one when I see it. My brothers are safe. You can’t touch them,” Fives tries to say evenly. If Krell’s sadistic grin is of any indication, he fails.

“That does not make it hurt you any less,” Krell drawls, and snaps Hevy’s neck. Fives’ whole body jerks at the sight. He turns away fast, and closes his eyes tightly as he listens to the lightsabers slash through the air.

“Not real,” Fives reminds himself. “Not real.” But his breaths are coming out faster and faster. He can’t slow them. “A dream. A dream,” he chants, as if it will save him. It doesn’t. Everything starts to happen faster as his mind whirls in panic, digging up new nightmares with ease—there are many to choose from.

Krell disappears, but that doesn’t mean it’s over. A figure emerges from the mist in front of him. Fives flinches as it comes closer.

“Joining me in the ranks of traitors, ARC?” Dogma sneers, eyes flashing with hatred. Fives recoils from him.

“I didn’t betray anyone!” he replies hotly.

“Are you certain?” Dogma asks, except it’s not Dogma anymore—suddenly it’s the Chancellor, prowling around Fives like a shark. “You betrayed the Republic.”

“You’re the one who’s betrayed the Republic!” Fives snarls, and lunges—

Then he’s standing alone, in front of a firing squad. He lets out a shaky breath, tries to calm himself down, remind himself that it’s a dream. He gets a closer look at the armor of his executioners and shudders in horror when he realizes that it’s the rest of Domino. His brothers stare at him blankly, fingers tight on the triggers of their weapon. They do not recognize him —or they do, and just don’t care.

“Ready! Aim!” someone shouts, and with a sudden certainty Fives knows his brothers will not miss. Just before they pull the trigger the dream shifts ever so slightly. 501st blue transforms to Coruscant red. Fox is aiming right at his heart. Fives turns his head just in time to see General Skywalker watching from the sidelines, stone-faced. The General’s mouth opens.

“Fire.”

Limbs are holding him in place as he struggles, thrashes. Fives needs to move, needs to leave the nightmares behind. He’d made a mistake by turning to look. He has to get free, he has to keep moving—

Someone slaps him. Hard.

“ —listening now, you kriffing moron? Look at me. Look at me, Fives.”

A light is shining in his eyes. He hisses and tries to roll away from it, and when the light is finally taken away a very irritated Coric is glaring at him. There’s a bruise on the side of his face.

“Finally,” he mutters. “You with me now, or are you planning on punching me again?”

Fives coughs when he tries to respond. Coric sighs, and the anger visibly drains from his body.

“Don’t talk yet,” he says. “Your body is still recovering.”

They’re in the Resolute’s medbay. For a moment Fives is still confused, struggling to decide if this is dream or reality—because even though he’d known it was a dream, it had felt real, and this feels no different.

He stills when he remembers why he’s in the medbay to begin with.

“Where’s Cutup?” he croaks out, and regrets it. His throat is scratched raw. Coric arches an eyebrow at him, but saves the lecture.

“Cutup woke up yesterday. I cleared him to leave the medbay this morning. You took longer to recover. I assume it’s because you insisted on staying awake until rescue came. The Captain did the same thing, and he’s still unconscious. Stable, though.”

Fives only dimly remembers their rescue, and he’d been too out of it to really comprehend anything but the fact that the Generals had finally returned. He’d collapsed the moment he’d seen the biosuit-clad men rush Cutup out. He heaves a sigh of relief that his brother is recovering.

He’d thought Cutup was dying, when he’d lost consciousness. He’d thought that it had all been for nothing, and that they were about to lose someone already.

He’s never been so glad to be wrong in his entire life.  

“Tipper, I know you’re bored, but there are better things to do than play with my scalpels,” Coric suddenly says. The expression of long-suffering on his face as he turns is utterly priceless. Fives glances over and grins at Tipper’s guilty expression as he returns a scalpel to it’s tray. The shiny is sitting on a cot on the other side of the medbay, next to Captain Rex’s still form.

“Sorry,” Tipper apologizes. His voice is raspy, but it’s tons better than Fives’ croaking. “I’m bored, though.”

“Yes, you’ve told me several times in the past five minutes,” Coric replies patiently. “You have two and a half more hours before you’re officially cleared to leave.”

Tipper sighs and flops back onto his bed. Coric rolls his eyes as he grabs a datapad and sends a quick message.

“If it makes you feel any better, the rest of Torrent’s Beta squad will probably be up here in a few minutes,” Coric tells him. “I just let them know that Fives is awake, give it ten minutes or so and I think—”

The door bursts open.

“Fives!” Hevy cries enthusiastically, hurrying his way through the medbay. “Glad you’re finally awake, you idiot!” The entirety of Beta squad is right behind him. Fives tenses at the sight of them, images of Krell and Umbara flashing through his mind, but he steadies himself and shoves the nightmares to the back of his mind where they won’t bother him for a while.

Coric gives the squad a very unimpressed look. Echo shrugs at him.

“We didn’t have anything better to do, so we camped outside the door,” Nax explains gleefully. Even Del is with them, expression carefully neutral as he makes his way in.

“I don’t know why I’m surprised,” Coric mutters. He casts a dangerous look at Cutup, who’s trying to push his way past Zeer. “I seem to recall restricting you to your bed for the next twelve hours.” Cutup does still look a bit sickly, but his grin is undaunted by that.

“Not sorry,” he says, finally getting past Zeer. As they huddle around his bed, Fives tries to sit up, but his arms tremble beneath him, so he decides that isn’t the best idea. Cutup crouches down by his head, and the grin slides off of his face as Fives turns to look at him.

“I would have died,” Cutup says abruptly. “If you hadn’t been there to keep me awake, I wouldn’t have been strong enough to survive.”

Fives twitches. “That isn’t true,” he protests. “You could have—”

“No,” Cutup insists. Fives stares into his brother’s eyes and realizes that Cutup is dead serious. “I would have died, Fives. You kept me alive. Thank you.”

Something swells in Fives’ chest at Cutup’s words, and he swallows down a lump in his throat. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat,” he admits softly—exposing a raw truth that exists at the very center of his being. Fives would give his life for his brothers without hesitation. Throughout all the uncertainty that exists in his life that is the one thing that remains constant, and will be constant until the end of time.

Cutup bites his lip uncertainly for a moment before taking a deep breath and reaching forwards to wrap his arms around Fives. Fives returns the hug as best he can while laying in bed. Cutup’s arms tremble. Fives wonders if it’s from relief, or the last lingering dregs of fear.

When Cutup pulls away, he looks steady—as if Fives’ recovery has balanced him. His grin slowly reappears.

“Alright, alright, stop monopolizing him,” Hevy grumbles. A chuckle runs through the squad as Cutup glares at him. They’d been quiet as Cutup had spoken, recognizing the need for resolution there, and now that it’s taken care of they break their silence. In Fives’ still sluggish mind it feels like they’re all talking to him at once, and he blinks a couple times to try and reorientate himself.

“Hey, hey!” Coric calls. “Calm it down, he’s still a little out of it. Don’t crowd. One at a time.”

Fives is grateful for it when they back off a little, allowing him to focus. He lets his eyes skim over the group, and sucks in a nervous breath when he spots Droidbait. Droidbait is hanging at the back of the crowd, behind Attie, and his expression is terrifyingly blank.

Oh, no. Fives knows he’s messed this one up, big time. He’d lied, and Droidbait especially isn’t one to let a betrayal like that go so easily.

“Droidbait,” he says softly. “Droidbait… I…” He has to stop for a moment as Droidbait makes his way to Fives’ side. The words of the apology stick in his throat.

He’s hurt his brother. Guilt sweeps through his body.

“Droidbait, I’m so sorr—”

“Fives. I forgive you.”

Fives’ eyes widen.

“You—what?”

“I forgive you,” Droidbait repeats gently. Fives gaps at him. He can’t comprehend it. If it was him in Droidbait’s place, he would be absolutely furious. Betrayal hurts. Fives knows this better than most.

“It’s alright,” Droidbait tells him. A small smile appears on his face. “Provided it doesn’t happen again, that is. Which I don’t think it will.”

“Never,” Fives vows, a bit incredulously. “‘Bait, you don’t—?”

Droidbait puts a hand on Fives’ shoulder. “I was angry at first. And it was justified, I think.” Fives winces and nods. Droidbait continues. “But we’ve got better things to do than sit around and be mad at each other. If a squad can’t trust each other, then what good are they?” Fives clenches his jaw in shame, but Droidbait taps his chest lightly. “That’s exactly why I’m not angry anymore. I know you’re aware of that fact, and I also know you’re aware that you and Echo messed up. That’s why it won’t happen again, and why I forgive you both. You’re going to beat yourself up for it enough as it is.”

The relief that overtakes Fives is overwhelming. Hevy is grinning like a lunatic on his other side. The Teth survivor’s expressions are curious, but they don’t ask for details, which Fives is infinitely grateful for.

Once Droidbait steps back, Beta squad seems content to cluster around him for the time being, updating Fives on everything that’s happened since Naboo.

“The Commander woke up around the same time Cutup did,” Attie explains as he presses one of his smuggled candies into Fives’ palm. “She’s going to be just fine. Fortunately the virus didn’t affect her any differently than it did us humans. Senator Amidala is alright, too. She wasn’t exposed to the toxin as long as the rest of you, so she was actually the first one to wake up.

“So the Captain is the only one we’re still waiting on,” Fives says, glancing over towards Captain Rex’s bed. He unwraps Attie’s candy and pops it into his mouth as Coric nods grimly.

“He stayed awake until we’d reached the ship before finally collapsing. That clone has one of the strongest wills of anyone I’ve ever met. I bet he’s a lot like the original template.”

“Any estimation on how long he’ll be unconscious?” Fives asks. Coric shrugs helplessly.

“Not really. We know he will recover, but not when. With any luck, it’ll be soon, because we’re going to be shipped out again in a few days.”

“Force,” Fives mutters. “Well, at least he can’t punish me until he’s back on active duty.” Cutup shoots him a sympathetic look. Fives shrugs at him. He’d submitted himself to the fact that he’d face consequences for his choice since the very beginning. Fortunately, Rex hadn’t seemed angry with him in the heat of the moment, but Fives knows better than to be optimistic about his sentence.

Echo has been patiently waiting to get his turn to speak with Fives since the beginning, allowing the rest of their brothers to ensure Fives is alright first. Now, he moves close and sits on the side of Fives’ bed. Cutup moves to make room for him.

Relax, Echo’s hands say. I’m keeping watch.

Fives knows that by ‘keeping watch’ Echo is referring to keeping an eye on what’s coming next for the 501st. Fives relaxes at that. As long as Echo is keeping an eye on the timeline, they’ll still be alright, even if Fives has been unconscious for a while. He’s still too out of it to focus on the complicated issues of time travel. In fact, with Echo finally next to him, Fives feels safe, and it’s getting hard to keep his eyes open.

Coric notices that immediately.

“Alright, out,” he orders gently. “Fives still needs rest. He won’t be able to leave the medbay for twenty-four more hours, anyway, so you all might as well get some work done until then.”

His words are met with an impressive cacophony of groans, but Beta squad complies. Cutup stops by Tipper’s bed to chat, who perks up cheerfully at the conversation. The rest of Beta squad exits, but Echo lingers for just a moment.

“Don’t do that again,” Echo finally says, so softly that Fives almost doesn’t hear. “Blast it, Fives. I don’t think I can do this without you.”

“I can’t promise you anything,” Fives admits weakly, ashamed that he can’t tell Echo what he wants to hear. “I’d rather lose my own life than lose a brother again. And you could do it without me. You’re smarter than I am, anyway.”

Echo flinches at his words. “I’m no smarter than you are, you just show it differently,” he says. “I knew you would say something like that. But your death would crush us, Fives. We may not have voted on it, but you’re our leader. You’re the one keeping us going. Just… be careful, okay? I thought I was going to lose you again.”

Fives reaches up and puts his palm over the handprint on Echo’s chest reassuringly.

“I’m not planning on dying anytime soon. Especially since I know you’re going to have my back from here on out, right?” He gives Echo a tired smile, who returns it and then starts to back off.

“Get some rest,” Echo tells him. “When you get out of here, we’ll worry about what’s coming. Until then, recover. Listen to the medics, for once in your life.”

Fives lets out a courtesy grumble at that as Echo leaves.

Cutup and Tipper are still whispering in the corner, but Fives doesn’t mind. The familiar lilt of clone voices is comforting to him, so it doesn’t take very long for sleep to overtake him again.

He’s done his duty. All of his brothers are safe. He can afford to rest, for a little bit.

The next morning, Fives gets released from the medbay. To Cutup, the barracks feel completely normal once he’s back, with the usual antics taking place. Zeer and Hevy have a disassembled Z-6 in front of them, and are crouched over the pieces, muttering to each other. Cutup dimly hears something about a flamethrower and tries not to be alarmed. Droidbait and Attie are reading something off of a datapad at the table. Fives, released from the medbay but still under firm orders to stay in bed, is fidgeting impatiently even though Echo and Nax are trying to keep him occupied with light conversation. Cutup himself is wiping down his DC-15 and watching curiously as Coric runs through a medic program that flashes the screen of his datapad green every time he answers a question correctly. He hasn’t gotten one wrong yet.

“Um… are you boys busy?” inquires a young voice. From his seat at one of the tables, Del nearly has a conniption when he realizes that their Commander has made her way into the barracks without anyone even noticing. For a long moment, everyone stares at the Togruta in surprise, pausing in their chosen activities.

“Sir!” Nax finally gets out, shooting to his feet and coming to attention. Everyone moves to follow him, but Commander Tano winces, waving a hand at them quickly.

“It’s alright, men. I’m not here on business.”

Beta squad relaxes.

“Uh, then why are you here, Commander?” Attie asks curiously. Commander Tano shuffles her feet— nervously, Cutup realizes. Why on earth is a Jedi nervous?

“Well…” the Commander begins, and then her gaze lands on Cutup. She stares at him imploringly, as if expecting him to understand. He freezes under her stare for a brief moment before he finally realizes what’s going on.

“Oh,” he says. A grin spreads onto his face almost involuntarily. “I did say anyone would teach you, didn’t I.”

She grins at him. Cutup turns to his brothers, who are wearing various expressions of confusion and alarm.

“She doesn’t know how to play sabacc,” Cutup explains. “I told her anyone would teach her.”

“I wanted to learn from you, though,” Commander Tano tells him. “Also Tipper.” She glances around the room as if expecting the Tide soldier to be hiding in a corner.

“I can call him,” Cutup tells her. “If he’s not on duty, he’ll come. We’ll teach you everything you need to know.”

“Darn right we will,” Fives chimes in. His words seem to break the spell of surprise that had fallen over the squad. Attie, Nax, and Droidbait drift closer, eager smiles appearing on their faces. Fives starts to get out of bed.

“Oh, no you don’t, Fives,” Coric snaps. “You’re staying right there.”

“What? I want to play!” Fives complains. “C’mon, Coric. It’s not going to hurt anything!”

Echo rolls his eyes. “I’ll supervise the child, Coric.”

“Hey!”

Coric sighs. “Fine. But if something happens, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

They settle on the floor in the middle of the barracks. At first, the atmosphere is a little bit tense. It’s strange, to have the Commander talking to them so casually. Fives and Echo are used to it, though, and are able to keep the Commander from realizing she’s the cause of the tension until the others grow more comfortable with her. It doesn’t take long for everyone to adjust. Commander Tano smiles a lot, and speaks to the clones like the they would talk to their own brothers. When Cutup starts to break out the cards, she’s joking with the rest of the squad, who reciprocate with ease. It feels natural, and it makes Cutup grin.

“Right, the max is eight players,” Cutup says. “Who’s in?”

Cutup and the Commander are automatically counted. Nax, Attie, and Fives volunteer to join immediately. Attie convinces Droidbait to play with some wheedling. Surprisingly, Coric joins them as well. Zeer decides to sit out, and Del still looks slightly uncomfortable, so he remains at his spot at the table. Hevy makes a face when they ask him to play.

“I’m terrible at sabacc,” he reminds them. “I’m fine with just watching, really.”

Tipper chooses that moment to enter the barracks, an infectious grin on his face. He laughs when he sees the Commander and takes a seat next to Cutup. He isn’t a shiny anymore—swirling blue patterns meant to look like smoke cover his armor. It’s supposed to be the virus, Cutup realizes, and slaps Tipper on the back in congratulations.

With Tipper there, they have a full eight players. Cutup fixes the Commander with a serious look as he begins to deal the cards.

“Alright, here’s how this works,” he begins. “Each card is worth a specific number of points. In order to have a winning hand, the sum of all of your cards must equal either negative twenty-three or twenty-three. After we all place our bets, we can start drawing cards to try and get our hands closer to the winning numbers. There is one way you can beat a winning hand, with something called an Idiot’s Array. If you can get a two of any suit, a three of any suit, and then have the rest of your cards equal zero, your hand will be stronger than another hand that’s worth only twenty-three…”

It’s a good thing Beta squad doesn’t usually play for actual credits, because if they had been, the Commander would have wiped them clean.

She spends the first several rounds not really watching her own cards—instead, she watches everyone else play, first. Cutup assumes she’s still trying to pick up all of the rules, but during the fourth round she picks up her cards, bets a ridiculous amount of imaginary credits, and proceeds to get an Idiot’s Array before Cutup is even close to twenty-three.

“Kriff,” Nax says incredulously as she reveals her hand. “What the actual kriff. You’re sure you’ve never played this before, sir?”

“Nope,” the Commander tells them smugly.

“You sure you aren’t using the Force to count cards or something?” Fives asks suspiciously.

“Nope,” she repeats, grinning as she waves a hand to collect the imaginary pot. “I’ve figured out all of your tells, though. Fives’ was the hardest to see, but I figured it out eventually.”

“Are you kidding me?” Attie groans. “Kriffing Jedi.”

“I’d take offense, but I think I mostly agree with you,” Commander Tano says slyly, even as Droidbait smacks the back of Attie’s helmet. “Are we playing another round?”

“Of course!” Tipper says eagerly. Cutup obliges them and deals out another round.

The clones step up their game. The Commander doesn’t win the next round—Coric does, and then Tipper wins the next. She does win again after that, twice in a row, until Cutup is finally able to take her down.

“Blast, I’m so glad we don’t have any credits,” Fives mutters. “I’d be so broke right about now.”

By the time they finish, Commander Tano is fully up to speed on all the rules of sabacc, and is terrifyingly good at it already. She doesn’t have quite enough experience to beat the men every single time, but she can hold her own, and Cutup knows she’ll be unstoppable someday.

The Commander gets to her feet after the last round and stretches.

“Thanks, guys!” she tells them cheerfully. “That was fun! Sorry I crashed your party, though.”

“It’s not like we were doing anything important,” Cutup points out.

“Yeah, this was loads more fun than sitting in bed doing nothing,” Fives says. He stays seated on the ground when everyone else stands. “You’re welcome here anytime, sir. As long as we aren’t playing for credits, that is.”

She laughs. “I don’t have any spare credits, so I think you’re safe.” She glances at a clock and winces. “I’ve gotta go meet up with my Master. I’ll see you boys later!” She gives them one last little wave before making her way out of the barracks, and then she’s gone.

Cutup replicates her facial markings on his helmet in 501st blue.

He debates for some time before he finally decides to do it, worried that it’ll offend her, or worse. Eventually he does it anyway. His reasoning is simple. She’s a fierce warrior and a trusted Commander. She has his absolute loyalty, and he knows no better way to show that than to put it on his armor.

If she has any issue with it at all, even if it’s a small thing, he’ll erase it. He resolves to do so just in case, and he’s fully prepared to face her disgust or even anger.

When he sees her next in the hallway near the main hangar, there’s a split second’s pause as she takes in his new markings, and then a bright smile flashes across her face.

“Cutup, your armor!” she cries cheerfully, and spends a good ten minutes fawning over the paintwork, comparing it to her own markings and expressing her approval.

She’s okay with it. Cutup breathes a sigh of relief.

He’s honored that she’s allowing him to carry her markings. She has no idea how much it means to him, how it (she) represents survival and determination and grace in the wake of intangible danger, to him. Now, he just has to live up to the ferocity and power that those markings portray.

He’s not planning on letting her down.

Chapter Text

Fives takes a deep breath and steps into the medbay. Coric isn’t on duty this time—it’s another medic, whom Fives doesn’t know the name of. The medic nods at him as he enters, and points towards the back of the room where the medic’s office is.

“He’s back there,” the medic informs him. “Catching up on the stuff he missed while he was unconscious. He said to send you in immediately.”

Fives sighs.

“Right,” he mutters grimly. The medic gives him a sympathetic look.

“I’m sure it won’t be too bad. He’s not known for giving out excessive punishments.”

“I know,” Fives says. “But that doesn’t stop me from worrying.”

He doesn’t regret what he did, but he’s also concerned that Rex will use this as an opportunity to try and learn more about Domino’s past. Rex is intelligent, and likes knowing fine details. It’s part of what makes him such an efficient officer, and Fives knows that Rex is still curious. On top of that, in his first life Fives had created a close bond with his Captain. That bond doesn’t exist anymore. Fives doesn’t know if things will change because of that or not.

He drags his feet a little on the way over to the closed door of the small office. The door is closed. He hesitates to knock for a few uncertain seconds before he shakes his head in annoyance. It’s ridiculous that he’s getting so worked up about this. He’d known it was coming. He’s an ARC, he’s more than capable of facing down a little discipline. He knocks on the door firmly, and it slides open.

“Sir,” Fives says automatically as he steps inside. “You wanted to see—?”

His voice sticks in his throat as he finally registers the sight of his commanding officer. Captain Rex looks terrible—his face is deathly pale, even though he’s seated at the desk in the corner.

“It’s good to see you, Fives,” Rex greets, swiveling around in the chair. He doesn’t stand, which is a bad sign. “I’m glad you made a full recovery.” He sounds normal, but Fives doesn’t let himself be fooled.

“Ah, sir,” he begins, “Are you feeling alright? How long ago did you wake up?”

“Twelve hours ago,” Rex answers curtly. “Thank you for the concern, soldier. I’m fine. Besides, we aren’t here to talk about me.” Fives stiffens to attention almost automatically as the Captain’s tone inches back towards authoritative. He curses Rex’s stubborn streak internally. After Fives had woken up, he’d needed the full day of bedrest Coric had prescribed. Naturally back then he’d fought against it, unsettled by the long wait and anxious to rejoin his brothers. Now, he’s grateful he’d listened. He knows Rex wants to get back into the swing of things as fast as possible, but he’ll burn out so much faster if he doesn’t let his body recover now.

Rex sighs and continues before Fives can speak again. “I don’t want an explanation from you, Fives. Believe me, I understand just as well as any of our brothers why you did it… and I don’t blame you for it, either.”

Fives blinks.

“You and your squadmates are close. Closer than most other squads are. I’ve known that since Rishi. I can see it in the way you move, in the way you interact. You care about each other more than you care for the Republic.”

Fives inhales sharply. “Sir, I love my brothers, but I care for the Republic, as well.” He doesn’t like what the Captain has just said, because the Republic is the only real thing he has to fight for. That being said… he does care for his batchmates more than he does the Republic. Both are important. Both must be saved.

(If it came down to it… would Fives sacrifice his brothers to preserve the galaxy? That’s not something he wants to think about, and if they can figure out a plan, that’s not something he’ll ever have to think about.)

Rex senses his discomfort and shifts tracks, thankfully.

“Listen, Fives, it was a good thing you were there. Cutup wouldn’t have had the strength to stay alive if you hadn’t supported him, and we both know it. That’s not the real issue, anyway.” Captain Rex reaches out to grab a datapad from the desk besides him, beginning to scroll through the information on the screen as he speaks. “You aren’t a shiny, Fives. You weren’t even a shiny on Rishi. You know better than to take risks like that. Listen, I don’t know exactly what you and your squad have been through. General Ti reassured me that it was classified when I spoke to her of your transfer all those weeks ago, so I assume you’ve got plenty of experience. That being said, I know you’re aware of all the things that could have gone wrong.”

Through his own guilt Fives feels a surge of gratefulness for Shaak Ti’s trust in them. Rex doesn’t suspect that Fives knew what would happen. Instead, he thinks that Fives went along just because Cutup had been recruited—which is technically true. Fives probably would have done the same thing even if he hadn’t known about the virus, because he’s not going to lose a batchmate again, and there’s always a chance something will happen. He can lower those chances by being there, though.

Fives winces as Rex flips the datapad around to show him a collection of reports all describing his frantic leap out of the gunship.

“This is more what I’m concerned about, Fives. I don’t care that you came with us on the mission, especially because Cutup was recruited. Clones tend to perform better when they have a trusted squadmate watching their backs. But when you jumped out of the gunship, some of Tide Company panicked because they had no idea what was happening. On top of that, you could have been seriously injured during the drop, and then you wouldn’t have been of any help to Cutup at all.”

Fives drops his gaze guiltily to the floor. Rex is right—anything could have happened, and Tide company hadn’t deserved the confusion and alarm they’d no doubt felt as Fives pulled off his stunt. In his desperation to get to Cutup, Fives hadn’t stopped to think before he’d jumped.

“You could have contacted me,” Rex tells him softly. “I could have made sure you got down on the ground, even if it was a little late. I know how much you care for your brothers.”

Now Fives feels even worse. This Rex is not the Rex Fives had grown so close to—not yet, at least—but Fives had definitely been wrong in assuming that the two Captains are massively different. This Rex has the same values and perception skills as the first one—he just doesn’t know Fives as well yet.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Fives says quietly. “I didn’t—I didn’t even consider calling you. I didn’t…”

“Didn’t think I’d let you come along?”

No, that’s not it. Fives knows Rex would have let him come along had he called in. He just honestly hadn’t thought to ask in his panic.  

“I wasn’t thinking, sir. I’m sorry,” he says again. Rex stares at him, and must see a bit of Fives’ honest guilt, because he sighs.

“I want you and your brothers to survive this war, Fives. I want every brother to survive this war.” The lingering paleness from the virus combined with the sudden weight of his words makes Rex look worn and tired. “I can’t know what your squad has been through, but I hope you learn that you can rely on me for help. Otherwise there’s no point to me even being Captain.”

In his first life, Fives had full confidence in Rex. He’d trusted his Captain implicitly, even through Umbara and Ringo Vinda. He still does.

But Rex doesn’t know things yet. He’s not supposed to. Because of that, Fives had believed Captain Rex would be of no help to them. Now he sees that he’s wrong. Even if Rex doesn’t know what’s going to happen, he’s still dependable as alway. Domino squad may be alone in their knowledge, but they aren’t alone. No clone ever is.

Fives takes a deep breath and meets Captain Rex’s gaze.

“It won’t happen again, sir. I do trust you. I… panicked, that’s all. I swear to you, I’ll keep a level head next time.” And kriff if it isn’t hard to admit that he’d messed up, because ARC training had taught him not to panic. All of his instruction had gone out the window once Cutup had gotten involved, which isn’t a good sign. Fives needs to fix that before it becomes a problem, because his brothers will be in danger again eventually.

Rex nods at him and offers a small smile.

“Thank you, Fives. You’re a good man.” He leans forwards in his seat. “Even though I’m not angry with you for coming along, there are regulations in place that say you deserve punishment for it.”

Fives winces.

“Whatever it is, it’s fine, sir. I can live with it.”

“Hmm. Ordinarily, a simple demerit on your military records would suffice, along with some general hard labor for the next few days. Since your stunt did more good than harm, it wouldn’t be any more than that.”

That’s not too bad. Fives feels himself start to relax.

“Though, I don’t even think the demerit is necessary. I think the job you’re going to get will be enough.”

Fives blinks in confusion. No demerit? Sure, Rex has enough weight to dismiss such a thing, but… what job is possibly bad enough to eliminate the need?

Rex is smirking. It makes Fives nervous.

“Sir…?”

“I’m using my powers of delegation, for once. The medics would approve,” Rex says as he selects an option from a datapad and hands it to Fives. “I want you to take care of this. It’s not too bad… from a certain point of view.”

Fives skims the orders and freezes.

“No,” he says automatically. “Oh, no. Sir, you can’t be serious!” When Rex only lifts an eyebrow, Fives shakes his head in disbelief. “Are you kidding me?”

“Not at all, soldier,” Rex replies smugly. Fives’ mouth drops open.

“No. I’m not doing that,” he protests. Rex shrugs.

“I guess it’s the demerit, then,” he says mildly. Fives grimaces. While a demerit isn’t the end of the world, it also goes on his permanent military record. He’d had plenty of them in his first life, but this time, he has brothers to watch out for, and too many demerits can result in being moved to a squad underneath a higher ranking commander so that the officers can keep close watch on the troublemakers. This would only be his first one, but Fives knows he’s likely to get more. If he can avoid one, he will, no matter how horrific the alternative is.

“Fine,” he forces out. Rex nods in satisfaction, finally standing and clapping him on the back.

“You’ll be fine. Hopefully. Just try not to let anything too important get destroyed, alright?”

“No promises,” Fives mutters darkly. “You may regret this, sir.”

“I’d regret it no matter who was in charge, even if it was me,” Rex admits wryly. “That’ll be all, Fives. I need to…” he pauses and shakes his head, reluctant to even say it. “I need to get some rest.”

“You do that, sir,” Fives says petulantly, forgetting for a brief moment that this Rex isn’t the one from before, but the Captain doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he casts Fives an amused grin as Fives turns to leave.

“Good luck,” Rex calls after him. “You’re gonna need it.”

That’s for sure. Fives grits his teeth and hopes fervently that it’ll be worth it.

“Meesa is so excited!”

Fives has already changed his mind, and it’s barely been ten minutes. He’d rather take fifty demerits than do this.

Representative Binks appears to be… dancing? In excitement? While holding his DC-15S?

Fives fingers the weapon in his own hands, set to stun, with no small amount of longing.

“Representative Binks,” he says, and even though he tries to remain calm the words come out strained. The Gungan doesn’t notice. “Can you please keep the barrel of the gun pointed away from any other living beings?” This isn’t the first time he’s said this. Binks stills for approximately point three seconds before he’s bouncing again, the fins on his head flopping around comically.

“But meesa is so excited! Yousa teachin’ me ta shoot!”

Fives has a headache. This isn’t worth it. Also, he’ll be in even more trouble if he loses control and stuns the idiot, so this is a bad idea on so many levels.

He’s going to find some way to get Rex back for this. Never mind that it’s supposed to be a punishment. This is cruel and unusual.

“Just—” He pinches the bridge of his nose in an effort to stay composed. “Just hold still for a few seconds, okay? You won’t be able to aim if you don’t hold still.”

On the other side of the range, a squad of Wave Company men are snickering at him. Fives groans under his breath and eyes his own gun again.

Maybe it would be easier just to stun himself, so he’ll be unconscious for the next few hours. That option is looking better and better with second that goes by.

“Okay.” Stay calm, stay calm. “Listen up, Representative Binks. Good aim comes with practice. Hold the weapon steady and pick a target.”

Representative Binks nods sagely.

“Ahh, meesa see!”

The Gungan swivels, aiming roughly at a set of targets all the way to the left instead of straight ahead, closer to the lanes the Wave Company men have claimed. However, while turning he trips, stumbling slightly, and his grip on the weapon slips. It’s already faced roughly towards the other clones, and the fumble is enough to aim it directly into their midsts. It fires before Fives can leap forwards stop it. A clone on the other side of the room lets out a startled yelp, tumbling to the ground

It’s such a good thing Fives had the foresight to lock the Gungan’s weapon on stun earlier.

The Wave men aren’t laughing at Fives anymore, now that they’ve seen the true force of chaos Fives is struggling to contain. Those not wearing their helmets look bewildered and shocked at the careless display. Basic weaponry safety is the one of the first things taught on Kamino.

Representative Binks yelps at the sight of the Wave men gathering anxiously around their stunned comrade.

“Ah, uh oh, meesa so sorry!” Binks begins to jog his way over, and Fives realizes what’s going to happen before it does—and that’s a bad sign, that he can predict the Gungan’s clumsiness before it even happens. There’s a cart sitting in the center of the room, stocked full of weaponry that’s been tagged as defective so that the mechanics can go about repairing them. “Meesa didn’t mean to—” Representative Binks gets out, and then trips on his own feet again. He collides with the cart. A hefty Z-6 falls. Fives watches it go down as if in slow motion and his eyes widen in horror.

“Everyone hit the deck!”  he shouts. The Z-6 collides with the ground as the dozen men dive for the floor. There’s a brief second where the only sound Fives can hear is a tiny clicking sound from the weapon—the sound of malfunctioning machinery.

Then, the Z-6 activates, and blaster bolts go everywhere.

Echo grins in victory as he successfully brushes aside another firewall of the program he’s meddling with. Even on a device as inefficient as a datapad, he’s still fully capable of gaining access to tons of encrypted information that he’d never dreamed he’d see during his first life. The more he practices, the better he becomes… and he’s never been more grateful, considering the idea he’s just come up with.

A clone enters the barracks. Echo tenses automatically before glancing up, then relaxes when he sees it’s just Fives.

“Hey, you’re back. How’d things go with the Captain?” he asks, looking back down at the datapad in his hands. Fives lets out a groan.

“Fine,” he bites out. “I’m fine.” He sits on his bunk and sighs. He doesn’t sound fine. Echo frowns and looks back up at his brother, studying him much more carefully this time. There are scorch marks across the chest plates of his armor, and the fabric of his gloves look almost warped by some form of heat.

“Force, what happened?” Echo asks incredulously. Fives’ blue glove—the one all of Domino shared, that they’d stained when they’d finished Echo’s armor—is almost completely blackened.

“Well, the good news is that I didn’t get any demerits,” Fives says wryly. He begins to strip off his armor. Echo blinks.

“What? How’d you get out of that?”

“The Captain gave me another job,” Fives continues grimly. “To take the place of the demerit. Apparently, after the whole mess on Naboo the Generals decided that Representative Binks could do with some form of training. Captain Rex decided to delegate that task to me. It was… difficult. I’m fairly certain he needs a babysitter.”

“Who needs a babysitter?” Hevy asks as he enters the barracks. Most of Beta, sans Del, trail in behind him, coming from a meal at the mess hall.

“Binks,” Fives snarls bitterly. Cutup winces and nods.

“That’s true. What the kriff did he do this time?”
Fives recounts the tale. Echo wishes he could be sympathetic, but seeing Fives’ frustration is… sort of funny. Even though there’s nothing amusing about brothers almost getting killed by something as ridiculous as clumsiness.

“The kick from the Z-6 kept it swivelling in every direction. No one was hit, but a couple men had close calls,” Fives says. “I managed to get my hands on the gun, but nothing I could do would get it to stop firing, so I just had to point it downrange until the charge ran out.” He raises his scorched gloves. “Heat nearly melted my gloves. I… may or may not have yelled at the Representative a little, after.” He hisses as he starts to strip off the gloves. The skin underneath it is red. Coric hurries forwards to inspect it.

“Sithspit, Fives, you sure you aren’t gonna get in trouble for chewing him out?” Nax asks from his spot at the table. Fives shrugs.

“I dunno. Hopefully Rex can forgive me for it. The Captain better be satisfied with my efforts, because I am not doing it again.”

Echo snorts at the irritated look on Fives’ face and grins when his brother smacks at him in retaliation.

“Why are he and the Senator even still here?” Zeer asks. “Shouldn’t they be halfway back to Coruscant by now?”

“Who knows,” Echo says quickly before Fives can attempt to lie that he doesn’t know. Both ARCs are more than aware of Senator Amidala’s relationship with General Skywalker. The two had done a fairly good job of keeping it a secret at the beginning of the war, but by the end they’d both pretty much stopped caring if the men noticed anything.

During a war, every day could be your last. Fives doesn’t blame them for wanting more time together.

The rest of Beta squad starts to shed their armor, not paying very much attention now that the story is over. While they aren’t looking Echo catches Fives’ eye and signs something to him quickly:

Need team meeting. I have news.

Fives nods and nudges Hevy besides him, passing the message along silently. It doesn’t take long for the entirety of Domino to get the memo.

“I haven’t gotten food yet,” Echo says after a few more seconds. “Fives, you haven’t either, right? Wanna join me?”

“Sure, anything to get my mind off of Gungans,” Five replies grimly. He finishes stripping off his armor, and they exit together, making their way to the little conference room that rarely sees official use and has become the private meeting point of Domino.

Hevy, Droidbait, and Cutup join them a few minutes later, having come up with some excuse to leave the barracks. Droidbait closes the door behind them, and everyone settles into the chairs at the small table.

“What’s this all about?” Droidbait asks, looking between the two ARCs. Fives shrugs and points at Echo.

“It’s on him,” he says. “I’ve got no clue what’s going on.”

Echo takes a deep breath.

“I think I know how we can get our evidence,” he tells them bluntly. No use beating around the bush. There’s a moment where everyone freezes in collective surprise, and then Hevy leans forwards, eyes wide.

“How?” he asks, voice thick with hope. “How, Echo?”

“I think,” Echo says, “That I can hack into the Kaminoan’s databases.”

“You can do that?” Cutup blurts out incredulously. Echo shrugs.

“Technically, no, but I could with a little bit of inside help,” he says. “The Kaminoans aren’t going to let their most important records be out in the open where anyone with a datapad and a slight aptitude for beating firewalls can access it. For that stuff, you have to be physically connected with their mainframe. The stuff they do have public is practically useless. Just stuff about our creation and whatnot. There is a brief paragraph on inhibitor chips, but it’s that same blasted lie they told Fives originally.”

“They’d definitely have information on the true purpose of the chips in their private records,” Fives says. “But you just said you have to physically be there to get that stuff.”

“That’s why we can recruit someone on Kamino to help us out,” Echo points out. “If I can convince someone to hook into one of the Kaminoan’s consoles, and then connect that to me, I could get access without having to be there myself.” Echo is pretty sure he can do it. The Kaminoan firewalls will be tough to crack, but if there’s one thing he knows about his mind, it’s that it’s wired for that kind of stuff now.

“This all sounds great, but who do we know on Kamino who won’t immediately turn us down?” Droidbait asks. “We can’t just go to anyone and ask us to sneak into the archives. Aren’t the clones you guys know from your past life still in training? They get caught, and they won’t ever be sent out.”

Everyone cringes at that thought. Fives grinds his teeth audibly.

Without warning Hevy jerks in his seat. Everyone turns to stare at him in surprise.

“Ninety-nine,” he says. “Ninety-nine would do it.”

Echo thinks back on his memories of the old clone, determined and loyal to his brothers to the bitter end. He thinks of the hopeful old man who’d clutched Hevy’s medal to his chest and mourned silently for yet another brother who would never come home.

Hevy’s right. Ninety-nine will do it.

Hevy groans and puts his head down on the table. Everyone stares at him again in concern until he raises his head, a guilty expression on his face.

“Ah, kriff. I was so distracted by the fact that I was even alive that I didn’t talk to Ninety-nine before we got shipped out,” Hevy moans, and he looks truly devastated by that fact. “And I didn’t even—I didn’t even come back the first time. What did he… did he—?”

Echo shares a quick glance with Fives, frantically wondering what the best thing to tell his brother is at this point. Hevy knows that Ninety-nine was killed in the battle of Kamino, at least, but in the grand scheme of things they hadn’t had the opportunity to tell him much more than that.

“He didn’t forget you,” Fives tells Hevy quietly. “I’m pretty sure he had your medal on him when he died. He was a brave man. Is a brave man,” he amends.

Hevy inhales sharply at Fives’ words and then lets the breath out slow. He goes silent for a long moment, and none of them blame him for it.

“So, what, we just call Ninety-nine and ask him to somehow connect into top-secret Kaminoan files, no questions asked?” Droidbait asks. “It’s undoubtedly much harder than it sounds. A lot of things could go wrong.”

“Why don’t we just contact General Ti?” Cutup suggests. “Surely she’d help us.”

“She wouldn’t be able to get close to the rooms she’d need to in order to help us,” Echo informs them. “She’s a Jedi. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re keeping tabs on her every second of the day to make sure she doesn’t know about the chip. Ninety-nine is inconspicuous, and he’s maintenance. For all we know he dusts off the console we need every other week as part of his routine.”

“I say we give it a try,” Fives says. “What do we have to lose?”

“Ninety-nine,” Hevy mutters. Fives raises an eyebrow at him.

“It was your idea in the first place, Hevy,” he points out. Hevy bites his lip.

“I know, I just—he’s a good man. I don’t want anything bad to happen to him, especially if it’s something that we’re responsible for. For all we know we’ll be sending him straight to certain death—”

Fives puts a hand on Hevy’s shoulder, and looks at Droidbait carefully.

“Look, it’s not a perfect plan. But it’s the only one we’ve got. Ninety-nine is a good man, but he’s also a good soldier, and he’s proud of it. I know he’ll do what he can to protect his brothers, just like any of us would do. Have a little trust in him, alright? If he feels like he can’t do it, we’ll call it off and find another way to do this. If he can… we might as well take the chance. We need this information if we’re going to convince anyone about the chips.”

Droidbait nods in approval, convinced by Fives’ steady logic. Hevy holds out for a little longer, expression wavering.

“If something happens to him… I won’t forgive myself. I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“We need to let him decide if he gets involved or not. Also, he hasn’t agreed to anything yet,” Echo reminds them. “This is just a possibility. Let’s call him. He’s our best option until we can think of something else.”

Hevy swallows nervously and finally nods, but he still doesn’t look happy.

“Alright, it’s settled for now, then,” Echo says. “We’ll contact Kamino and see if this idea takes us anywhere.”

“We’ll have to somehow get access to a long-range holoprojector,” Fives points out. “Our comms aren’t nearly powerful enough to reach Kamino.”

“There’s also the possibility that the Kaminoans will be able to intercept the transmission,” Hevy adds.

“Leave that to me,” Echo says. “I can encrypt the departing message well enough to keep the longnecks out.”

“When is this going down?” Cutup asks. “We’ve gotta be careful. All of the holoprojectors on the ship are either smack dab in the middle of command centers or open to the public. They aren’t exactly in private places.”

“I’m sure we can pull enough strings to clear a room for a few minutes,” Fives says. “We’ll just have to be smart about it. Regardless, whatever we do, we’ve gotta do it soon. The faster we can ask, that faster we’ll know if this is going to work or not. Here’s what I say we should do—”

“Uh—we might have to hold off on contacting Kamino for just a little bit, guys,” Droidbait interrupts. When they all turn to him, he’s holding his own datapad in his hand, staring down at a received message. “Beta squad just got a whole new set of orders. The 64th battalion in en route to meet with 501st in two standard hours. Torrent Company will receive them, so our orders are to prepare for their arrival.”

Echo frowns. “That’s right. I forgot about that.”

“The 64th…? Isn’t that… Captain Keeli’s battalion? Under General Ima-Gun Di?” Hevy says slowly. “Why are they coming to meet us?”

“They’re en route to Ryloth,” Fives says. “At least, that’s what they were doing at this time during our first life. They didn’t have time to stop at a Republic outpost to restock before their assignment, and we’re positioned fairly close to their hyperspace lane. They’ll resupply from our stocks—that’s why we’re needed, for a lot of the manual labor. General Di will meet with General Skywalker. Then they’ll head to Ryloth… where they’ll—”

He cuts himself off. Echo closes his eyes for a brief moment in remembrance. Everyone had heard the story of Captain Keeli and the 64th, who fought side-by-side with their valiant General to the last man in order to allow the Twi’lek rebels to escape. The rest of Domino look at them in confusion before the realization hits.

“Wait, they’re going to—!?” Cutup begins, and then blanches. “ All of them? The whole battalion?” he asks quieter, understanding Fives’ unspoken ending. Echo nods grimly.

“The droids mount a full-scale invasion against Ryloth while they’re stationed there,” he says softly. “The 64th get overwhelmed. They’re able to hold out long enough to allow hundreds of civilians and rebels to survive, but they’re decimated in the process. Not even General Di makes it out of there.”

The room is silent for a long moment.

“Kriff,” Hevy whispers eventually. Droidbait’s face has gone pale. Cutup bows his head.

“Blast it. Can we even… can we even do something about this?” Droidbait mutters helplessly. “If they don’t go to Ryloth, the civilians will die. We can’t—we were created to help the civilians.”

“Better for us to die than the actual people of the Republic,” Hevy says mournfully. Echo winces at his words.

Fives has gone strangely silent. Echo glances at him and lifts an eyebrow at the determined set of Fives’ jaw.

“Fives…” he begins, unsure if he should be worried or not. Without warning Fives slams his fist on the table, surging to his feet. Everyone jumps at the loud sound, staring up at the ARC in surprise.

“No,” Fives growls. “No. So many brothers are going to die. We’ve got to do something.”

“What the—Fives, we can’t!” Echo replies instantly. “Then the Twi’leks will die!”

“Are you serious? You’ve been telling us we can’t change our brother’s deaths this whole time, and now it’s suddenly fine?” Droidbait cries, also leaping to his feet.

“This is different!” Fives defends. “There’s got to be another way—maybe if General Di was aware of what’s going to happen, he’ll be able to plan better—”

“Fives, we don’t know enough details about the invasion of Ryloth to be able to tell him much more than that they’ll eventually be surrounded and taken out while defending Cham Syndulla’s forces. That’s all either of us remember, anyway,” Echo points out, struggling to bring rationality back to the conversation—

“There could have been other ways so the rest of our brother could have lived, too!” Droidbait protests at the same time, voice cutting right over Echo’s.

“‘Bait, you know we have to be careful about changing too much. What if we change something major on accident? Then everything we know won’t matter—” Cutup says in an attempt to pacify him, but it only makes things worse. Droidbait glares at him.

Ohh, this isn’t good.

“Maybe that’s a risk we’ll have to take!” Droidbait argues hotly. “Maybe we have to change things in order to fix this! So far we haven’t done anything except see brothers get killed while we struggle to find our footing! I’m sick of watching clones die for nothing!”

“This is a war, Droidbait. This is our war. This is literally the only reason we exist. We’re going to lose people no matter what we do,” Fives snarls. Droidbait’s glower snaps to him instead, and Echo feels himself start to panic. This is bad. They just barely got over a teamwork issue—a second one in a row will destroy the squad if it isn’t stopped right away. He glances over at Hevy, who seems to have come to the same conclusion.

“Alright, alright!” Hevy shouts, effectively pausing the chaos. “Stop it! This argument is pointless! For kriff’s sake! We can’t change what’s happened in the past. Right now you two both want the same thing, anyway!”

Fives and Droidbait eye each other for a moment longer before slowly returning to their seats.

“Listen to me, guys,” Echo says. “There are reasons why we couldn’t help our brothers in those other situations. Reasons like: If we save this brother, this General will die. We had to make sacrifices in order to keep ourselves and our officers alive.” He looks at Droidbait. “We’ll do what we can to save our brothers, but Fives is right—we can’t save everyone. You call for change? Fives wants change, too. It’s not his fault that we couldn’t save our brothers before. Besides, we can’t focus on that anymore. Now, we’ve got to focus on what we can change. I think this is something we might be able to fix without risking something bigger.”

Echo is quickly learning that Droidbait is terrifyingly good at holding grudges. He waits anxiously as Droidbait stares at him for a long moment. Finally, Droidbait exhales. His arms are still crossed, and he doesn’t look happy, but some portion of the tension drains from his body.

“You’re right,” he admits discontentedly. “This isn’t the time to argue about it.”

Echo sighs in relief. Crisis averted… for now.

“You say we should tell General Di about what will happen on Ryloth, Fives?” Cutup asks, picking the conversation back up. Fives nods and takes a breath.

“They should still go to Ryloth,” he says. “It’s true that without the 64th, Ryloth would have fallen before the other battalions could arrive, and the freedom fighters would have been decimated. But if we could at least warn General Di of what’s coming, maybe… maybe they’ll have a better chance at holding out. They could find a way to last long enough for the 501st, 212th, and 91st to arrive.”

“It’s… possible,” Echo mutters. “And who knows what will change if we tell them.”

“Exactly,” Fives says. “And unlike most times like this, I don’t think we’ll be very much affected by telling them.”

“I say we do it,” Droidbait says.

“Me too,” Cutup chimes in. Hevy nods.

Echo closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “It can’t hurt to try,” he agrees, and hopes fervently he isn’t wrong about that. Fives grins at him.

“It’s settled, then,” he says. “We’ll do this, and afterwards we’ll worry about Kamino.”

Droidbait’s comlink beeps. He frowns at it and picks it up.

“Hey, DB, are you with your brothers?” Attie (because it can only be Attie) asks. “Don’t wanna rush you guys or anything, but we just got new orders, and Del wants us all ready to go.”

“We’re on our way back right now,” Droidbait tells him. “Tell Del we’ll be there in a minute or so.”

“Gotcha. See you in a few.”

The next few hours are nothing but carrying heavy boxes of supplies up to the hangar deck. The 64th’s Star Destroyer Valiant arrives and sends gunships over to pick up the supplies. The hangar decks are quickly full of a mixture of 501st blue and 64th brown, working together in lighthearted camaraderie.

Fives wants them to live so badly. The 64th are cheerful men, with odd but contagious senses of humor that one man claims they’ve inherited from their General. It sounds a bit odd, considering General Di had seemed a very composed and respectable when he and Captain Keeli had stepped off of the first gunship. Fives believes it, though, because General Kenobi seems perfectly respectable at first too until you realize he’s just as crazy as General Skywalker himself.

Although he’s reluctant to admit it, Fives knows that in some ways, Droidbait is right to accuse Fives of hypocrisy when it comes down to this. Fives has been telling them that it’s best to not get involved with stopping the deaths of brothers around them. Fives is afraid of changing something and putting everything they know at risk. This time, though… this time Fives can’t see a way how the survival of the 64th will change anything related to the 501st.

Captain Keeli is a legend. Not quite so much as Captain Rex or Commander Cody, but enough so that most clones know his name and reputation. He’s brave and loyal, a fierce warrior and a clever strategist. The dual pistols he carried with him have seen just as much use as Captain Rex’s.

Fives had admired the older clone greatly in his first life, and he still does now—more so, even, now that he knows the Captain’s previously tragic end.

He doesn’t want it to happen again. The 64th deserve better. And Fives is sick of waiting. Things need to change. Droidbait is definitely right about one thing—maybe it’s time for them to start taking risks.

A 64th Sergeant called Deadline is currently recounting the tale of their most recent campaign on the planet Dega in the Outer Rim. Fives drags himself out of his own thoughts to listen in.

“...so the five of us were headed towards the end of the tunnel when all of a sudden, a dozen or so clankers show up just outside and start firing into the cave. We get to cover and start firing back, but before we can make any progress, tons of SBDs show up and march inside in front of us. There must have been hundreds of ‘em—”

“Deadline, it was twenty-five at most,” another clone interrupts. Deadline scowls at him as he picks up a crate of ammo.

“Shut up, Tag. I’m telling this story! So, we thought we were goners, but then we hear this weird sound—like a roar, or something, echoing through the cave from behind us. Then we all get really worried, because who knows what kind of creatures live down there—”

Behind Deadline, Cutup is carrying a crate of rations. Fives doesn’t miss the way he shudders at that.

“—but then we see this blue streak of light shooting down the tunnel, and realize that it’s the General! He just barrels past us, howling like some sort of demon—I dunno, it must be Nikto thing or something. The Captain’s right behind him, pistols firing so fast that you can’t even tell one baster bolt from the next—!”

“It’s physically impossible to shoot that fast, Deadline—”

“Shut up, Tag! Anyway, a whole Company comes up behind us. Except they weren’t even needed, with how fast the Captain and the General took care of those droids. I dunno much about the angels of Iego, but if the General had claimed to be one right about then I would have believed him instantly—”

“I’m sure he’d be amused to hear that, Deadline,” a clone voice interrupts.

“Tag, I swear, if you interrupt me one more time,” Deadline growls, turning towards the voice—and then freezes when he sees it isn’t Tag this time… it’s Captain Keeli. The man has his helmet tucked neatly underneath his arm, and had somehow slipped into the hangar without anyone noticing.

“Ah—kriff —I mean—Sir!” Deadline splutters, snapping to attention. Muted chuckles ripple through the hangar as Captain Keeli raises an eyebrow at the unfortunate man.

“How was the briefing, sir? Where’s the General?” a 64th soldier who hasn’t yet shared his name yet asks.

“He’s still with General Skywalker,” the Captain answers. “I’m just checking up on you boys. Are we still on schedule?”

“Yessir,” another 64th man says. “We shouldn’t be too much longer, sir. Give us a half hour, maybe a little more.”

“Good. The General wants to leave as soon as they’re done. He’ll probably be finished in an hour, so we’ll be right where we need to if your estimate is accurate. Keep up the good work.”

“Thank you, sir!” the clones within hearing range chorus back at him as the Captain turns to leave.

Fives sees his chance. He doesn’t think he’ll get an opportunity to speak to General Di himself, so Captain Keeli is the next best thing. Fortunately Hevy is nearby, and Fives shoves the crate he’d been carrying into his brother’s arms.

“Fives, what—”

“I’m going after the Captain,” Fives explains quickly, and doesn’t wait to hear Hevy’s response. He hurries after Captain Keeli’s retreating form.

He catches up to the Captain just as the man is entering the hallway—which is fortunate. Some of Torrent had given Fives odd looks as he’d hurried out. This way, no one unnecessary will witness what could potentially go very wrong.

“Sir!” Fives calls. Captain Keeli stops and turns. He looks surprised to see a member of the 501st hailing him.

“What can I do for you, trooper?” he asks. Fives salutes quickly and steps a tiny bit closer and takes a deep breath.

“Sir, I have some information that you might find useful,” he blurts out, glancing around to make sure no one is close enough to overhear. Fortunately the hallway around them is empty.

“Let’s hear it, then,” Captain Keeli says. He doesn’t understand yet. Fives shakes his head and shuffles his feet nervously.

“I… sorry, sir, it’s not anything official. To be honest with you…” he hesitates for a split second, and then it all comes out in a rush. “I know this is sort of against regulations, but it’s crucial information. Just a few minutes of your time, sir, that’s all I need. It’s extremely important. Top secret. Off the records to anyone except you and your General.”

Captain Keeli frowns at him. Fives can see his hesitation, his suspicion. He’s wondering if this is some sort of joke.

“Trooper, this is hardly—”

Panic suddenly rises in Fives’ throat. He needs the Captain to listen to him. He knows this is unorthodox, but this is the only chance he’s going to get. If Captain Keeli turns him down… Fives doesn’t know what he’ll do.

He reaches up to rip his helmet off.

“Sir, please,” he begs quietly. “Please, I know this is ridiculous and you have no reason to believe me, but give this a chance. I need to talk to you. Please. ”

The other clone stares at Fives intently for a moment. Fives isn’t exactly sure what Captain Keeli sees, but whatever it is, it’s enough to make the man sigh.

“Alright, trooper. Off the records, then. You have my attention. What is it?”

Fives winces. “In private, sir,” he amends. “This isn’t—no one else can hear.”

Captain Keeli frowns again but inclines his head. There’s a decently-sized storage room just to the left that isn’t being used. Captain Keeli leads the way inside. Fives closes the door behind them.

The Captain stops by the wall and turns to face Fives. He crosses his arms.

“What is this all about?” the man asks seriously. Fives’ heart rate picks up. Who knows how the other clone is going to take this. Fives could be rejected immediately. This could be a horrible idea…

But Fives knows he has to try.

Echo finds Fives in the hangar, staring out into space watching as the 64th’s Valiant disappears into hyperspace. Echo can’t see his face, and that makes him worried.

“Hey, Fives… are you alright?” he asks tentatively. He’d seen Fives go after Captain Keeli, and if it had gone badly… he needs to know, but he’ll let Fives bring it up himself. Echo isn’t going to ask.

“Echo…”

Echo braces himself for bad news, but when Fives turns to face him, he’s grinning.

“He believed me. I told him everything I dared to, and he believed me.”

Echo’s mouth drops open. An incredulous smile spreads across his face.

“He had questions. Some I could answer, some I couldn’t, but it didn’t matter in the end. I don’t know why or how, but he believed me,” Fives continues. “They might—they might actually have a chance this time.”

Echo laughs and grabs Fives’ shoulders.

“Good job, brother,” he says. “Good job.”

“He said he’d make sure General Di is aware of everything,” Fives says as if in a daze. “We might have finally done something to help our brothers.”

The expression of hope and joy on his face is stunning.

Echo hasn’t seen him look like that in a long, long time.

A week later, the 64th battalion, lead by Jedi General Ima-Gun Di and Clone Captain Keeli, no longer exists.

Echo, Fives, and Cutup are alone in the barracks sitting at the table when they receive the notice. The look on Fives’ face makes Echo’s heart clench. His brother reads the report silently, and his expression of devastation and shock is almost physically painful.

“Fives—” Echo tries to begin, but he stops when Fives lets out a snarl that’s trapped between sorrow and rage, flinging the datapad at the wall. It shatters into a thousand little pieces. Cutup flinches violently, eyes wide as he stares over at the two ARCs.

For a long moment, the room is silent, save Fives’ shallow, disbelieving pants.

“What… what is this?” he breathes out. “Why—why did—we changed it. It should have… no. No, no—it should have changed! Why did it still—!?”

He lets out a wounded sound and rises from the table. He starts to walk away—to go where, Echo doesn’t know, but he doesn’t get very far before he stumbles. Echo and Cutup move quickly to intercept him, grabbing him before he can leave.

“Fives, maybe you should sit down,” Cutup tries. Fives shakes his head.

“No, I don’t—I don’t understand. They’re dead. They’re all dead . Even though they knew, even though they believed us—” His voice cracks. “It didn’t change anything. It didn’t kriffing—”

He stumbles again. Echo and Cutup reach out to steady him once more, bolstering him between them.

Echo knows why this is hitting him so hard. Fives had invested the entirety of his hope into the 64th battalion. He’d thought that it would be the beginning of change, the beginning of making a difference. A way to finally start fixing what the Chancellor has destroyed. He’d had complete faith in Captain Keeli.

But apparently it hadn’t been enough.

“Fives, sit down,” Echo says firmly. Together, he and Cutup manage to half shove, half guide Fives to his bunk, where he sits down heavily and hides his face in his hands.

“Is it even possible to change anything?” Fives moans. “We tried to fix this, but it didn’t—does this mean—what if it’s impossible to change things? What if we can’t do anything?”

Echo opens his mouth, searching for words of comfort, but none come. The rational side of his mind tells him that even though the 64th had known what would happen, there still would have been too many droids for them to hold out against. The less rational side is falling into a panic, because Fives does have a point. They’d tried to change something, and it hadn’t worked. The outcome had been the same.

“I thought it would be enough,” Fives whispers. “I thought they would be able to… I don’t—I don’t know what to do. What’s the point of us being back again if we won’t be able to change anything!?”

Echo swallows nervously and shakes his head, sitting down next to Fives. Cutup takes up their brother’s other side.

“I… I don’t know, Fives,” Echo says softly. “I don’t know.” His voice wavers just a little even though he tries to keep it steady.

What else can he say?

He doesn’t have a better answer.

Echo and Cutup huddle closer to their grief-stricken brother, and silently wonder why.

Chapter Text

Hevy jumps when the door opens.

“Alright, it’s empty,” Fives announces, stepping out of the common room. “We won’t have very much time, so we’ll have to explain quickly. I nominate Echo to be in charge of speaking, in that case.”

“Seconded,” Cutup says. “Want me to keep watch?”

“Yeah, if you’re fine with that, Cutup,” Fives answers. Cutup nods. “Warn any brothers away. The other door—”

“I’ve got it,” Droidbait says quietly. Hevy sends him a concerned look, but Droidbait avoids his gaze.

That… isn’t good.

Fives had been out of it for a few painful hours after the news of their failure, but he had pulled himself back together eventually, straightening with a terrifyingly neutral expression on his face. As unfortunate as it is, Fives has plenty of experience dealing with these kinds of things. It’s no secret that he’d lost many brothers over the course of the war. That doesn’t make it any easier to watch him shut himself down.

(“It… it was going to happen, regardless of them knowing,” he’d said dully. “I was just too determined to see that. Maybe we did change something. Perhaps they were able to do something different. But it wasn’t enough in the end, so it doesn’t matter. They’re dead. We need to move on.”)

Now, he seems normal, and that’s almost just as terrible. How many times has he had to do this? How many times has he struggled to build himself up after such a devastating loss, to be so good at it?

Cutup and Hevy himself hadn’t necessarily taken the news well, either, but with Echo’s help they’d been able to keep their emotions in check.

Droidbait hadn’t been able to stabilize himself for a whole day. The rest of Beta had been very concerned.

Holding grudges is one thing, but if Hevy’s learned one thing about Droidbait, it’s that their brother is extremely emotionally invested. They never got to see this side of him during their first life—there hadn’t been anything for him to invest in. Now, they fight with purpose. They have a goal, and a big one at that. There’s plenty to invest in, and that isn’t necessarily a good thing.

Droidbait had thrown all of his hopes in with the 64th. This is the first time he’s experiencing true loss. As the first one to die in their first life, he’s never had to deal with this before. He’s not handling it well, but there’s not much the rest of Domino can do for him. Every time they attempt to comfort him he only pushes them away.

Echo glances down at his datapad, frowning at the spiralling numbers that Hevy can’t make heads or tails of.

“My protective code should be ready,” he informs them. “The Kaminoans won’t be able to splice in to intercept the transmission. We’re good to go. The heck did you do to clear the common room so fast, Fives?”

“Ahh—it’s probably best if you don’t know,” Fives answers hastily. He steps back to open the door. Echo glares at him.

“Fives—”

The door slides open. Fives slips inside before Echo can question him further. Hevy stifles a grin as he follows the ARCs, Droidbait on his heels. Cutup stays outside to stand guard by the first door.

It’s strange to see the commons so empty. It’s only a medium sized room, but it’s normally packed full of brothers. Two pool tables sit abandoned in the center. Several old couches line the wall. A couple Dejarak boards are scattered about, and a big holoscreen is centered across from the door. None of Domino typically likes to spend time there. According to Echo, Fives had during their first life, but he doesn’t now.

The holoprojector sits in the corner. Fives and Echo make a beeline for it while Droidbait heads out the other door to stand guard. Hevy joins them as well, standing next to Echo as Fives punches in the holocode for Kamino. Echo uses a slender cord to connect his datapad to the holoprojector. The machine lets out a chorus of beeps.

“The signal is now being broadcasted under a protective code,” Fives announces. “We’re almost there.”

“Wait, hang on,” Hevy says, a sudden wave of panic overwhelming him. “Are we sure we can do this? We don’t even know Ninety-nine’s personal comm code—”

“It’s alright,” Echo tells him, but there’s a furrow in his brow indicating that he’s at least worrying a little. “We can contact their communications center. It’s run by brothers. We won’t get in trouble for it.”

“Are you sure?” Hevy asks, uncertainty still hovering in his mind, but then the holoprojector blinks, and the image of an armored clone appears.

“This is CT-7265 of the Kamino Communications Station. This is a restricted channel. State your serial number and purpose, please.”

“Uh—CT-5555,” Fives says. “Listen, Six-five, we know this is a little unorthodox—”

“State your purpose, please.”

“Ohhh, kriff,” Echo mutters. Hevy winces. Fives scowls.

“We need to speak with Ninety-nine,” he grits out. “But we didn’t have his personal comm. Would you be willing to redirect us to him?”

CT-7265 gives them a flat look.

“This channel is to be kept open for emergency or official transmissions, not private calls,” he says. “This is not proper proto —”

“Oi, Stucks, whatcha got there?”

The first clone’s face twitches in annoyance as a second clone appears in the holoprojector, slinging an arm around the first’s shoulders. Stucks shrugs him off.

“Don’t call me that,”  he hisses. “Get off, CT-94—”

“It’s Kon, Stucks, call me Kon,”  the new clone says cheerfully. He looks at Fives. “What can I do for you, brother? Sorry, this one’s new.”  He elbows Stucks aside, who glares at them all before disappearing from view.

“Can you connect us to Ninety-nine?” Fives repeats. “We’d like to speak with him, if he’s available.”

Kon lifts an eyebrow.

“Course I can,” he replies. “Why do you need to talk to him?”

“It’s personal,” Echo says before Fives can attempt to answer. “We have a couple questions for him, that’s all. He helped us out while we were in training.”

Kon shrugs easily. “Yeah, sure. It’ll take me a sec, alright? Stand by.”

He disappears. Hevy breathes a sigh of relief.

“Thought that shiny was gonna try to tear into us or something,” he mutters. Fives rolls his eyes.

“Newbies think they know everything. We would have taken him down before he could get three words out, the stuck up little comm kriff—”

“Alright, alright,” Echo interrupts, but there’s a tiny smile on his face. “Focus, guys. We can’t blame the man for doing his job. Technically he’s right, after all.”

“Technically my butt,” Fives grumbles. Hevy barely contains a snort, face contorting, and it’s just his luck that Ninety-nine picks up right then, a look of surprise on the old clone’s face.

“What can I do for—oh. Is that… oh! Echo! Fives! An’... an’ Hevy!”  Ninety-nine beams at them. Hevy’s heart clenches suddenly, and he grips the edge of the holoprojector in an attempt to steady himself.

“Hey, brother,” Echo says warmly. Ninety-nine’s smile brightens even further. “How’ve you been?”

“Ah… same as usually, Echo,” he answers. “Just doing my duty. But you three—you three, you’ve done things, haven’t you? Done things, and…” he trails off, smile fading just a little. “Where are Droidbait an’ Cutup? Did…”

“Nah, they’re fine,” Hevy answers, anxious to wipe the sudden look of sorrow off of the old clone’s face. “We had a few close calls, but all five of us are still alive. They’re keeping watch for us, that’s all.” Ninety-nine’s face relaxes in relief.

“That’s good, that’s good,”  he says. The smile returns. “But tell me about your missions, won’t you? I don’t—I don’t really get to hear back from very many brothers, how’s the war?”  Then he stops, raising an eyebrow at them. His excitement dies down. “Uh, wait, did you say, keeping watch? Why?”

Hevy exchanges a look with Echo, who takes a deep breath and steps forward.

“Ninety-nine, we actually… have a question for you. We’ll tell you all about our experiences later, but for right now, time’s a little limited. We won’t have this room to ourselves forever.”

“Oh, well—go ahead and ask, boys,” Ninety-nine says, curiosity evident in his voice. “What’s this about?”

“We need some information from Kamino,” Echo begins carefully. “The only problem is, it isn’t exactly the type of information we’re supposed to know.”

They’d expected Ninety-nine to balk at that, but the clone doesn’t even bat an eye.

“There’s a lot of information here that we aren’t supposed to know,”  he tells them. Ninety-nine tends to lean towards the side of optimism, so Hevy is surprised to hear a hint of bitterness in his voice. “A lot that I’m not supposed to know, but the Kaminoans tend to forget I’m around, so I hear… some things.”

The clones aren’t stupid. They know there’s plenty the Kaminoans haven’t told them, but it’s not like they can just ask. That doesn’t make it any easier to hear, though. Hevy shakes his head in sorrow.

“Heard anything about inhibitor chips?” Echo asks hopefully, and then sighs in disappointment when Ninety-nine shakes his head.

“There’s a document that was released to the Republic describing the cloning process. One section of it mentions an inhibitor chip, but it’s pretty short, and only describes how they prevent us from being overly aggressive.”

It’s the same old lie. Hevy scowls. Fives balls his fists in fury.

“Ah, kriff,” Echo mumbles. “I was hoping… well. We have reason to believe that there’s something… not right, about the chips. We want more information, to prove our theories.”

“What do you mean, not right?”

Echo exchanges a nervous glance with Fives. Hesitating. Reluctant and worried to tell the truth. Wondering how much they can safely share.

That’s when Hevy feels it.

A warmth blossoms in his chest, so suddenly that he gasps from the sensation. It’s not just warmth—suddenly he feels confident, self-assured. He looks at his brothers and wonders if the old clone should know the truth.

The warmth intensifies at the thought until it is nearly scalding, but it isn’t painful. He feels comfort and hope rise within him, washing away the doubt. He gasps again, and knows with instant surety that this is the Force.

“Guys, tell him,” he blurts out. “Tell him everything. He needs to know.”

“What? Hevy, are you sure? What if—” Fives cuts himself off, eyes going wide. His hand darts up to grasp at his chest. He feels it too. “What—?”

“The Force,” Echo breathes. “Shaak Ti was right.”

Ninety-nine squints at them. “Echo? Hevy? Fives? Are you alright? ”

“Better than alright,” Hevy says breathlessly. It’s finally happened. They can tell someone, and it’s right. “We’ll tell you everything. But it’ll have to be quick.” He looks at Echo. “We’re still on a time limit. How much can you explain in five minutes?”

“He’ll have questions, but he only needs the basics for now,” Echo says. He takes a deep breath, stepping closer to the holoprojector. “Ninety-nine… we’ve got a story to tell you.”

Ninety-nine is silent when Echo finishes his hasty retelling of their story. For a long moment, Hevy wonders if they’ve made a mistake, but then Ninety-nine inhales slowly.

“The Chancellor,” he mutters. “The Chancellor. A traitor.”  It sounds as if he’s having a hard time understanding the association between those words.

“I’m—I’m sorry, Ninety-nine,” Hevy apologizes weakly. He hangs his head. “I didn’t want to believe it either, but… I know it’s true. That man is responsible for the deaths of our brothers. He’s responsible for this entire kriffing war, as far as we know, and he needs to be stopped. You’ve got to believe us.”

Ninety-nine jerks as if he’s been struck.

“I believe you,” he says instantly. His gaze hardens, and he stands up straighter, fighting his hunch. “I believe you guys. This… makes sense. The deceptions, the betrayal. It all fits together. I believe you.”

Hevy lets out a sigh of relief.

“I was worried you wouldn’t,” he admits. Fives puts a hand on his back to reassure him.

“I’ll trust my brothers over Kaminoans any day,” Ninety-nine says boldly. Even though Hevy thinks the same way, he still flinches to hear it said out loud. Such a statement is dangerously close to treason. “An’ I also know that you five aren’t traitors. You worked too kriffin’ hard to get into the army to waste it on as far-fetched a theory as this one. It’s got to be true.”

Fives snorts, the corners of his lips twitching upwards. “Will you help us then, brother?” he asks.

“Of course,” Ninety-nine answers. “What do you need me to do?”

“We think that we can find proof that the inhibitor chips carry contingency orders somewhere in the Kaminoan database,” Echo says. “We can’t get to it from here on our own, though. We’ll need inside help.”

Ninety-nine’s eyes widen. “You want me to get into the central database?”

“Yeah—well, sort of. If you can get their manually, and transmit me the information over a synced system, we’ll be able to get access even though we’re lightyears away. I’m positive it’ll work. Unless… unless you don’t think you’ll be able to get there.”

“I can do it,” Ninety-nine reassures. “I can get there. My maintenance crew cleans the main laboratory every week, I’m sure I can buy enough time for you to do whatever you need.”

There’s a determined set to his jaw that makes Hevy nervous. He’s seen it before on every one of his brothers, himself included. It’s the look of a man who’s determined to succeed no matter what.

Hevy knows better than anyone that such determination can be useful, but it’s also a good way to get killed.

(“Do we take prisoners?”)

The Kaminoans won’t take prisoners. Not when it’s Ninety-nine, at least. They allow him to live currently because he’s useful for maintenance, that’s all. If they believe he’s involved in any kind of scheme, they’ll kill him for sure.

“Ninety-nine… you don’t have to do this, you know,” he says, just a little desperately. “It’s dangerous. You might get caught.”

Ninety-nine smiles at him.

“My brothers are on the wrong side of blasterfire every single day. You included, Hevy. If they can handle a little risk, so can I. I’m a soldier, just like you. I can do this.”

Hevy sighs. “I know you can, Ninety-nine. I just… I really look up to you, brother. I worry for you. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“There’s the secret soft side Droidbait told me about,” Echo teases. Hevy swats at him.

“Shut up,” he mumbles.

That had been a mistake, during his first life. To act as if he hadn’t cared. To pretend like the only thing he wanted was to be on the front lines.

He knows better now. Death will do that to you—it’ll teach you what you truly care about. Hevy cares for his brothers. He fights so that they’ll live. He’d take on every droid battalion in the galaxy for them if he could.

“I’ll be alright, Hevy,” Ninety-nine says. The old clone smiles at him. “Trust me.”

Sithspit. He can’t keep this up, not when Ninety-nine is looking at him like that. Hevy sighs. “Okay. I trust you. Just be careful.”

Fives’ comlink suddenly chirps.

“Guys, I’ve got a crowd of annoyed brothers who want there rec room back,” Cutup reports nervously. “How much longer is this gonna take?”

“How soon can you get to the database?” Echo asks urgently.

“We’re scheduled to clean the main laboratory again in three days,” Ninety-nine answers. “We’ll have to get in contact again sooner than that, though.”

“Send me a written message through the datapad system,” Echo says. “It’s not very convenient, but it’s better than nothing. I’ll send you my contact number, alright?” He presses a few buttons on the holoprojector as Ninety-nine nods. “We’ve got to go for now. We’ll talk again soon, alright? And… then we can talk about more pleasant subjects, too.”

“We’ll talk soon,” Ninety-nine agrees. “Good luck, boys. Be safe out there.”

“You too, Ninety-nine. Be safe,” Hevy says. Ninety-nine gives them one last kind smile before his image flickers and disappears. The holoprojector powers down with a sad whine.

“Cutup, Droidbait, we’re finished,” Fives says into his comm. “Let ‘em in. We’re on our way out.”

A flood of 501st enter as Domino is leaving. Hevy doesn’t recognize any of them, they’re Wave Company, but they seem to recognize Fives. They cheer at him as they go past. Echo lifts an eyebrow.

“Fives,” he begins suspiciously. “What, exactly, did you promise those men if they abandoned the rec room?” Droidbait is waiting outside. He flashes a quick, general inquiry sign at Hevy. Hevy gives him a thumbs up instead of an ARC hand signal in return. Droidbait smiles.

(That’s good. A sign of improvement. He hasn’t done that for a while.)

“Uh, well—the good news is, it’s not anything too bad,” Fives says.

“Based on how pleased they seem, I find that hard to believe.”

“We’ll just have to pull double shifts for a few days. Ehhh… maybe triple.”

“You kidding me?” Cutup bemoans, sliding out the door and joining them. “Triple? Force, how many brothers are we taking shifts for?”

“Hey, what else was I supposed to do?” Fives snaps. “It’s not like I have credits to bribe them with or something!”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Echo sighs. “He does have a point, guys. A few extra shifts won’t kill us, and it’s a small price to pay for the ally we just made.”

“He said he’ll do it?” Droidbait asks. Echo nods.

“He said he’ll do it. Here, let’s go back to the barracks. We’ll explain everything there.”

Hevy falls in next to Fives and takes a moment to breathe.

Someone else knows their secret. It’s crazy how much of a relief that is.

They aren’t alone anymore.

“You’re on duty again?” Commander Tano says incredulously. “Why?”

Droidbait shrugs. “It’s Fives’ fault,” he says mildly.

“Really, ‘Bait?” Fives hisses. “Come on, we’ve been over this! It isn’t my fault!”

This is day three of pulling intervals of double and triple shifts. It isn’t actually that bad—mostly menial tasks, heavy lifting, and patrols. Droidbait doesn’t mind it too much. It gives him something to do, to take his mind off of… other things.

They’re currently in the hangar by the wall, waiting for the next carts of fuel to be brought in from below deck so that the labor squad can distribute the tanks to different sections of the room.

Commander Tano huffs and puts her hands on her hips. “The rest of your squad isn’t on duty. Where are they?”

“Probably in the barracks,” Echo answers. “It’s no big deal, Commander. We owed a couple guys favors, and this is their way of cashing in.”

She doesn’t seem satisfied with his answer. Her eyes narrow.

“Well, this is ridiculous. As Commander, I am officially taking you off-duty.”

Droidbait blinks and shares a confused glance with Hevy. She’s a Commander, so it’s technically fine, but at the same time…

“You can only take us off duty if you have a good reason, sir,” Fives reminds her in amusement. “Otherwise, we’re needed here. Those tanks aren’t going to move themselves.”

Commander Tano scowls. Then, her eyes light up, and she grins.

“Lucky for you boys, I do have a good reason,” she says, and reaches for her comlink.

“Hey, Master, I found my squad,” she says. “Can I take them off duty and go run some drills?”

“You found a squad?” General Skywalker responds. “Who is it?”

“Beta squad, Torrent Company,” Commander Tano says proudly. “I fought with two of them down on Naboo. They’ll have my back, I’m sure of it.” She smiles warmly at Fives and Cutup. Fives gives her a little two-fingered salute in response, while Cutup returns the smile.

“Alright, Snips, go ahead,” General Skywalker says. “Send in another squad to replace them, and then you’re free to go.”

She gives them a triumphant look once the General is gone.

“What do you mean, your squad?” Droidbait asks, just to make sure he hasn’t misunderstood.

“I mean, my squad,” she answers. “I decided that a long time ago, and I’ve been trying to catch you when you weren’t on duty for the past two days, but you were always busy. I got impatient. Call the rest of your squad, won’t you? Tell them to meet us down on the training level.”

Echo laughs.

“Copy that, Commander,” he says, and reaches for his comm to summon the rest of Beta.

The training deck is home to a multitude of firing ranges, battle simulators, and gyms that are rarely not in use. Beta squad follows Commander Tano through the busy firing range, to the largest gym on the ship. Once they’ve filed inside, she turns to them, and they all snap to attention.

“Okay, boys,” she says brightly, “This is gonna be interesting.”

Nax raises a hand like he’s a cadet in a classroom. “Hey, sir, what exactly are we doing? Feeling like filling us in?”
She takes a deep breath, and suddenly her stance shifts. She crosses her arms, curling her fingers around her elbows. A sign of insecurity.

“Well, I was hoping… my Master told me that I could pick a squad to take with me on missions, if it’s an operation that requires me to have one. I was hoping… that mine could be you guys.”

“Of course!” Cutup blurts out immediately. Droidbait knows he really respects the Commander—his helmet markings match her facial ones, even.

“Even if we didn’t want to, it’s not like we could say no, Commander,” Attie jokes. Del gives him a disapproving look. Commander Tano blanches.

“Well, if you guys don’t want to, you don’t have to, I can—”

“Relax, Commander,” Echo says gently. “We’re more than willing. Excited, even. Anyone who can beat us in sabacc is worthy to lead our squad, I’d say.”

Beta squad murmurs in amused agreement. Droidbait huffs out a little laugh, and it feels good. It feels good to laugh. He doesn’t think he’s done that since they found out—

No. Not thinking about it. It’s easier that way.

Anyway, he doesn’t mind being part of Commander Tano’s squad. He hasn’t gotten the chance to fight with her yet, but Fives and Echo speak highly of her, and Cutup practically worships her. He’s excited to give this a try.

Attie seems to notice his excitement and nudges him gently with a grin. Droidbait returns it. Attie’s grins are infectious, he can’t help it. Almost no one can.

“Well, if we’re going to be a squad, we should probably get some training in so you can get used to my,” she pauses, and puts fingers in the air, deepening her voice comically, “crazy Jedi stunts. That’s what Captain Rex likes to say, though I think he’d add some stronger words in if he wasn’t afraid to offend me.”

“He’ll stop caring about that eventually,” Fives mutters softly. The others can probably hear, but they likely just think it’s a prediction. Echo chuckles.

“This room has been set up with a brand-new holographic training system,” she says, pointing upwards. Droidbait follows her finger. There’s an impressive amount of machinery on the ceiling. “It can simulate a few different scenarios that we can use to practice. We can’t use live weapons, so there are training blasters on the racks by the wall.” She motions to Del, who nods.

“Alright, troopers, gear up and get back here ASAP.”

The weaponry is identical to ordinary DC issued guns, but slightly lighter than normal, missing the key components of a live weapon. Once they’ve grabbed their preferred blasters they return to where Commander Tano is waiting, tapping some sort of command into her wrist-remote.

“Ready for your orders, sir,” Del says smartly.

“Alright. The simulator is set on a randomly generating mode, so it’ll be a surprise for all of us when it begins,” she says. “Starting… now.” At a click of a button, the floor begins to tremble. Droidbait’s eyes widen as the holographic projector sends beams of light all around them, and at the ends of the room, the floor begins to rise in certain sections, simulating an uneven terrain.

“Uh—this isn’t exactly a good place to start,” Zeer points out in his steady voice. Droidbait glances around and balks—they’re in the center of the gym, and the countless columns of light are forming into holographic droids.

“Aw, kriff,” the Commander mutters. “I didn’t know it would—”

The holograms solidify, and suddenly they are standing in the middle of a ring of clankers.

“Blast them!”

“Scatter!” Commander Tano yelps. Blasterfire rings out. Droidbait has to throw himself to the side to avoid being hit by a pale red holographic bolt. Attie hits the ground next to him, and they both scramble to their feet.

Droidbait knows it isn’t real, but his heart is hammering all the same. He fires his weapon at the nearest droid. There’s zero kick to the shot—he’s shooting light, after all. A holographic blaster bolt emerges from his gun. The droid he’d aimed at dissolves into thin air.

Something isn’t quite right, though. His whole body feels sluggish, unable to react with it’s usual peak efficiency. His brain isn’t quite on top of things. Why…?

He knows why. And he still doesn’t want to think about it. He should be strong enough to get over it on his own.

He’s more than capable of shutting off his emotions, like Fives and Echo had. He’s fine. He just has to convince himself of that.   

“Get to cover!” Fives yells from somewhere behind him. His shout startles Droidbait out of his thoughts. “Come on, this is real now! Move, move, move!”

Fives rarely does anything half-heartedly, so it’s not a surprise to see him sprinting full out, as if in the middle of a real battle, for the raised section of the floor. Echo and Nax are hot on his tail. Closer to the wall, Coric, Cutup, Del, Zeer, and Hevy have ganged together and are making their way towards the rendezvous.

“We gotta move, DB!” Attie shouts to him, blasting at another holographic droid. Droidbait nods and pushes himself into a run, ducking under a spray of blasterbolts. They hurry for the ridge.

“SBD’s on our tail!” Attie yelps when they’re about halfway to safety. Droidbait turns, already firing as he does so. There are several super battle droids behind them, marching forwards with single-minded determination. Droidbait swivels to provide cover fire as he retreats, and—

His heart skips a beat as he stumbles. The split-second mistake is easily corrected, but the lost time makes it practically fatal. The droids lift their arms to fire. Instead of taking out three to buy them more time, he only gets one. It’s not enough.

They aren’t going to make it. The droids prepare to fire.

“Hang on!”

The Commander falls from the sky, landing in front of them and igniting her lightsaber. She deflects the holographic bolts with ease. They’re apparently programmed to mock-bounce off of her blade.

“Fall back!” she orders. “I’ll cover you!”

Droidbait and Attie don’t hesitate. They sprint for the raised section once more, where Fives, Echo, and Nax have already begun to return fire, laying on their stomachs to fire at the droids below.

Droidbait is furious at himself. He’s drilled that little motion thousands of times. It isn’t something he should have messed up.

It would have gotten he and Attie killed had the Commander not been there.

Attie is drifting closer to him as they run. Droidbait can’t see his face, but he knows that Attie is watching him carefully. They spend enough time together to be able to tell when something is off with the other, and Attie isn’t blind. He’d definitely seen the mistake, but he doesn’t say anything. Droidbait can’t decide if he prefers that or not.

“Nice of you two to join us!” Nax shouts between bouts of shooting when Droidbait flattens himself to the ground next to him. “Some party, eh?”

“Yeah, some party!” Attie agrees, landing beside them. Droidbait can hear the grin in his friend’s voice. “Only thing that would make it better is a whole lotta heavy gunners!”

“Someone call for a heavy gunner?”

Commander Tano is guarding the backs of the rest of Beta squad as they climb the raised section to join them. Hevy leads the group, Z-6 slung on his back to give him more maneuverability as he climbs.

For a few moments, everyone is firing from the top of the ridge. The crowd of droids thins a little, but not nearly enough.

“Alright, we need a plan. Fives, Zeer, stay on the ridge and hold the droids back,” Del orders eventually. “The rest of you, behind, now.”

The squad obeys seamlessly. Zeer and Fives stay put, laying down more cover fire as the rest of the clones shift, sliding down into safety behind the raised section. The Commander joins them, too, deactivating her saber. Droidbait blinks at the grin on her face.

“For your information, I’ve never done this before, so I had no idea that would happen,” she informs them with an apologetic shrug. “Sorry, boys. We don’t have a plan, and I have no clue what the objective is.”

“It’s alright, Commander. We’ll probably be surprised by the enemy plenty out in the field. This is likely more accurate than any other simulation.” The whine of Zeer’s Z-6 above them makes Coric’s words hard to hear. “What happens if we get hit?”

“I dunno, but it can’t be that bad. It’s just a holograph, after all,” she says. She sticks her head up over the ridge and peers across the gym floor before looking back to them. “There’s a second raised ridge on the other side of the gym, and a whole lot of clankers surrounding it. I’d say it’s safe to assume taking the opposite ridge is our goal.”

“More droids forming by the walls!” Fives shouts down from above. “We should probably make a move soon, Commander!”

She blinks at them, the uncertainty from before suddenly flashing across her face.

“Right, right,” she says. “Uh—we’ll split up. Two squads, one on each side. You guys know your strengths better than I do, you wanna form up the teams?”

The division is easy. They’ve done it before. Fives, Hevy, Coric, Nax, and Cutup go into one team, while Droidbait, Attie, Echo, Del, and Zeer form the other.

“Okay, what if we use one team to distract the droids and lure them to one side? Once they’re distracted, team two can come around the other side and take them from behind.” She glances at Del as if wanting his approval. He’s nodding in acknowledgement. It’s not a spectacular plan by any means, but it should work. “I’ll go with the team drawing fire—Fives’ team. At my signal, team two, Del’s, will advance down the other side. Sound good?” At their nods, she takes a deep breath. “On my mark.”

She waits for a split second longer, allowing them to prepare themselves, before initiating the charge. Fives’ squad rushes out around the left side of their cover, the Commander’s blade whirring as it deflects enemy fire. They disappear. Fives vaults himself off the top of the ridge into the fray while Zeer slides back down to join team two.

The moment team one is gone, a hand grabs at Droidbait’s wrist. Droidbait stares at Attie in surprise.

“Droidbait, what’s going on?” his friend whispers. Droidbait, not DB. That’s how he knows that Attie’s being very, very serious. “You don’t make mistakes like that. Something’s wrong. And don’t,” he continues, as if sensing Droidbait’s desire to interrupt, “try to tell me you’re fine, because you aren’t.”

“I—I can’t—” Droidbait begins, startled by Attie’s direct approach.

“Team two, advance!” Commander Tano’s voice orders over their comms. Droidbait and Attie move almost on instinct with the rest of their squad.

“We’re going to talk about this later,” Attie whispers, and then they’re diving around cover into the battlefield.

Team one has made significant progress. The droids are startled to suddenly be caught in a crossfire. The hologram captures their confused flailing well—it’s easy to take them down. He hears Hevy whoop in excitement as the holographic clankers dissolve from their blaster fire.

“Head for the base!” Commander Tano shouts. “We can make it!”

“You heard her, men! Keep moving!” Del orders. There are more super battle droids ahead. Squad two lets squad one take the lead, putting the Commander in front so she can defend them. They reach the enemy ridge without much trouble, but there are plenty of droids on top, firing down at the clones below.

“Squad two, go around behind!” Commander Tano shouts, spinning to the side to protect their flank. Squad two splits off, firing up at the raised section as they go. Droidbait nails a battle droid in the head and feels a surge of satisfaction as it dissolves.

He hasn’t lost it yet. He can still fight just as well as the others.

They’re rushing over the top of the ridge when Zeer suddenly lets out a grunt of frustration, and the whine of his Z-6 goes quiet. Droidbait glances over at him and blinks when he sees that Zeer’s armor is bathed in red light from the holoprojector. Team two’s forward motion comes to a halt. Del looks back from where he’d been taking point.

“Zeer, what’s wrong?”

“Got hit,” Zeer hisses furiously. “My weapon is useless.”

“Fall back and wait until we’re finished,” Del orders quickly. “Everyone else, keep pushing forward! We’re almost there!”

They make it to the top jut in time to watch the Commander slice through three droids with one swing of her lightsaber. The holographs pixelate and fizzle out of sight on contact. The rest of squad one is right behind her. Coric blasts the final droid into oblivion, and then everything is silent. Everyone pauses, waiting to see if anything else will happen.

“Is it finished?” Nax asks cautiously. The Commander glances around for a split second before relaxing and powering down her lightsaber.

“For now,” she answers, and looks to Del. “Status?”

“We did alright, sir,” he answers a bit unhappily. “Zeer took a hit, though.”

Zeer trudges up behind them. His free hand is balled into a fist.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “I was careless, and forgot that we didn’t have the Commander with us to deflect fire. I got too used to it from before.” The red light on his armor disappears as the program shuts down.

“It’s alright, Zeer,” Del tells him. “That’s why we’re here, to learn how to anticipate these things.”

“It’s not alright,” Zeer snarls. “This is the second time I’ve taken a hit with this squad. It won’t happen again.”

Droidbait believes him.

“I wonder if there’s a setting that’ll imitate Ryloth’s terrain,” Commander Tano wonders quietly. Droidbait stiffens at the mention of the planet, and notices out of the corner of his eye that Echo does, too. “That’s probably where we’ll be stationed next, after all.”

Machinery humms above them. The ridges start to flatten out, startling the clones, but Commander Tano doesn’t look alarmed.

“It’s resetting,” she informs them. “It’ll start a new scenario unless I stop it. I say we run another few, just so we can get used to working together.” She’s so much more confident now. Droidbait realizes this is as much for her as it is for them. “Ready, boys?”

Fives is grinning behind his helmet. Droidbait knows he is.

“Ready and waiting, Commander,” the ARC crows.  

Droidbait takes a deep breath and forces himself to focus as the next simulation begins.

Afterwards, Attie catches him in the hallway outside the barracks. The Teth survivor tugs Droidbait inside before Droidbait can make up an excuse to avoid him.

“Attie—”

“Oh, no you don’t,” Attie growls. “We’re doing this now. I refuse to sit by and watch this any longer.”

He shoves Droidbait down onto his bunk and sits down next to him. Coric is the only other squad member there. Fortunately, he isn’t doing anything important. He gives Attie a sharp look but obeys when Attie gestures for him to leave.

Droidbait’s breath hitches when Attie’s eyes bore into his own.

“Okay. Now, you tell me what’s going on,” Attie demands. “We’ve been friends ever since you joined our squad, Droidbait, and I’ve never seen you act like this. What’s wrong?”

Suddenly, Droidbait is nervous. He can’t tell Attie why he’s upset. He can’t. Attie isn’t supposed to know, even though Droidbait wishes he was.

“Attie… I…”

He stops.

Maybe… maybe Attie can help him without knowing all the details. In order to get answers of that sort, though, he’ll have to bring up a taboo subject.

Attie is always grinning. He’s cheerful, upbeat. He boosts morale wherever he goes. How? Droidbait doesn’t understand how he does it. Attie’s experienced more loss than almost anyone else. All of the Teth survivors had lost their entire company. How can Attie be so bright after such a massive failure?

Maybe he has the key to Droidbait’s problem.

“How are you so happy?” The question comes out as barely more than a whisper. Droidbait is ashamed to ask it. “It hurts, Attie. I can barely stand it, but this is nothing compared to what you’ve been through.”

Attie’s eyes go wide. He looks taken aback. Droidbait shudders, certain that he’s blown his chance. Of course Attie wouldn’t want to talk about it. He moves to get up, but Attie grabs him before he can.

“Hey, hey. It’s alright,” Attie says quietly. He pulls Droidbait back down to the bunk. “I don’t mind talking about it. Not anymore. Who did you lose?”

Droidbait winces. “The Sixty-fourth,” he breathes, dropping his gaze to the floor. Let Attie take what he wants from that. Fortunately, it’s enough—Attie sighs, and doesn’t press for details.

“I’m sorry, ‘Bait,” he says. “I… heard about that. They were good men.”

“I know they were,” Droidbait replies. “Why, then—why did this happen?”

“Who knows, brother,” Attie tells him gently. “Who knows. I can’t answer that.” He takes a slow breath. “I can answer your other question, though.” He pauses for a long moment, to compose himself. Then, he begins.

“We lost… a lot of brothers, on Teth. Beta squad—they aren’t our original squadmates. Del and Zeer were in the same squad, but the rest of us, we had our own teams. At the end of the day… we were all that was left.”

His voice wavers just a little, but he keeps talking. Droidbait doesn’t interrupt. The air around him seems to thicken with each detail Attie describes.

“We hated ourselves for surviving,” he admits. Softly, vulnerably. “We wanted nothing more than to have died with our squads. I wasn’t happy. I was hurt, I was tired and lonely and sad. When we got back to the ship, we stood in front of General Skywalker in the hangar that had once been filled with men.  It was completely empty. Just us six. I’d… I’d never seen such a look of devastation on the Captain’s face before. I hope I never see it again, because that nearly broke us. He was just as rattled as we were.”

Droidbait swallows and shakes his head.

“So how—how did it get better? Did it get better? I don’t—”

Attie shushes him gently. “Wait, brother. To understand, you need to hear the full thing.”

Droidbait nods, and waits as Attie continues.

“We didn’t know each other well. We were practically strangers. Captain Rex put us all together in a squad, in an attempt to save what the old Torrent had, but it didn’t work. We didn’t want comfort, we wanted everything to go back to normal.”

Droidbait blinks, because that’s exactly what he’s been thinking. He doesn’t want comfort. He wants everything to be fixed. That’s why he’s so stuck, because that just isn’t possible.

“The squad was dysfunctional. We didn’t work well together, with each other, or the new troops that were sent to fill in Torrent. It lasted like that for a while—until our first mission.” His lips curve upwards, into a little smile of remembrance. “We almost died. Del was furious. He marched us back to the barracks and sat us down—chewed us out for twenty minutes, and then got really quiet. He said, ‘Your brothers wouldn’t want to see you like this. They’d want you to fight, and avenge them. Help the Republic achieve victory in their names.’ He… brought us back. Convinced us to stop focusing on the brothers we’d lost, and focus on the brothers beside us. Our second mission together as a squad was so successful that the General came to compliment us personally.”

It’s still not quite the answer Droidbait’s looking for. Fortunately, Attie isn’t finished.

“I’m happy because I fight side by side with my brothers,” Attie tells him. “There’s no one I care more for in the entire galaxy than I care for my brothers. And, you know… there’s no telling when a brother I care about will leave. There’s no telling when I’ll leave. I’ve lost people I care about. But I choose to stay in the present, and focus on what I do have. Do you know what the Jedi believe? They say, ‘There is no death, there is the Force.’ I don’t pretend to know exactly what that means, but I like to imagine that our brothers are still alive, somehow, in the Force. Watching us. Cheering for us.”

Attie smiles. It’s like the sun has come out from behind the clouds.

“When I think about it that way, it’s not hard to smile, and be happy. This is war, and we’re going to lose people, but I think we’ll be able to see them again. I know they’d want to see me happy, in the meantime. Otherwise they’ll tease me mercilessly when I join them.”

“You really believe that?” Droidbait asks curiously. “That they still exist? That they can see us?”

“Sure,” Attie confirms. “Why not? Hope keeps us alive. It gives us courage, and helps us protect those we love. That’s why I think that.”

Droidbait closes his eyes. There is no death, there is the Force. He thinks about his own death. How he isn’t actually dead, how the Force is guiding them to save the Republic.

Attie is right. This is war, and five clones can’t possibly save everyone.

It helps, though, to have hope. Droidbait relaxes a little.

There is no death, there is the Force. It’s very Jedi-sounding, but he… kind of likes it. He likes the version of it that Attie explained. It does make him feel a little better.

He lifts his gaze and looks at Attie. His friend is watching him kindly, giving him time to think.

“Did that… help at all?” Attie asks, a little apprehensively. Droidbait thinks about it for a second, and is surprised to realize that it did help. He has something that he didn’t have before.

Hope.

“Yeah,” he says truthfully. “It did help.” He channels every bit of sincerity he can into his next words. “Thank you, Attie.”

“It’s no problem, DB,” Attie responds with a relieved grin. Just like that, the solemn moment is gone, and Attie is back to his usual bright self. “Now, what do you say we go and get some food in the mess? We’d better give Coric his room back before he finds some way to get revenge.”

Droidbait takes a deep breath. He’s alright. “Shots during our next med-checks, probably,” he grumbles playfully. Attie shudders, then grins.

“Race you to the mess?”

Droidbait blinks. “Wait a mi—”

Attie is already sprinting for the door. Droidbait scrambles to his feet and launches himself into pursuit.

He keeps the Jedi line running through his mind. It really does help. He knows they’re just words, and that they can’t actually fix anything—but to him, they provide comfort.

There is no death, there is the Force.

For the first time since he’d realized he’d have to helplessly watch brothers die, he feels real hope.

Chapter Text

“We’ll be coming out of hyperspace soon,” Echo tells them quietly. “Let us tell you a little more about Ryloth.”

It’s been a day since their training with Ahsoka, and as predicted, the 501st has been sent to Ryloth. Fortunately, Cutup’s heard rumors that they won’t actually being going planetside, but he waits to hear what Fives and Echo have to say about it first. Domino is sitting huddled at a barracks table, keeping a watchful eye out for the rest of Beta squad, who are otherwise occupied with a loud sabacc game across the room. Ordinarily they would seek out some place more private, but their usual meeting room is being used by a bunch of deck officers at the moment. Beta will give them their privacy, though.

Fives and Echo softly give them the rundown of what they remember from Ryloth. They recount what they know of Commander Tano’s actions—how her inability to follow the orders of the General and Admiral gets her squad killed and a cruiser destroyed. Echo also recounts General Skywalker’s ridiculous scheme to smash a damaged star destroyer into the enemy ship. Cutup… isn’t really surprised. Based on some of the things he’s heard from the others, that’s one of the General’s tamer plans.

“Will we even be needed in this case, then?” Hevy asks once they’re finished.  “Sounds like the pilots are gonna be busy, but a space battle isn’t something that’ll affect us.” He blinks suddenly and looks suspiciously at Fives. “It won’t affect us. Right?”

“Whoa, whoa, why are you looking at me? No, it won’t affect us,” Fives tells him. “Unless we decide to get into starfighters and go try and change the results of the space battle ourselves.”

Hevy flinches. “No,” he says vehemently. “We’re not doing that.”

“Hey, I was kidding. Calm down.”

Cutup blinks at his brother.

“Not a fan of flying, Hevy?” he asks.

“Not unless it’s a gunship,” Hevy mumbles, and refuses to expand on the subject.

“Uh, focusing back on Ryloth, guys,” Echo prompts gently. “Last time, we didn’t even go down to the surface of the planet. The 501st acted as air support while the 91st and 212th took care of the invasion. We won’t necessarily be affected by this fight, but I’d say there is something we can try and change.”

“Commander Tano,” Cutup mutters. Echo grins at him.

“Figures you’d be the first one to say it,” he says. Cutup rolls his eyes at him.

“It’s obvious that Commander Tano is a pivotal figure during this battle,” he defends. “She’s amazing, but she’s young. We learned this yesterday during training, remember? She’s not like us. She wasn’t born for this.”

“Her mistake will cost us a cruiser,” Droidbait points out grimly. “But if we could convince her to listen to the General… maybe the battle will go according to plan.”

Suddenly, everyone is looking at Cutup. Cutup is startled by the attention, even more so when he realizes why they’re looking at him.

“You want me to try and talk to her?” he says incredulously. “Guys, I—I can’t do that! We’re—” he hesitates for a split second, and then thinks, kriff it, “—friends, but she’s still our commanding officer! I can’t just go right up to her and remind her to listen to her Jedi Master! It’s not my place!”

“Sure you can,” Fives says. “I’d do it.”

“Wh—but—Fives, I’m not you! I can’t do that! I still have some respect for authority!”

“I’d take offense to that, except it’s true, so…”

Cutup lets out a huff. “Listen, guys, I guess we can try to help her out, but we’ve got to be smart about it. We don’t want to offend her, especially since we’re her squad.”

“Yeah, there’s a chance she could take it the wrong way if we don’t phrase it right,” Droidbait contributes. “But I think I have an idea.” He lifts his datapad. “The official plans for breaching the Ryloth blockade have just been sent out. Her command is explicitly detailed, down to the individual troopers in her flight squadron. The General was thorough.”

“Your point, ‘Bait?” Echo asks curiously. Droidbait lowers the datapad.

“I say we invite her down to the barracks for a ‘Congratulations on your command’ party. Uh, by party I mean sabacc game, though. Since the whole ship knows about it now, it won’t look suspicious. We get all of Beta involved, and try to nudge the conversation towards a subject where we can hopefully influence her thoughts during the battle. We’re off duty, so it’s not like we’ll be missed.”

“She could be missed,” Hevy points out. “Otherwise, it’s a good plan.”

“It’s worth a try for now,” Echo says. “If it won’t work, we’ll think of something else.” He looks at Cutup. “Give her a call? If she’s not busy, we’ll tell the rest of Beta.”

Cutup nods and reaches for his comlink.

She picks up quickly, which could possibly be a good sign. Maybe she isn’t too busy.

“This is Commander Tano.”

“Commander, this is Cutup,” Cutup says, just a tad awkwardly. “We, uh, we heard the good news!”

“Good news? What news?”

“You’ve been given command of a squadron of starfighters!” Hevy jumps in to save him. He crams his head close to Cutup’s so the Commander can hear them both. “That’s pretty big news, sir!”

“Oh, that news,” she says. She doesn’t sound very excited. “Yeah, I heard about that, too.”

Domino squad exchanges concerned looks. Cutup bites his lip.

“Well, sir, we were wondering if you wanted to come down and play some sabacc with us, as a celebration of sorts. To relax a little before everything gets hectic tomorrow.” He pauses. “If you’re not busy, that is.”

“Nope, not busy!” she replies, significantly more cheerful all of a sudden. “ Where are we meeting, the barracks?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Great! I’ll be down soon! See you then!”

She hangs up. Cutup punches the air in success.

“She’s coming. This might work!”

“Assuming we can shift the conversation the right way,” Echo reminds him.

Fives turns, facing the room and the rest of Beta squad. “Hey, guys, the Commander is stopping by for a quick game of sabacc! Who’s in?”

Even Del perks up at that, abandoning the report he’d been working on. It makes Cutup smile, to see how eager they are to see the Commander.

They’re her men, after all. It’s about time they stopped being so wary.

“How are you feeling about the invasion plans, Commander?”

Cutup shoots an incredulous glance at Fives as he speaks. Fives is truly fearless, it seems—he has no problem asking what most clones might see as a question far out of line. Fortunately the Commander doesn’t seem to mind. She sighs, and actually sets her cards down. The clones all blink at her in surprise.

They’re perched in various spots around the barracks. The eight players are sitting in a circle on the floor. Cutup isn’t participating this round, perched on a nearby bunk to watch. He’d managed to convince Hevy to take his spot. Coric is sitting out as well at the table, allowing Del to have a turn. Attie isn’t actually playing, but he’s still sitting in the circle next to Droidbait, supplying the gamblers with handfuls of his smuggled candy every time someone has a good hand.

Attie and Droidbait have been inseparable for the past day—even more so than usual. It’s done wonders for Droidbait, whom Cutup knows had been having problems. He seems largely recovered, now, much to the rest of Domino’s relief.

The Commander sits in silence for a moment, considering Fives’ question. Out of the corner of his eye, Cutup sees Fives and Echo exchange a concerned look.

“Uh… Commander? Everything alright?”

Commander Tano sighs again.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good. It’s just… this will be my first time commanding a squadron in an actual battle. I want to make a good impression, that’s all.”

“Don’t be nervous, sir” Attie tells her easily. “Every clone in the 501st respects you. I don’t think you should be worried about impressions.”

The Commander shoots him a grateful look, but then she frowns.

“I’m not nervous,” she claims, but her voice is abnormally strained when she says it. Beta squad fixes her with disbelieving looks. She winces.

“I just… I don’t know if I’m ready for something like this,” she confesses quietly. “I spoke to my Master, and he has full confidence in me, but I’m… I’m not so sure.”

Beta squad looks surprised. Domino fakes surprise.

“What do you mean, sir?” Nax asks. “You did fine commanding us yesterday. This isn’t any different. Well, I mean, I guess it’s in space, but you’re a good pilot, so that’s not a problem.”

She huffs. “Everyone keeps telling me stuff like that. That’s what Rex said, that’s what my Master said.”

“I’m starting to see a trend, then,” Cutup contributes. “If the Captain thinks so, and the General thinks so, and we think so… I’m thinking it’s true. You’re strong, Commander. You’ll do alright.”

Cutup has the utmost faith in Commander Tano. He’s seen her at her worst, and even then she’d continued to help her men until she’d collapsed from the strain. She can do this. They just have to slip the right words into this conversation, so she won’t make the same mistakes she does in the first timeline.

“If you don’t mind, sir, we could give you some general advice?” Echo begins carefully. Commander Tano’s eyes widen. She nods at him, so he continues. “We’ve had our fair share of good commanding officers, and we’ve also had a few bad ones—which you are definitely not . The CO’s that get brothers killed are the ones that think they know better than anyone else. They’re too stubborn to accept support, too pompous to listen to those who actually know better. They urge brothers forwards through ridiculous risk.”

The Commander furrows her brow. “Don’t Captain Rex and my Master do that sometimes, though?”

“Urge us ahead, even through risk? Sure. There’s a difference, though,” Del answers, to Domino’s surprise. “They’re both experienced warriors, with uncanny sense for when we’ll be able to push through or not. They lead us at the front instead of hiding behind us. They do what they can to preserve our lives instead of sacrificing us like pawns. That’s what sets them apart. They don’t put their lives above ours. They’ve also learned to understand when we’re reaching our limits, so that they don’t push too far.”

Domino stares at their squad leader in disbelief. That was almost exactly what they had wanted to get across to the Commander.

“That… doesn’t sound easy,” Commander Tano mutters. “I thought I was starting to get the hang of commanding when we trained yesterday, but I wasn’t paying attention to stuff like limits at all.”

“It’ll come with experience,” Fives reassures her. “You did a fine job yesterday, sir, especially since this is your first time being in charge of a squad.”

She exhales slowly. “Experience outranks everything,” she quotes quietly. “I don’t have as much experience as my Master does, or Captain Rex, but… I’ll get there eventually.”

“That’s the spirit!” Hevy encourages. “Just stay calm, listen to your men and your Master, and you’ll be fine. It’s not like you’re completely on your own. They’ll be relaying orders and advice over comms the whole time.”

Commander Tano relaxes at that, reaching back down to pick up her abandoned sabacc cards.

“You’re right,” she agrees. “I was so startled that he gave me command in the first place that I forgot he’d still be helping. Of course he’s not going to leave me completely on my own!” She gets to her feet, tossing her hand back down even though she’d just picked it back up. “Thanks, guys! I do feel better about it now! I’m sort of… shirking bridge duty to be here, though, so I’d better get back.”

Del looks horrified. Everyone else chuckles. Echo shakes his head.

“Get out of here, sir,” he says. “Good luck tomorrow. We’ll be waiting for you to get back.”

She waves at them as she darts out of the barracks, looking significantly more at ease than she had been when she’d walked in.

Cutup hopes they’ve done enough.

They don’t finish the sabacc game, simply because their own free time is coming to an end. Cutup gathers the cards back together as Beta prepares for their shifts. Domino squad is inwardly celebrating. Hevy bumps Cutup’s shoulder as he passes. Fives shoots him a grin, and Echo nods.

When Cutup glances up, he notices Del’s gaze on them. Cutup stills, worried that the squad leader will call them out, but Del only watches for a brief moment longer before turning back to his own duties.

Does he suspect something? Or had he just caught onto their plan to try and get the Commander to listen to her superiors? Cutup isn’t sure, but he puts it out of his mind for the time being.

For now, they’ve succeeded. Whether or not the Commander takes their advice is up to her.

The next day, Domino squad aren’t the only clones standing by the window in the mess hall. There are dozens of brothers crowded up close to be able to see. The port side mess’ window is large enough and positioned just right so the clones can get a good view of the space battle. It’s also one of the only places infantry men can watch without having to worry about getting in a pilot or technician’s way.

The enemy blockade is pretty intimidating. A hushed cacophony of swearing ripples through the waiting clones when the Resolute comes out of hyperspace. The three Republic cruisers, the Resolute, the Defender, and the Redeemer, should be enough to take on the blockade… but it won’t be easy. The Defender and Redeemer take positions on either sides of the Resolute to create a solid line of star destroyers.

Admiral Yularen’s voice echoes through the ship, ordering all pilots to their ships. Cutup hopes Commander Tano isn’t nervous anymore.

He doesn’t like this. There’s nothing more they can do to help, and as the first starfighters streak towards the enemy—Commander Tano and her men, no doubt—Cutup swallows in anticipation.

Everything begins just as Echo and Fives had described. Vulture droids swarm from the enemy ships, moving to intercept the Republic’s fighters. Pinpoints of light color the empty blackness of space as the two forces trade fire. Cutup’s heart skips a beat, but the Commander and her men are undeterred by the vulture droids. They continue on their path towards the enemy command ship, blasting away.

“They’ll try to make a run for the battleship soon,” Droidbait mutters quietly, hesitant to break the spell of silence that’s fallen across the watchers. “That’s when we’ll see if we did any good.”

True to his prediction, after a few tense minutes the squad of V-19 Torrent starfighters form up behind the Commander’s sleek ship, swooping lower to head for the battleship. They appear to have a clear path to the enemy. Cutup tenses hopefully—perhaps their advice won’t be necessary after all—but then he glances at Fives, and notices the tense set to his jaw.

Just when it looks like Commander Tano is in the clear, four additional enemy cruisers come out of hyperspace. There are two on each side of the enemy flagship, in perfect position to flank the Commander’s squadron. It’s a trap. Another round of curses comes from the assembled men. Cutup holds his breath.

This is the pivotal moment. What will Commander Tano do? The first time this had happened, she’d stayed her original course instead of falling back to protect the Republic cruisers. The droids had dealt out significant damage as a result.

The vulture droids are starting to surround the strike fleet. Commander Tano’s men are struggling to avoid the heavy fire, which thickens with every moment. They aren’t turning around.

“Hey, hey,” a brother behind them says suddenly. “There’s a couple droids getting closer. They’ll break through and get to us unchallenged if no one does anything!”

“She’ll come back,” Cutup whispers, clenching his fists. “She’ll come back, I know it.”

“If she doesn’t pull up right now, this’ll end just as it did before,” Echo hisses in horror. “We’re running out of time.”

Cutup grits his teeth together and stares out at the spiralling ships. The Commander won’t fail them.

Without warning, the Commander’s ships suddenly dart upwards all at the same time, executing neat twists that turn them back around so they’re heading towards the star destroyers again. It catches the Vulture droids completely off guard, and for a moment, the enemy is confused. That’s plenty of time for the Republic fighters to gun it, boosters flaring as they shoot back at twice the speed they’d been heading out. Cutup’s heart leaps in his chest.

“They’re coming back!” Droidbait crows triumphantly. The watching clones all exhale in relief, Domino included. Cutup resists the urge to pump his fist, then decides no one will care and does so anyway. He isn’t the only one.

Something they’d said had gotten through to her.

Her fighters are moving fast enough to overtake the vulture droids that had slipped past them in the first place, rejoining the Republic fleet. Once Commander Tano’s men have established a defensive position around the Resolute, the squad splits up to chase after the incoming vulture droids. The Commander’s starfighter shoots past the window, rattling the glass.

Beside Cutup, Fives is no less tense than he had been before. If anything, he’s more tense. He notices Cutup’s curious gaze and shakes his head.

“She succeeded, but now we’re in uncharted territory,” Fives whispers. “For all we know, things will get worse from here on out.”

Even as he speaks, a vulture droid manages to overwhelm one of Commander Tano’s men. The poor brother’s ship goes up in flames. Cutup flinches.

“What’ll General Skywalker do now?” Hevy asks. “Those additional cruisers weren’t anticipated. He’ll have to adjust his entire plan now.”

Echo frowns. “I’m not sure. Now our ships are defended, but the vulture droids are keeping us from going on the offensive. On top of that, those four enemy ships are coming closer. Regardless of what the Commander does, those cruisers still pose a problem.”

Two additional squads of fighters rise from the ship Defender to help the Commander take on the enemy ships. Any hope of immediately taking out the enemy command is gone—there are too many opponents swarming through space. The flashes of red and blue laserfire are much closer than before.

Admiral Yularen’s voice is giving orders over the shipwide comms, but Cutup can barely understand them over the pounding in his ears. It’s obvious that everyone was taken by surprise by the additional enemy cruisers. The Republic fleet is outgunned, but General Skywalker isn’t going to give up without a fight.

The clones watch in tense silence as the battle rages on outside. The enemy cruisers are pulling closer, just staying out of range of the Resolute’s cannons.

“Don’t worry,” someone behind Cutup murmurs. “Their cruisers can’t get any closer, otherwise our artillery will blow them to pieces.”

He jinxes it.

The enemy cruisers don’t come straight at the Republic fleet—all four of them suddenly swing wide, coming up on the far side of the Redeemer out of the range of the Resolute’s cannons. The Resolute tries to turn and assist, but it’s not fast enough. The clones gasp as all four cruisers open fire, pelting the Redeemer with plasma. The Redeemer fires back, but it can’t hold out against four enemy battleships alone.

“Kriff!” Echo hisses, rising to his feet in horror. Several other clones do the same, watching as explosions rock their sister ship.

The Resolute shudders beneath their feet. It’s moving, Cutup realizes with a start. Turning away from the enemy ships.

“Are we… retreating?” he says incredulously. “General Skywalker is retreating?”

“It’s what happened last time, too,” Echo breathes, brow furrowed. “Though I thought he might do something different this time, since the Commander’s squadron survived.”

An alarm begins to blare, warning of an eminent hyperspace jump. Cutup braces himself, turning  his head to try and keep his eyes on the waning battle. The Republic starfighters are in full retreat, streaking back towards the Resolute. Even as Cutup watches, one of them takes a grazing hit. Flames begin to lick at the fighter. Cutup loses sight of the careening ship as it plummets towards the hangar. He hopes the brother gets out of there.

The moment the hangar doors close, the stars outside begin to blur. The jump is sudden and rough. Cutup stumbles from it, as do the rest of the clones—

It’s over.

Cutup shakes his head, struggling to comprehend everything he’d just seen.

It had all happened so fast. Especially the end. Fully comprehending the chaos outside had been practically impossible.

For a long moment everyone in the mess is silent. Hyperspace swirls outside the window, casting a blue glow over the men.

“Kriffing…” someone mumbles under their breath, disbelief clear in his voice. Cutup wholeheartedly agrees with him.

Fives gets to his feet, grim-faced. He starts for the door. The rest of Domino follows him without any prompting. Only once they’re in the hallway does Cutup dare speak again.

“Fives…?” he says quietly. “Where are we going?”

“To find the Commander,” Fives answers firmly. “She’s going to need some support.”

Fives had expected to find Commander Tano in the hangar, or perhaps on the bridge with her Master. She isn’t in either of those places. Instead they find her in the hallway outside the medbay, sitting slumped against the wall with three nervous pilots hovering around her protectively. The pilots’ heads all snap around when Domino squad comes close. They all but bristle with hostility until the Commander speaks.

“F-Fives,” she acknowledges. Her eyes are still wide, and her lower lip trembles. “Cutup, Echo, Droidbait, Hevy. Are you guys okay?”

Fives lets out a rough sigh, crouching down so that he can look her in the eyes.

“We’re fine, kid,” he says. He keeps his voice low, gentle—as if he’s talking down a panicking rookie. Technically that is what he’s doing. Fives has plenty of experience with this sort of thing. “We weren’t the ones in danger. What about you, sir? Are you alright?”

She takes a deep, shuddering breath, curling in on herself a little more.

“I’m not injured,” she whispers. “But—we l-lost Slammer. Axe is with the medics. They wouldn’t let us in while they worked. He got hit at the end, when we were… we were trying to get back. He got into the hangar, but his ship was on fire, and he couldn’t get out fast enough—Master said this is the reality of Command, and I don’t—I don’t want command if this is what’s going to happen—!”

She’s panicking. Not good.

“Hey, hey,” Fives soothes. “Try to take deep breaths, okay? It’ll help. You’ve got to calm down, sir.”

Behind him, Fives is dimly aware of Echo speaking softly to the rest of the pilots, convincing them to sit down and relax for a second. He feels a pang of sorrow in their behalf. They’ve lost a squadmate, and another one is still at risk if they’re all hanging around the medbay like this.

Commander Tano obeys him. Her breathing evens out. Once she’s regained some of her composure, Fives holds a hand out to her.

“Come on, Commander,” he prompts gently. “On your feet, sir.”

She exhales and accepts his hand. He pulls her to her feet easily—she’s ridiculously light. There’s a few moments where he allows her to just breathe, pulling her mental fortitude back into place.

“Listen, I know you don’t want to hear this, but you did good,” Fives tells her after a moment. She bites her lip, opens her mouth as if to argue, but he beats her to it. “You did, sir. It was a trap. If you hadn’t done exactly what you did, our fleet could have been seriously wounded.”

“I didn’t help at all, either,” she mutters weakly. “If I could have gotten to the battleship, we could have taken out the enemy commander—”

“And then how many of your squad would you have lost?” Fives interrupts, not unkindly. She needs to understand this. “Commander Tano, sometimes no matter what we do, we’ll lose. Some things, we have no control over. The only thing we can do at that point is try our best to survive, and help others survive. You all could have been killed. It’s a miracle you weren’t. You protected your men to the best of your ability.”

She glances over at the three pilots who are quietly conversing with the rest of Domino, giving her and Fives some semblance of privacy.

“I… could have done better,” she forces out. “I could have pulled out sooner, I could have been watching them more closely after we split up—”

“No, Commander.”

Fives sends a surprised look at the pilot who’d spoken. The man stares at the padawan seriously.

Commander Tano blinks. “Swoop—”

“Sir, you did the best we could have hoped for. We were severely outnumbered, and outgunned,” Swoop continues. “We wouldn’t have lasted very long without your support. All of us would have been shot down eventually. It was only because of your orders that we survived long enough to retreat.”

Commander Tano gapes at him for a few moments.

“Swoop’s right,” another pilot chimes in. “Kickback and I wouldn’t have seen that cluster of vultures coming behind us that one time if you hadn’t warned us.”

“Tucker would have flown right into friendly fire if you hadn’t seen that the Resolute was moving,” Kickback contributes. “You kept us alive, sir. We owe you our lives.”

The Commander swallows, hands clasped tightly together. “But Slammer—”

“It’s alright,” Swoop says, even though he flinches at their lost brother’s name. “He went out flying, just like he said he wanted to. It isn’t your fault.”

“There is no death, there is the Force,” Droidbait mutters suddenly. Everyone looks at him in surprise, but he doesn’t seem to have noticed he’d spoken. His words seem to strike a chord with the Commander, who lets out a little gasp.

“Sir?” Tucker says. Commander Tano takes a deep breath. She closes her eyes for a moment. When she opens them, her whole demeanor is… stable. Not repaired, not yet, but she isn’t about to fall apart anymore.

Fives nods once in approval. She’s strong. She’s learning how to push past the pain. She’ll be alright. Now, she’s starting to look like the powerful young Jedi he’d served besides in his past life.

(Commander Tano is courageous and is learning how to be a warrior very quickly, but Fives wishes that she didn’t have to. Some segment of his mind is appalled at what he’s doing, teaching a child to cope with war—then again, the clones weren’t given a choice, and technically, neither was she. This is all just one big mess. )

The medbay door slides open. Everyone freezes, staring up at the medic who appears in the doorway.

“Axe will be alright,” the clone announces. Everyone sags in relief. The tension in Commander Tano’s shoulders eases. “His burns weren’t as severe as we’d initially thought. They’ll be pretty easily healed by some time in a bacta tank. There was a hairline fracture in his wrist, and he had a couple broken ribs. In short, it looked a lot worse than it actually was.”

“Thank the Force,” Kickback mumbles. The pilots all suddenly look like they’re about to fall asleep where they sit.  

“Come on, you three,” Echo says. “Axe is gonna be fine, but you guys need to rest.”

It’s telling that none of the pilots protest. Hevy, Droidbait, and Cutup offer support to their weary brothers, who stumble on the way out. The stress and exhaustion has finally caught up to them.

Fives glances at the Commander again. She’s better for sure, but is she better enough to command the fleet? Fives knows what will happen next—at least, he knows what happened last time. Perhaps enough has changed that things will be different…?

The Commander’s comm goes off. She picks it up.

“Hey, Snips. I’ve gotta talk to you, can you come down to the hangar?”

The General’s voice is carefully casual. He’s aware of his padawan’s fragile emotions, at least, which is good. Commander Tano sighs.

“Of course, Master,” she answers. “I’ll be there in just a minute.”

She drops the call and takes a step towards the door. She turns to look at Fives.

“Thanks, Fives,” she says. A little smile flits across her face. Fives shoots her a soft grin in return.

“Anytime, sir,” he answers, and he means it. “We’ve always got your back. Good luck.”

She disappears, and Fives heads back to the barracks to join the rest of Beta. This battle isn’t over yet.

Things don’t go quite the same as they had the first time, but it is similar.

As it turns out, the Redeemer had managed to escape into hyperspace before being destroyed—a big change from before. Instead of losing the first cruiser and the second being heavily damaged, they have two operational cruisers and only one damaged cruiser.

Naturally, General Skywalker’s plan still includes piloting the damaged Redeemer straight into the enemy ship. Which makes Fives chuckle, and the rest of Beta shoot him extremely concerned looks.

What? It’s kind of awesome. Fives also has the additional knowledge that it’s going to work.

Commander Tano assumes command of the other two star destroyers while the General Skywalker manages the whole blow-up-a-ship-with-another-ship part of the plan—which is mostly the same, except now she has two ships to deal with.

She’ll be fine. Her plan last time had worked perfectly. Fives isn’t as worried about this part as he had been before.

Domino returns to the mess hall to watch the second battle. It’s just as nerve-wracking as the first one had been, but Fives has seen it before.

As soon as they emerge out of hyperspace back above Ryloth, Commander Tano gives the order to flip the two star destroyers on their sides to protect their bridges from enemy fire. The only downside is that the clones can no longer see that battle, which causes some annoyed grumbling from the onlookers as they stare out into empty space. The only thing they can do is sit and wait for something to happen.

General Skywalker’s explosion, when it happens, is spectacular. They can see the glow of it even facing in a different direction. When the invasion fleet arrives, fortunately within the clone’s view, victory cries ring through the mess hall. The arrival of the invasion fleet means that the bombers have succeeded in taking down the enemy cruisers.

Fives is glad for their success, but he can’t shake the feeling that not enough has changed.

They’d had a whole additional cruiser to work with this time. In Fives’ mind, that should have changed how the battle played out in some way… except it didn’t.

He has to fight to push his unease to the back of his mind, because his brothers are celebrating. Fives isn’t going to dampen the mood.

“On to Ryloth!” someone shouts, audible through the chaos. “Down with Tambor! For the Republic!”

The onslaught of cheers that erupt at the cry is deafening.

Fives grins at their battle-ready enthusiasm. The 501st won’t ever go down to the surface of Ryloth—they act as strictly air support during this campaign, but the rest of his brothers don’t know that yet.

When Fives glances at Echo, the grin slides off of his face as quickly as it had appeared.

Echo doesn’t look too good. He’s pale, expression blank as he watches the other clones. Something’s wrong. Fives grabs Echo’s elbow to get his attention, leaning in closer so the other ARC can hear him.

“What’s wrong?”

Echo shakes his head. “Nothing’s wrong,” he replies, and pulls away. “I’m alright, Fives. Just thinking about what’s coming next.”

Fives frowns.

“Awful grim thing to be considering right now,” he points out. “Relax for just a second. I know we’ve got to think about that, but you can afford to celebrate for just a few minutes.”

Echo twitches.

“I’m alright, Fives,” he swears. “Just… don’t feel like celebrating. I’m gonna head back to the barracks, okay?”
Fives blinks in surprise. That’s… strange.

“We’ll meet you back there soon,” he can only say, brow furrowed in confusion. If Echo notices that, he doesn’t say anything. He pushes his way through the crowd of brothers, disappearing out the door.

Fives watches him go silently. Something is definitely not right. Echo’s lying to him. But if Echo doesn’t want to talk about it… Fives isn’t going to push him.

Not yet, at least.

It’s a moment of madness, a moment of blind fury that overtakes him in an instant. Rational thought disappears. Frustration disintegrates logic, pain smothers compassion, and he’s never wanted revenge more than he does in this moment.

Echo doesn’t feel the urge to kill very often, not unless they’re on the battlefield and killing is the only option left. In fact, he hadn’t ever felt such urges in his first life until after Tambor.

Right now, he wants to kill Tambor.

He dreams. He dreams of pain and terror, of sharp needles and knives. Of torturous medical procedures that had torn him apart, that he’d had to suffer through without any anaesthesia because why would the Separatists waste such a valuable substance on a mere clone? He dreams of darkness, of feeling or seeing nothing save fragments of coding scrolling past his eyes. He remembers the sensation of being completely alone.

When he wakes to silence in the middle of the sleep cycle, the madness takes over.

He gets out of his bunk slowly, silently. It’s easy to slip into his armor without waking anyone else, easier still to creep outside the barracks into the hallway.

His mind, so carefully regulated and sharpened by years of training, is muddled. Murky. Overwhelmed by the emotions that he likes to keep so carefully locked away. He can hide his pain even from himself as long as he has other things to focus on, but this—this—he can’t—

Tambor. Tambor is on Ryloth, and Echo is close.

Echo wants revenge. Echo wants the cursed Skakoan dead. He’d suffered at the scientist’s hands. He hadn’t been able to help Fives, he hadn’t been able to help fight off Krell or prove that the chips were a Separatist ploy. Tambor had kept Echo from his brothers and had hurt him and had forced him to work against the Republic.

Echo is going to kill him for that, and in his fury his brain ignores everything else but the urge to get revenge.

Wake.

Fives hears a voice. A quiet voice, but a voice nonetheless. He doesn’t comprehend the word in his groggy mind, so he brushes it off, annoyed that his sleep has been disturbed. He rolls over and presses his face into his pillow.

Wake.

It sounds again, more insistent this time. Fives hisses in frustration, stubbornly keeping his eyes closed. If whoever’s talking doesn’t go back to sleep in the next ten seconds, Fives will make them regret it.

Wake!

A third time. Now Fives is fully awake, and officially irritated. Who the kriff is talking?

WAKE!

Fives jumps as the voice sounds a fourth time, much louder than before. His eyes shoot open to take in the barracks.

It’s the night after the battle above Ryloth. Every clone is exhausted, recovering from the stress of the events that had occurred. All is quiet save the soft breathing of his brothers. No one even moves. Fives peers around through the dark in confusion, unsure of why his heart is pounding so frantically.

Everything seems fine. It’s Fives’ intuition that’s struggling to accept that fact. He sits up slowly, glancing towards the door.

Nothing.

He’s tempted to go back to sleep, but he knows now that he’s on high alert his body won’t calm down for a while. It’s something he’d taken from his years of battle. Usually he’s grateful for it. Now, it’s aggravating. He swings his legs out of bed and stands up, stretching. A quick walk might help clear his head. Out of habit he glances towards Echo’s bunk as he moves—

His heart nearly stops.

Echo isn’t there.

He steps closer, standing on his tiptoes just to be sure. Echo definitely isn’t in his bunk. A surge of panic washes over Fives that he tries to quash—perhaps Echo’s just taking a walk, as Fives was about to do, or maybe he got hungry and went to grab a midnight snack from the mess—

He looks to the side and inhales sharply. Echo’s armor is gone, too.

Fives remembers how Echo had looked after the conclusion of the space battle. Pale, quiet. He’d been shaken by something. He hadn’t been alright, despite his claims.

The panic returns full force. Something’s wrong. Something’s very, very wrong.

Droidbait’s bunk is closest. Fives goes to him and shakes him awake.

“Wha—Fives, what are you—” Droidbait slurs, before Fives slaps a hand over his mouth.

“Echo’s gone,” Fives whispers. “Wake the others. I’m going after him.”

Droidbait goes from sleep-dazed to wide awake in an instant, eyes going wide. Gently, he removes Fives’ hand from his face.

“What do you mean, he’s gone?” Droidbait whispers. “Where could he go?”

Fives swallows. This could all be an overreaction, but somehow Fives is certain that something’s wrong.

“I… I don’t know,” he admits softly. “Just—get the others, okay? I have a bad feeling about this. Search the ship, call if you find him.” He doesn’t even wait to see Droidbait’s nod.

He snatches up his comlink and runs.

Fives hadn’t bothered to put on his armor. He darts through the corridors in his blacks, eyes moving so quickly that he nearly makes himself dizzy. Every room he passes he glances into, every hallway that intersects he stares down before moving on. Echo could be anywhere.

A weary mechanic yelps in surprise when Fives rounds a corner and nearly barrels into him. Fives doesn’t stop to apologize—he doesn’t have time to. He doesn’t know where his brother is… but he has a hunch, and he prays that he’s wrong.

He runs for the hangar, and hopes with all his might that he isn’t too late.

By the time he gets to the hangar, his chest is heaving. He misses the button to open the blast door leading to the hangar on his first try. The second time, he practically punches the control panel, wincing as his fingers take the brunt of the hit. He’d forgotten he’s not wearing his gloves. The door slides open anyway. Fives races into the massive room and—

Stops.

All of the lights in the hangar are on, illuminating the rows of fighters awaiting their pilots. Without its bustling crew, the hangar looks eerie. Unnatural. Fives does a quick scan of the room and doesn’t even see any guards.

That’s strange. There’s always guards in the hangar, no matter what time it is.

He takes a few steps inside, and finally sees Echo.

His brother is standing by a silent gunship, staring up at the little sliver of space visible from his position. He’s fully armored, helmet and all. When Fives starts to walk closer to him, he doesn’t react at all—nothing to indicate he’d even noticed Fives’ presence.

This isn’t good.

Fives stops a few feet away from Echo, carefully reaching for him. Now that he’s nearer he can see that Echo is trembling minutely, but other than that, he still doesn’t move.

Fives exhales slowly. “Echo—”

The punch is wild, hard, and completely unexpected. Echo hits Fives directly across the cheek, sending him reeling. Fives grunts, turning his face with the blow the best he can to minimize the damage, but it still hurts. The surprise hurts more, though, because Echo just punched him.

“Echo, what the kriff are you doing?” Fives gasps. He lifts a hand to his face to clasp his throbbing cheek. “Blast it, what’s going on? Why are you here?”

Echo doesn’t answer him. Instead, he takes a few stumbling steps backwards. Fives shrugs away his own pain and stands up straighter, peering worriedly at his brother.

Echo’s posture is off. His whole body is tense. It looks like he’s getting ready to run. When Fives listens closely, he can hear Echo’s breathing through his helmet. It’s ragged and unregulated.

Fives has seen this before.

Slowly, Fives taps his comlink to broadcast his location to the rest of Domino. Then he lifts his hands up placatingly.

“Echo,” he tries again. “Hey, listen to me. Are you alright? Talk to me, brother.”

Echo shudders.

“Fives,” he says. “I—I thought that—”

He stops, shaking his head. Fives risks getting a little closer.

“You thought what, Echo? I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on.” Fives has his suspicions, but he wants to be absolutely certain.

“I thought… I thought it was a good idea. It sounded perfect,” Echo continues weakly. His voice trembles. “In my head, it was the best plan I’ve come up with in months. I just, I just wanted to…”

He trails off. His fists are clenching and unclenching relentlessly, as if he doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

“It’s alright,” Fives says. “Keep talking, Echo. It’ll help both of us if you do, I promise.”

Footsteps sound as the rest of Domino enters the hangar. Fives flashes a handful of ARC signs at them, and they halt some distance away. Fives doesn’t want to risk crowding Echo right now.

“Tambor is on Ryloth,” Echo mumbles. His head lolls to the side. His voice sounds distant, like his mind isn’t entirely in the present. “Tambor is down there. He’s close. I could—I could get to him. I could stop him from hurting anyone else.”

Fives’ jaw tightens in alarm.

“Echo…”

“I know!” Echo gasps suddenly. “I know it wouldn’t have worked. As soon as I got to the hangar I remembered what I was doing, remembered that I’d get shot down ages before getting in range of the capital. But I—I wanted to do it so bad, I wanted to kill him. I wasn’t thinking, I was just moving, and if I hadn’t come back to myself in time I could have… could have left.” Echo sucks in a sharp breath. “I almost deserted. Just because I lost control for a few minutes —”

Fives reaches out slowly and grips the bottom of Echo’s helmet. After pausing for a second to make sure Echo isn’t going to lash out again, he gently pulls it off. Echo stares at him desperately. Panic, fear, and uncertainty are visible in his expression—three things that Fives does not and has never associated with Echo. Sorrow clenches at Fives’ heart.

“I’m sorry,” Fives rasps. “I’m sorry, Echo. I’m sorry he did this to you. I’m sorry I didn’t notice you were hurting— kriff, how long have you been hiding this?”

Echo staggers suddenly. Fives grabs at him, gently easing them both to the floor.

“I didn’t—I didn’t even know it was this bad myself,” Echo whispers. “Didn’t think about it, pushed it to the back of my mind. You guys needed me more, there wasn’t time to think about it. I’m supposed to be stronger than this.”

Fives grabs Echo’s shoulders, fingers finding little divots in Echo’s armor to grab onto.

“Idiot,” he says gently. “You could have told us you weren't alright. We would have helped you.”

“I… I know,” Echo replies. Domino squad is coming closer. Out of the corner of his eye Fives sees Hevy sign something at him:

Three guards unconscious by the wall. Does he even remember doing it?

Fives surreptitiously puts a hand behind his back to sign Probably not in response. The sign for ‘probably’ technically requires two hands, but Hevy understands anyway.

“Listen, Echo. You’re alright now. You did come back to your senses, and that’s what matters in the end. Right?”

“I shouldn’t have lost myself in the first place—”

“Talking about things can help, but it isn’t going to heal you all the way,” Fives reminds him. “You told us what happened, but sometimes that isn’t enough.”

Echo’s breath hitches.

“I know,” he says. “I know that, Fives. But we had so much to worry about. I couldn’t—it didn’t seem right to focus on myself. There are so many bigger problems that should take priority—”

“Higher priority than you?” Cutup says softly, sitting on the floor next to Fives. “Impossible. Nothing’s higher priority than a brother.”

Echo exhales. “That’s treasonous.”

“We’re planning to get rid of the Chancellor himself,” Hevy contributes, a hint of amusement coloring his voice. He sits on Fives’ other side. “I think we’re all a bit treasonous.”

Echo manages a tiny chuckle. The sound makes Fives grin.

“Brothers come first,” Droidbait says. “Forget the Republic. I care about my family much more than I’ll ever care about the Republic cause.” He sits right next to Echo, bumping their shoulders lightly. Echo relaxes a little.

“Now that really is treasonous,” Fives points out wryly. Droidbait shrugs.

“We were all thinking it,” he points out. “The leader of the Republic is a Separatist in disguise anyway, so is it really treason? I think that’s debatable.” He has a valid point. Fives laughs.

Echo’s trembling has stopped, but he’s still clinging to a lot of his tension. The rest of Domino had brought in a lighter mood, but Fives doesn’t think that’s quite the right solution.

“It’s okay to let it out, you know,” he tells Echo carefully. “You don’t have to keep it bottled up. Sometimes it helps to get rid of the emotions before they can grow into something dangerous.”

“This coming from one of the most emotional clones in the whole army,” Echo mutters, but he hunches in on himself a little bit anyway, hiding his face in his hands. He takes a deep, shuddering breath.

“Are you—we can’t just sit here while I have a kriffing breakdown—”

“Yes, we can,” Cutup reassures him. “It’s okay, Echo. Stop thinking so much. We’re here for you no matter what, so do what you need to.”

Echo swallows audibly and nods, finally convinced.

It doesn’t take long for the sobs to start. They are heart wrenching and terrifyingly out of character. Fives tightens his grip on Echo’s shoulders in silent support.

Domino squad stays there for the rest of the night while Echo breaks. It’s the least they can do. He’s helped all of them overcome their challenges, and now it’s time to return the favor.

If there’s one thing Domino squad has learned from Echo, it’s that breaking down is just the first step to build a will of solid titanium.

Echo had been strong before this, and now that he’s finally allowed himself to break, he’ll be even stronger.

Chapter Text

“Fives. Fives!”

Fives blinks, roused from his nap by the nervous whisper of his name that sounds right in his ear. He rolls over, hissing when his eyes are exposed to the light of the barracks. Cutup is hovering by his bunk. There’s a datapad clenched in his hand, and is face is pale. Fives rubs a hand over his face to shake off his drowsiness.

“What’s wrong, Cutup?” he mumbles.

“I thought you said we wouldn’t be involved with the invasion force!” Cutup hisses quietly. Fives raises an eyebrow.

“We’re not,” he answers, pushing himself up into a sitting position. “We’re here for air support only now, the infantry isn’t—”

“No, Fives, look.” Cutup shoves the datapad at him. Fives accepts it, sighing when he sees the official document containing the 501st’s new set of orders. He starts to skim the document… and then he sees the line.

… deployment to the planet’s surface to assist the 91st Mobile Reconnaissance Corps with routine sweeps of the surrounding civilian towns to eliminate remaining hostiles using stratagem Epsilon 2-4-1—

“What,” Fives says without really meaning to. “What—Cutup, is this…?”

Cutup is still hovering next to his bunk, fidgeting anxiously. “These orders just came in a few minutes ago. I don’t… well. I brought them to you first.”

Fives swings his legs to the floor, focusing back onto the datapad. He begins reading it much more carefully this time—Cutup’s right. The orders call for the 501st to land on Ryloth.

Fives grits his teeth so hard that his jaw aches when he finally opens his mouth.

“This… didn’t happen last time. We’ve got to call the others. Where are they?”

“Hevy and ‘Bait are covering shifts for two of those guards Echo knocked out the other night as compensation for the trouble,” Cutup explains. “Echo’s at the range, I think.”

“Call Hevy and get him back here,” Fives orders quickly, getting to his feet. “I’ll call Echo. Where’s the rest of Beta?”

“No one here except Coric,” Cutup says with a meaningful glance back towards the front of the barracks. “They’re probably with Echo.”

Fives takes a deep breath.

“Call Hevy and ‘Bait,” he repeats. “We’ve got to figure out what we’re gonna do about this.”

There’s not much they can do about this, but Fives’ mind is whirling anyway. What’s changed? What’s going on? Sure, they had wanted things to change, but with change comes a lack of knowledge. Fives has no idea what’s going to happen on Ryloth. They’ve lost the only advantage they’d gotten from coming back. What if—?

Fives forces his whirling thoughts to slow and reaches for his comm to call Echo. He’ll be able to think things through much better with the rest of Domino at his side.

“So, what’s changed?”

They’re back in the little conference room that’s been turned into Domino squad’s discussion room. One of these days Fives is sure they’ll walk in on an officer meeting or something, but for now the room remains open, and private.

Echo taps his fingers on the table, tilting his head. “Plenty’s changed,” he answers. “We just didn’t really think about it. We had other things on our mind.” He sighs. “We’ve got to get used to looking for these kinds of things.”

Echo… is better. While he doesn’t act much differently from how he’d acted before, there is an air of acceptance and resolution around him now. He’s not completely healed—not by a long shot, but he’s more at peace with his past life. That’s all Domino can ask for.

“Last time, you lost two cruisers,” Droidbait points out. “This time we only lost one. We still have two fully operational star destroyers, which is more than enough to provide support to the ground forces through infantry.”

“A lot less brothers died this time, too,” Hevy contributes, which does make Domino feel a surge of triumph. “Both pilot-wise and collateral damage-wise. We’re better equipped. Also, the orders didn’t exactly say we’d be participating in the main push of the invasion. It talked more about the surrounding establishments. I think we’ll be picking off any straggling clankers still hanging around the towns so that civilians can go home.”

“Great, urban warfare,” Fives mutters. “My favorite. Where any sniper-droid with half a processor can take out a whole squad in less than three seconds. Nice.”

Droidbait goes pale. Hevy and Cutup fall silent. Echo sighs again, kicking Fives’ shin under the table. Fives feels a flicker of guilt. He forgets, sometimes, that the rest of Domino squad aren’t battle-hardened like the members of Torrent Fives had served with during the end of his life. His harsh statement would have prompted bitter agreements and spiteful jokes from the likes of Jesse, Kix, or Hardcase, but Fives’ batchmates can’t hear things like that and remain unconcerned.

“Sorry,” Fives mutters to the silent room. “Sorry, guys.”

“So what are we going to do about this?” Hevy finally asks to break the silence. “No one knows anything about what’s going to happen down there. How are we going to…” He trails off. Stay alive? goes unsaid, but everyone’s thinking it.

Fives isn’t worried about staying alive himself.. He and Echo both have plenty of experience with these kinds of situations. It’s the rest of the squad that he’s more concerned about.

“Look, guys, the key is to not panic,” Echo says. “We’ve been training for things like this for ages. We know what to do, we know how to act as a team. The simulations we’ve been running with the Commander are supposed to mimic Ryloth’s terrain, remember? It’s not as if we aren’t prepared.”

“But this is different,” Cutup points out. “It’s not—” He pauses, takes a deep breath as if trying to steady himself. “It wouldn’t be a big deal if we were… regular clones. It wouldn’t matter, because we’d be glad to die for the Republic. It was honorable to die for the cause. That’s what I truly believed when I died. Remember?”

Fives remembers, but that had been a long time ago. Around the invasion of Kamino he’d stopped thinking like that.

Cutup continues. “We’re not just clones anymore, though. We know things. We can’t afford to risk dying for the Republic now, because if we do, the same things that happened last time will happen again. It’s different. We have to survive. Before, it didn’t… it didn’t matter if we came back or not.”

“It mattered to us,” Fives mutters. Cutup lets out a bitter little chuckle.

“It didn’t matter to any real person,” he replies. Fives doesn’t have a good response to that, because Cutup’s not wrong.

No one had cared about Tup when his chip had malfunctioned except other clones. General Skywalker had shown minimal concern, and that was just because Tup had killed a Jedi. Not because one of the men he’d served with through thick and thin was teetering on the edge of insanity.

“We’ll be fine, guys,” Echo tries again. “Commander Tano will probably be with us, remember? And we aren’t alone. The rest of Beta will back us up as much as we need. They’re all veterans. We’ve got some of the best men in the whole GAR watching our backs.”

“You three aren’t rookies anymore,” Fives adds. “You’ve gotten instruction most troopers only dream of getting. Have a little more faith in yourselves, won’t you? We didn’t give you ARC training for nothing.”

Hevy is nodding, clenching his fists.

“Fives is right, guys. We’ve got all the skills we need to survive this.” He looks over at Fives. “So what, exactly, is the plan?”

Fives frowns. “A set plan will be hard to develop until we have more information on exactly where we’ll be and what our objective is. We could come up with some basic ideas for some of the more likely scenarios, though. Echo?”

Echo perks up just a little. This part of him has never changed, not even after becoming an ARC. He’s always liked running different scenarios to find the plan most likely to succeed.

“I can think of a couple things we can start with,” Echo begins, leaning forwards in his seat. “It’s likely, based on the orders, that we’ll be fighting within civilian establishments. That means we want to cause as little damage to the surrounding buildings as possible. I can’t imagine we’ll ever be facing the droids head on. It’s gonna feel a bit more like guerilla warfare. If we go through a couple different situations for door-breaching, sniper retaliation, and the like… that’ll be good. There are also some urban-maneuver ARC signs we can review—”

The door to the conference room slides open without warning. Echo cuts himself off mid-sentence, eyes going wide. Fives whips around towards the door, rising in his seat. Droidbait jerks as if about to bolt. Hevy and Cutup freeze in horror.

Del stares at them from the doorway, one eyebrow raised. He takes in their shocked expressions calmly.

“I was wondering where you five had disappeared to,” Del says neutrally. “We’re having a meeting in a few minutes. Come back to the barracks?”

For a long moment no one replies, still struggling to recover from their surprise. Eventually Echo swallows audibly and gets to his feet.

“Sure, sir,” he answers casually—too casually. If Del notices, he doesn’t say anything. Fives and the rest of Domino rise to follow Echo out, but Del fixes Fives with a stare that makes him tense.

“Fives… a word?”

Kriff.

Had Del heard their conversation? What does he know? Fives spends the few seconds it takes for Domino to file out of the room shoving back his panic. Echo shoots him a nervous look, but there’s nothing he can do.

What does Del want? Fives can’t give him the answers he’s probably looking for.

When the door closes behind Echo, Fives braces himself and turns to face Del, not bothering to hide the confusion on his face.

“Sir, what—?”

“Fives, just… let me talk for a second,” Del interrupts. Fives falls silent obediently, body straightening to attention involuntarily.

This can’t be good.

For just a moment, Del just watches him carefully. Fives keeps his expression blank until Del finally starts to speak.

“Listen, Fives. I don’t pretend to know too much about you and your squad,” he begins. “But there are some things that I do know.”

Fives nearly stops breathing.

“I know that you’re all far from rookies, despite what the records say. I also know that whatever you were doing before you were stationed here had something to do with General Ti. Is that correct?”

It’s… correct, technically. Enough so that Fives can simply nod. That had ended up sort of becoming their cover story, after all—that they had run top-secret missions underneath Shaak Ti’s guidance before being assigned to the Rishi Moon Outpost.

“You can’t give me details, can you,” Del states. Fives just stares at him carefully. When he doesn’t get a response, Del exhales slowly.

“You and Echo are both incredibly proficient with hand-to-hand and firearms. The rest of your men are good, too—not quite as good as you, but they’re getting closer every time they practice. You use hand signals none of the rest of us are familiar with when you think we aren’t paying attention. You huddle together and whisper every time anything of importance happens, and your entire squad will disappear for hours on end without a single word of warning. I’m assuming that’s when you come here?”

Fives finally finds his voice.

“It’s a safe place for us to discuss what we have to, sir.”

It’s useless to attempt to lie at this point. Del, and likely the rest of Beta, have picked up on many of Domino’s quirks. They’re suspicious now.

“Would I be correct in assuming you won’t give me any fine details?” Del asks.

“Yes,” Fives answers bluntly. Better to be brutally honest, like he’d been when accepting his punishment for the whole blue-shadow virus incident.  

“Why can’t you tell me?”

“It’s not the right time yet,” Fives says without having to think about it, because it’s not. He knows deep in his bones that Del shouldn’t hear their story yet. He remembers how it had felt when they had realized they were supposed to tell Ninety-nine everything. The wave of confidence and strength and warmth had not been his own, it had been from the Force. Right now, the Force is silent. It’s not time.

Del makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. That answer isn’t nearly enough for him.

“I’m just worried, Fives. It’s my job to keep Beta alive, and if there are important things you aren’t telling me, that’s going to make my job difficult.”

Fives tilts his head. “What, skill set wise? You’ve seen us all in action—”

Del waves his hand.

“No, not like that. Let me put it this way. There are things about us—those of us who served on Teth—don’t like to talk about. We’ve been through things that we don’t even discuss among ourselves. Emotional baggage, if you will. I’m sure you and your men have similar problems from… whatever you were doing before this. These are things that can affect our efficiency in battle, and your secrecy is making it hard for me to figure out what’s going on.”

For a long moment, Fives is frozen. He understands Del’s concerns perfectly, and the sergeant is right. Beta squad should be aware of Domino’s weaknesses in order to properly compensate for them.

Fives takes a deep breath, letting the tension in his body drain away.

“Droidbait… is afraid of Commando droids. He’s better now, but he still freezes for a split second before engaging. Hevy can get angry really quickly if he loses control of himself. So much so that he’ll be blinded by it. Like I said with Droidbait, he’s getting better, but it’s still there.” Even though he’s divulging team secrets, things that Fives has been aware of but didn’t have the heart to address, he doesn’t feel guilty about it. These things are important for Del to know. “Cutup likes to keep his back to a wall. He’s not a fan of large open spaces. He’ll get uneasy around large lifeforms, too. Echo…” He has to pause for a second to think. “Echo won’t let anything affect his performance in the field.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Del says. Fives sighs.

“Echo doesn’t like needles,” he reveals carefully. “He doesn’t like most medical equipment, actually. Currently he’s not a fan of Skakoans, either. He didn’t like computers for a little bit, but I think he’s recovered from that.”

Del’s brow furrows, but he doesn’t press for more details. “And yourself?”

Fives huffs out a humorless laugh.

“If I see a Besalisk, I’m more likely to shoot first and ask questions later,” he says bitterly. “I have no love for the Coruscant Guard.”

“You’ve been to Coruscant?”

“Yes,” Fives answers.

Del stares at him for a moment.

“That’s not all,” he finally says, and Fives wants to laugh again, but he restrains himself. Of course that’s not all, but if he tried to go through every single trigger the entirety of Domino squad has they’d be here for hours.

“That’s all that will be relevant for now,” he replies. Del dips his head in acquiescence.

“Fine,” he says. Then: “I’m making you my second-in-command.”

It’s so different from what Fives had expected to hear that for a moment he doesn’t comprehend Del’s words.

“You—what?”

“Well, unofficial second,” Del corrects. “I can’t promote you, not yet. But if something happens to me, I want you to take charge. I know all of my men’s problems, you know all of your men’s problems. This way, someone with the authority to make calls can represent both sections of our squad. We’re still separated, Fives. If we’re going to become a cohesive unit, we need something like this.”

“What about Zeer? I thought he was your second,” Fives asks.

“I already talked to him about it. He had no problem stepping down. Your men already see you as their leader, Fives, no matter what I do. This will help us trust each other more.”

Fives takes a deep breath. “Okay,” he says. “That’s fine. I can do that.”

Del claps him on the shoulder gently. “Thank you,” he says, completely sincere. “I know it’s not easy to talk about things like that.”

“It’s fine,” Fives says automatically. He takes a deep breath. “You needed to know. I should have told you some of these things before.” He’s responsible for Domino squad now, and he kicks himself mentally for not thinking about this sooner.

“This is the first time we’re going into a potential large-scale firefight,” Del points out seriously. “I didn’t need to know until now, and I appreciate you being willing to… well, somewhat answer my questions.”

Fives is ashamed to admit that he hasn’t done much interacting with Del outside of training. Del tends to be quiet outside of giving orders, making him seem like a stickler for the regs. This is an entirely new side to their Commanding Officer that Fives very much respects. Del is doing his best to keep them all safe.

“Come back to the barracks with me,” Del invites with a gesture. “The others are waiting, and we have a mission briefing to go over. We don’t have much time.”

Fives squares his shoulders and nods.

“Right,” he replies. “Let’s do this.”

“Hey, Beta squad! Any of you remember me?”

Droidbait blinks as the gunship pilot’s voice comes through the speakers above their head, just audible over the rumble of the engines. They haven’t taken off yet—they’re waiting for Command to give them the final green light.

Droidbait is nervous. Fives and Echo had given them a quick briefing on what to expect from urban warfare, but it wasn’t nearly enough to get Droidbait to relax.

“Should we?” Nax answers the pilot, tilting his head to look up towards the speakers. “We fly in a lot of gunships, you know!”

The pilot scoffs. “Yeah, yeah, I know that,” he grumbles. “I just thought… well. You shouldn’t know me, but Domino might. I’m the pilot who picked them up off of Rishi. The name’s Flak.”

“Huh,” Cutup says from just behind Droidbait. “No, we don’t remember you, but thanks for that,” he responds.

“We were too out of it to really care about who our pilot was at the time,” Echo points out. Flak lets out another grumble.

“Yeah, whatever. No one remembers the pilots, anyway. Dunno why I expected anything different.” He sounds so disappointed that Droidbait can’t help but feel sympathy for him.

“We’ll remember you now, if it’s any consolation,” he calls out. Flak huffs audibly over the speakers.

“I should hope so. You’re practically assigned to me now that you’re with Commander Tano.”

Attie nudges Droidbait in the arm, tilting his head to indicate confusion.

“Commander Tano?” he mutters, and it’s right then that the side door slides open to provide entrance to a small, lithe figure—the commander.

“Sir!” Coric says in surprise. The medic had been rummaging through his medpack to take stock of his equipment, and he slings it back onto his back as he speaks. “What are you doing here? We thought you’d be busy helping the General with air support!”

“I was,” Commander Tano replies, waving a hand dismissively. “I helped for a few hours, until I was cleared for a break.”

“A break… Commander, you do know what the definition of break is, correct? Coming with us down to the planet’s surface with us isn’t a break.” Fives points out incredulously. She doesn’t look tired, but Droidbait knows that doesn’t necessarily mean anything.

“I’m fine, Fives,” Commander Tano says cheerily as the gunship doors close with a quiet whoosh of air. She takes a spot near Del and Cutup. Zeer shifts aside to make room for her as she reaches up to grasp at one of the hooks. “I’ve been sitting in a starfighter all day. If anything, I’m sick of holding still. I think a mission might actually be good for me.”

Droidbait… is skeptical of that, and from the amount of helmet tilts around him, he’s sure he isn’t the only one. Aerial firefights are supposed to be some of the most stressful combat situations possible. She really should take a break. He’s considering saying something when Commander Tano sighs, waves her free hand.

“Honestly, boys, I can hear the disapproval. I promise I’m fine. Master Skywalker gave me permission. This is our first chance to go on a mission together, it’s good practice!”

She has a point. Droidbait shrugs and dips his head.

“Just… be careful, sir,” Del says after a moment. She grins at him before turning her gaze up to the ceiling.

“Ready, Flak?”

“I’ve been ready for the past fifteen minutes, but someone had to keep me waiting,” Flak replies good-naturedly. Commander Tano tosses her head back and laughs.

“Sorry, sorry,” she apologizes. “It won’t happen again, I swear. Are we good to go?”

“We’re good,” Flak confirms, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Just waiting for your say-so, now. A few other Torrent squads are coming down with us to handle other sectors of the town. On your mark, sir.”

“Let’s get this show on the road,” Commander Tano quips. “Take us down, Flak.”

“Copy that, sir.”

The gunship’s engines kick into a higher gear as it finally lifts off of the ground, smooth as silk. Flak is talented. No wonder he’s Commander Tano’s assigned gunship pilot.

Droidbait takes a deep breath and curls his fingers around his DC-15.

It’s finally time to see if all of their squad-training has done any good.

When Flak opens the doors, Droidbait winces as tiny specks of sand and dust plink softly off of his armor. The gunship’s engines kick up a cloud of loose grime. Beside him, Commander Tano lets out an irritated sound as she cups her palm around her face.

“Be careful out there, boys,” Flak advises as he lowers them to the ground. “Watch the Commander’s back. I won’t be able to assist you very much. We can’t cause any damage to the civilian homes, so my heavy guns aren’t an option. Only call if it’s an emergency, or for extraction. I’ll try to stay nearby.”

“Understood,” Del says, raising his rifle. “Stay sharp, men. We’re being dropped behind cover, but that’s no excuse to stop paying attention.”

The gunship gently touches the planet’s surface. They disembark quickly, as they’d trained to. The feel of the ground beneath his feet startles Droidbait. Ryloth’s terrain is rocky, a little bit like Rishi’s had been, but there’s a fine layer of dust underneath his feet that makes it a bit difficult for his boots to gain any traction. Droidbait wonders dimly if the dirt has always been there, or if it’s a side-effect of the several-month-long war that’s been raging across the planet.

Flak had dropped them off by the side of a courtyard, where a stone wall provides cover from any potential enemies. As the gunship lifts away, sending up another wind edged with gravel, Beta squad gathers together.

“Alright, boys, here’s the plan,” Commander Tano begins. “The scouts that looked through this town reported a few straggling droid patrols who haven’t yet gotten the message that the Republic is winning. We’re to clear the eastern side of the city, while Delta squad takes the west side. The scouts put down motion trackers to help us, but so far none of them have been tripped. Until then, we’re going to have to do this the old fashioned way. We’ll stick together unless there’s need to divide and conquer. Sound good?”

“Yessir!” Droidbait calls out with the rest of the squad—quieter than usual, since they are technically in enemy territory.

He pushes down his nerves in favor of feeling anticipation over finally getting to add more tally marks to his armor. He doesn’t have nearly as many as he’d like.

Ryloth’s evening sun turns the entire sky pink, casting a reddish glow over the town. Droidbait keeps his eyes moving—not just to stay on the lookout, but also to get a glimpse of the life a civilian might have. There’s not too much to see right now. They’re walking in a ghost town. Their footsteps seem to echo around the buildings, even when Droidbait purposefully lightens his steps like Fives had taught him to. The sandy-colored stone buildings are silent, long abandoned. Droidbait shivers as they follow the street out of the courtyard.

“Wish I could see this place when it isn’t the creepiest thing I’ve ever experienced,” Attie mutters from just behind him. Droidbait turns his head to nod in agreement, eyes scanning the buildings again.

The homes aren’t large. Most are about two stories high, with tan awnings stretching above the doorways. Farther in the distance he can see larger buildings towards the city center. He glances inside an open door as they pass by. There’s a little table in the middle of the room, and there must be some sort of food still there because a cloud of little native insects have gathered to help themselves to the abandoned goods. The civilians had left in quite a hurry.

The squad begins is adjusting to the width of the street by the time they’ve walked a block, falling into proper place to watch each other’s backs. Del is in the front, with Commander Tano and Hevy just behind him. Droidbait, Attie, Echo, Nax, and Cutup follow, keeping Coric at the center of the squad. Zeer and Fives bring up the rear.  It’s good, but not quite good enough. They need to learn to organize themselves within seconds of landing.

In Droidbait’s defense, this is only the third planet he’s been on. He hadn’t been allowed outside on Rishi or Kamino, either, so they hardly count. This is different from anything he’s ever seen before. He makes the mistake of glancing up into the sky and winces when his HUD flashes a warning at him, struggling to compensate for the glare of the sun.

Someone nudges him gently on the shoulder. Droidbait jumps, but it’s just Echo. He can’t see his brother’s face, but something in Echo’s body language is emanating gentle chastisement.

“Hey, hey, focus,” he murmurs. “I thought you might get distracted. We’ve got a job to do, remember?”

Droidbait winces. “It’s just—” he starts to say, and then gets sidetracked for a split second when his boot knocks against something that skitters and rolls across the ground. It’s a little blue ball of some sort—for a civilian game, no doubt. “It’s just… I’m curious, that’s all.” He gives himself a little shake. “It won’t happen again.”

Echo nods. “Good,” he says seriously. “We aren’t here to poke around, we’re here to clear this town of hostiles.”

“Aw, kriff—sorry, sorry,” Droidbait apologizes, resisting the urge to kick himself. He’d barely realized his mind was wandering from the mission. What if something had happened?

Behind him, Attie comes a little closer, no doubt sensing Droidbait’s shame.

“Relax, DB. We guessed it might happen, so we’ve been overcompensating for the past couple minutes. Just be grateful it was Echo who talked to you and not Del. My sergeant chewed me out so bad for zoning out like that on my first mission planetside.”

To Droidbait, Echo’s quiet disappointment is worse than anything Del could yell.

“It won’t happen again, I swear,” he repeats.

“I know it won’t, ‘Bait,” Echo says. There is a tiny hint of apology in the shift of his body, but he doesn’t say anything else. Rightfully so—Droidbait had messed up.

Beta squad continues to weave their way through the buildings. They check carefully around every corner and stick to the sides of the road where at least one side of them is covered by a wall. They glance in windows, too, making sure no hostiles are hidden in the residences. Now that Droidbait is focused, he can sense the tension in the air. Everyone is a bit on edge, frustrated by the lack of visibility caused by the neverending buildings. Even Commander Tano has gone uncharacteristically quiet. Her fingers tap on the hilt of her lightsaber restlessly.

Sudden blasterfire in the distance makes them all flinch. Del’s free hand juts into the air, closed into a fist. Everyone freezes.

For a long moment, nobody moves. Del says something quietly that Droidbait can’t make out. He’s talking into his radio, and after another long second he relaxes.

“Delta squad engaged a small squad of clankers they found holed up by the market,” he informs them. “They’ve got the situation under control.” The whole squad breathes again. Del glances back at them, taking in their positions. Then he looks at the Commander.

“Sir?”

“Let’s keep moving,” Commander Tano says. “They don’t need help. Besides, if our scouts are to be believed there are several more little squads like that stumbling around. Let’s keep searching.”

As they advance, the tension thickens again. Droidbait finally understands why Fives hates urban warfare so much. The buildings cast long shadows that could be hiding anything, and the rooftops overhead are perfect positions for snipers. At any moment, they could be ambushed. Separatist droids have distinct sounds, but they aren’t incapable of moving quietly. Droidbait keeps his eyes moving and his finger near the trigger of his gun.

As they’re passing an alleyway, Zeer suddenly lets out a grunt, stopping to turn towards the darker passage. Del calls for a halt, waiting as Zeer slings his Z-6 across his back and disappears into the alley for a moment. When he emerges, he’s dragging the crumpled body of a battle droid behind him.

“It’s still warm near the core,” he says gruffly. “Couldn’t have been here for more than an hour. Droids run hot under the sun.”

“No blaster marks,” Fives notes from the back of the unit. “Ran out of juice?”

“Most likely,” Nax agrees, stepping forwards to inspect the machine. He glances at Del, fingers twitching eagerly. “Sir, if you want, I could get into it’s processor and find out what it’s most recent set of orders were. That could possibly give us a clue towards where the rest of them are hiding.”

“How long?” Del asks. The mechanic shrugs.

“Fifteen minutes, give or take,” he replies. “Less if Echo helps. I can do the wiring while he messes with the code.”

Del hums. “It might not get us any results,” he reminds Nax, who shrugs.

“Maybe, maybe not. Commander?”

Commander Tano is frowning.

“We can’t stay here for too long,” she says. “We’ve got to keep moving, and the sun will start going down soon. If we don’t get any info from that tinny then we’ll have wasted time we could have spent searching other blocks. We’re close if it’s still warm. I say we keep going.”

Nax’s shoulders slump, but he doesn’t protest, stepping back from the droid.

“Alright, sir,” he relents. “Just keeping our options open.”

“Sorry, Nax,” she apologizes, lips twitching upwards. “Another time, alright?”

Nax doesn’t get a chance to respond. Just as the Commander’s sentence ends, a bright red alert flashes across Droidbait’s HUD. He can tell the others have gotten it, too, because suddenly everyone stiffens.

“Guys?” Commander Tano says.

“Motion sensor alert,” Cutup tells her quickly. “The ones the scouts set up earlier. One of them’s been triggered. It’s close.”

“How close?”

“Half a mile,” Coric answers. “It’s the one by the temple.”

“It could be nothing,” Hevy points out. “What kind of creatures live on Ryloth?”

“Gutkurr,” Echo says. “Or lyleks. Those two are the dangerous ones. Lyleks are typically only found near the equator, but there are gutkurr around here. They’re big enough to trip the motion sensors.”

Cutup lets out an uneasy exhale. Hevy moves a little closer to him.

“We’re headed in that direction anyway,” Commander Tano says. “Leave the droid. Let’s head for the temple.”

They move much faster now, still keeping watch as they go but abandoning their high level of caution. The Commander’s lightsaber is in her hand now, unactivated, but ready. Compensating for their speed. Ready for anything.

“How many tallies are you thinking about adding this time around?” Attie mutters as they break into a light jog. Droidbait huffs out a little laugh.

“At least one,” he replies. “Otherwise this trip won’t be worth it.”

“Where will you put it?”

Droidbait thinks about it for a second. “I’ll start a new column on my arm,” he answers. “So that one day they’ll go from my shoulder to my wrist. Maybe I’ll add a couple more clusters on my chest so it doesn’t start to look weird.”

“Good call. Maybe for big targets you can do larger marks, on your helmet or something,” Attie offers. Droidbait grins at him even though he knows his friend can’t see it.

They run for a little longer before they finally start to slow. The temple’s spire is visible through the rest of the buildings. It’s inlaid with some sort of precious metal, glinting in the light of the sun like a beacon. When they’re a few blocks away they slow even further in caution. The motion tracker is still sending them alerts, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t other hostiles in the area.

Droidbait’s armor is streaked with dust, and his isn’t the only one. 501st blue almost looks black under the grime.

“We’re nearly there,” Commander Tano whispers. “If I’m remembering this right… they’ll be a big open space around the temple. It’s a major center of worship for the Twi’leks. We won’t be able to get close. We’ll have to find a way to observe from a distance.”

“How do you know that?” Cutup asks curiously.

“I read about it during my studies at the Jedi Temple. It’s a big part of Twi’lek culture, to honor their goddess at temples like this one,” she answers.

Attie lets out an amazed sound. “First she knows the B’omarr Monastery on Teth, now she knows the Twi’lek temple. What doesn’t she know? Is there a whole class dedicated to the galaxy’s religions at the Jedi Temple or something?”

Del stops dead. The rest of Beta follows suit, pressing themselves against the buildings automatically.

“The homes stop up ahead,” Del announces. “It’s that opens space the Commander was talking about. We can’t get close without being seen, assuming it isn’t a false alarm.”

“Maybe we don’t need to get closer,” Fives says suddenly. “Maybe we just need a better view. Can’t someone climb to the top of one of the closer buildings to check it out?”

“Good idea,” Commander Tano says. She glances around at them all, and then her gaze settles on Droidbait. “What do you say, ‘Bait? Up for a flight?”

“Uh—sure?”

She grins. “Alright. Don’t panic.” She closes her eyes and raises a hand. Droidbait stifles a yelp of surprise as his feet suddenly leave the ground. He flails for a second until he’s able to get his alarm under control.

“Take some pictures with your HUD and transmit them to the rest of us when you get to the top,” Fives recommends as Droidbait floats higher. “And don’t let them see you!” Then the Commander makes a larger gesture with her hand. The Force propels Droidbait up three stories to deposit him gently on the roof of the nearest building.

He’s not actually very high up, but he does have a good angle to see the temple just on the other side of the building. Commander Tano had been right—there’s a large plaza that stretches around the whole temple. Droidbait can see three large fountains in front of the main doors, no longer running although dusty water sits stagnating in the bottoms.

There are droids, too. More than Droidbait had expected. He drops down to his stomach and crawls forwards to try and get a better look without drawing attention to himself.

A squad of B1s have passed the fountains and are marching slowly towards the temple doors. They’ve still got a little ways to go, and there are several at the back that are drooping as they run out of power. Droidbait counts about twenty. He takes a picture of the scene through his HUD and transmits it down to the rest of Beta. His comm goes off almost immediately afterwards.

“Get down here, Droidbait,” Del orders quickly. “We have to engage before they get inside the temple.”

Droidbait opens his mouth to comply and then pauses.

“How am I supposed to—?”

“Jump,” Del answers. “The Commander will catch you.”

Ohhhhh boy. Droidbait really doesn’t want to do that, but he does trust the Commander. He makes his way to the edge of the building again and glances down to see Beta squad going through weapon checks, preparing for a firefight. Commander Tano is watching him carefully. As he watches, hesitating, Attie glances up from his rifle and tosses Droidbait a thumbs up.

Droidbait takes a deep breath and steps off the roof before he can lose his nerve. For a few heart-stopping moments, he plummets, but then an invisible hand catches him. The Commander lowers him gently to the ground.

“Thanks, sir,” he says a bit breathlessly.

“Thank you,” she replies, and activates her lightsaber. “Okay, boys, we’ll take them by surprise. Once we get to the plaza, don’t start firing until we’re closer to the fountains. We can use those as cover. Are we ready?”

“We were born ready,” Cutup mutters. Hevy snorts. Echo’s head makes a tiny movement that Droidbait knows means he’s rolling his eyes.

“We’re ready, sir,” Del replies, and Commander Tano grins. It kind of reminds Droidbait of General Skywalker.

“Let’s go.”

The squad moves out. Attie falls into place at Droidbait’s side, a comforting, familiar presence that puts Droidbait at ease. They emerge out into the courtyard. The temple’s spire stretches into the sky above them. It’s strange to be out in the open after being boxed in by buildings for so long. The fountains are just ahead, and a little farther forwards he droid squad marches on.

For a few seconds, the only thing Droidbait can hear is the pounding of boots on the ground as they run and the hum of the Commander’s lightsaber.

They’re thirty feet from the fountain when Commander Tano nods to Del. Beta squad opens fire.

The droids are caught completely by surprise. Their sensors must be malfunctioning, because they really don’t notice Beta’s approach until they begin the attack. Droidbait takes two down before the droids can even return fire.

Beta splits up to take cover behind the three fountains. Droidbait ends up beside Attie, Nax, Coric and Hevy behind the larger center fountain. Del and Echo are to their left, while the rest of the squad is to their right.

Their cover is almost… unnecessary. It’s a little sad. The droid’s shots go enormously wide. Droidbait peers at the panicking machines incredulously.

“Wow,” Nax comments dryly as he pokes his head around the edge of the fountain to take a few potshots. “I kind of feel bad for them. They’re running on the last dregs of their power. How come we couldn’t have just waited for them to die?”

“I don’t feel bad,” Hevy contributes gleefully, stepping out of cover. His Z-6 whines triumphantly as it tears five droids down in quick succession.

“Aw, c’mon Hevy, leave some for the rest of us!” Fives shouts, but he’s too late. It’s over as quickly as it had begun.

“Well, that was anticlimactic,” Coric says. “Mission accomplished, then?”

“Wait,” Commander Tano suddenly calls. “The temple, look at the temple!”

The massive temple doors are swinging open, and a dark shape moves inside. Beta squad tenses again, as a super battle droid comes lumbering into the light.

“One droid?” Attie mumbles in confusion. “What—?”

The droid sticks an arm forwards. Droidbait’s eyes go wide.

“Rocket droid!” he shouts, but he’s too late. The droid fires a bright purple torpedo before anyone can shoot it. The rocket slams into the fountain that Del and Echo are crouched behind, and the rest of Beta are helpless to do anything but watch as the fountain explodes into a million little shards of rock. Del and Echo are flung backwards from the shockwave. Tiny shards of rock shoot everywhere like shrapnel. Droidbait ducks his head as a sharp piece scratches across his helmet.

“Shoot it, shoot it before it gets another shot off! ” someone shouts. Every member of Beta still standing fires, dropping the droid before it can take another step. Coric and Commander Tano are already sprinting for Echo and Del’s limp forms before it hits the ground. Droidbait turns, starting to go after them. Attie is right on his heels.

“Hold your position!” Fives shouts, voice strained. “They’ll be alright, Coric has them—hold position! We’ve got more clankers coming from the temple!”

Blasterfire rings out. Droidbait ducks as red plasma shoots over his head. He and Attie are caught halfway between where the Commander is defending Coric as he works on Del and the safety of the fountain. When Droidbait glances towards the temple, he can see a dozen ordinary super battle droids marching towards them. Droidbait pulls back, preparing to return to the fountain, but then Coric lets out a shout.

“I need a hand over here!”

Attie shoves on Droidbait’s shoulder. “Go, go!” he hisses. Droidbait doesn’t need further prompting. He bolts for the medic. The Commander is standing over Coric, deflecting blaster bolts with her lightsaber. She takes a step forwards as Droidbait and Attie approach to defend them as well, her blade a bright green blur.

Coric glances up and sees them. He’s crouched over Del, who appears to be unconscious. There’s a massive gash in his side right at the unprotected spot between thigh armor and pelvic armor. Blood drips into the dirt, staining the ground black. “Attie, get over here and help me stop the bleeding,” Coric orders tersely. “Droidbait, check on Echo. He’s conscious, but he’s not uninjured.”

They’re lucky Echo and Del hadn’t been flung farther from each other. Echo is a few yards away from Del, barely close enough that Commander Tano can still defend them both. She’s managing, but it isn’t easy. Echo is lying on his back, and he raises his head weakly when Droidbait skids to his knees beside him.

“Hey, ‘Bait…” he greets. “M’not bleeding but I think… I think I have a concussion. Can’t move my body yet.”

Droidbait briefly tugs Echo’s helmet off. One of his pupils is visibly larger than the other—yeah, he definitely has a concussion. He pushes Echo’s helmet back on.

“Is anything else wrong?” he asks, running his fingers over Echo’s armor to search for anything he could have missed.

Echo groans. “No, just—I… ugh, come on.” His whole body lurches. Droidbait jumps. “Ah, kriff, my head hurts.”

“All the more reason for you to stay down!” Droidbait hisses. “Echo, you’ve got to be careful! Just because you were trained to ignore concussions doesn’t mean you should!”

A few feet away, it sounds like they’ve finally got Del’s leg to stop bleeding. The cut had been on his outer thigh, not his inner, so it isn’t as close to the femoral artery as Coric had probably feared. When Droidbait glances over Attie is rummaging around in Coric’s medpack, searching for something.

“Is Del alright?” Echo asks, ignoring Droidbait and lifting his arm carefully. Droidbait nods.

“He’ll be okay, I think,” he answers, glancing up at the Commander when she makes a tiny sound of exertion, spinning to block a new flurry of blaster bolts. Beta squad have almost finished off the SBDs, but there are a couple left. “We need to get back into cover. The Commander can’t defend us forever.” He turns his head back towards Attie and Coric, intending to ask the medic if Echo is safe to be moved—

One moment Attie is crouched over Del, handing a bacta patch to Coric, the next he is not. Droidbait blinks, so he misses the shot—but suddenly Attie’s head is jerking backwards unnaturally, and his whole body jolts. Droidbait sees a burst of red.

Then Attie’s falling, falling, dropping to the dust, and Droidbait’s mind still doesn’t comprehend what’s happened until Coric screams in wordless fury.

“No.” The whispered word is torn from his lips. Every single ounce of Droidbait’s fear and disbelief and despair is held in that single word. The world goes fuzzy at the edges. Dimly he hears brothers shouting, and the Commander crying out, but it’s as if they’re a long, long ways away.

“Snipers! From behind us, in the homes!”

“Get down!”

“Everyone, move!”

“Watch it, they’re on both sides!”

“Attie’s down!”

There are voices shouting Attie’s name, his own voice is one of them but he isn’t the only one—he hears that just as clearly as he sees Attie’s limp body, terrifyingly still. His vision has narrowed; Attie is all he can see. Attie, and the pool of red beneath his head. Coric has him now, but the medic isn’t doing anything, he’s just sitting there with his hands hovering helplessly above Attie’s helmet—

No. No, no, no—this is wrong. This isn’t supposed to happen, not to Attie, not to Attie—

Anguish and denial drive him to his feet. He takes a few numb steps forwards, nearly staggering. He has to get to Attie. He has to get to Attie. He has to—

A hand wraps around his ankle. He hears a voice.

“Droidbait, stop, you can’t—you can’t do anything, get down, get down—!”

The hand on his ankle yanks. Droidbait goes down hard. A sniper round barely misses his head a half-second later, but Droidbait hardly cares. His breaths are coming faster and faster, this is wrong, why would this—?

Someone tackles him when he tries to stand a second time, dragging him a few feet sideways. Droidbait struggles against their hold, a voice is talking again—

“Bait, stop! Stop! You’re going to get hurt, stay here, stop fighting me—”

“Let go,” Droidbait cries. “Let go, Attie—”

Echo grips his wrists tightly. He knocks their helmets together and Droidbait’s eyes finally focus, zeroing in on his brother. Echo is keeping him pinned down. They aren’t in cover, not really, just hunkered down in a very tiny ditch. It’s barely enough to keep them from being picked off. Echo is panting just as hard as Droidbait.

“They shot Attie,” Droidbait gasps, twisting in Echo’s grip. “Echo, they shot him—I have to go, we’ve got to—”

Echo draws in a sharp breath, swallowing audibly.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, and doesn’t loosen his hold. “I’m sorry, ‘Bait.”

Droidbait shakes his head.

“No,” he hisses, hysteria beginning to overwhelm him. “No, don’t say you’re sorry, he’s—he’s alright, he’ll be—” his voice cracks, so he shakes his head again. “No, Echo, please.”

He doesn’t know what he’s pleading for. For Echo to let him up, maybe, or for him to say that Attie’s fine. For him to get up and run to Attie’s side himself.

Echo doesn’t do any of those things. He just pants shallowly and presses them both more firmly into the dirt. He knows that the moment he lightens his grip Droidbait will try to run again, and he’s not wrong.

“Coric, how is he? Coric? Coric! Kriffing answer! CORIC!”

Coric doesn’t respond, and that’s all the answer they need. Whoever had been yelling lets out a wounded sound, then a snarl of anger.

“No,” Droidbait chokes out. “No, no…” A sob makes his chest lurch. A sniper round zips over Echo’s head, but the ARC doesn’t even flinch.

“I’m sorry,” Echo repeats. His voice sounds ragged, raw in a way Droidbait’s never heard it before. Sorrowful and half-shattered. “Stay here. Just stay here, ‘Bait. Look at me.”

Droidbait sobs again, but he keeps his eyes on Echo obediently.

Attie, Attie, Attie—

Fives’ voice sounds over the radio, breathless and enraged.

“Flak, this is Fives. How fast can you get here? We don’t need your guns, just the threat. We’re pinned down by snipers. If we can get them to stop firing at us for a few seconds, the Commander can get our men to safety and move closer to take them out.”

“I read you, Fives,” Flak responds. His playfulness from earlier is completely gone. “I’m close. ETA two minutes.”

They’re the longest two minutes of Droidbait’s life. He can do nothing but dig his fingers into the dirt and struggle to keep breathing through the stifling grief. Echo is right there with him, murmuring reassurances that still tremble ever-so-slightly as they pass his lips. Droidbait doesn’t comprehend them. His mind is stuck in a loop, replaying the moment over and over again—Attie jerks, and falls—

The roar of the gunship swooping low overhead rattles his teeth. Droidbait closes his eyes and listens as loose grit skitters across their armor again.

There is no death, there is the Force. There is no death, there is the Force. There is no death…

But it hurts. It hurts and Droidbait’s chest and throat and head all ache in more ways than one. It hurts and he wants it to stop.

He’s dimly aware of Fives’ idea progressing as planned. The snipers cease fire for a few moments while the gunship hovers above. It gives the Commander enough time to shove Coric and Del to safety. She disappears after that, and after a few minutes her voice sounds over their comlinks.

“Two snipers down. Two more left. They’re making a run for it, but—” a strange undertone suddenly enters her voice, like the growl of a predator. A sound distinctly Togrutan. “They won’t get far.”

Droidbait is so caught up in despair that he barely notices when Echo finally lets go of him. It’s only when Echo actually pulls him to his feet that he realizes he can move again. For an instant, he clings to the last dregs of his hope. He turns back towards where Attie had fallen, desperately wanting to see Attie sitting up, shaking his head in bewilderment and surprise—

Two of the conscious Teth survivors are tearing across the ground to get to their teammates. Coric is already there, but he’s sitting back, helmet off and head bowed. Someone’s comm is still on, so Echo and Droidbait hear the distressed gasp of agony Nax lets out when he dives to his knees at Attie’s side. Zeer lets out an almost inhuman growl, slamming his fist into the dirt.

“Nonono, Attie, come on, not now! Not after everything we’ve lived through, you can’t…!” Nax trails off, a choked noise sounding in the back of his throat.

It’s too late. It’s far too late.

Del is unconscious a few feet away from Coric. It hits Droidbait like a punch to the gut—Del doesn’t know yet. Del won’t know until he wakes up that one of his teammates is dead—

Oh, Force.

Coric turns his head, and the expression of horror and sorrow on his face is too much. Droidbait’s knees give out before he can go closer. He stays where he goes down, throat dry and limbs trembling.

Cutup and Hevy are huddled close together a respectful distance away from the Teth survivors. Fives is coming closer to Droidbait slowly, feet dragging against the ground. Echo is still at Droidbait’s side, watching in horrified silence. When Fives stops next to him, Droidbait opens his mouth.

“Did you… get used to this?” he asks hoarsely. Echo and Fives look down at him, and Droidbait is sort of glad he can’t see their faces. “Did this stop hurting, for you?”

Fives’ helmet drops like he’s looking at the ground.

“It doesn’t stop hurting,” he answers flatly. “But you do get used to it.”

Droidbait shivers, exhaling unsteadily. Force. Force, Attie’s…

The Commander emerges from the homes on the other side of the plaza. Her face crumples as she takes in the despairing scene.

Echo sighs heavily.

“Fives, go talk to her,” he urges. “Don’t let her think that it’s her fault.” Fives nods and heads towards her while she’s still frozen. Droidbait shudders and turns his gaze back to Attie.

Flak’s voice cuts through the hushed air.

“It’s time to go, gentleman,” he says gently. The gunship had landed on the edge of the open area, across from the temple. “The mission is over.”

Droidbait is glad he didn’t say ‘a success’. It’s not a success.

Zeer is cradling Attie’s head in his hands, seemingly oblivious to the blood staining his gloves. Nax is hunched over by Coric, and they’re all almost completely silent now, mourning. Droidbait’s heart clenches, and he can feel another sob starting to build in his chest.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

He watches as Coric takes a deep breath and puts his helmet back on. The medic gets to his feet, gesturing at Del’s unconscious body. He says something that Droidbait can’t quite make out. Zeer nods slowly, lowering Attie’s head back to the ground before he gets to his feet. The heavy gunner picks Del up with care, moving him gently towards the ship. Coric and Nax lift Attie’s body cautiously into the air. One of Attie’s arms dangles lifelessly until Nax notices and tucks it against Attie’s chest. The mechanic’s shoulders shake.

Attie is… dead.

Droidbait goes numb again as another wave of agony takes over. He looks away, struggling to control his breathing. His stomach heaves.

Echo puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Come on, Droidbait,” he whispers. “We’ve got to go.”

Droidbait nods mutely, but when he tries to stand up, he limbs don’t fully cooperate. He staggers, only staying on his feet because Echo wraps an arm around his shoulder.

There is no death, there is the Force. There is no death, there is the Force. His mind runs the phrase over and over again in a futile effort to make it stop hurting.

“Come on,” Echo prompts gently again. Droidbait shudders. He takes a few steps forwards, following the Teth survivors towards the gunship. He’s too exhausted and beaten to care about where he’s going, blindly following Echo’s little tugs.

Force, let this be a nightmare. Droidbait is trembling, he’d do anything, anything for this to be fake—

But he knows it’s not.

Attie is dead, and Droidbait doesn’t know what he’s going to do.

Chapter Text

The barracks are silent.

Echo remembers when he and Fives had come back from the Rishi Moon Outpost, another lifetime ago. The first night they had spent in the 501st’s barracks they’d barely spoken, too horrified and in shock to bother with words. It hadn’t felt right, to be able to enjoy life when the rest of Domino would never do so again. The empty spaces around them were as gaping and terrifying as black holes.

Attie’s absence is worse, somehow. It’s been almost five days, but it’s still just as bad as it had been the first day. His empty bunk only serves to make the silence heavier, weighing down on Beta squad’s shoulders like a physical force.

Echo is used to this. Even before he’d been taken by the Separatists, he and Fives had gone through plenty of losses like this. Brothers that were still young, still learning, still smiling despite the incessant marching of the droids—gunned down in an instant. It never does stop hurting, but Echo had learned to ignore the pain, or at least block most of it out.

It’s different this time. Echo doesn’t just hurt for Attie. He hurts for the rest of Beta, too. Beta squad, who are silent and listless and tired. Mourning. Attie had been bright, optimistic, energetic. Now that he’s gone, it’s as if he’d taken all remnants of his cheer with him.

No one cries, not anymore. Any tears that had been shed had happened on the first day. After that, there is just anger, and quiet mourning that no one has the courage to openly talk about.

Droidbait hasn’t said a single word since Beta had returned to the Resolute. Echo isn’t surprised he’s taking it so hard—this is the first time he’s had to go through something like this. He’d died first, in their original life, so he’s never experienced the loss of a close brother before. Echo wishes there was something more he could do to help, but the harsh reality is that there isn’t much he can do. He wishes it wasn’t like this, but… Droidbait has to learn.

He hates himself for thinking like that, even though it’s true. If Droidbait can’t learn to deal with the pain, he won’t survive. The war will tear him apart.

It’s foolish to think that they’ll get through this without any more casualties.

For now, Echo focuses on getting Droidbait to function. He reacts to others, but he remains silent no matter what any of Beta says. Sometimes when he eats or trains, the movement appears mechanical, as if he’s simply going through the motions. Those are the worst days, when Droidbait zones out and barely sees what’s right in front of him.

Hevy and Cutup are doing a little better, but they’re still shaken. Disbelieving, still looking around every so often as if they’re expecting to wake up and see Attie standing over them with a mischievous grin. They have to learn, too, but they have more experience than Droidbait does.

Fives’ nightmares have gotten worse. He doesn’t cry out, but Echo wakes up sometimes because he hears the other ARC pacing in the dead of the night, struggling to even out his breathing. Sometimes Fives is successful at calming himself and goes back to bed. Other times he isn’t, and spends the rest of the night sitting at the table in the dark, watching and listening to the steady breathing of their brothers. On the nights when Echo hears him, they’ll sit together, but Echo knows there are times when Fives is more careful about being quiet. Fives refuses to talk about it afterwards, and Echo leaves him be. He understands better than anyone why Fives doesn’t want to admit to the weakness.

If Domino squad is taking the loss badly, the Teth survivors are taking it worse.

The Teth survivors are close. As close as Domino is, practically; they’d banded together in mutual loss to support each other in the face of painful grief. Teth had broken them all, but they’d been able to build something powerful out of their shattered pieces.

Attie’s death is more than enough to destroy what they’d tried so hard to repair.

Nax’s snarky comments and sly grins are long gone. He isn’t completely silent like Droidbait is, but he’s subdued. His voice is soft, and there’s a perpetual slump to his shoulders. He’s been taking apart and reassembling his datapad over and over again in his free time, eyes staring blankly into space as his hands move. Like Droidbait, sometimes he zones out, motions growing mechanical as he gets stuck in memories.

Coric has thrown himself into his work. Echo’s barely seen the medic since the mission because he’s taking so many shifts at the medbay. When Coric returns from his shift, late in the middle of the sleep cycle, he crashes for four hours and then wakes up to go right back to the medbay. It’s keeping him distracted, but he won’t be able to keep it up for long.

Zeer… well. Beta squad is giving him a bit of a wide berth. Two days after the Ryloth mission he’d disappeared for nearly twelve hours, only returning to the barracks once the sleep cycle had begun. Little crimson droplets had dripped from his bloodied knuckles as he’d walked back in, leaving a trail of red on the floor. When Coric had returned from his shift that night, he’d marched towards Zeer with a wad of bandages in hand and a determined look on his face. Zeer hadn’t even let him get close. He’d snarled at the medic when Coric made a futile effort to convince him that his hands needed to be looked at.  Zeer had bandaged his hands himself that night, clumsily and without anyone’s help. No one had the courage to ask him where he’d been or what he’d been doing.

Echo is in the mess hall on the fifth day since Attie was killed with Fives and Droidbait when Nax slides into the seat next to him, gently setting down his tray.

“Echo…” Nax begins. “Have you seen Del since this morning?”

Echo frowns and shakes his head. Nax sighs.

“Alright,” he says slowly. “He’s probably just running drills somewhere, or something.”

Echo gives him a sharp look. “Want me to go find him?”

The fact that Nax hesitates isn’t a good sign. Del had acted… detached, once he’d woken up. Emotionless, even. He’d taken the news without so much as a flinch, and hasn’t said a single word on the subject since. Beta has been very concerned for him, but no one has had the courage to confront the sergeant, too caught up in their own grief to be able to help another.

Echo gets to his feet.

“I’ll be back,” he announces, catching Fives’ gaze and shooting a meaningful glance at Droidbait. Watch him, he signs quickly. “I’m going to make sure Del’s alright.”

Nax breathes out a sigh. “Good,” he mutters. “Good, yeah, thanks.” Echo takes a second to place a comforting hand on the mechanic’s shoulder before he leaves.

He doesn’t know where Del is, not for certain, but he has a pretty good idea of where the sergeant might be. On a hunch, Echo makes his way down to the shooting range. This time, his intuition is correct.

Del is the only one there, at the very end of the range. He’s emptying round after round into the targets across the room, and doesn’t even seem to notice Echo’s approach. His helmet is on, so Echo can’t see his expression.

For a few long minutes, Echo waits and watches. Del isn’t even really aiming at the targets. He’s just firing, mindlessly going through the motions of swapping out the plasma cartridges and repositioning the rifle. The wall he’s aiming towards is blackened. When Echo finally clears his throat, Del’s finger pauses on the trigger, but he doesn’t turn.

“I’ll be there in a minute, Nax,” he says. Echo tilts his head.

“I’m not Nax.”

Del lets out an exhale that sounds much louder than it should. He fires again—twelve consecutive bursts of laser fire that hit the center of the target, like he’s trying to make up for his lack of control earlier now that he has an audience. Echo chooses not to comment and waits, listening to Del’s quiet panting. After a long moment, Del sighs.

“I knew it was going to happen eventually,” he says quietly. Echo doesn’t reply, just nods and tilts his head to show that he’s listening. It’s time to talk about this. Del slowly lowers his rifle.

“I knew there wasn’t a chance we’d all last until the end of the war,” Del continues in a monotone voice. “They just—we lasted longer than I thought, so I forgot that.” His body is stiff, muscles locked in place. “I forgot that Teth was just the first of many tragedies to come.”

Echo closes his eyes for a moment in understanding. A clatter makes him open them again. Del has dropped his rifle and is half-stumbling towards a little bench by the wall. Echo surges forwards to lend a hand, but Del waves him off. When he sits down heavily on the bench, Echo sits carefully next to him and watches as the sergeant tears his helmet off. He drops it to the floor unceremoniously, and they both listen as the sound reverberates around the now silent range.

“I’m sorry,” Echo tries, a little uncertain as of how to proceed. Del huffs.

“I know you are,” he replies. He’s attempting to sound nonchalant. “You five were just as close to him as we were. Droidbait, he—is he going to be alright?”

Echo considers lying, but decides against it. “I don’t know,” he answers, then presses a little more: “Are you going to be alright?”

Del goes quiet again. His expression turns hard, and the deep stress lines carved into his face stand out starkly against his skin.

“I will be,” he finally answers. “I have to be. I still have a squad to look after.”

For a moment, Echo just looks at him—looks at the way Del’s hands shake ever so slightly, at the way his shoulders are hunched despite his words.

“That’s true, but you don’t have to look after them yet,” Echo says carefully. “You know just as well as I do that even the best men need time after something like this.”

Del sucks in a sharp breath. His fists clench.

“I did the best I could after Teth,” he admits. “I took men who had lost all of their brothers—their families, and somehow managed to keep them all from falling apart. We made a new family. Attie… Attie was our heart and soul. It’s—it’s not something I’ll be able to recover from, if I start thinking about it. So it’s better to not think about it.”

“Avoiding the subject isn’t going to help you,” Echo tells him, a raw truth that had taken Echo himself ages and ARC training to learn. “It may seem easier now, but it will hurt much more later.” You know this, he almost adds, then holds his tongue at the last moment. This isn’t the first time Del's had to deal with this, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy. “Del, you’ve got to let it out. You won’t be able to keep the rest of your men safe if you’re constantly distracted by your own guilt.”

It’s a low blow, but a necessary one. Del flinches at his words, trembling. When he finally speaks again, his voice wavers.

“I should have been there,” he whispers. “If I hadn’t been injured, he wouldn’t—they wouldn’t have broken cover, they would have stayed safe. Force. It’s all my fault. It’s all —”

“It’s not,” Echo interrupts calmly. His voice is steady even though his heart aches. “If it hadn’t been you, it would have been Nax. Or Cutup. Or Fives, or Zeer. Any one of us could have been behind the fountain that got hit, Del. I was injured, too, remember? If we follow your logic, it’s my fault just as much as it is yours.”

“If I had been awake, maybe I would have seen the sniper before—”

“Everyone was awake but you, and none of us saw the sniper,” Echo says gently. “Del. It isn’t your fault. It’s no one’s fault but the Separatists. You’ve got to understand that, or you’ll never be able to recover from this.”

Del hesitates. He swallows hard, and tilts his head back against the wall so he’s looking at the high ceiling above them. “Attie didn’t deserve it,” he says weakly. “He should have— kriff. Why’d it have to be him?”

Echo puts a hand on his shoulder. Del shudders beneath the touch.

Echo doesn’t know a lot of things, but he does know how to comfort a grieving brother. He’d done it plenty of times before he’d died the first time, and he’s been comforted himself by Domino squad several times now. He takes a deep breath and patiently listens to Del’s anguished voice as he finally takes the time to mourn.

“He didn’t deserve it,” Del whispers breathlessly, again and again and again until the words don’t even sound like words, just noise and syllables that bleed together without meaning. Echo sits with Del until his legs are prickling from holding still for so long and Del’s voice grows hoarse from cursing the Separatists and the Kaminoans and the whole kriffing galaxy for the unjustness of it all.

Echo tries to imagine how it would feel to lose one of Domino again.

He can’t do it, and that scares him more than anything else.

Things start to get a little better, after Del re-engages himself with reality. Not by much, because Attie is still gone, but with their leader somewhat stabilized the rest of Beta start pulling themselves together.

They have to, after all. They’ve gone six days without deployment now, which is unusual, even though they’ve just lost a man. War doesn’t stop for grief. It’s a small mercy that Captain Rex hasn’t sent them back out again. They weren’t stable enough for active combat in the days after the mission. Now, Echo has some confidence that they could handle another assignment if necessary.

It would be rough, but they could do it. Fives and Echo could pick up the slack, and Hevy and Cutup are mostly recovered. They could also help.

‘Bait… is not recovered. Echo hadn’t expected him to be. He still hasn’t said a word to anyone, though he does sign something sluggishly at Fives during dinner later that evening. Echo doesn’t quite catch the movement in time to see what he says. By the time Echo turns, Droidbait is already lowering his hands. In answer to whatever he’d signed Fives just shrugs and signs I don’t know back at Droidbait. There’s a split second of silence as Droidbait regards his answer, and then Droidbait abruptly sets down his fork. There’s a half disbelieving, half furious look on his face.

“It’ll be alright, Droidbait—” Fives tries to say, but Droidbait shakes his head silently and gets to his feet. He leaves them there, marching out of the mess without looking back. Echo rounds on Fives.

“The kriff did he ask you?”

Fives winces. “He asked if the Captain was going to find a man to replace Attie. I told him I didn’t know, but to him it was practically confirmation.”

Echo’s heart clenches.

“Oh,” he says. He glances up at Droidbait’s half-eaten food. “He probably will, you know.”

“Yeah,” Fives replies. “He’ll have to be careful about it, though. Beta won’t just accept anyone. They were too close for that. If he picks the wrong brother, it’ll just make things worse.”

“It might make things worse regardless,” Echo mutters. “Del can handle someone new now. So can Nax, I think, but Coric and Zeer might have some trouble. Droidbait’s going to have a hard time no matter who it is, I suspect.”

“Is there anything we can do for him?” Fives asks. “I know he’s got to learn, but there has to be something we can do to help.”

“I would normally say we should get him to talk to us, but I don’t think that’s going to work this time, considering he’s not talking at all,” Echo says.

“We could take him to the training deck and help him blow something up?”

“That would work for you, but not him. I… I don’t know how to help him, Fives. I really don’t.”

Fives lets out a sigh and seems to deflate with it, shoulders slumping.

“So, we wait, then,” he says in frustration. “But what happens if we wait too long?”

Echo shakes his head. He doesn’t know.

When Echo and Fives return to the barracks that a few minutes later, it is to find Nax and Coric sitting cross-legged on the floor next to a large, industrial crate of Naboo candy, passing a bottle of moonshine between them. They are the only ones in the room, and neither of them react when Echo crouches down next to them.

 “Where did you get that?” Echo asks softly. Coric shrugs as he passes the illegal liquor to Nax, staring up at the ceiling.

“Attie isn’t the only brother in the smuggling business,” he claims softly. His words are still clear, if a little slow. Echo doesn’t know how long they’ve been at it, but Coric has obviously done this before. Other than a slightly glossy look in his eyes, he seems unchanged. Nax, on the other hand, sways even though he’s sitting. Echo plucks the bottle from the mechanic’s hand before he can take another swig. Nax lets out a little grunt of annoyance, but he doesn’t actually protest, instead reaching into the box of candies to pull out a handful of colorful sweets.

Fives eyes the confiscated bottle and the cloudy liquid swirling inside. “Coric…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Coric snaps suddenly. He waves a hand in a large, uncontrolled gesture. “I’m a medic, you don’t need to tell me how unhealthy it is. I get it, alright?”

“Then why resort to it at all?”

“I just thought—” Coric starts, then cuts himself off. He lowers his head and covers his face with his hands. A strange laugh comes from deep in his chest, but there’s so much bitterness in the sound that Echo barely recognizes it. “Kriff. Ah, kriff, he hated it when we drank.”

Nax is popping candies into his mouth one by one and tossing the crinkled wrappers at Fives’ shins. He’s way more out of it than Coric. “Thought it would help,” he mumbles. “That was stupid, though. Tasted gross. Don’t feel any better.”

“Talking about these things helped us the first time, after Teth,” Coric tells Echo quietly. “But we had to… loosen up first, then. It’s even harder to talk about it this time.”

Echo shakes the bottle, listening as the alcohol sloshes against the sides. “And you thought this would help? It’s only going to make things worse. Forgetting for a few hours isn’t going to change anything.”

“I thought it would help after you died,” Fives whispers in his ear. Echo jumps, twisting to look at his brother and jerking again when Fives’ face is inches from his own to ensure the others won’t hear. “It didn’t. Was never enough, you know? It didn’t do anything but make me more depressed.”

“What?” Coric says, squinting at them. Fives takes a step back.

“Last time I lost a close brother, I tried something like this,” he says louder, poking at the bottle in Echo’s hands. “The Captain caught me three sips in and nearly yelled himself hoarse.”

Echo blinks in alarm, almost turning to stare incredulously at Fives before he aborts the motion. That’s a statement that will definitely raise some questions. They wouldn’t have had a Captain before joining the 501st, because they’d supposedly reported directly to Shaak Ti. Fortunately Coric and Nax are just drunk enough that they don’t catch the inconsistency.  

“No more alcohol,” Echo says firmly, hiding his sigh of relief. It says a lot that neither of the Teth survivors protest. “It’s not going to help, and the demerit isn’t worth it. If you need an outlet, we’ll talk, or we’ll go to the sparring rings.”

“Yes, mom,” Nax mumbles. Coric smacks him in the chest. Fives snorts. Echo rolls his eyes.

Coric suddenly blinks, and his hazy gaze focuses in on Echo.

“You said we can talk? Let’s talk,” he says. “Let’s talk about him. Can we?”

“Of course,” Echo answers. He moves from a crouch to being fully seated on the ground in between them. “If you think it will help you, we’ll talk.”

“We’ve avoided it for too long,” Coric points out, shifting awkwardly to the side to make room for Fives to join the circle. “We—we might as well talk about it. About him.”

Echo is prepared to listen to something similar to what Del had talked about, but Coric doesn’t rage or rant or place the blame like his sergeant had. Coric just wants to tell stories, things that he remembers from Attie’s life—his little quirks, his advice, his jokes. Nax is content to listen, humming every so often in agreement as Coric rambles on, barely aware of his audience once he starts talking.

Everyone is going to deal with this differently. Coric, Nax, and Del can cope by talking. That’s enough for them, somehow. It won’t be enough for Zeer or Droidbait. They need something else before they can be fully recovered. This, though, this is a good start. They can work with this.

Everyone is starting to improve. It’s slow, but progress is progress, and even a tiny bit is enough for Echo right now.

The next morning around midday is the first time they’ve seen Commander Tano since Ryloth. She hadn’t been quite as lucky as them—she’s needed for air support, even if she’s emotionally compromised. Technically Jedi can’t be emotionally compromised… or at least that’s what the Jedi Council likes to claims. No attachments, or whatever. Echo thinks it’s all a load of poodoo, especially for a Jedi padawan, but it’s not like anyone would care to hear his thoughts.

Echo, Fives, Nax, Del, Cutup, and Hevy are up and about, preparing to head over to the range for some practice. Zeer had wandered out hours ago as usual, and Droidbait, surprisingly, had gone with him. Whether or not they were headed to the same place, Echo doesn’t know.

Beta squad is just about to exit the barracks when the Commander herself comes careening around the corner, nearly smacking right into Del as she darts into the room. Del lets out a surprised sound, twisting so that she doesn’t crash into him.

“Ah—Commander?”

Commander Tano is panting hard, and her eyes are wide. Beta squad peers at her in surprise. Echo takes a step forwards, staring at her in confusion.

“Sir, are you—?”

“It’s Zeer,” Commander Tano blurts out, and Beta freezes. Echo’s heart skips a beat. “You guys need to come with me, now. Captain Rex is handling it, but he won’t—”

“Wait, what?” Nax yelps. “What’s wrong with Zeer? Is he alright? Kriff, kriff —”

Commander Tano shakes her head. “He’s—he’s fine, but it’s… it’s hard to explain. I don’t know, I was coming down here anyway when Captain Rex called and he said he either needed me or Beta and since I was close I thought I should come and get you then Droidbait said he’d go ahead—”

“Wait, Droidbait said what? ” Cutup says incredulously.

“Commander, where?” Del interrupts. “Where are they?”

She turns towards him.

“The gym,” she answers breathlessly. “The gym, and Rex said to hurry—”

Del is already gone, and wordlessly, the rest of Beta follows. Commander Tano falls into step behind them, and they sprint down the hall towards the training center.

It isn’t hard to find Zeer, but it is hard to get close enough to see him, because there’s a crowd of brothers clustered around the training mats. Beta squad tries to push their way to the front, but their brothers are too transfixed by whatever’s happening to really pay attention. It’s only when the Commander starts to push her way through that the men notice and part so that Beta can finally get a good look at what’s going on.

Zeer and Captain Rex are squaring off in the center of the mat, circling each other warily. Neither of them are in armor. Echo’s eyes widen at the sight. Zeer looks… unhinged. There’s something wild in the man’s gaze, something dangerous, uncontrolled. He’s limping slightly as he moves, and there’s a massive bruise on his cheek. Captain Rex, on the other hand, seems perfectly composed. His eyes are narrowed and his fists are up in preparation  There’s something sad in his expression, almost understanding. His lips are moving. Echo has to strain to make out what he’s saying.

“... going to help you, or your team?” the Captain asks softly. “You can’t keep doing this, Zeer. You’re done. Give it up.”

“I’m not done,” Zeer snarls. “I’m not.” Echo sees it coming, and by the shift of his body, so does Rex. Zeer charges suddenly, both fists lashing out in a brutal double handed blow. Captain Rex whips himself to the side to avoid it and slips inside Zeer’s guard. He delivers a quick jab to Zeer’s ribs that makes Zeer hiss out a curse.

Echo has never seen Zeer like this before. Their quieter brother has a temper, and everyone knows it, but he’s also very good at staying in control. Zeer is always careful. He’s aware of his own strength and works hard to keep it in check.

This isn’t right. Now Zeer is fury and untamed fire and frustration. He’s attacking with mindless, misplaced wrath, leaving himself open and vulnerable to Rex’s precise movements. The sheer strength of his attacks are enough to get a few hits in on the Captain, but Rex’s mind is clear. Echo can practically see the haze of angry fog around Zeer’s mind, heavy and cloying enough to drive their brother to desperation.

The fight turns brutal in an instant. Zeer strikes with bone-shattering force, losing himself to his emotions. Rex is holding back, dodging more than attacking, but not even he can last against that forever. One of Zeer’s hands manages to wrap around Rex’s forearm, who can’t shake him off in time without doing serious damage. If this had been a real fight, he probably would have broken Zeer’s arm. Regardless, Zeer flings him to the floor, and the assembled clones wince in at the sound of the impact. Behind Echo, Fives lets out a surprised curse.

Echo wishes he had more context for this, because he still doesn’t really know what’s going on. Why is Zeer here? Why is Rex here? Why isn’t anyone running forward to help? The temptation to step forwards is strong, and he almost does it—but then a brother steps in front of him.

“Don’t,” Droidbait says. It’s the first word Echo’s heard him say in days, and despite the spectacle in front of him his heart skips a beat.

“Bait, what’s going on?” he asks softly. Instead of answering, Droidbait turns to look at Del. Echo follows his gaze. Both Nax and Del are completely silent, faces grim. Echo blinks.

“Shouldn’t we stop this?” he murmurs. On the mat, Captain Rex rolls to his feet and kicks out as Zeer tries to tackle him. His foot catches Zeer in the stomach, and the Teth survivor goes stumbling back. Del shakes his head.

“This isn’t the first time something like this has happened,” he answers. “We saw it happen after Teth, too. What the Captain is doing is… for the best.”

That doesn’t answer any of Echo’s questions.

Nax lets out a breath and turns to Hevy and Cutup, who are hanging back a little. “Help me clear the room,” he tells them quietly. “The others don’t need to see this.” The three of them start to spread out, speaking gently to the gathered brothers. It’s not long before the other clones are beginning to file out, shooting glances over their shoulders as they leave.

When Echo glances back at the fight, Captain Rex has gained the advantage. He’s surely but steadily pushing Zeer towards the edge of the mats, and he’s finally gotten more aggressive, hitting with hard elbows and knees.

Captain Rex is a master of close-quarters-combat. Once he gains the upper hand, he presses until Zeer is completely on the defensive. It isn’t long before he has his opponent backed into the corner of the mats. Zeer seems unwilling to step out of bounds. Some part of his hazy mind is still engaged, seeing this as some sort of ridiculous training exercise.

Now that the room is empty, Echo can hear everything much clearer. The room is filled with the sounds of Zeer’s growls and harsh breathing. Beta squad watches in stunned silence as the combatives get fiercer, as Zeer grows more desperate and Captain Rex more determined. Zeer throws a massive punch that Captain Rex ducks under to shove both hands into Zeer’s chest. The motion throws Zeer off balance. While he’s still reeling, Captain Rex darts forwards again, lashing out with an impressive kick that Echo knows for a fact he’d learned from Commander Cody. His foot catches Zeer in the side of the head. Zeer goes staggering. It’s a simple thing, after landing such a devastating hit, for Captain Rex to catch Zeer in the face with a fist and send him crashing to the floor.

“You’re done,” Captain Rex says in between breaths. “Zeer, stay down. You’re done.”

Zeer groans and starts to drag himself up. Everyone tenses, and Rex’s gaze sharpens.

“Zeer, don’t make me do this,” he mutters. “What are you doing, brother? I know you’re grieving, but running yourself ragged isn’t fixing anything.”

“I don’t care,” Zeer snarls, and tries to lunge to his feet. Rex tackles him before he can get very far, and Echo winces when Zeer’s head hits the ground. The mats are softer than the floor, but it still hurts.

“Yield,” Rex demands. He grapples with Zeer for a few moments, and when Zeer only struggles harder Rex twists them around so that Zeer is trapped on his chest with one arm pinned tightly behind his back.

“Yield,” Rex orders again. Zeer tries to thrash, but Rex holds him fast. A sharp intake of air from behind him makes Echo glance back, and he sees Commander Tano shaking her head, turning away. There is a look of guilt on her face. Echo almost reaches out to her, but before he can do so Droidbait beats him to it, sliding into place at her side and putting a tentative hand on her shoulder.

Del starts to move closer to the mats. Nax follows him, but Domino hangs back. It isn’t quite right for them to get close yet.

“Zeer, that’s enough,” Del says gently. Captain Rex glances up at the two Teth survivors as they approach, an unreadable expression on his face. “You’ve got to calm down.” Zeer goes rigid at Del’s voice, freezing underneath Rex. Echo can only see half of his face, since the rest of his head is shoved into the floor, but he can still make out the expression of helplessness and misery that flashes across the clone’s face. Del and Nax go closer, and they lower their voices so that Echo can’t make out their words. That’s alright. This is becoming something private now, something that Echo feels like they shouldn’t watch. He looks towards the Commander and Droidbait next to him instead of attempting to eavesdrop.

“What happened?” he asks quietly. Droidbait is frowning heavily. Commander Tano sighs.

“From what I understand, Zeer’s been coming here almost every day since… since Ryloth, training until he dropped, practically. Captain Rex came in and saw, and he didn’t like that. Except, when he ordered Zeer to stop, Zeer just got more aggressive.”

“Rex was trying to make sure he didn’t hurt himself more,” Fives mutters. “What Zeer’s been doing is unhealthy. When Zeer challenged him, Rex saw an opportunity to stop him. Blast it, we should have realized what was happening sooner. I’ve seen things like this before.”

“Force,” Cutup mutters. Echo turns to look at him, alarmed by the shock in Cutup’s voice. “That was ridiculous.”

“It’s kind of like Coric was doing,” Hevy points out quietly. “He was trying to drown it out by working until he couldn’t think.”

Echo glances over to see that Rex has finally released Zeer from the armlock, and is slowly getting to his feet. Zeer sits up, but he doesn’t go anywhere—instead, Nax and Del press closer to him, still quietly talking him down.

“Will he be alright?” Commander Tano asks worriedly. Echo sighs.

“Eventually,” he answers. She takes a deep breath and nods as Captain Rex makes his way over. Domino starts to straighten to attention as he approaches, but he waves them off. He’s walking slowly, one hand cradled protectively over his ribs—Zeer had gotten a few good hits in.

“Sir… thank you,” Echo says to him, because he doesn’t know what else to say.

“No thanks necessary,” Rex responds. He sweeps his gaze over Domino carefully. “You’re my responsibility, my men. If I couldn’t spare the time to do this, I wouldn’t be worthy of my position.”

“All the same, sir, thank you,” Cutup says. “He’s been isolating himself since Ryloth. I think… I think he’ll be a little better now.”

Captain Rex nods. “A little,” he confirms. “But not completely. None of them will be better for a while. I hope you’ve realized that.” Domino collectively nods.

“We’ve been doing our best to help, sir,” Fives says. “They’re starting to recover. It’ll take time, but they’ll get there.”

Rex nods in approval. He catches Echo and Fives with a meaningful gaze.

“Keep an eye on them all,” he orders—there’s no mistaking the tone, it’s an order. “They’ve been through more and lost more than any clone deserves to. Help them when you can.” He sounds protective. Echo remembers that Rex has probably known the Teth survivors since they were first assigned to the 501st. They’re all that remains of Rex’s original Torrent Company. It makes sense that he’d be protective.

“Yes, sir,” Echo and Fives say in tandem.

“Thank you,” Rex says. He glances back at the Teth survivors. “I wish I could stay longer and help, but I’ve got to get to the bridge.” His eyes land on Droidbait, and his gaze softens. “How are you holding up, Droidbait?”

Droidbait lifts his head. For a moment, Echo thinks he isn’t going to speak—until Droidbait’s lips curve upwards in a tiny, sorrowful smile.

“I’ll be alright, sir,” he answers quietly. Echo relaxes at the sound of his voice. Fives lets out what sounds like a sigh of relief, too.

“Good,” Rex says kindly. He sets a gentle hand on Droidbait’s shoulder comfortingly for a moment before he draws away. “I’m sorry, men. I—”

“It’s alright if you need to leave, sir,” Echo tells him. “We can take care of this. Do what you need to.” Rex looks frustrated for a moment. He so obviously wants to stay and help stabilize his men, but he’s spent too much time here already. Rex is needed to help continue organizing the Ryloth strikes, and he can’t waste any more time.

“I’m counting on you,” their Captain finally says. He aims a salute at Commander Tano. “Commander…?”

“Tell my master I’ll be there in a minute,” Commander Tano says firmly. “I have to take care of something first.” Echo’s eyebrows shoot up—what is she talking about? Captain Rex just nods at her as he hurries for the door, and then Beta squad is alone with their Commander.

Echo takes a deep breath and looks at the Togruta guiltily. He’d been so caught up in their own grief and recovery that he’d forgotten about her after they’d returned to the ship. He’d told Fives to remind her that it wasn’t her fault on Ryloth, but he’d hadn’t attempted to follow up and make sure she was okay. He opens his mouth, but before he can even try to speak, she beats him to it.

“I’m alright,” she says. Echo glances at Fives and realizes that he hadn’t been the only one about to ask that. “It took me a few days, but then… I talked to my master, and I was talking to Droidbait. They both helped me to understand a lot of things.”

It’s both a good thing and a bad thing that she’s able to say that. As horrible as it sounds, part of Echo had hoped that maybe she’d still be shaken by what had happened—evidence of innocence, of a normal mindset. She’s learning fast, though—between what had happened with her pilots and now this, she’s already training herself to look at things from a warrior’s perspective. Ryloth has taught her a lot of things that Echo almost wishes she didn’t have to know. She deserves better than to be corrupted by the harsh realities of war, but at the same time… they need her. The Republic needs her.

Kriff, if that isn’t messed up.

He pulls himself out of his thoughts to remember what Commander Tano had said and sends a surprised look at Droidbait, who shrugs as if it’s no big deal. So that’s where he’d disappeared to this morning. Echo’s heart swells with pride.

“It helped us both,” Droidbait murmurs, and that’s three times today. Echo smiles. He’s recovering, and he’s helping Commander Tano recover, too.

Across the room, Nax and Del are pulling Zeer to his feet. Zeer looks exhausted. He lurches unsteadily when he stands. Commander Tano turns towards them as they approach, hovering around Zeer as they walk.

“Are you alright, Zeer?” she asks carefully. Zeer looks surprised to be addressed. It takes him a moment to find words to respond.

“I… yes, sir.” He takes a deep breath, wincing as he does so. “Sir, I’m… I’m sorry, I don’t know what—”

She waves a hand to cut him off.

“Zeer, you don’t have to apologize. I understand.”

Zeer lowers his eyes to the floor in shame despite her words. All the fight has drained out of him. Whatever Del and Nax had been telling him was enough to get him back to normal.

“All the same, sir,” he says quietly. “I made a spectacle of my anger and injured the Captain. If you see fit to punish me, I won’t protest.”

Commander Tano smiles at him. It catches him off guard again.

“I think a day’s rest in the medical wing is punishment enough,” she says lightly. “Coric is bound to yell at you, anyway, and that’s pretty bad as it is.” Zeer winces. She’s not wrong. She continues, a little more seriously: “Zeer… just promise me one thing. Don’t do this again. I won’t have my squad injuring themselves, understand? Please. There are better ways to cope.”

Zeer swallows. “Yes, Commander. It won’t happen again.”

“Thank you,” she says, sincerity making her voice ring. “To the medical bay, then. You’re hurt.”

Del and Nax keep one hand each on Zeer’s shoulders as they start to walk. After a moment, Echo makes a quick decision and steps closer behind them, putting a hand on Zeer’s back in silent support. He thinks for a second that he’s made a mistake. Zeer tenses. Echo almost draws back, but Zeer relaxes as suddenly as he’d stiffened. Del glances back and nods approvingly, so Echo keeps his hand there. Grounding him. Reminding Zeer that he isn’t alone.

Piece by piece, Beta squad is repairing itself.

“There is no death, there is the Force,” Droidbait whispers very, very softly as they walk, and Echo inhales slowly.

The Force brought them here. He sees no reason to doubt the famous Jedi saying.

Even if Attie is gone, he’s still with them in spirit. The Force will make sure of that.

The next morning, news comes in from the front that General Windu and his men have successfully taken Ryloth’s capital and captured Watt Tambor.

Echo tries not to be disappointed that they didn’t kill him and fails miserably. It’s out of his hands, and he struggles somewhat successfully to keep it out of his mind, too. In the first timeline, Tambor was eventually released during a prisoner exchange, but that won’t happen for a long time. Echo clings to the hope that they’ll be able to change things before that happens.

He still wants revenge, but he needs to keep his brothers safe more. His priorities are set in stone, and not even Tambor will convince him to change them.

The campaign is over. It happened sooner than Echo remembers, and he wonders if the 501st’s more in-depth involvement had something to do with it.

They’re given access to the tubs of 501st blue paint once the fighting finally dies down to touch up their armor. Echo especially has scratches all across his armor from the shards of rock that had pelted him when the droid blew up the fountain. It takes him a long time to do touch-ups, repairing the stripes on his helmet and the handprint on his chest. Hevy doesn’t have that much to fix, but he’s drawing more spirals of flame across his gauntlets. Cutup hadn’t lost or scratched any of his markings, but he’s making them darker, more recognizable, clearing off the dust. Fives is adding more detail on his Rishi eel.

Droidbait only gets two tally marks from Ryloth, and he makes them thick, jagged slashes along the side of his helmet. To remember, he signs quietly when he notices Echo watching him (just because he’s feeling well enough to talk now doesn’t mean he always wants to). He also adds a tiny blue shape on his shoulder that Echo doesn’t recognize until he moves closer—it’s the tiny outline of one of those candies Attie used to hand out, the ones from Naboo. Beta squad likes it so much that they all copy him, so that the little sweet is somewhere on everyone’s armor in honor of their fallen brother.

 Captain Rex finds his way to their barracks later that evening. Echo assumes he wants to check up on them, which is true—but Rex also brings another clone with them, whose armor is covered in gorgeous blue swirls that remind Echo of smoke.

“Tipper!” Cutup greets in excitement when they first walk in. He waves to his friend enthusiastically before he connects the dots to realize why Tipper is there. Then he goes quiet, and his eyes widen in surprise.

Rex meets Del’s suddenly neutral gaze carefully, and they all wait with baited breath to hear what he has to say.

“I know this is far from an ideal situation,” Captain Rex begins. “I understand that you’re still grieving for Attie, but your squad is a man short.”

Echo casts a quick glance at Droidbait, who has frozen with a blank expression on his face. He remembers a few days earlier, how Droidbait had stormed out of the mess once Fives had confirmed that Attie would be replaced. How is he going to take this?

“Tipper lost his entire squad because of the virus on Naboo,” Rex continues. “I’ve been moving him between squads in Wave trying to find a spot for him, but I think he’d fit into Torrent Company much better. What would you say to that?”

Beta technically has no right to refuse. Rex is their commanding officer, after all. The fact that he’s giving them a choice at all means a lot.

Del takes a deep breath and exchanges a glance with Nax and Zeer. Zeer, surprisingly, nods first. It takes Nax a second longer, but he nods as well. Coric doesn’t nod, just looks at Del meaningfully. Whatever Del wants, Coric will agree with. Del’s gaze skims over Echo, Fives, and Hevy. He takes in Cutup’s growing excitement, then looks at Droidbait.

For a long moment, no one moves. Droidbait stares at Tipper carefully, who shuffles nervously under the stare.

“I’d rather it be him than someone I don’t know,” Droidbait finally says, and Beta breathes a sigh of relief.

“It’s settled, then,” Captain Rex says. He sounds pleased. “Tipper will be transferred to Beta squad, Torrent Company. Any objections?”

No one says anything, so Cutup lets out a cheer. Echo grins.

Tipper is a smart choice. As Cutup’s friend, he has good relationships with many of Beta from that time when he’d paid them a visit to teach the Commander how to play sabacc. On top of that, he’s already served with the Commander, who trusts him from their time on Naboo.

Tipper is grinning at Cutup, and he makes a little aborted motion as if he wants to go greet his friend before restraining himself. He salutes Del nervously instead.

“Sir… if you don’t want me here, that’s fine. I—I don’t want to replace him.”

Tipper had known Attie, too, after all.

Del shakes his head and offers Tipper a smile. “It’s alright,” he says. “Welcome to Beta squad, Tipper.” Tipper’s shoulders slump in relief.

“Calm down, kid,” Fives says gruffly, coming closer to slug Tipper’s shoulder in greeting. “We’re glad you’re here.” It’s true, Echo realizes, for all of them, even Droidbait. Tipper is a friend, and despite everything it’s good to have him joining them.

Beta squad is going to be alright. Their wounds are mending. Rex is pushing them, by adding Tipper to their squad, but it’s a calculated risk that Echo suspects will work out for the better.

As Cutup practically bounds over to greet his old friend, Echo smiles. This is going to work out. They’re going to be okay.

Now it’s time to start looking forward again. After all, the Republic isn’t going to save itself.

Chapter Text

“CT-5555, right?”

Fives glances up from his gun, letting the rag he’d been using to wipe it down sag in his fingers. There’s a clone in naval greys standing in the doorway to the barracks, holding a datapad in hand and staring at him expectantly.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Fives confirms, working to keep his sudden suspicion out of his tone. “I prefer Fives, though.” He eyes the military bars on the clone’s shoulder and frowns when he recognizes the color scheme as one unique to communications officers. What is this about? Fives is… relatively certain he hasn’t done anything incriminating recently, for once.

All around him, the rest of Beta have begun to raise their heads. Nax sets his datapad down on the table, not even bothering to hide his curiosity. Del had been trying to take a nap and is a little more surreptitious about it, barely raising his head from his pillow. Zeer arches an eyebrow. Tipper, Cutup, and Hevy are clustered around Cutup’s bed and had been discussing something, but they’ve since fallen silent. Echo, seated next to Fives, goes tense. On his other side, Droidbait tilts his head.

“Right then, Fives,” the communications officer says. “We just received a transmission specifically asking after you and a couple of your men—uh, CT-782, 4040, 2010, and 0408. Sorry, I wasn’t given their names.”

Fives relaxes just a bit at that. The Comm officer seems genuinely apologetic, and while that doesn’t necessarily mean anything, it puts Fives a little more at ease.

He gets to his feet slowly, aware of the rest of Domino forming up around him in silent support. All of their numbers had been called out.

“What’s this about?” Fives asks. The comm officer shrugs.

“I don’t know the details, sorry. The signal is from Kamino, though.”

Fives struggles to stem the brief surge of panic he feels at the mention of their birthplace. He has far too many bad memories associated with Kamino. First Ninety-nine, and then that whole things with the chips and Tup—poor Tup. He’d been so loyal, so brave. He’d deserved better, and just thinking about what had happened to him is enough to send a rush of righteous anger through Fives’ body to wash away the fear.

“Kamino, huh?” Echo says. There’s a hint of excitement in his voice.

There’s only one person on Kamino who’d be contacting their squad specifically. Fives feels a surge of anticipation.

It’s time to start fixing things.

“If you gentleman would come with me,” the comm officer says politely. “A private room has been requested.”

Fives blinks in surprise. A private comm room? How on earth had Ninety-nine managed that? Those rooms are ordinarily only used by the Command Staff or the Jedi. It’s good that he’d done it, though, because now they won’t have to worry about being overheard. Ninety-nine must have some serious connections.

As Domino begins to follow the officer out of the barracks, Fives glances back to meet Del’s gaze. The sergeant is watching them carefully, and he nods once when he notices Fives looking back at him. His expression is casually neutral. Fives understands his meaning—Del isn’t going to ask any questions. Not for the first time, Fives is extremely grateful for Del’s patience with them. A lesser man might be frustrated with all the secrets Domino keeps, but Del is extremely tolerant. He doesn’t press for any more details than he has to. Domino is lucky Rex put them where he did.

The comm officer leads them to a section of the ship that Fives hasn’t frequented often—not even during his first life. They’re close to the bridge, just a floor beneath it, actually. Fives had only been on the Resolute’s bridge a few times in his first life, mostly to receive orders from General Skywalker after he’d been made an ARC trooper. In this section, the clone personnel are in naval greys, with the odd armored mechanic visible working on consoles every so often. Domino gets a couple odd looks, but fortunately no one seems overly curious. Soft chatter fills the air, of technical terms and important sounding reports that Fives is grateful he never had to memorize.

Their comm officer motions them inside a little room positioned slightly off to the side. It’s small, and there is a long-range holoprojector in the center of the room. A little button is flashing on its surface, signifying a waiting call.

“Just press the button when you’re ready,” the comm officer tells them, then turns on his heel to leave. The door slides shut behind him. Immediately there is a strange sensation of pressure in Fives’ ears that only lasts a split second before disappearing. The room is soundproof. Anything they say in here is completely confidential.

For a moment, Domino stares at the blinking light on the holoprojector, hardly believing their luck. Then, Echo lets out a pleased humm and whips out his datapad.

“My codes have been ready for a week,” he says proudly. “If we’re going to get this information, it’s now.”

A surge of anxious worry races through Fives’ mind before he can stop it. This is so, so important. If Ninety-nine can get them into the Kaminoan’s systems, they can look for the true information on the chips—and then they’ll have proof.

This needs to work. He has complete faith in Echo’s coding skills, but he’s still nervous. Fives, of all people, knows too well how badly things will turn out if they can’t fix this.

“Alright,” he says. “Accept the call.” He takes a deep breath to steady himself as Cutup, who’s closest, reaches over to tap the flashing button. The holoprojector comes to life with a gentle hum, and a glowing blue figure appears… except it’s not Ninety-nine.

“Kriff!” Cutup hisses almost on reflex, stumbling back. Fives stares at the hologram in shock for a split second before snapping to attention, vaguely aware of the rest of his squad doing the same.

“G-general!” Echo says in surprise. “Ah—we weren’t expecting you!”

Shaak Ti smiles at them. She dips her head in a regal movement. “I would not have expected a call from me had I been in your position, either,” she reassures them, just a hint of amusement in her voice. “Though I had thought requesting a private room might rouse your suspicions.”

Fives shuffles his feet a little sheepishly. Blast it, he’d been so blinded by his excitement that he’d neglected to even consider how that had happened. He’d just assumed that Ninety-nine had called in a favor, or pulled some strings. That had been stupid of him, a rookie mistake. What the kriff had happened to his ARC training? He grits his teeth in annoyance. Echo seems to be similarly berating himself—his neutral expression keeps twitching, as if he’s unable to maintain it.  

“Not that we aren’t happy to see you, General, but… why are you calling us?” Hevy asks respectfully. “We’re grateful for your help in creating a convincing cover story, but…”

General Ti waves a hand.

“Don’t worry, I’m not here to question you,” she says. “The will of the Force still urges me to allow your squad to keep its secrets.”

“Force, why?” Droidbait blurts out suddenly. Fives’ eyes widen as he turns to look at their brother. Droidbait shakes his head slowly and continues. “Why can’t we tell you? Why can’t we tell anyone? How can you be content with not knowing?”

Shaak Ti’s expression softens as her gaze lands on Droidbait.

“There is always a reason for these things,” she answers gently. “Even if we do not know them.”

“If we could just tell you, maybe you could help us!” Droidbait says. “I’m sick of keeping this to ourselves! We need help, sir. We can’t do this alone.”

He’s right, and Fives finds himself waiting with baited breath for the General’s answer. She closes her eyes for a moment, as if considering her words very carefully.

“Perhaps, if you reveal your secrets to the wrong person at the wrong time… there will be consequences for it,” she says slowly. “We cannot know the will of the Force, but it will protect those who believe it will help them.”

“General, you don’t even know what we’re doing. How can you trust us enough to help us?” Hevy contributes quietly. It’s almost tangible now, the doubt that suddenly fills the room. Fives feels it, too, because how can they do this alone? How much longer will they be forced to hide the secrets that could save the Republic?

General Ti smiles.

“I trust in the Force, and the Force trusts in you,” she answers. “While you might want more empirical evidence, that is enough for me. The time will come when others will be able to help you. You must have patience for a little longer.”

Domino falls quiet at her words, stunned by her unshakable trust. Eventually, Echo lets out a careful breath.

“Yes, sir,” he says quietly. “We’ve lasted this long. We can hold out a little more. But sir… when we finally feel like the time is right to talk to others, you’ll be the first we speak to.”

Fives blinks at his fellow ARC in surprise, but then he realizes that Echo definitely has a point. Shaak Ti had helped them from day one, and had continued to help them even after they’d left Kamino despite not having any information at all. She’s trustworthy, and Fives knows she’ll help them once she has all the details, as well.

“I will wait patiently for details, Echo,” she says. “Now then… as for why I am here. I am returning a favor by requesting a private room for him. I think it might be easier to just streamline the call to his personal commlink.” She smiles at them, reaching for something out of the hologram. “Good luck, Domino squad.”

The hologram fizzles out, and for a moment Fives is worried that it had stopped working. Then, a voice comes through the speakers:

“Fives? Echo? Hevy? Did the connection go through?”

“Ninety-nine!” Hevy says enthusiastically. Fives grins.

“The General owed you a favor, Ninety-nine? Kriff, what did you do to earn that?” Cutup says incredulously. Ninety-nine doesn’t answer—in fact, he goes silent for a few seconds, which makes all of Domino tense.

“Sorry about that,” Ninety-nine says quietly a moment later. His words are slightly muffled, but Domino relaxes slightly anyway. “I’m close to the control room. I have an earpiece so they can’t see I’m talking to anyone, but I have to be careful.”

The new information explains why they only have audio, but it also quells any lingering excitement Fives had felt. Force. If Ninety-nine gets caught, this won’t be worth it. Not even if they get the info they need.

That thought actually sends a thrill of horror through him. There’s no way Shaak Ti isn’t under surveillance.

“Ninety-nine,” he says slowly, “are the Kaminoans watching General Ti? Could they have known she contacted us?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Ninety-nine whispers. “They aren’t watching her now. The Kaminoans are way too busy with their experience to bother watching Master Ti themselves. They get brothers to do it and then report in. Kon and Stucks are on duty. They’re more than willing to turn a blind eye. At least, Kon is. But he keeps an eye on Stucks, so we’re fine.”

Fives vaguely remembers those two communication officers. Domino had a brief run-in with them the first time they’d spoken with Ninety-nine—and wow, that feels like it had happened ages ago.

“I trust the General,” Ninety-nine says suddenly. “She doesn’t know anything, but she was more than willing to help me when I asked without explanation.”

“We trust her, too,” Cutup tells him. “You made a good call.” Fives nods in agreement.

“I thought she could be helpful,” Ninety-nine says, and Fives can hear the smile in his voice. Then his tone turns a bit more serious. “I’m taking us to the main lab. Are you boys ready?”

“Of course, Ninety-nine,” Echo answers, a little anxiously. “Just be careful. If they catch you…”

“They won’t,” Ninety-nine says confidently, which makes Fives grin despite everything. “The lab will be empty, it’s a scheduled cleaning—” He cuts himself off again. Domino hears a voice calling out a cheerful greeting, and the telltale sound of a door opening and closing. “Give me a minute. I’m going over there.”

He stops talking to them for the time being. Domino listens as he walks through the hallways, calling out greetings to various brothers he passes. He knows every single name, which is ridiculously impressive. As he walks, Echo begins fiddling with his datapad. When Fives glances at it, he is surprised to see strange extensions and wiring on the sides.

“Did you modify your datapad?” he mutters softly. Echo grins at him.

“Yep. I did some of the work, and Nax did some, too. I let him have it for a few days to take his mind off of everything else. He did a good job. It’s much more powerful now. More storage data, better connections.”

“Will it be able to do its job?”

“Of course,” Echo tells him. “I’ve been working on this program for a while.”

“How is it going to work?” Cutup asks curiously.

“My code is designed to search out unprotected access points in the system,” Echo begins. “Once it finds a weak backdoor, it’ll sneak its way in. There is a limit to how long my code can stay inside before the security system picks it up, though, so we won’t have that much time. It’ll probably give us about four minutes.”

“What if there’s no backdoor?” Droidbait asks. Echo smiles at the question. It’s not a nice smile—it’s a knowing one, bitter and grating.

“If the Separatists taught me one thing while I worked for them, it’s that there’s always some sort of backdoor. Even the best coders make mistakes. There’s always a weak point even if there isn’t easy access. If there’s no backdoor my code can turn itself into a decoy—a false datapacket. When the program accepts it, it’ll flood the system with a virus that will temporarily freeze the security system while copying and transmitting any files it finds to us. We have even less time if that happens, though. Maybe two minutes if we’re lucky.”

“Would that be enough time?” Fives asks. Echo frowns, tilts his head.

“I hope so. It’s designed to search out files with specific keywords. I compiled a list of words that have anything to do with Jedi, biochips, et cetera. It’s a long list.”

Through the holoprojector, a cheerful greeting from a different brother sounds out. Ninety-nine responds, and then another door slides shut with an audible hiss.

“I’m inside the lab,” Ninety-nine suddenly says, startling them. “There’s no one here.”

“Cameras, Ninety-nine. Are there any cameras?” Echo asks. There’s a brief pause, where all they can do is listen to the faint rustling of Ninety-nine moving around. Fives clenches his jaw in frustration. He wishes they could do more to help.

“There are some cameras. They look… offline, though.”

“That’s fine,” Echo tells him. “I thought they might be. I was just checking.”

“The blasted long-necks probably don’t turn them on unless they need to record an experiment,” Fives grumbles. “Otherwise they keep they off, so there’s no proof of their creepy stuff.” Like killing disabled brothers via lethal injection. Though Fives is absolutely certain they’ve done worse things than that. The chips are only the tip of the iceberg, as far as he’s concerned.

“I found the main terminal,” Ninety-nine says. “What do I need to do?”

“Okay,” Echo says, letting out a slow breath in preparation. “Okay, listen carefully. This should work. You have a datapad with you, right? You’ll need to link it into the streamline to connect it to the long-range communicator. That way you can transmit files you find to my datapad.”

“Got it,” Ninety-nine says. Fives grins. Just because Ninety-nine is old doesn’t mean he’s any less up-to-date on the workings of his equipment, like any good clone should be.

“Great. Alright, now I’ll connect my datapad into the system. Give me just…” Echo trails off, fiddling with his datapad in quick movements. “Ugh, this would be easier…” he trails off yet again, so they don’t get to hear what would have made this easier. “Right, I’m connected. Now that our datapads are linked, I’ll send you the codes you’ll need. You’ll have to plug into the main terminal and transmit the codes through.”

They wait for a couple seconds. Fives casts a nervous look towards the door during the break, wondering how long they’ll be able to stay here before someone gets suspicious.

Hevy is nearly vibrating with tension beside him, shifting his weight anxiously. Fives puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but it doesn’t seem to do much.

“If he gets caught…” Hevy whispers. Fives meets his gaze.

“He won’t,” he comforts, much more confidently than he feels. “He said there’s no one around except for the guard. He’s fine.”

“I’m transmitting the codes into the database now,” Ninety-nine says. “I don’t… nothing’s happening yet.”

“Wait a sec,” Echo advises, eyes glued to his datapad. His foot taps on the floor repetitively. “Sync your datapad screen into the connection so I can see what’s going on.”

Fives leans over to look over his shoulder as Echo’s datapad screen flickers. A jumble of aurebesh letters, kaminoan words, and numbers that Fives could never make any sense of flicker across the screen. Echo, however, hums pensively.

“The code is searching for an access point. Hang on.”

They hear clattering from Ninety-nine’s end as they wait—he’s doing his job, cleaning the lab so that the Kaminoans will have no reason to be suspicious.

Echo’s datapad beeps once, and Echo grins.

“Heh. What, did they think that just because it can only be accessed from the planet’s surface that there was no need to upgrade their firewalls? They really think they’ve got us brainwashed, don’t they?”

“Well, they did,” Hevy grunts out. Echo flicks a hand at him without turning, eyes focused on the screen as a new wave of commands scroll across the device.

“Ninety-nine, can you still hear me? My code found an access point, we’re in. You should have full access to their files now.”

“Here!” Ninety-nine calls. “Can you see what I’m seeing?”

“Yeah, it’s a massive database. They’ve got records from hundreds of years ago stored here. Don’t worry, we won’t have to look through all of it. I’ll run my search algorithm to see if we can come up with any hits. Can you stand by to disconnect? In three and a half minutes I won’t be able to cover my tracks well enough to hide this from their security.”

“Standing by.”

Waiting again. Fives balls his fists and wishes yet again that there was something he could do to help. There’s a tight feeling in his stomach, a little ball of nerves that won’t go away. Kriff, if they can get their hands on this info… everything will be easier. Echo is watching as multiple hits light up his screen. He’s glancing though the file titles as fast as they come up. As the minutes slowly tick by, his expression darkens. Fives can’t tell if that means he’s found what they’re looking for or if it means he hasn’t.

“Kriff,” Echo hisses eventually. “I’m getting hits, but…it’s all references to a different scientist. They’re either references, or the same fake information we’ve already seen a dozen times.”

“A scientist?” Hevy asks. “What scientist?”

Echo shakes his head, a grim expression on his face.

“Nala Se.”

Oh, no.

“You will have to say goodbye to your friend now,” Nala Se says tonelessly. Her dark, emotionless eyes flick down to glance over Fives and Tup. She says it as if she cares, as if she even knows what a friend really is—what a brother is, and how Fives would rather die right now than leave him. He knows the truth, though: that she sees them as little more than animals, slaves, byproducts of their genetic dabblings. Hardware to use as bargaining chips.

The snarl that is ripped out of his throat is completely involuntary. It startles Droidbait, who whips around to stare at him in surprise.

“That scum,” Fives hisses. “She’s the Chief Medical Scientist on Kamino. She’s in on the whole thing! She killed one of my friends, and she tried to kill me!” Force, she had practically succeeded at that, too.

“She has her own laboratory, in the medical building,” Ninety-nine says quickly. “I’ll start heading over.”

Fives jerks. “Wha—Ninety-nine, no. You can’t. She’s not like any of the others. She’ll kill you without question if she catches you looking into this!”

He remembers: “We must terminate this clone immediately!” He remembers: “ You were created in our laboratories. You are Kaminoan property,” and shudders to imagine what will happen to Ninety-nine if he’s caught.

“This is more important,” Ninety-nine says firmly. Fives shakes his head and gets to his feet, pressing his hands on the surface of the holoprojector as if it will help convince their older brother otherwise.

“No it’s not, Ninety-nine. Just get out of there. She’s dangerous.”

“It was dangerous before, too, right?” Fives hears footsteps, and a door whooshing open. Kriff. Ninety-nine is so, so stubborn, just like he’d been in their last life. He’s set his mind to it, and there’s no way he’s going to change that now.

“Hey, hey!” Hevy cries. “Don’t worry about it, okay? We can handle it. We’ve got to abort for now.”

“But… if we don’t get the info now, when will we get it?”

Fives grits his teeth. He has a point, and they can’t stop him.

Echo sighs worriedly. “Just… be extra careful, alright? You can’t let her see you.” Echo knows as well as Fives does that Ninety-nine is determined to see this through to the end.

“No problem,” Ninety-nine says cheerfully, as if he isn’t marching right into the lair of a killer. “I was always good at stealth operations. That was about the only thing I was good at!”

Hevy throws his hands up and starts to pace. Cutup reaches out to attempt to get him to calm down, but Hevy just exhales shakily and continues to walk the length of the small room.

“Hevy, he’ll be alright—” Echo tries to say, but Hevy scowls at him.

“You don’t know that!” he hisses. “Force, he could be—he could be walking to his death!”

No one has anything to say to that, so they leave Hevy to his pacing as they listen to Ninety-nine make his way around the facility for the second time.

The kriffing waiting again. Fives hates being unable to act.

After what seems like ages, Ninety-nine speaks to them again.

“Nala Se’s lab isn’t too far from here. If she isn’t there, I’m going to go in.”

“Kriff, wait—” Fives suddenly stumbles for words. “You have to—you need some excuse to be in there, just in case—”

“You could falsify a request for cleaning,” Echo suggests suddenly. “Isn’t there something like that?”

“Oh! Yeah, I could! Give me a minute!” They hear a door open, and then a clatter. Some sort of liquid splatters onto durasteel.

“Now I can say the report was mislabeled. I was given the wrong room number. Instead, I was supposed to come and clean up this mess.”

“Genius, Ninety-nine,” Echo says. “You remember what to do?”

“Yes. For now, we’re clear. She’s not in the lab.”

It isn’t long before Echo’s datapad lights up again for the second time. The tension in the room ratchets higher. If he gets caught now, it’s all over.

Echo is scanning through data again. “Okay, okay, ahh… her system has a lot more security than the other lab did. An access point isn’t going to work. I might have to use the decoy code.”

Two minutes, he’d said earlier. Is two minutes enough time? In some ways that’s good, Ninety-nine can get out of there, but if all of this is for nothing Fives is going to throw something.

Everyone holds their breath when Echo’s datapad beeps twice. Echo mutters out a curse and begins scrolling through options frantically, muttering under his breath. Fives can’t take it anymore—he turns away, clenching his fists.

“The search algorithm is running,” Echo announces. “I’m looking through the ones that seem relevant. There’s some interesting stuff here. Not all of it is about us—”

Fives turns to look at him after his voice cuts out. Echo is staring down at his datapad, eyes wide.

“I have it,” he whispers. Fives freezes.

“I have it,” Echo says again, very quietly, as if admitting it out loud will make it less true. “Force, I—listen to this: Contingency Orders for the Grand Army of the Republic: Order Initiation, Orders 1 Through 150. That’s it. That has to be it.”

“What makes you so certain?” Fives asks, heart pounding. Echo sends him a grim look.

“Because contingency number sixty-six authorizes removing Jedi officers through lethal force,” Echo breathes. “It was the biggest match to all of my keywords.” Fives closes his eyes.

“Ninety-nine, get out of there,” he orders firmly. He can’t get excited yet. Not until Ninety-nine is safe.

“Right, right,” comes the response. There’s a quick shuffling sound as Ninety-nine packs up his datapad, and then Fives listens to his footsteps, slightly faster than normal as he heads for the door—

A hiss as the door opens. For a moment, Fives relaxes. Then:

“Clone trooper Ninety-nine, what are you doing here?”

No. No, no, no. Fives knows that voice. Kriff, no.

It’s Nala Se.

“Ah, I got a report requesting cleaning for this room, ma’am,” Ninety-nine says without missing a beat. He’s a good liar. His voice doesn’t waver at all.

“I submitted no such report,” comes the cold answer. Domino squad is frozen, completely still in helpless terror. Force, Force, she’s not going to believe him, she’ll decommission him or recondition him or something worse—

“I thought so, ma’am. Your lab is very clean, as usual. I think some brother may have put the wrong room number in the report. I was just gonna go check the nearby rooms.”

There is a long silence that likely drags on much longer in Fives' head than it does in real life. But blast it, he can’t breath, he can’t move, he can’t do anything but stare at the blank holoprojector in dismay.

Finally, she speaks.

“As you were, then, clone.”

The relief of Ninety nine getting away unscathed is drowned out by the absolute fury that overtakes him at Nala Se’s derisive tone. She doesn’t care about him at all. Not even enough to suspect him of something. Fives grits his teeth so hard that his jaw aches.

He hates her. Hates her almost as much as he hates Krell.

When he turns to look at his brothers, they seem to feel the same way. Hevy’s expression is murderous. Echo looks grim. Cutup’s eyes are wide, disbelieving, and Droidbait is glaring fiercely at the machine.

“Do you have it?” Ninety-nine asks suddenly, breaking the spell. Fives looks at Echo hopefully, who taps his datapad with a successful grin.

“I’ve got it,” he says triumphantly. “That, and a few other files from Nala Se’s records that I think some people might find very interesting.”

“Yes!” Hevy shouts. He punches the air. “Ninety-nine, you did it! Thank you, thank you!”

“Aw, It was nothing,” Ninety-nine says humbly. He’s smiling, Fives can tell. “I’d do anything to help my brothers.”

Fives exchanges a look with Echo, soft with mutual fondness for the brave old clone.

“We know, brother,” Fives says gratefully. “And you’re the greatest soldier they’ve ever made because of it.”

They have the information finally, and yet, the first thing Echo feels is panic as Domino assembles in their designated meeting room. He can see a similar kind of expression on Fives’ face, too—one that says, “Kriff, what do we do with this? Where do we start?” Echo knows what he wants to do with this info. He wants to shout their proof over the shipwide comms, send it to everyone, get it all over with immediately… but it’s not that simple no matter how much he wants it to be.

The first thing they do is sit down and read through the contingency orders, all one hundred and fifty of them. It’s horrible. Killing the Jedi is only the tip of the iceberg. Each order is very carefully worded, to the point where some of them seem very logical—and some of them are. But there are others that describe mass purges of innocent civilians, systematic executions of every senator in the Republic, and self-destruct orders that Echo doesn’t even want to think about.

They’re all feeling vaguely sick after getting through the last one, and it takes a few minutes for anyone to say something.

“Who…who knows about these?” Droidbait whispers eventually. “Who could make us do this?”

“The Kaminoans. The Chancellor,” Fives answers slowly. “Maybe more, but those are who I know for certain.”

“Force,” Hevy says weakly. “We’ve got to get those chips out.” He rubs the back of his head. “We’ve gotta get them out of every brother. They could make us do practically anything.”

“I wonder why they haven’t been using these from the start,” Echo muses. When Cutup shoots him a horrified look, Echo holds his hands out in defense. “It ensures our full cooperation, after all.”

“Sure, but then they’d have to reveal the existence of the orders,” Fives reminds him. “And they’ve basically got our full cooperation anyway. It’s not like we have a choice.”

“The Jedi can’t be aware of this,” Cutup says. “They’d do something about it if they did, right? So shouldn’t we just tell them? We could put an end to this right now.”

Droidbait is nodding in enthusiasm, but Echo’s heart sinks. He exchanges a worried look with Fives, who takes a deep breath.

“Look, guys… it’s not that simple. We have to be careful about this. If we tell the wrong person, if word of this gets to the Chancellor, or the Kaminoans, or anyone else who knows… they’ll kill us. They’ll kill us all, probably.”

“What, the whole 501st?” Hevy says. “They can’t do that. People would notice. General Skywalker would definitely notice.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t trust General Skywalker,” Fives says bluntly. Echo frowns at him in disapproval, because the others don’t need to know that, but Fives plows onward. “And yes, they very well could get rid of the 501st. They can afford to get rid of a single battalion—they’ve got millions of us, remember?”

“If we tell the wrong person, this whole thing will be over before it can even start,” Echo points out more gently, because Cutup looks like his soul has been crushed. “The people who would rather see us enslaved are powerful, and they need us for whatever the kriff their plans are later. They won’t let us go easily. They’ll do whatever they can to stop us.”

“So, we start with brothers, then,” Droidbait says. “And we keep it secret until we’re all free. Then we take it to the Jedi. Worst comes to worst, we can… run, I guess.”

“Not just any Jedi,” Echo says. “We have it kind of lucky, here. Some clones don’t have that. We’ve got to be careful.”

“We’ve been over this already, though. We already know who to talk to,” Hevy points out. “General Kenobi, General Plo Koon. General Secura, maybe—”

“Hold on, hold on,” Fives interrupts. “One thing at a time. We start with brothers, and we find someone who can start getting rid of these chips on the sly. As for who we start with there…”

“That’s easy,” Cutup chimes in. “Beta squad, of course. Should we… should we tell them everything?”

“I’d say we tell them about the biochips, not the whole… Force thing. That makes things a little easier. More believable, and less… Jedi-y,” Echo says. “We can tell them one of our mission objectives with General Ti was to find evidence of corruption in the GAR. So, we’ll leave out the part about the Chancellor for now. We still don’t have any physical proof that he’s behind this.”

“Alright, fine. Speaking of General Ti… I think we could tell her,” Fives mutters. “She was… skeptical, but willing to hear me out the first time. Understandable, I guess. I didn’t have any hard evidence. This time we do.”

Echo claps his hands. He feels marginally better, now that they have some sort of plan. “So, first thing’s first: We talk to Beta squad. After that, we’ll find some way to get into contact with General Ti without it looking suspicious. We’re just troopers, after all. We can’t contact a General without having a viable reason to. We could get Ninety-nine to give us a hand.”

Fives’ grin at his words is triumphant and hopeful.

“Ah, Force, this is finally happening,” he says, drumming his fingers on the table eagerly. “I’ve waited for this for a long time. Those kriffing Kaminoans won’t know what hit them.”

“Easy,” Echo tells him carefully. “We haven’t told anyone yet. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“Let’s fix that, then,” Cutup says suddenly. “I’m calling Del. We’re doing this now.” He lifts his communicator and grins at Echo’s surprised look. “It’s time we told them, guys. Don’t you think so? Let’s stop putting it off.”

Echo chuckles at his enthusiasm and gives him an approving nod. The sooner they tell someone, the sooner they’ll be able to start getting rid of the chips, and the sooner things will start to change.

Beta squad takes the news with an impressive amount of professionalism. They are silent through Echo’s explanation, silent as they pass Echo’s datapad around to show them the orders they’d plucked from Nala Se’s database.

Fives is having a hard time sitting still. He’s waiting, on edge, struggling to anticipate what their reactions will be. He’s bracing himself for doubt, for accusations of forgery or disbelief. He’s completely blindsided when Del takes a deep breath and nods slowly once Echo is finished.

“So why come to us first?” is the first thing he asks. Not, “Are you guys crazy?” or even, “Are you sure?” There is complete trust in his expression as he looks them over.

“We’re telling brothers first,” Echo explains. “We don’t know if we can fully trust the Jedi yet. We don’t know who’s in on the plot. What we do know is that they could get us to do anything with these chips, and they’re keeping that fact a secret from most of the Republic. Who knows what they’re planning.”

Zeer slams his fist down on the table. “Kaminoan scum,” he snarls. “We’re not mindless droids to be controlled. We’re living beings .”

“If they’ve done this, who knows what else they’ve done?” Nax says numbly. “This is ridiculous.”

Coric passes Echo’s datapad over to Tipper and steeples his fingers together on the table. His lips are pressed tightly together, and his eyes are narrowed in controlled anger.

“We’ve got to get them out,” he declares fiercely. Fives can practically see the wheels in his head turning. “We’ve got to start taking the biochips out immediately. It’s too dangerous not to. Whoever has access to these contingency orders has full control over the GAR. How are you planning to get this information to the rest of the army?”

“Whoa, hey,” Nax says. He looks a little pale, eyes wide but no less believing. “One step at a time, Coric. Let’s free the 501st first. Then we can worry about the rest of the army.”

Coric looks frustrated, but he nods. Hevy is staring at Beta squad incredulously.

“How can you believe us so fast?” he asks incredulously. “You’re not even going to question it?”

Del looks at him. “We don’t have any reason not to believe you,” he says bluntly. “You have evidence. Every clone knows that the Kaminoans are hiding a lot from the Republic, and us, too. It’s not exactly a surprise. This, though, the biochips… this is something we need to stop.”

“What clone hasn’t been suspicious of the Kaminoans at some point?” Zeer grunts, which is an extremely valid point.

Tipper suddenly makes a disgusted noise from where he’s scrolling through the datapad. He holds it out towards Echo, shaking his head. There’s a shocked look on his face.

“They could make us kill each other if they wanted to,” he forces out as Echo takes it back. “Blast it, I don’t… we have to stop this. Coric, can you take it out? I don’t want—I need you to take it out. I hate this. How soon could we get rid of it?”

Coric frowns. “I… I think I can remove it. I don’t have the exact schematics of the chip, though. All I know is that it exists somewhere in the brain—”

“It’ll probably look like a tumor,” Fives interrupts, remembering the little medical droid AZ’s ramblings. “If you do a level five atomic brain scan, it should come right up.”

Coric’s eyes widen. “A level five —I mean, it makes sense, but those can be dangerous, you know.”

“We’re all the same. It’ll be in the same place in everyone. You do the scan once, you’ll have the information you’ll need. I’ll volunteer for it, even,” Fives says quickly. It didn’t kill him the first time. It won’t kill him now, of that he’s certain. He’s anxious to get the chip out, too. He wants it gone, and he wants it out of his brothers.

Del leans forwards in his chair. His eyebrows are furrowed.

“How are you planning on proceeding from here?” he asks them. “And what can we do to help? There are several things we’ll need to keep in mind—for starters, Coric can’t do surgery on every single member of the 501st. We’ll have to talk to the other medics—”

He cuts himself off suddenly. Fives’ mind had been focused on some of their plans, and so Del’s abrupt silence makes him blink in surprise, turning towards the sergeant curiously.

Del is frozen in his seat, staring down at his own datapad with wide eyes. Fives frowns in alarm.

“Uh… Del?”

“The Resolute will enter hyperspace in one standard hour,” he says, eyes skimming what must be a set of orders. “We’re to start preparing for combat immediately. The 501st is being deployed, effective immediately.”

Fives’ stomach drops. No. That can’t be right. They’re not supposed to be deployed again for another week.

“Where?” he asks, barely daring to breath. “Where are they sending us?”

“Felucia,” Del announces quietly. Fives sucks in a sharp breath. Felucia. No, that can’t—he’s not prepared for Felucia yet. They haven’t prepared the others. It can’t be Felucia. He glances at Echo. The other ARC is shaking his head in confusion. They should have another week. Why are they leaving so early?

Del is reading a few lines from the orders. While he and Beta are distracted, Fives signs rapidly to Domino.

How is this possible? We should have another week to prepare!

We’ve changed something Echo signs back immediately. I don’t know what, or how, but somehow it was enough to push the timeline forward a little.

That’s not a good thing! Fives signs aggressively. Felucia is a death trap, Echo! We needed every extra minute to get ready! There’s no way all of us will— he forces his hands to still before he can finish that thought. No, he can’t think like that… even though it’s true. It’s unlikely that all of Beta will survive Felucia—

No. Stop. Kriff, his mind is getting ahead of him. He needs to stay in the present and focus, do his best to tell them what he can before they get there. They’ll have a better chance that way.

A moment later Del finishes reading the orders. The Sergeant seems grim, as does most of Beta. Everyone’s heard horror stories about Felucia. What they’ve heard is bad, but it’s nothing close to the truth. Fives swallows, feels a massive ball of dread settle heavy in his stomach. What can he possibly do about this?

“The only upside to this deployment is that the 212th will be backing us up,” Del says. He looks at Domino. “The biochips will have to wait. We won’t be able to deal with it while we’re planetside.”

Fives wants to bang his fist on the table, but restrains himself. The longer they wait, the more chance there is that something will happen. They need to take care of the chips as soon as possible. But… Force, what are they going to do about Felucia? How can they change a planetwide battle that the Republic is destined to lose? So many men had died there. Echo and Fives had been lucky the first time. The Republic had realized their defeat was eminent and started evacuating troops. Echo and Fives had been able to get off planet before the Separatist blockade arrived to trap the Jedi on the surface.

There’s no guarantee Beta squad will have the same luck.

No, no, this is bad. Kriff . He exchanges another panicked look with Echo, who can only shrug back at him desperately. It’s too late to do anything about it now. They’ll have to brief Domino on what they can and hope for the best.

They’ve traded one massive problem for another. Fives struggles to stem his trepidation for a few moments. They can’t afford to lose a man now. They’ve just barely started to make progress!

He clenches his fists and forces himself to focus. They’re going to Felucia. He needs to stay calm and in-control of his fear.

If he can’t maintain his composure, people will die.

There’s a reason Felucia had been nicknamed “The Jungle of Horror”.

Chapter Text

Deep in his bones, Fives knows that nothing they could ever do would be enough to change what happens on Felucia.

He barely understands what went wrong the first time, after all. Too much had happened, too much had gone wrong. The 501st and 212th had been tasked with retaking the planet from Separatist control, but it had proved to be too big of a job for only two battalions. The jungle had killed just as many as the Separatists had. It was like they’d been fighting two armies.

When the Republic had started losing ground last time, an evacuation had been called to get everyone out of there before the Separatist blockade trapped everyone on the surface. Echo and Fives were lucky, and managed to get off planet in time.

Other brothers were not so lucky.

Felucia is way too big to change in so little time. Fives and Echo mutually decide that simple survival should be their main focus. They spend half of the hyperspace trip teaching the rest of Domino everything they can remember, and they send the rest of Beta some of the datafiles reference the various poisonous plants or aggressive native creatures. Cutup in particular doesn’t like that last category—he goes frighteningly pale at the holo-image of a massive bull rancor.

Fives tells them everything he can remember. Echo remembers a bit more and can pick up on some of the slack, but Fives also knows that it isn’t going to be enough.

It’s impossible to predict what the jungle will throw at them. The rest of Domino will learn that quickly enough.

Fives just hopes that they’ll learn it fast enough to survive.

The flight down is quiet. Stiflingly quiet, and more than enough to make Hevy nervous. The Commander isn’t with them this time—she’s with the General in his gunship. Flak still pilots them, though, and even he is much more subdued than usual. When they’re ten minutes out from the planet’s surface, Flak gives them a quick briefing.

“The 212th have touched down already,” he tells them. “They were able to clear plenty of landing zones for us, so we won’t have any trouble touching down.” He pauses for a brief second. “Be careful down there, boys. I haven’t heard a single good story yet. This planet doesn’t seem to like us very much.”

Hevy catches the tiny jerk that Fives makes at those words and feels another pang of dread. For all of the information Fives and Echo had been able to give them, it’s impossible to predict what’s going to happen down there. They’ll also have completely different assignments than Echo and Fives did beforehand. There’s too many variables, too many unknowns. At least on Ryloth they’d had a clear objective. Here on Felucia, the goal is to take back the entire planet.

Hevy can’t help but think that two battalions isn’t enough.

“We’re closing in on the LZ,” Flak announces. “ETA one minute. We’re in the clear, no need to run for it.”

The landing is smooth, no complications at all. The doors open to reveal a weary-looking 212th Air Traffic Control Martial gesturing something at Flak with his lights. He motions for Beta squad to disembark with a quick movement.

Felucia is extremely different from Ryloth. The ground feels odd beneath Hevy’s feet. Spongy, almost. He sinks into it just a little, but it doesn’t cling to him.

The jungle stretches all around them. It’s amazing that the 212th had been able to find an area clear enough to set up landing zones. Several fallen fungus trees indicate that the 212th had been doing some landscaping to make room for the multitudes of men. Several massive walkers have already been set down as well, parked silently around the grey tents set up to house command.

Over to the side, partially hidden by the strange foliage, is a massive vehicle that Hevy can’t help but stare at. He’s only ever seen it in holograms, never in person.

“Is that an A6 Juggernaut?” he mutters, elbowing Echo in the side as they begin to make their way towards the tents. Echo glances over and gives a quick nod.

“Yep. It’s bigger than you expect, isn’t it. We just call ‘em turbo tanks. More fun to say.”

The 501st have been instructed to convene to the south of the command tents, in proper formation. Torrent had been the second company sent out. Tide had been first, and as Beta squad makes their way down to the meeting spot a flood of Tide men start coming from that direction, splitting off into smaller teams as they go.

Captain Rex is waiting for them when they finally fall into formation at the proper place. Not all of Torrent is present—some squads are already gone, too, and some haven’t even arrived yet. There are more gunships swooping in to deposit men. Rex is issuing out orders, anyway. He comes right up to Beta squad when they arrive, and they all snap to attention.

“Alright, men. We’re taking over the border patrols for the time being to give the 212th a little breathing room. Does your squad have any priority orders from the Commander yet?”

“Not yet, sir,” Del answers. “We’ll let you know when we do.”

Rex nods curtly. His helmet tilts a little to acknowledge two new squads as they come in.

“Make sure you do that,” he tells them. “For now, our objective is to preserve the ground we’ve gained while we bring in more forces. Once all our men are in we’ll begin General Kenobi’s expansion plan, but until then we’re going to hold position, alright?”

“Yes, sir!” Hevy cries along with the rest of Beta. Rex gestures to the side, where a clone scout stands next to him.

“This is Quest, of the 212th,” Rex introduces. “I want Beta and Sigma squads with him. Listen to his advice, boys. He’s been here longer than almost anyone else.” Captain Rex shifts to the side, and Quest steps forwards.

“Right then, Beta and Sigma with me! The droids are well aware of our presence here, so stay alert!”

Hevy swallows down his nerves as they follow Quest towards the thick jungle at a quick march. He wishes he could bring his Z-6 with him, but Fives and Echo had advised against it. They’d claimed it would be difficult to carry around through the jungle, and now he understands why. The multicolored plants jutting out from the soil are hard enough to navigate with just a DC-15A rifle. The Z-6 would have been a hindrance, though he hates to admit it to himself.

The two squads move behind the scout quietly for a half-hour and several kilometers, simply listening to Quest as he speaks. He definitely knows what he’s talking about. He describes the planet’s terrain and some of the more dangerous things he’d come across during his time on the surface. It’s all similar things to that of which Fives and Echo had briefed them on during their too-short planning period, so Hevy allow himself to focus more on keeping watch, scanning the jungle for potential threats.

“When we first set up the base, the clankers were giving us a hard time,” Quest is saying. “It wasn’t until we got the tanks down that we were able to finally push them back a little. We caught them unprepared for such heavy artillery, that’s why they haven’t tried taking back this section yet. They’re gearing up for it, though, and we all know it. That’s why we have to maintain the border patrols until—don’t go near that.”

Hevy jerks a little, startled by the sudden urgency in Quest’s voice. The scout is whirled around, staring behind him—Hevy turns, following his gaze to see one of Sigma squad frozen to the spot, a few steps off the path towards something that had caught his eye.

“The first rule of Felucia is don’t get unnecessarily curious,” Quest hisses. “It’ll kill you. Step back a couple feet, brother. If you move even an inch closer to that flower you’ll regret it.”

The flower in question is a pretty thing, medium sized and brilliant red. Its four petals, spotted with little white dots, quiver as the trooper steps away from it, confusion visible in his body language.

“What—?”

“That flower, memorize what it looks like,” Quest orders. “It’s called a Yerdua poison-spitter. It’s… ah, semi-sentient. It can tell if a hostile gets too close, and it’ll spit a deadly poison from the center of the petals to protect itself.”

“But I’m wearing armor!” the clone protests. Quest shakes his head.

“Do you want to be able to ever take your armor off? It’s a long lasting poison. You wouldn’t be able to wash it off, and you’d spread it to anything you touched.”

“Force,” Nax mutters, levelling his gun at the plant as if it’ll do any good. “Remind me to stay away from that thing.”

“Stay away from that thing,” Zeer grunts, completely deadpan. Nax’s helmet whips towards him. Hevy can’t see the mechanic’s face, but he can imagine an impressive glare. Tipper chuckles.

“Knock it off, you two,” Del mutters. “Stay focused. There’s plenty to watch out for here.”

“Alright, alright. Let’s keep moving. We’ve got a lot more ground to cover,” Quest tells them, and they keep forging ahead.

The strange thing about Felucia is that though there are plenty of plants and fungi covering the forest floor, they don’t really rise too far above the clone’s waists, and they aren’t so densely packed that it’s impossible to move. The fungi trees and the enormous blue, yellow, and orange flower-like structures are the only things that jut higher into the air, and they aren’t quite as close together as Hevy had first thought. At certain points he can look through gaps in the trees and see for many yards beyond, and it makes him nervous.

It looks like they have cover, but they really don’t. It’s an illusion of safety that Quest seems to be all to well aware of, if the way his helmet constantly swivels is of any indication.

From beside him, there’s a wet squelching noise as Cutup has the misfortune of putting his foot through a patch of mushrooms. Cutup groans in annoyance.

“Kriff. I don’t like this planet already.”

Quest chuckles bitterly. “Honestly, brother I would be surprised if you weren’t frustrated—”

He cuts himself off suddenly, freezing in place. Both additional squads go still as well, immediately on the alert.

“Uhhh… Quest?” Fives says cautiously. Quest tilts his head.

“Does anyone else hear that?”

“No,” Echo answers, but none of them relax, because scouts are bred to have better hearing, so that doesn’t really mean anything. If Quest hears something, the rest of them believe it.

Quest hesitates for a split second longer, and then he suddenly whirls around, raising his rifle.

“We’re surrounded, everyone get down!”

When a brother yells like that, you listen. No matter where you are, no matter what rank you are or what rank they are. That kind of yell means listen or die, and everyone drops as blasterfire rings out, tearing through the surrounding plant life. Hevy’s heart rate skyrockets instantly, accompanied by an adrenaline rush that nearly leaves him dizzy. Distantly he hears someone cry out, but the voice is too far away for it to be one of Beta.

“Get to cover!” Fives hisses from the dirt next to him, making Hevy jump. Fives gives him a little half-shove, crawling on his stomach towards the nearest fungus tree. “Come on! We can’t fight back until we’re somewhat protected! We’re sitting nerfs out here!”

Blaster bolts zip overhead, close enough to make Hevy press himself further into the ground. When he makes it to the fungus tree, he pulls himself to his knees and returns fire blindly in the direction they’d originated from.

“Behind you!” Fives shouts. He shoves Hevy back to the ground. Fives’ body suddenly jerks, and Hevy’s heart nearly stops.

“Fives? Fives!”

“I’m fine, the shot glanced off my armor,” Fives hisses back at him. “Stay down, they’re all around us. I’ll watch our front, you watch our back?”

“Copy!” Hevy says.

Behind them, he can just make out flashes of white armor from where the rest of the clones had scattered. There’s two bodies lying out in the open still—one of them is a man from Sigma squad, and the other is Coric, who’s attempting to look him over. The rest of the men are laying down cover fire to protect him, but it’s difficult to do when their enemies are everywhere.

It takes far too long for Hevy to identify their attackers. He catches a glimpse of a dark grey metallic form that darts behind an enormous blue flower, and growls when he’s too slow to fire off a shot.

“Commandos,” he says to Fives, and then talks into his helmet comm. “‘Bait, are you—?”

“Fine,” Droidbait replies bluntly, voice tense. “I’m fine, Hevy, don’t worry. Focus on getting us out of this first!”

Hevy can’t tell if he’s lying or not. Regardless, he has no choice but to  keep shooting, and hisses in victory when he manages to bring one down. His success is immediately dulled by a blasterbolt that nearly hits him in the back. Fives lets out a string of muffled Huttese curses.

“There’s too many of them! Does anyone have any bright ideas?”

“I have droid poppers,” Nax tells them quickly. “Only two, though. I didn’t anticipate needing more.”

“Better than nothing!” Fives yells back. Hevy is watching, so he sees the divot in the ground that Nax is hiding in and spots the first tiny orb soaring through the air to land somewhere near the droids. A bright flash of light and a ripple of electricity flashes in the distance.

“You got three, Nax,” Coric reports calmly despite his exposed position. “I can see them more clearly. There’s two more, back near the purple vine thing.”

The other clone must be dead, otherwise Coric would be too distracted to help them. Hevy feels a pang of sorrow as Nax launches his second droid popper.

“On the other side, though, I count six,” Coric continues. Fives suddenly growls, and his blaster sounds twice. “Make that five. Hevy, Fives, if someone draws their fire you two could rush them from the left side. There’s another fungus tree that would let you blindsight them—ugh.”

“Coric?”

“Fine, fine. Just… a close call.”

Hevy tries to look back at him, make sure the medic’s alright, but before he can do so Fives takes a deep breath.

“We’ll rush them. Who’s close enough to play distraction?”

“I’m with two of Sigma squad,” Del reports. “We can draw their fire. Hold on.” The sounds of combat increase, and suddenly Hevy catches a glimpse of Del and two other troopers sprinting out of cover behind a flower, weaving towards another fungus tree. The enemy fire follows them.

“That crazy son-of-a-hutt,” Fives says in disbelief. He grabs Hevy’s shoulder. “Come on!”

Hevy climbs to his feet, and wow, they’re actually doing this. Now he’s really glad he doesn’t have his Z-6, because he’s running so fast that he nearly trips over a clump of mushrooms. He and Fives go skidding around the fungus tree on the left, and when they come careening around, they have a perfect view of the backs of four commando droids firing at Del’s new hiding spot.

Hevy opens fire. He’s gotten better at taking commando droids down—one of them can’t even turn because Hevy gets it right in the neck joint. The other one is faster. Hevy’s first shot only glances off it’s chest plate. He has to dive to the side instead of firing again to avoid the droid’s shot. He’s aiming again a little frantically when a bright blue blaster bolt tears through the droid’s head from behind—Del.

“You alright, Hevy?” he calls out as the commando crumples. Hevy nods and pulls himself to his feet.

“I’m good, sir!” Better than good, actually. Hevy’s grinning as Fives finishes off the last droid, and it’s probably a bit of a scary grin. That had been a reckless plan. Fortunately it had ended in success, so Hevy’s blood is practically singing in his veins.

“I thought Coric said there were five over here?” Fives asks, since he and Hevy had only taken down four. Del gestures behind him at the two other clones who had been hiding with him.

“The Sigma men took it down. They’re good shots.”

“You’re kriffing right, we’re good shots,” one of them says, but his voice is a bit distant, as if he’s distracted. “Did we get all of them?”

Fives looks around. “I think so. Stay on guard, though—”

The two clones are already gone, and Hevy knows where they’re going. They’ve just lost a squadmate. He lowers his head for a moment in respect.

The men all reconvene around where the Sigma man had fallen. Quest’s shoulders are slumped. He and Beta step back to let Sigma grieve, watching the jungle for any additional signs of droids.

“The fact that those assassin droids were sent out means that the Separatists are finally feeling confident enough to face our heavy artillery. They’ll start attacking soon if we don’t move first,” Quest mutters to them.

“Good thing we’re probably nearly finished moving the troops in,” Echo replies. “We’ll move as soon as everyone has mobilized. We’ll definitely need to report this, though.”

Quest lets out a very heavy sigh.

“Oh, Force,” he whispers. “I can already tell this whole campaign is only going to get worse.”

Domino is silent at his words, and the dark sensation of foreboding from before returns.

Hevy tightens his grip on his gun and clenches his jaw, turning his head to make sure the rest of Beta is right there with him. Just… just as reassurance.

He has a bad feeling about this.

The Republic’s first target is a large Separatist outpost responsible for transmitting enemy orders over long distances. It’s range covers half of the continent, and getting rid of it it is the most obvious way to start taking the planet back. The turbo tanks and walkers are mobilized, and the Republic begins to push its way into Separatist territory within the hour of learning the outpost’s location.

It is here that the nightmare truly begins, and Quest’s prediction starts to come true.

The first problem the Republic encounters is the mud. Felucia’s hot and humid climate is accompanied by downpours of rain that turn the dirt into thick sludge. For the first day of the official campaign, Cutup and the others spend their time struggling to free the walkers from the awful mire. It’s hard work, but there are droids firing at them, and the walkers are easy targets while they’re stuck. It has to be done. Fortunately the walkers aren’t out of the game yet—it’s only every so often that a foot will sink in too deep, and will need to be dug out.

It’s bad for the walkers, and it’s bad for the ground troops, too. The ooze takes extra energy to walk in, exhausting the men much faster than anticipated as they struggle to pull their feet out of the sludge with each step. It gets everywhere, so much so that on a few occasions Cutup can’t even tell who he’s looking at. At one point he sees Captain Rex, only recognizable by the form of the pauldron on his shoulders and the kama at his waist. The cloth is stiff from dried mud, and the blue markings on his armor are practically nonexistent as he pitches in to help free a walker, urging the men onwards.

They’ve completely abandoned the turbo tanks for now. They’re too heavy and too large to properly dig out. The walkers will have to do for now.

The first thing the Republic troops learn is that despite the immense exhaustion that comes with the downpours, the mud brings a little bit of blessing with the curses. The clones stick out like sore thumbs in the jungle, pure white against a background of colors and the near-blackness of the wet dirt. Cutup starts smearing his armor with mud intentionally as camouflage, and though he hates to cover Commander Tano’s markings on his armor it’s necessary at this point to keep them alive. A clone working to dig out a walker who hasn’t yet camouflaged himself gets sniped from afar, and the sound he makes as he crumples to the ground echoes horrifyingly in Cutup’s mind for hours afterward.

The droids come from all sides as they march forwards, and the clones need every advantage they can take. Eventually most of the men pick up on the trick, so they’re a sea of brown and black instead of snow white.

The Separatist outpost is guarded by enormous semi-autonomous proton cannons, droid-like turrets that open fire on the walkers the moment they’re within range. The cannons are accompanied by hoards of B-1 and super battle droids.

The Republic forces form into a massive line a klick out from the outpost, hidden in the verdure along with the tanks. Beta squad is positioned in between two tanks with another squad. When Cutup looks to the sides, he can see lines of men and artillery at the ready through the curtains of rain, preparing for the charge.

The Separatists aren’t complete idiots. Cannon rounds come screaming in. Cutup thinks that it’s thunder for one confusing moment until he hears nine identical cries of pain and watches as an entire squad far off to his right is obliterated by an explosion.

The Republic doesn’t wait any longer after that. The walkers open fire, and the men are right behind them, charging in as a single front.

If Cutup’s being completely honest, he loses track of what’s happening after the first five minutes of the charge. There’s so much artillery booming around him, practically shaking the ground, and there’s so much blaster fire that he can’t even tell where the base is after a few minutes. There are men around him, shouting out orders, pressing forwards, dying. Diving to the side to avoid more cannon fire. Firing determinedly at the incoming Seps. He thinks he catches a glimpse of blue and green sabers in the night, but he blinks and can’t find them again.

His ears hurt, and his head hurts, and he can barely see through his water-and-mud-streaked helmet. He guns down a few determined droids that are trying to approach the walkers, aware of one of his brothers right next to him—he thinks its Fives, or maybe Echo, whoever it is their motions are smooth and controlled in the way that only the real ARCs can make them.

Everything is disorienting. Cutup thinks that they’re advancing, but it’s legitimately hard to tell, and he’s suddenly more focused on not getting shot than he is at moving forwards. He trips over something half-hidden by the mud and has to stifle a yelp when he glances down and sees the limp body of a brother at his feet.

“Look out!”

Someone grabs his shoulder and pulls him to the side so quickly that his feet slide in sludge. He gets shoved into a ditch and slides down the side to the bottom. Echo—he’s fairly certain it’s Echo now—slides in next to him, and not a moment later the walker Cutup had been nearest to explodes into flames. The sound makes Cutup’s eardrums throb. Another clone suddenly comes tumbling into the ditch next to them, kicking up mud and splattering them even more. When the brother presses himself closer to the ground to try and protect himself as another explosion sounds, Cutup catches a glimpse of blue swirls underneath the filth. He’s nearly floored by the sense of relief that overtakes him.

“Tipper, are you alright?” he says. Tipper doesn’t seem to hear him over the rain and blasterfire, so Cutup shouts the question instead.

“I think so?” Tipper shouts back. Both of them flinch as an enemy cannon round lands far too close for comfort. Echo is peering over the edge of the ditch, still firing at the droids.

“Where are the others?” Cutup yells, and Tipper shakes his head.

“No clue! We got separated!” he responds, and Cutup feels a sudden spike of fear.

The others could very well be dead.

Echo suddenly swears, dropping back down next to them. He tries to scrape some of the mud off his gun, but it’s not very effective.

“The droids are starting to pull back,” Echo says loudly. “They’re out of range.”

Cutup swallows nervously. “Will we have to follow them?”

“No,” Echo replies. “This is a battle of artillery now. If we try and pursue, the Sep’s cannons will pick us off before we can get close. We’ll just have to hope that the walkers are enough to finish the mission.”

“Thank the Force,” Tipper mutters. He sags just a little, smearing mud across his whole back. “This is horrible.”

Cutup agrees wholeheartedly.

They wait in the ditch for the next hour, listening to the echoes of gunfire and the frantic pounding of heavy artillery. There’s nothing else they can do, nothing else they’re willing to risk trying, so they sit there while the rain peters out and the mud dries on their armor, silently hoping that their squad is alright and listening to the death cries of the unlucky above them.

The walkers blow the enemy base to smithereens. It’s satisfying to hear, even more satisfying to watch, but once the blasterfire stops Cutup can’t feel anything except a bone-deep exhaustion that makes it hard to move. He wants to sink into the mud and not move for at least a week. It sucks at his body enough as it is, and it takes enormous effort to pull himself out of the ditch.

The landscape had been colorful and vibrant despite the Separatist presence when the attack on the outpost had first started. Now the whole area is completely decimated. Muddy craters pocket the ground, and the outpost in the distance is being consumed by flames.

There’s a patch of half-crushed flowers at his feet—fortunately not the bold red of the Yerdua poison spitter, but a pale purple color that almost makes them look white in comparison to the mud streaked over their petals. Cutup stares them numbly and tries to ignore the way his hands are shaking.

“Cutup, are you ready to move? We’ve got to find the others!” Echo says from a few feet away. It’s much easier to hear him now that the battle is over. Cutup jerks his gaze back up to the warzone, steeling himself at the sight of the dozens of motionless forms stretched out across the ground. The medics are already beginning to rush in.

“I—yeah, I’m ready to go,” he says, and starts to move. Tipper puts a careful, supportive hand on his shoulder that trembles just as much as Cutup’s are, and even though it shouldn’t be, it’s comforting to know that Cutup isn’t the only one shaken by all this.

He’s careful to step well over the flowers as he follows Echo and Tipper. He hopes other brothers will have the presence of mind to do the same.

Once the rain stops, the dirt beneath their feet quickly returns to normal. It’s a relief to not have to trudge through the mud anymore, but that just means that the jungle finds something else to throw at them instead.

Beta squad didn’t lose anyone during the outpost strike. Del and Fives had kept the rest of the squad close together, and hung near the back of the tank line, shooting at the droids from afar. They’d been spared from the worst of the firefight.

They’re lucky, Echo knows. Several squads had been completely decimated, and many more had lost members to injuries and death.

How long will their luck last? They all know the odds of at least one of them not making it is high. Everyone is on constant alert, but it’s still not enough to keep the casualties away.

The next morning Captain Rex pairs Beta squad with another team to go on patrol and leaves them with stern instructions to watch each other’s backs. He’s trying to keep them alive, assign more eyes to watch out for potential dangers. Gamma squad is full of good men, skilled and brave. Echo tries not to learn their names, because knowing a name always makes things worse in the end, but he picks a few of them up anyway. Four of them are named after cardinal directions, all from the same batch on Kamino. Another is called Quake—he’s their sergeant. There are four others that he doesn’t know the names of.

While they’re advancing towards their next target—a landing strip for Separatist transports—the clones learn that the deeper they go into the jungle the more resistance they face. Not from droids, although that’s an issue as well—but from the planet itself.

Beta and Gamma are on patrol. It’s quiet, deceptively peaceful, easy. No one is expecting the massive plant that suddenly reaches down and plucks one of Gamma squad from the ground. One moment everything is quiet save the chirping of insects, and the next moment a brother is being hoisted up in the air by a massive gaping mouth.

“The kriff—!?”

“Get down!”

“There’s more of them!”

Another plant swoops down to try and grab someone else, and with a sick feeling in his stomach Echo realizes that the plants are carnivorous. There are a dozen of them, and they’re tracking the clones’ motions and striking out wherever they sense it.

“No! No, East!”

One of Gamma is frozen, staring up into the mass of writhing plants above them. He reaches up helplessly, and his voice is thick with terror. “EAST!”

“South, get down!” Quake shouts, but South doesn’t move, and a plant is diving towards him—

Echo makes a split-second decision, throwing himself at South. He knocks them both to the side and feels the whoosh of air as the plant barely misses them, its maw clamping down around a fungus formation instead.

One of the no-names gets plucked up, and his startled scream goes muffled as he’s lifted higher and higher until it’s abruptly cut off. Echo shudders.

“Nobody move!” he yells, both out loud and into his helmet comm. “They can only sense you through motion!”

Everyone freezes accordingly, even South, who is swearing brokenly beneath him. Out of the corner of his eyes Echo can see the giant plants twitching above them as if confused. Waiting for their prey to move again.

“Echo?” Fives calls from several yards away. “What’s the plan?”

Echo takes a deep breath. “Don’t have one yet!” he admits worriedly. “I don’t know what their limit is! How much can you afford to move without them seeing you?” He flicks his fingers experimentally, then fidgets, tilting his head to look around. When he moves to take his weight off of South, a few of the plants drift interestedly in his direction, so he goes still again.

“Well, we can’t just sit here!” Nax hisses from somewhere to the side. “If we don’t have a plan, let’s call one of the Jedi!”

“South, you alright?” North asks through helmet comms. He’s audibly shaken. South inhales shakily.

“I’m—I’m fine,” he replies quietly. “But the plants took East—”

“We know,” West growls. “We saw. And I’m going to make them regret it.”

South jerks abruptly enough that Echo glances up at the plants in worry. “West, don’t do anything stupid—”

“Hey, hey. Just stay calm, okay? We’ve got to survive this, West, don’t—” North begins.

They’re both too late. West doesn’t listen to them. He gets to his feet and pulls out two thermal detonators, thumbing the triggers. The plants swarm towards him eagerly, and South yells in denial.

West hurls the thermal detonators into the air. He's trying to save them all, and for a moment, Echo thinks it's going to work. One goes directly into one of the plant’s mouths, and the other soars up into the twisting vines—but West is scooped up by one of the carnivores just before his grenades go off. The twin explosions send flames racing through the plant colony, and the vines begin to thrash as they burn.

“No… no! West, you kriffing idiot, we told you not to do anything stupid!” South cries, pushing Echo aside to stand up. The plants all ignore him in their death throes, and flaming debris is beginning to fall from the canopy.

West is gone. 

“Everyone, we’ve got to move!” Del shouts. The clones sprint to get out of range of the fiery carnage. Gamma is dragging South along behind them, ignoring his shouted protests.

The flames die out eventually, after Beta and Gamma have sent out the reports of the carnivorous plants to the rest of the GAR as a warning. When the smoke clears, Beta follow Gamma tensely back to the site of the incident to search for West, because there's the slightest chance that the plants dropped him once they'd started to burn.

They don’t find him. North and South are the only two members of the original batch left.

Echo wishes they could give the two more time to mourn, but the setback has put them behind schedule, and they must make up for the lost time. They’re needed at the landing strip in two hours, and they can’t wait any longer than they already have.

Echo quietly thanks the Force that it was members of Gamma who were taken instead of members of Beta, and can’t quite shake off his guilt at that thought.

They take the landing strip. It’s easier than taking the satellite outpost had been, despite taking twice as long—two days. Despite the extended period of time, this operation is textbook for the clones. Without the miserable mud and confusing rain, the turbo tanks and walkers are able to provide assistance, along with several gunships that swoop down from above. It’s still rough going, but this time, at least, Fives feels like the clones have some control over what’s happening. The 212th and 501st work well together, like cogs of a machine, and the mission blows over with little complications.

Beta doesn’t get time to rest afterwards. Commander Tano sends them a message summoning them to the landing strip’s main building, which has been converted into a pseudo-command station for the time being.

Commander Tano is waiting for them outside the building, picking flakes of dirt off of her montrals with a disgusted look. General Skywalker is with her. For a moment, Fives’ conflicting feelings make themselves known—can we trust him what does he know how can we find out—before he shoves them aside. This isn’t the time or place for those kinds of doubts. He has to trust in his General, just like old times. Both Jedi have looked better, but neither of them are injured.

Commander Tano’s brow is furrowed as her gaze travels over the squad, making sure that they aren’t missing anyone. When her face relaxes a little in relief, Fives smiles.

“We’re all accounted for, sir,” he tells her gently. “We’re alright.”

Her gaze travels over him, and he can feel it lingering over the scorch mark on his chest from that close call with the commando droids several days ago. After a long moment, she takes a deep breath.

“I’m glad you boys are okay,” she says. “Are you feeling up for a mission?”

Beta squad all turn towards Del. It’s his call to answer that, though if they’re really needed for a mission it’s not like his reply matters.

Beta is tired, but they’re not falling over from exhaustion yet. They’d do anything for the Commander anyway, and that goes for everyone. Even Fives.

“We’re good to go, sir,” Del answers. Beta squad straightens at his words, preparing themselves. Fives tightens his grip around his weapon. “What do we need to do?”

General Skywalker chuckles. “I can see why you like them, Snips,” he says. “They’re tough. You picked well.”

The unexpected compliment makes Fives’ heart skip a beat, for more than one reason. The General’s words bring up hoards of memories that Fives has been trying to stay away from: General Skywalker laughing with the men, teasing Captain Rex, greeting Echo and Fives warmly at their return from ARC training—

All before Commander Tano had left, of course. Afterwards was when he’d started to become… unstable.

Fives wants to trust General Skywalker so bad. He’s the greatest Jedi Fives has ever served with, powerful and skilled and caring, unlike some of the others. Despite everything that had happened he still admires their General, respects him for his compassion and battle prowess.

“Ahsoka and I have received word from the 212th scouts that there’s a small droid production facility a few klicks north of here,” General Skywalker announces. “I wanted a skilled strike team to help us shut it down. My padawan suggested your squad. Think you can handle it?”

“Of course, sir,” Del says, saluting him quickly. “It shouldn’t be a problem.”

The General grins at him. “Alright, then. We’ll leave in an hour. Get as much rest as you can, men. This isn’t going to be easy.”

Fives doesn’t doubt that. None of the 501st’s missions are easy. At least with General Skywalker at their side, they have a chance at survival.

General Skywalker remembers Domino squad from the Rishi incident. He remembers the Teth survivors, too, and apologizes sincerely for Attie’s loss. The only clone he doesn’t know by name is Tipper, who makes short work of introducing himself.

Fives nearly freezes when General Skywalker addresses him by name, battling the influx of emotions that he fears the Jedi might be able to sense. But neither of them react, only continuing their trek through the jungle, and Fives is grateful for it.

He’s not ready to talk about this yet.

Felucia is so much easier to navigate with Jedi leading the way. Every so often either the General or the Commander will pause, eyes closed as if reaching out with the Force. They steer the clones around potentially hazardous areas and advise them on different plants to stay the kriff away from.

They walk for two klicks without any incident, and it’s probably the least stressful thirty minutes of the whole campaign so far. Fives is just starting to think that maybe this mission won’t be terrible when sudden the two Jedi freeze.

Fives is sick of watching people freeze because they know something’s coming. He and the rest of Beta have seen way too much of that in the past three days, so they raise their weapons and put their backs to each other without a word.

“Something’s headed our way,” Commander Tano says in alarm. “Something big, I don’t know what it is.”

“An animal of some sort,” General Skywalker says, unclipping his lightsaber from his belt. “It feels hostile. And it knows we’re here. Running wouldn’t do us any good.”

Cutup flinches at Fives’ back.

They hear it before they see it. A monsterous screech fills the air, echoing eerily through the jungle. The clones whirl to point their weapons in the direction it had come from as the Jedi activate their lightsabers, positioning themselves in front of the squad protectively—

The creature that bursts out of the undergrowth has six clawed legs, a shell-like body, and a mouth full of too many jagged teeth to count. Fives almost recoils in horror.

Sithspit. It’s an acklay.

The clones open fire.

“Kriff!” Hevy shouts. Their blue blaster bolts mostly impact with the acklay’s hard exoskeleton. The few bolts that manage to hit more vulnerable places just make it angry. It recoils for an instant before screeching at them furiously, and then it starts to scuttle forwards.

“Scatter!” Del yells. The clones dive to the sides as the acklay hurtles towards them, but before it can get close the Jedi intercept it. General Skywalker leaps up into the air, far too close to all those snapping teeth for comfort. It doesn’t seem to bother the General, though—he kicks the beast in the eye, sending it stumbling to the side. Commander Tano hacks off a leg at the same moment. Unfortunately, the acklay still has five more, and it stabs viciously at her with its remaining claws. She’s forced to roll out of the way to avoid being skewered.

“Hey! Stay away from the Commander, sleemo!” Nax shouts suddenly, and blasterfire erupts from the side. He and Coric are peppering the acklay with fire to distract it, which works… but suddenly they’re the target of its fury.

“Oh, Force, run!” Coric shouts. He and Nax scramble to get away, so Hevy shoots it from behind. Tipper and Echo join him. The acklay whirls, baring its teeth. In its slight moment of hesitation General Skywalker slashes it’s flank. It snarls at him, lunging forwards—and Commander Tano hacks off another leg. This time, it falls… except it falls forwards.

Tipper and Fives manage to get out of range, but Echo has the misfortune of being closest. The acklay’s teeth are feet from where Echo is scrambling away. Cutup screams in denial. Fives can only watch in horror as the monster reaches for Echo with teeth that will snap and rip and tear, no no no—

He doesn’t even see General Skywalker move. One moment the General is racing towards them and the next he’s in between Echo and the jaws of death, hands outstretched and eyes squeezed shut. The acklay makes a strangled choking noise, jaws straining to reach them, mere inches away, but General Skywalker keeps it immobilized with the Force.

“Ahsoka!” he shouts, voice a little strained, and Commander Tano lets out a war cry as she brings her lightsaber down on the acklay’s neck.

There is a long moment of silence. Tipper finally breaks it.

“Kriff, Echo, are you alright?”

Echo is shaking, and not even trying to hide it. He lets out a breath and recovers his balance very deliberately as everyone clusters around him, shifting away from the creature’s limp body.

“I’m—I’m okay, guys. Force. That was too close.” He shakes his head and turns to General Skywalker. “Thanks, sir. Thank you. ”

“Hey, it was no problem,” General Skywalker says casually. “Snips did all the hard work.”

Echo shakes his head again. “All the same, sir. That… would not have been a fun ending.”

General Skywalker chuckles. “No, it wouldn’t have been. Besides, we need you. All of you. I won’t have you dying on us yet.”

And Fives—Fives doesn’t know what to think after that, because General Skywalker is sincere about that. He does care, he does trust them, just as Fives had thought he did during his first life until the end of the war.

Okay, so… what that means is that something changed. Something made General Skywalker act like he had before, and Fives would be money on the combined forces of the war, losing his padawan, and the Chancellor. You know, if he had money.

That also means that it’s something that can be changed.

For the first time in a while, he feels a flicker of hope that maybe his General is loyal. Echo had theorized that maybe General Skywalker is being manipulated just as everyone else is, and Fives lets himself consider that possibility briefly before jerking his mind back to the present.

Now is not the time or place to think about this. They have a job to do, and Fives needs to focus.

Droidbait had worried that the General’s plan would be to storm the front doors of the factory. It’s still a factory, for pity’s sake, even if it is small, and that means that there are plenty of clankers around to fend off any unwanted visitors. He’s relieved when General Skywalker takes the more stealthy approach this time around. The droids aren’t expecting anyone to sneak in from the back, most of their forces are positioned on the east side of the factory, towards the direction of the rest of the Republic army.

Hevy throws rocks to distract the two guards at the back while Zeer and Echo sneak up behind them. The takedowns are swift and silent, earning an impressed whistle from Cutup.

It’s almost too easy from there. With a Jedi in front and a Jedi in back, navigating through the hallways without being seen is easy. When they make it to the control room, General Skywalker dives in first, lightsaber flashing brilliant blue in the dim lighting. Sparks fly as he cuts the two guards into pieces. Fives, Droidbait, and Tipper are right behind him. There’s a line of droids sitting at consoles who start to reach for weapons at the sight of the Jedi. Droidbait aims for those first, because any one of those consoles could have access to some sort of alarm. He fires off seven shots and grins to himself when all five droids go down hard.

Tally mark. Tally mark. Tally mark. Tally mark. Tally mark.

He’s not sure when he’d stopped associating his kills with numbers. Somehow, he remembers every thought of tally mark, even though he can’t say an actual number.

He has a lot of tally marks since Felucia, and he’s only gaining more with every hour that goes by.

The control room is cleared within the minute. Hevy sighs as he steps over the shredded droid parts by the door.

“You could have left some for the rest of us!” he complains as the rest of the squad files into the room. Zeer elbows him.

“Don’t complain,” the big clone grunts. “You’ll get plenty more opportunities, I promise.”

“Droid Factory 003, why aren’t you responding? Come in, control, this is Factory 001. Please respond.”

The tinny voice comes from the holoprojector in the center of the room, and Echo suddenly gasps, diving towards the floor underneath the holoprojector. His hands scrape at the wires and plugs underneath with a frantic fever.

“Someone stall them, don’t let them cut the call!” he hisses out from between his teeth. Droidbait is closest. He has no idea what he’s doing, but he accepts the call. The others duck out of the holoprojector’s view.

“Finally,” the droid who appears says. “Factory 003, you’re two minutes overdue for your update. What’s the—wait a second. A clone!?”

“Uh,” Droidbait says. What the kriff is he supposed to say? But Echo isn’t done yet, so he grasps frantically for words. “Hi. Um, I’m here to… discuss the Republic’s surrender to your forces?”

He hears a strange slapping sound, as if someone has facepalmed from their hiding spot.

“Surrender?” the droid says skeptically. It glances around the seemingly empty control room. “Where is the crew?”

“Ah, they captured me, but since I’m the official Republic-surrendering diplomat, I have the right to talk to their superiors alone,” Droidbait makes up a little desperately.

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” he hears someone whisper, just soft enough so the holoprojector doesn’t pick it up. He puts a hand behind his back and flashes a rude sign at whoever the kriff had said that. Commander Tano stifles a giggle.

“What? Who came up with that rule?”

“I… dunno. That’s what they told me, though!” Droidbait defends. “Come on, droid, give me a break! I’m trying to surrender, here!”

The droid stares at him for a few moments in confusion.

“I will have to contact my superiors,” it says reluctantly. “What are the terms of your surrender?”

“Welllllll…” Droidbait drawls, kicking Echo lightly under the holoprojector to tell him to hurry the kriff up, “The terms are that we are surrendering, and we’d like for the Separatists to not treat us badly once we are their prisoners.”

“Force save us,” someone mutters. “General, please never make him a diplomat.”

“I dunno, he’s not doing that bad,” General Skywalker says in amusement. Droidbait grits his teeth.

“Hey!” the droid suddenly says. “What if I don’t believe you, clone?”

“Then I’d be extremely surprised,” Droidbait replies without really thinking about it.

“What? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Blast. “Uh—”

“Done,” Echo says, normal volume. Droidbait finally looks down at him to see that Echo had plugged his datapad into a port and downloaded… something.

“Done? What’s done?” the droid asks. Droidbait sighs and slams on the button to disconnect the call.

“I don’t want to hear it,” he growls at Beta before even turning around. When he’s finally brave enough to do so, they’re all looking at him, and he can’t see his brothers’ faces but he knows what their expressions look like underneath the helmets—sly and teasing and gleeful.

“Well, I did get my hands on the location of factory 001 thanks to your suffering,” Echo says, holding up his datapad successfully.

“Great job, Echo,” General Skywalker compliments. His expression is carefully neutral, but there’s a glimmer of laughter in his eyes that makes Droidbait groan inwardly. “Ahsoka, take Tipper and Cutup, have them help you start setting the charges. Echo, how quickly can you extract anything useful from this factory?”

“Shouldn’t take too long, sir,” Echo replies. He’s already turning towards the nearest terminal. “Give me just a few minutes.”

Echo is successful, as Droidbait knew he would be, and Commander Tano returns just as he’s finishing up with Cutup and Tipper right behind her.

“We’re ready to go!” she announces, and they get out of there. It’s just as easy escaping as it was getting in. Droidbait wishes they had a thousand Jedi to help pull off stunts like this, because it definitely wouldn’t have gone as smoothly if Beta squad had been alone.

The explosion as they leave is quite spectacular. For the moment, it almost feels like they have a chance. Who knows, maybe Domino’s changed something somehow. Maybe it’s enough to help the Republic take back this planet.

Later, he’ll realizes how wrong those thoughts were.

The situation on Felucia is only going to get worse.

Chapter Text

At a certain point in the campaign, everything starts to move faster. Entire missions go by in blurs of blood and sweat, in cries of death and the grinding of mechanical joints that becomes ever-present, echoing through the jungle.

The Republic is starting to lose. The droids are tireless, can march on and on without stopping and are only somewhat hindered by the dangerous jungle around them Pistons don’t tire like muscles do, metal doesn’t rip and tear like flesh does. They can afford to move after dark has fallen, unconcerned by the nocturnal predators that come alive at night. They don’t need sleep or rest or recovery time. The clones have always known that the Separatists would have an advantage over them in that area, but the facts have never been as apparent as they are now.

It rains again. Which means there is more mud, which means the turbo tanks are useless, which means everything is soaked and everyone is miserable. Hevy hates it with an intensity that he’s rarely felt before. They’re stationed back with the main force of the clone army again, acting as guards for the line of walkers that stretches far back through the fungus trees. The men are finally getting the hang of still staying aware while working to keep the tanks from sinking—they’ve learned exactly how long it takes to dig out a massive foot, and how many men are needed to keep an eye out for snipers or commandos hiding in the undergrowth.

Hevy has a close call as they’re struggling to free one of the lead walkers from the sludge. The ground is different here than it had been where they’d initially landed. They’re much deeper in the jungle at this point, and the ground is even more soft and malleable under their feet. Hevy and Cutup are side-by-side, struggling to move the mud away from the walker’s trapped limb.

“Why are—kriff, why are we having so many problems with this but the droids aren’t?” Hevy grunts out through gritted teeth, grabbing at the walker’s leg and pulling at it (as if it’ll do any good, but it makes him feel marginally better for some reason). Cutup shakes his head as he shoves a handful of mud aside.

“I don’t know,” he mutters. “I don’t think they weigh enough to get stuck like our stuff does.” Hevy almost wipes a hand over his visor to try and clear the water streaks away but restrains himself at the last moment—his hands are covered in mud. He groans instead, kneeling down to try and scrape mud away from the walker. His knees sink into the ooze. He winces uncomfortably at the odd sensation.

“Great. Hooray for us. What, they can’t make lighter equipment?” He’s finding some comfort through the complaining even though it’s stupid, and he’s grateful that Cutup chooses not to really answer him. His brother makes makes a noncommittal noise as the ground beneath the walker squelches wetly—

The enormous walker foot pops free. Normally this is cause for weary and subdued celebration, but this time—Force, this time Hevy is still kneeling directly in front of the limb, and as the walker starts to move he tries to get up and can’t. He jerks his leg, struggling to tug it free, but the mud has grabbed hold and refuses to let go. He feels a flash of panic.

“I can’t—Cutup—! ”

Cutup sees what happening immediately. He grabs Hevy’s leg and pulls with every bit of his strength, and there’s an odd suctioning noise but it’s not quite enough. Hevy grimaces at the strain on his calf. The walker’s foot is reaching its peak, right above them now. Cutup pulls again, more frantically this time and Hevy lets out a strangled groan—he can already tell it isn’t enough again, so in desperation he reaches down into the mud, feeling desperately for a clasp that he can’t see. He gets his fingers around it and unlatches it just as Cutup pulls again—

Suddenly, Hevy is free. They both go toppling sideways. The walker’s foot comes down exactly where they had been a moment ago as the pilot carries on, blissfully unaware of the incident that had barely been avoided. For a long moment, neither of them speak, panting softly as the fear-induced adrenaline dies away.

“Sithspit,” Cutup finally says, dragging himself to his feet. “Did anyone else even see that?”

“I don’t… think so,” Hevy says, glancing up. The finally-moving vehicle had blocked the rest of Beta from witnessing their plight.

Now his foot is cold. 

“Are you alright?” Cutup asks in concern. He reaches down, helmet looking Hevy over as if searching for wounds, for a reason that Hevy hasn’t stood up yet. Instead of answering him, Hevy sighs and lifts one leg in explanation. He’s missing a boot.

“I had to get rid of it,” he mutters petulantly. “It was the only thing I could think of that would help. And it did.” The walker moves past. From behind them, someone lets out a shout—Beta squad has finally figured out that something had happened.

Hevy looks forlornly at the place where his boot most likely is, buried somewhere in the mud. It’s unlikely that he’ll find it, and even if he does, it’s probably crushed by the walker’s weight.  “Blast it, where the kriff am I gonna get a new boot?”

As it turns out, getting a new boot isn’t really a problem. There have been plenty of casualties over the past few days, so once the rest of Beta learn the story it only takes a couple minutes for them to conjure up a new boot through the grapevine of brothers. The man that brings Hevy the new armor piece is silent as he hands it over, and Hevy swallows nervously as he turns the worn armor over in his hands.

“Who did… whose—?”

“A friend,” the other clone says bluntly. His voice is hard, and his visor tips in Hevy’s direction as he speaks. “Do me a favor and don’t do anything stupid out there. You carry a piece of him with you now, and I don’t want to hear that he’s been dishonored in any way, understand?”

Hevy’s heart nearly stops in his chest, and he stares down at the boot in his hands numbly. Oh. He’d known it would be some unlucky clone’s old equipment, but hearing that—seeing his brother, clearly mourning and bitter and angry but still willing to help another—makes it real.

Suddenly the boot feels heavy in his hands. The weight is of memories, of words that no longer exist and a friendship abruptly razed by the incessant waves of Separatists. He takes a deep breath and wishes there was something he could do for the other clone, but the man is already leaving.

The clone doesn’t look back. Hevy can’t decide if that makes him feel better or worse.

He slips the boot on and sends a silent prayer of thanks to whoever it had belonged to before. He’ll do his best to make sure they get avenged, whoever they are. He at least owes them that much.

The next day, everything is dry again, which means the turbo tanks are back in action. Factory 001 is their next target, finally reached using the coordinates Echo had gained from their infiltration of Factory 003 earlier. With the turbo tanks in the lead, the advancement towards the factory becomes so much easier. It gives the footsoldiers a little bit of time to try and recover. Beta squad is lucky—they manage to get seats on top of one of the turbo tanks for an hour, to give themselves a break. Cutup’s feet sort of ache, and he’s grateful for the few minutes of rest.

Except… when they get to the factory, there’s nothing there.

They send a couple scouts closer when they’re able to move their heavy artillery in without even a hint of resistance. There’s several extremely tense minutes where no one even moves, waiting for news with fingers clenched tightly around rifles.

It’s quiet. Too quiet. Even the forest is silent around them.

“Well, this can’t possibly be a trap,” Cutup mutters. Tipper snorts from behind him. When Nax elbows him, he shrugs. “What? Come on, there’s definitely something wrong here.”

Coric is on his other side, and the medic sighs heavily. “Cutup, I swear, if you jinx this I’m not going to forgive you.”

“Yeah, why can’t something good happen to us for once?” Nax complains. “Could we at least try to be optimistic here?”

“That’s hardly realistic,” Zeer mutters quietly. “This is most likely some sort of trick.”

“Kriff,” Droidbait sighs. “Maybe if I had done a better job of convincing that droid I was a prisoner back at Factory 003—”

“Oh, no you kriffing don’t,” Echo interrupts suddenly. He and Fives have been silent this whole time, completely still in wait with discipline from ARC training that the others simply don’t have, but now they turn. “Droidbait, don’t you dare even begin to think that this is on you. It isn’t.”

Droidbait’s shoulders are all tensed up. “But I could have—”

“Hey, ‘Bait, they would have done this regardless of if we’d picked up the call,” Fives tells him. “As soon as we destroyed that factory they knew that we had gone through their datafiles and found the locations of the others. It definitely isn’t your fault. Relax.”

Droidbait lets out a breath, and his shoulders slump. “Alright,” he says, and he sounds convinced.

“Hey, hey,” Del says. He’s listening to the comm chatter on the channel specifically for Sergeants that the others don’t have access to. “I’m getting some info. The scouts say that the whole factory is completely abandoned.”

“What?”

“Apparently the whole place is shut down. No guards, no machines, nothing. The assembly lines are empty, too,” Del continues. He pauses for a split second, listening. “There’s nothing in the control room, either. General Kenobi is ordering them to return to—wait.”

Wait? Wait for what? Cutup shifts his feet nervously.

Suddenly, Del inhales sharply—a shocked sound that can’t possibly mean anything good. Cutup freezes at the sound, and ice-cold dread claws at his chest. Something’s wrong.  

“Oh, no,” Del breathes.

Something’s really wrong.

It’s like the Blue Shadow Virus all over again.

The Separatists abandoned their factory knowing full well that the Republic would do anything to claim it and move a massive portion of their men within a one mile radius of the facility. A one mile radius that the Seps had pumped full of a toxin before leaving—not the kind of toxin that makes you sick, but a poison that targets the immune system.

The jungle takes care of the rest.

The Kaminoans are good at what they do. That’s why the clones don’t ever have to worry about picking up foreign diseases—their immune systems are ridiculously strong. If they were anywhere else in the galaxy, the brief attack on their bodies wouldn’t be nearly enough to do anything. They would adjust after a day or so of discomfort. Here, Felucia’s microbacteria are quick to evolve and infect. Not even the Kaminoan’s genetics can keep up with the myriad of diseases that sweep through the whole army without warning. The Jedi get vaccines to protect them at every new planet. The clones aren’t that lucky, and it’s their downfall here.

It starts with coughing—coughing that makes Cutup flinch every time he hears it, and Tipper, too, because it reminds them of the virus and neither of them are as comfortable with those memories as they thought they had been. Especially when so many of the plants around them are blue. Alone, Cutup doesn’t mind the color at all, but when he hears coughing along with the sight it’s enough to make him shudder, bringing up remembrance of the hopelessness and pain and fear.

The flesh-eating diseases are quick to reveal themselves, too—and there are far too many varieties to even pinpoint one exact cause. Beta is lucky—they’re on the opposite side of the GAR from where those diseases seem to originate from, but they hear the horrific stories, words rattled off on comms in between painful coughs and retching.

Some squads are hit worse than others and that’s the only reason the Republic doesn’t fall to pieces right then and there. On the second day after the diseases start, a squad who’d avoided serious illnesses initially returned from a patrol feeling completely normal. None of them had woken up from their rest later that night—they’d been infected by a fast-acting parasite that had killed them in their sleep.

Suddenly, their enemy isn’t something they can fight. A muted sort of terror falls over the men, because they can’t do anything about this, and the medics don’t have nearly enough supplies or information to deal with everything. They hadn’t needed to, after all, and now they’re paying the price for their lack of knowledge.

Hevy starts coughing up blood. He has to take off his helmet, and barely two hours later Coric does too.

“It’s some sort of lung infection,” Coric rasps to them painfully, stubbornly keeping his head tilted away from them even though it isn’t really going to do any good. “With any luck, it won’t be fatal. Coughing up blood doesn’t necessarily mean you’re going to die. We’re still functional, it’s just… not fun.”

That seems to be an understatement, because when Echo, Zeer, Del, Nax, and Droidbait ineventibly start coughing as well, Beta squad is practically crippled. Most of the army is.

Cutup, Tipper, and Fives avoid the lung infection, somehow. Fives theorizes that it has to do with their exposure to the virus, which makes perfect sense—the damage the blue shadow virus had caused to their lungs actually strengthened them in the long run. They’re not spared from the overall sicknesses, though. All three of them wake up nauseous on the fourth day, dry-heaving and unable to get any kind of food down at all. Cutup is practically choking all morning.

“Force, Cutup. Are you three alright?” Droidbait coughs out from where he’s leaned against a motionless walker leg. Cutup gasps helplessly from where he’s doubled over in the leaves a few feet away, stomach rolling unsteadily.

“Yeah, sure, just kriffing—ugh, peachy,” Cutup forces out. He lifts his head wearily to look around them and clenches his fists in horror at the sight all around them.

The clone army currently looks more like a refugee camp of some sort than any kind of military operation. There are tents set up everywhere, and men are sprawled around the jungle, ignoring the shrubbery in their misery. In the distance, someone is shouting in pain, and coughing echoes through the jungle.

They weren’t prepared for this at all. Cutup can barely move, much less get up and defend them if something happens.

On the fifth day, the Separatists grow sick of waiting for the jungle to kill them off and finally come after them.

Some of the illnesses have run their course and are starting to wear off, leaving men weak but more functional than they had been. That’s the case with Coric, Hevy, Echo, Zeer, and Del, who have already started to recover. Droidbait and Nax are still incapacitated. Cutup, Tipper, and Fives can at least stand now, but it’s not easy.

When the first shots ring out, everyone instinctively goes for weapons, even those who are practically half-dead. The droids are coming. Adrenaline and fear is enough to drive a large amount of men to action despite sickness, but there are plenty who don’t have the strength.

There are plenty who can’t get up, and some who won’t ever get up.

The only reason the whole army isn’t killed off right then and there is that the pilots have enough sense to use their vehicles as shields, even though half of them are in just as bad of states as the rest of the ground troops. They’re still able to fire at the incoming Seps, and they move their tanks in between the men and the droids. It’s something, but it won’t save them for very long. Tanks are big targets.

The Jedi aren’t stupid. They know that their fighting force is weak, and as much as Cutup hates it, he’s secretly glad for the order that gets shouted through his helmet comm.

The Republic is retreating.

It’s not an easy withdraw. Even with defense from the tanks, there’s not enough cover and too many people who can’t run yet. Fives is supporting most of Nax’s weight and Zeer is practically carrying Droidbait as they join the crazed flow of men, half-delirious and stumbling through the undergrowth. They’re grabbing each other, supporting each other because they can’t leave men behind in a forsaken place like this. Cutup grabs the first man that he sees who’s stumbling. Del is still with him somehow and grabs the new clone’s other side to help.

“I—thanks,” the unknown brother breathes to them through gritted teeth—he’s in pain. A disease, most likely, and Cutup hopes it isn’t one of the contagious ones. There’s orange paint on his shoulders, he’s 212th. “Thought I was a goner—”

“We’re not leaving anyone if we can help it,” Del grunts. They’re headed slowly towards a cluster of fungi trees that can be used as much better cover along with dozens of other men. Behind them, a walker explodes. Cutup’s heart skips a beat, and he wonders if the pilots realize they’re dooming themselves by staying behind.

They probably do.

They’re only a few feet away from the fungus trees when the clone in between them glances back over his shoulder, lets out a muffled gasp, and flings all three of them to the ground with a strength Cutup wouldn’t have expected from his disease-weakened limbs. Just as they hit the dirt rapid-fire blasterbolts ring out, flashing overhead—the droids have breached the tank line and are coming after them.

Cutup hears someone scream in front of them, hears bodies crash to the ground. He and Del had avoided the initial attack thanks to their new friend, but it won’t be long until the droids realize they’re not on the ground because they’re dead—but what can they do? The second they move the droids will know, but if they don’t move the droids will find out eventually—

The sound of a lightsaber cuts through Cutup’s panic. He risks raising his head as a blue glow flashes across his vision, and then he can hear the blade deflecting enemy fire.

“Keep moving!” General Kenobi shouts, lightsaber swirling around him like some sort of bioluminescent hurricane. “Don’t stop, quickly now! Go! ”

Del rolls to his feet. Cutup follows him, reaching down to grab the unknown clone to his feet, but—

There’s a smoking hole in the other clone’s back. Cutup stares the body numbly, almost frozen. He’d saved them at the cost of his own life.

Del grabs his shoulder and gives him a little shake. It jolts Cutup out of his stupor.

“We’ve got to move!” Del shouts at him, voice tight with something that Cutup barely recognizes as fear. “Cutup, come on! Cutup!”

Cutup finally moves. He gets to his feet, and they run—away from the droids, away from Kenobi, away from the scores of sick brothers who hadn’t been able to find help and are now at the mercy of the droids. Cutup wants to go back. He wants to go back so bad, because there are still men back there, cut off and fighting and struggling to stay alive—but he can’t. They can’t go back. It would mean death to even try, and that thought hurts more than anything else.

A rancor’s enraged roar splits the night air, startling Cutup awake. For a moment he’s overwhelmed by the sound and the darkness. He flails, reaching for his weapon frantically until someone grabs his shoulder.

“Hey, Cutup! Calm down, it’s alright!” A hand grabs his shoulder. “It’s alright. That thing… probably isn’t interested in us.” Cutup finally gains enough coherency to see that it’s Tipper right next to him, barely visible through the darkness. Their backs are pressed up against a wheel of a turbo tank in an attempt to get some sort of shelter from the jungle as they rest. Neither of them have their helmets on.

“Blast it, I’m sorry, Tipper,” Cutup apologizes. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t,” Tipper tells him, offering a tiny smile. “The rancor took care of that.”

Cutup winces. “Oh, okay, okay. That makes me feel so much better.”

Tipper raises an eyebrow at him, and then they both flinch when the rancor roars again. It’s pretty loud. Cutup clenches his fists nervously.

“How close is it?”

Tipper shakes his head. “No idea,” he answers. “Close enough that people are starting to get nervous.”

Cutup glances around and is a little relieved to realize that he isn’t the only one on edge—scores of the men sprawled around their makeshift camp are awake, grabbing for weapons in the weak light of the Republic-issued glowsticks . Farther away, he can just make out the many silhouettes of the current guard, most of them standing completely still in alarm.

“Well, there goes my beautyrest,” Cutup complains. “I’m definitely not gonna get any sleep now.” Tipper sighs and nods his head.

“Me neither. Fortunately, I do have this.” He tugs something out of one of the pockets on his belt and drops the object in Cutup’s lap—a deck of cards.

“No way,” Cutup says incredulously. He grins. “You actually brought sabacc cards?”

“You’re kriffing right I did,” Tipper replies smugly. “I learned my lesson from last time we were stuck somewhere with nothing to do. You inspired me.” Cutup remembers that, when they had been trapped in the underground Naboo bunker and he had asked if anyone had brought sabacc cards to pass the time. He laughs. It feels good to, after everything that had happened earlier.

“What’s that I hear about sabacc?” someone asks sleepily. Cutup turns to see Nax getting up from where he’d been lying on the ground, uncaring of the plants beneath him. He’s not the only one awake—Coric is with him with a glowstick, and Fives and Echo are a few yards away next to a ration crate, watching over Droidbait and Hevy. Cutup doesn’t see Del or Zeer anywhere—they could be on guard duty.

“You feeling better, Nax?” Tipper asks worriedly. Nax waves a hand dismissively, shoving Cutup a little to the side to sit down against the wheel as well.

“I guess,” he answers. “I don’t feel like I’m about to cough up a lung, so that’s good.”

Coric sits down in front of them with a weary sigh. They haven’t seen much of him for the past few days. He’s been busy with the wounded.

“Our immune systems are finally starting to recover,” the medic explains. “Whatever the kriff that virus was that the droids used could weaken our body’s defenses for a little bit, but the Kaminoans designed those to be able to adapt, as well. At this point, we should be regaining immunity.”

“That’s good,” Tipper points out. Coric shakes his head grimly.

“Not good enough. Too many brothers have died. We’ve lost almost a fourth of our main force to disease alone. This campaign is a kriffing nightmare.”

Nax groans and nudges Cutup. “Well, deal already. We’re playing, right? I don’t wanna talk about the campaign, I wanna gamble.”

“Gamble what?” Cutup asks him, but obeys the command and deals out the cards.

It’s a small game with only the four of them, and the game is interspersed with the sounds of the rancor, growing ever louder. Everyone is on edge. They keep playing because they don’t know what they’ll do with themselves if they don’t have something to distract them.

The roar of a second rancor is finally enough to make them drop their cards. No one is sleeping anymore—everyone is awake, quietly hoping that the creatures won’t come any closer. Fives, Echo, Hevy, and Droidbait finally join them, and Del and Zeer appear a few minutes later, having switched guard shifts with someone else.

“Any news?” Echo asks Del worriedly. The Sergeant shrugs.

“The Jedi are all on high alert, but we’re not planning on attacking them. They’re bull rancors. Big, territorial, aggressive. We’re trying to stay off of their radar completely.”

Cutup likes the sound of that. No thank you, he doesn’t want fighting rancors to be on his to-do list ever. He’s perfectly fine to let the rancors do battle themselves.

“Hey,” Fives suddenly says. “Does anyone else hear that?”

Everyone goes silent, listens for a moment. There’s a low rumbling noise emanating from the jungle in front of them. Everyone freezes as a massive dark shape appears out of the darkness.

A rancor steps from the treeline, heavy feet thudding ominously as it steps closer to the clones. Cutup’s mouth drops open in horror as the beast lets out a dangerous growl, eyes fixed on a point somewhere beyond the clones—

Then it lets out an earth-shattering roar and charges.

Everything goes hazy after that. The clones are scattering, scrambling to get out of the way, racing to avoid being stomped on or crushed. The rancor isn’t attacking them, it’s attacking the other rancor—but the clones are caught in the middle, and a turbo tank gets overturned when the rancors collide with it. Someone screams. Everything is shaking—Cutup can’t make any sense of anything through his terror anyway, so he just fixes his eyes on whoever’s in front of him and runs.

It isn’t until later, once they’ve gotten far enough away that the sounds of the rancor battle are muted howls in the distance, that Beta squad realizes that they’re missing both Tipper and Zeer. They’re simply gone, and none of the other squads have seen either of them when Beta begins asking around in desperation.

Tipper is missing. Cutup can’t—he’s having a hard time wrapping his head around it, because it doesn’t even make sense in his mind. Tipper had survived the kriffing blue shadow virus, for crying out loud. For something as stupid as a rancor attack to be the cause of his death—

And Zeer, too? That makes even less sense. Zeer is the last person Cutup would expect to go out like that, but as the seconds, minutes, hours tick by and they don’t appear out of the darkness, Cutup starts to lose hope.

“They’ll find us eventually,” Coric tells them all, voice shaking just slightly. “They were probably just separated from us in all the chaos, that’s all.”

No one has the heart to contradict him, especially after Nax nods enthusiastically, eyes wide and slightly desperate.

There are still plenty of men missing, so theoretically it’s possible that they could still be alive. Most of Beta squad is simply acting as if they’re somewhere else, but Cutup’s hope is quickly replaced by frustration and helplessness and anger.

He could have done something. He could have grabbed ahold of Tipper, kept an eye on him, controlled his fear enough to stay level-headed during the attack. He could have done something, and now it’s too late.

Tipper and Zeer are gone, and Cutup’s very soul hurts, so he hides it with fury instead.

Fury is much easier to handle than anguish, after all.

Droidbait gets shot the next morning.

The clones are desperately trying to regroup. They’re scattered, tired, and a few are still suffering from lingering sicknesses. The Jedi are struggling to keep the army together, to protect them from both the droids and the jungle. It’s an impossible task. Fives thinks that it’s amazing the whole army hasn’t been decimated yet.

Beta squad, through some unspoken agreement, refuses to acknowledge the fact that Tipper and Zeer are gone. Neither of their bodies had been found at the destroyed site of the rancor incident, though Fives knows that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. There are plenty of scavengers on Felucia.

Beta is still clinging to the hope that their lost members are still alive. It’s the only thing that keeps Del, Nax, and Coric from falling apart.

“They aren’t dead unless we see a body,” Nax hisses in frustration when it’s brought up again, voice cracking just a little. Coric doesn’t speak but nods in determined agreement. Del remains silent, and it’s not hard to guess what he’s thinking. His fists are clenched, but he doesn’t disagree with the words of his squad, either.

Cutup throws his helmet onto the ground so hard that the visor cracks near the side. He’s hiding his grief behind a rage that the Teth survivors are struggling to stave off.

The droids don’t give them time to grieve, or regroup. Beta squad and several other squads that had stayed close after the rancor attack are racing to reach a rendezvous with the Jedi when the droids find them.

This is familiar to Fives, in a horrible way. He remembers another jungle a lifetime ago, dark and misty, remembers the call to retreat and thinking furiously that this is all Krell’s kriffing fault —

This isn’t quite like that, because this retreat is actually ordered, but the frantic fear is the same. The awful feeling that your back is exposed, that you could be shot at any second. Blasterfire chases them through the undergrowth. Fives is practically running backwards, returning fire through the trees at their pursuers. The rest of Beta is racing ahead, but there’s only so much Fives can do to keep the droids back—a few manage to get off several shots before Fives can take them down. He hears someone cry out and whirls around to see Droidbait stumbling, a brutal scorch mark on his side.

“No!”

Beta is already moving, turning around to hold the droids off while Fives sprints towards Droidbait, falling to his knees at his brother’s side. Droidbait yelps when Fives reaches down to get a better look at the hit, he’s trying to tell if the bolt had hit anything important but he—he can’t tell, and he can’t really get a better look because the droids are still firing at them.

“Medic!” Fives screams, and hopes, prays that Coric is within earshot. It’s entirely possible that he’s not because he’s needed practically everywhere right now—

“Back up!” someone shouts. “Get out of the way, you kriffing idiot!” A clone dives to the ground and shoves Fives out of his way. Fives jerks in surprise, turning to the other man. He sees medic crosses and there's something strange about them that seems almost... familiar—

Wait.

“Kix?”

“What?” Kix snaps. “Listen, we’ve got to move him, he’ll be alright but I can’t do anything until I take his armor off to see the full extent of the damage. That’s not something I can do while droids are firing at us, so we need to move.”

Fives blinks at Kix in shock for half a second before pure instinct kicks in. He knows better than to get between Kix and a patient. He grabs one of Droidbait’s arms and hoists him to his feet, ignoring the tiny whine of pain Droidbait lets out as the blaster wound is jostled. Droidbait can still walk a little, so Fives helps him limp until they’re out of the direct line of fire. Another clone rushes to meet them, and Fives’ heart skips a beat.

It’s Jesse. He and Kix are as inseparable as always.

Kix gives Fives a little shove, pushing him away from Droidbait for a moment. Fives wants to protest, but Jesse puts a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“We’ve got him, brother. But the rest of your squad needs you too.”

He’s right. Fives hates to leave Droidbait, but Kix and Jesse are about two of the only people he would trust with one of Domino’s lives.

He takes a deep breath, stares at the familiar Republic cog on Jesse’s helmet. They’ll take care of Droidbait, he knows it. He has complete faith in them, so he turns around and runs back towards the firefight. As much as he wants to stay and talk with his old (new?) friends, he higher priorities right now. He’s got to get the rest of Beta squad out of there first.

They make it to the rendezvous, by some miracle. The remnants of the 212th and the 501st are gathering there, around the tattered fabric of the command tent. There’s still a decent number of men left, but there are too many missing. Fives only sees two turbo tanks, and every walker he sees is damaged.

The area set up for the injured is massive. Men lie or sit all around the clearing—at least a hundred and fifty of them, Fives guesses, a whole company's worth. He doesn't want to guess at how many have died if there's a company of injured. There aren’t nearly enough medics working among them. They do manage to find Droidbait somewhere in the middle of it all, devoid of the upper half of his armor and with a bacta patch across his ribs. He sits up with a wince and a grin when Beta approaches.

“Hey, guys. Miss me?”

“Not even a little,” Nax teases half-heartedly. Fives breathes a sigh of relief when Droidbait chuckles. Their brother is going to be fine.

He zones out for a moment as Del, Nax, Hevy, and Cutup take a few moments to reassure themselves that Droidbait is okay. He glances around the makeshift hospital and frowns in disappointment when he doesn’t see Kix or Jesse anywhere.

“Hey,” Echo murmurs to him. “Don’t freak out. We’ll find them again. It’ll be easy, now that we know they’re here.”

“Assuming we haven’t changed something and they don’t die,” Fives says bitterly. Echo hums.

“If you think Kix or Jesse would let this planet kill them, you’re not remembering them right,” he says, and that does succeed in making Fives snort. Fives wants to believe that Echo is right, but at this point he’s not certain of anyone’s safety, not even his own.

The jungle has already taken two of Beta, and it nearly just took a third. Fives wouldn’t put it past the universe to get rid of his friends before he even has a chance to officially meet them in this life.

It rains again.

Droidbait’s side aches, and the bacta patch feels uncomfortable underneath his armor, but the medics had only allowed him to leave if he promised to keep it on.

Two days isn’t even close to enough time to fully heal from a blaster wound, even with bacta, but Droidbait hadn’t felt comfortable sitting on the ground while the rest of Beta continued to fight. There are men in much greater need of medical assistance than Droidbait, anyway, so he had gotten out of there as soon as possible.

Beta squad has taken refuge underneath an enormous fungus tree, bigger than most, to stay out of the downpour. Del uses the opportunity to pass around ration bars—tasteless things that Droidbait hates but eats anyway because that’s all they have.

The silence is stifling. Tipper and Zeer’s absences have never been more noticable, and Droidbait knows he’s not the only one thinking that from the way Del’s eyes have gone vacant and the way Cutup is clenching his jaw.

“I’ve been thinking,” Echo says finally, breaking the silence. Everyone turns to look at him. “About what we should do about the chips.” Droidbait almost glances around nervously, because Echo had said that kind of loud, but the sound of downpour drowns our their voices to any potential eavesdroppers. “I think we should tell Captain Rex.”

Droidbait pauses mid-chew to glance at Echo curiously. Is it finally time to let the Captain in on some of their secrets?

“I know he’ll be willing to listen,” Echo continues. “We’re going to need help, after all. The Captain’s opinion will give our story credibility, too. More people will believe us if Rex believes us. He can organize a system to start removing the biochips on the sly, too.”

“He’ll believe you,” Del says. “If we believed you, he’ll believe you. Our Captain is a good man.”

Fives smiles. “One of the best,” the ARC says. Droidbait wonders what he’s thinking about—what memory he’s reliving right now, with Captain Rex in the future.

“Did you get any other interesting information from the Kaminoans while you were digging through their files, Echo?” Nax asks curiously. Droidbait doesn’t even know the answer to that—Felucia had happened so quickly that Echo hadn’t had time to share, but now Echo flinches almost violently at the question. It’s such an out-of-character movement that everybody stares at him in blatant surprise.

“I—sorry,” Echo mutters. “Yeah, I did find some other stuff that might be useful. It isn’t… entertaining, though.”

“What did you find?” Hevy asks carefully. Echo winces.

“Records of reconditioning,” he answers slowly, carefully. As if he’s trying to stay in control. The cursed word makes Beta squad collectively jerk.

Reconditioning. The process that’s supposed to be a myth but really isn’t. No wonder it’s enough to make Echo nervous—it’s far too similar to the brainwashing he’d experienced at the hands of the Separatists for comfort. Droidbait doesn’t know the fine details, but he’s heard the stories. They all have.

“Force, really?” Cutup asks, horrified. “But what—why would they keep that kind of stuff? Why document it?”

Echo lets out a bitter chuckle that makes Droidbait anxious. “For experiments,” he says darkly. “To test different methods of brainwashing, see which ones are most effective. Other things, too. Things I really don’t want to read about.”

Droidbait swallows and tries not to let his imagination take hold of that. He’s only partially successful.

“We’re lucky, here. Reconditioning isn’t really something we have to worry about under General Skywalker. There are others, though, who send men back to Kamino for simple mistakes,” Echo tells them grimly.

Droidbait doesn’t even want to imagine a world where he has to worry about being shipped back to Kamino and stripped of his very personality, his memories, his very existence. It makes him sick to think that there are other brothers who do have to worry about it. He takes a deep breath to try and hide his distress and shoves the last little bit of his ration bar into his mouth, grimacing at the tastet—or rather, the lack thereof.

“Hey, ‘Bait, I’ve got something for you,” Nax says. It’s an obvious change of the subject, one that Droidbait doesn’t mind. He blinks as Nax reaches for his belt, pulling out a handful of—

Oh.

Nax offers him one of the little orb candies—one of Attie’s candies, and after a split-second’s hesitation Droidbait takes it gingerly, rolling the little sweet between his fingers.

“Attie still had a box of them, when he… well. There’s a lot of them left. When we get back, you’re welcome to help yourself. All of you. There’s no way Coric and I will be able to eat all of them.”

Droidbait stares at the candy quietly, lost in thought for a moment. Here on Felucia, with all of the problems that have been going on, it’s been easy to forget. To not think about everything that had happened beforehand. In some ways, that’s a good thing—he’s all too aware that his grief for Attie had left him non-functional for a while, but he hadn’t meant to forget completely.

He really misses Attie. He misses Attie’s bright personality and optimistic views. He misses his willingness to talk to anyone about anything, and he misses the comfort and advice Attie had given when Droidbait was losing control.

“Do you know what the Jedi believe? They say, ‘There is no death, there is the Force.’ I don’t pretend to know exactly what that means, but I like to imagine that our brothers are still alive, somehow, in the Force. Watching us. Cheering for us.”

Is Attie watching right now? Droidbait wonders if he is. He wonders if Tipper and Zeer have found him yet, wherever the kriff he is now.

He unwraps the candy and pops it into his mouth, savoring the flavor. It’s a massive contrast from the tasteless ration bar moments earlier.

“Thanks, Nax,” Droidbait says quietly. “I… thank you.” His heart aches at the thought of his lost friend, but it isn’t a crippling pain like it had been before.

Nax smiles gently. “No problem, DB,” he says, and Droidbait had thought he wouldn’t be okay with anyone calling him that anymore because that was Attie’s nickname for him, but it feels alright now.

It feels like he’s finally recovering.

Nax had tossed candy to the rest of Domino, too. Cutup hums as he pops his in his mouth. “Oh man, Tipper would have loved these,” he says bitterly. “He had such a sweet tooth—”

Coric jerks abruptly.

“They aren’t dead,” he snarls aggressively. Cutup flinches. Del lifts a hand to try and pacify the medic, but Coric bats it away. “Stop acting like you’re certain they are. No. I refuse to believe that they’re dead until we have proof.”

Del huffs dolefully. “Coric, you might have to—”

“I don’t have to do anything,” Coric snaps. “Believe me, I know what the statistics say. I know how unlikely it is that they’ll come back. But I can’t—I don’t want to…” he trails off, shaking his head. “It’s just… too soon,” he finishes. “It’s too soon to lose anyone else. Is it so wrong to hope that they made it out of there?”

“It’s not,” Echo tells him gently. “You’re fine, Coric. You don’t have to defend yourself. We hope they’re alright, too.”

Coric takes a deep breath, relaxes just a little.

“Good,” he says. “Good. Just let me have this, won’t you? I’ve… I’ve failed to save too many recently. I need something to hope for.”

The Separatists can sense that they have the clone army on the ropes. They see an opportunity to trap three Jedi in a hostile jungle, so they take it. The clones receive news that the Separatists are attempting to build a blockade around the planet, to stop supplies from coming in and the Jedi from escaping.

The Republic starts to evacuate. The Separatist blockade doesn’t quite have a handle on the whole planet yet—there’s still some time to get out before they enemy ships overwhelm the Republic’s star cruisers.

The 212th men get evacuated first. They got the worst of the flesh-eating diseases earlier, and there are many of them that still need immediate medical attention because of it. Echo doesn’t blame them for that, even though some of the 501st do. Everyone wants off this planet, but there’s only so many men they can fit into a gunship, especially when the wounded are involved.

General Kenobi sends all of his men away, including Commander Cody, but stays himself. Echo sees him wandering through the injured on one occasion, chatting lightly to the men and offering words of advice as if everything was normal despite the mud and blood smeared across his tunic. Echo’s always had plenty of respect for General Kenobi, but it grows infinitely after that.

General Kenobi could have left, but he didn’t. Echo knows that’s likely because he’s worried about General Skywalker and Commander Tano more than he’s worried about the men, but he appreciates it all the same.  

The Separatists don’t like that their prey is beginning to escape, so the droids light the jungle on fire.

They do it well after the rain has fallen, so the jungle is dry enough to burn. Fortunately it doesn’t spread as quickly as the clones had feared, but it spreads all the same. The gunships are forced to halt the evacuations as their landing zones are covered in flames. Echo spends an entire day helping the rest of the 501st move the wounded out of the way of the flames, across a river that they find winding through the fungus trees.

They aren’t completely casualty-free. The smoke is mostly negated by helmet filters, but a few of the men have lost their helmets or are unable to wear them due to injury. Some are just ignorant, and don’t stop to put their helmets on while they help move the injured. Regardless, smoke inhalation is a problem, and Echo hopes someone had needled the Jedi into wearing oxygen filters before allowing them into the fray.

There are also men stumbling into camp, nursing burns, who practically sob with relief at rejoining with the clone forces again. Most of them had been separated from their squads during the initial evacuations, or thought dead and left on accident during a firefight. A few mention the rancor attacks.

Echo keeps a careful eye out, but he doesn’t see Tipper or Zeer. Coric is correct, though—if these clones had survived, it’s entirely possible that the two missing members of Beta are still out there somewhere.

Echo is actually with Coric during a startling experience—Coric is treating one of the burn victims while Echo watches the dark plumes of smoke billowing above the plant life in the distance. Echo admittedly isn’t paying too much attention. He’s focused on the fire, wondering just how bad the damage is and whether or not the forest will ever recover (because sure, the jungle has tried to kill them plenty of times, but that’s hardly it’s fault. It’s sort of sad to see such a spectacular diversity of life destroyed so easily). He’s not even holding his gun, so when Coric suddenly shouts in terror Echo whirls around, fists raising instinctively—

Some sort of giant plant has a vine wrapped around Coric’s waist and is attempting to drag him away. Echo yells in alarm, diving to grab Coric’s outstretched hand and digging his heels into the dirt. It’s futile, really. The plant is much stronger than him.

“Get a gun!” Echo shouts desperately at the patient Coric had been treating. The man can’t stand. His legs are too badly burned, but he’s the only one close enough to do anything in time. “Hurry, hurry!”

The clone scrambles across the ground, eyes wide in fear as he reaches for a weapon. He grabs it and fires randomly into the bushes in the direction the tentacle is coming from, but it doesn’t do anything. The plant refuses to let go, and actually tugs harder, jerking Echo a couple of feet before he can re-dig his heels into the ground.

“Kriff!” Coric shouts. The vine is squeezing him. There’s a sharp crack, but Coric doesn’t cry out. His armor has splintered, not a bone. Not yet.

“Force, someone give us a hand!” Echo roars. “Blasted kriffing—” His grip on Coric’s hand is starting to slip—

A flash of blue goes barrelling past them. Captain Rex disappears into the jungle towards the attacking plant, and Echo hears his twin pistols sound off several times. The vine suddenly thrashes, throwing Echo to the ground.

“No!” Echo shouts, scrambling to his feet—just in time to watch the vine go limp, coils going slack around its prey. Coric kicks his way free as the vine loosens, gasping for breath.

Captain Rex re-emerges from the undergrowth, holstering his pistols as he makes his way straight for Coric.

“You alright, Coric?” the Captain asks, reaching down to help pull Coric to his feet. Coric nods. He’s obviously shaken, and there are hairline fractures across the armor on his torso. Other than that, he’s unharmed.

“Y-yes sir,” he says shakily. “Thank you, sir. The plant was… attracted by the smell, I think. We should keep an eye out for more.”

The smell of charred flesh from the burn victims, he means.

Rex sighs. He takes his helmet off, revealing dark circles underneath his eyes. The man looks exhausted, and Echo can hardly blame him.

“Hang in there, men,” the Captain tells them wearily. “We’ll be off this planet soon. Just a little longer.”

A little longer. Echo hopes he’s right. As the Captain moves to leave, Echo grabs his arm before he can get far.

“Captain, don’t overwork yourself,” Echo warns. “You’ve got to hang in there too, you know.”

Rex smiles at him. It’s a tired smile, but a smile nonetheless. Echo doubts Rex has done much of that lately.

“Don’t worry about me, Echo,” he says. “I’ll be fine. Stay alert. Watch out for your squad.”

“You do the same, sir,” Echo says seriously as Rex leaves. The Captain deserves rest. Echo hopes he’ll get it soon.

Something slithers past Hevy’s leg.

He knows there’s something in the water with them. Sithspit, there are probably lots of things in the water with them, but they can’t do anything about it.

They’re hunkered down in the middle of the river, helmets sealed and ducked underneath the water to hide from the massive column of droids above them. It’s just Beta’s luck that they’d run into such an intimidating force during what was supposed to be a brief scouting mission.

There’s way too many droids to fight. Way too many droids for anyone to fight. This is the Separatist’s attack force marching past on their way to wipe the Republic off of Felucia’s surface.

Beta squad had barely managed to hide in time, diving into the river to avoid being seen. He can’t see anything through his visor. The water is too murky, but he did manage to get a hand on someone’s elbow and is holding onto it tightly to reassure himself that he hasn’t been left behind and to stop the current from dragging him away. It’s not a very fast moving river, nor is it extremely deep, but the force is still there.

“Everyone still doing okay?” Del asks carefully over helmet comms. They have to be cautious about how much they speak, because their sealed suits only have a limited amount of oxygen.

Hevy chimes in a quick affirmative and resists the urge to mention his unease again. They’ve been in here for almost ten minutes now, and he’s already complained once. He doesn’t want to risk any more oxygen to do so again.

Turns out, he doesn’t have to. Nax complains for him.

“I swear there’s something swimming around me,” he groans. “I hate this. Can’t we try and get out of here? The droids are probably starting to thin out.”

“You really wanna test that?” Fives mutters. “I can still hear them up above.”

“Not yet,” Del answers curtly, and leaves it be. They lapse into silence again, listening to metallic feet stomping above, muffled by the water.

“Beta squad, this is Commander Tano! Do you read me?”

Hevy jumps at the Commander’s unexpected voice over the comms.

“Here, Commander. We’re pinned down in the water. The droid forces are headed right for you, sir. There’s… there’s a lot of them,” Del answers.

“We know, we got your initial report,” she replies. “More gunships have gotten through the atmosphere. We’re trying to get the rest of the men off of the planet, and this might be our last chance before the blockade is in place. Can you make it back to us?”

Hevy’s heart swells with hope. Force. They could actually get out of here.

Del is quiet for a moment, considering their options. “There’s a bend in the river a half-mile downstream that might be able to cover us so we can get out of the water. We’ll head for it, Commander. Give us a few minutes.”

“Copy that, Del. Hurry.”

At least the bend isn’t upriver. Hevy keeps a tight hold on whoever’s elbow he has, and someone else grabs onto his wrist so that they all drift together instead of alone.

Hevy still can’t shake the sensation that there’s something swimming nearby.

They get to the bend. It only takes a few minutes with the current’s help, and Del had been right—it puts them out of the droids’ line of sight, so they can haul themselves up onto land again. Hevy finally lets go of Droidbait’s elbow as he pulls himself onto the riverbank, sighing in relief to be out of the water.

Nax screams behind him.

Hevy whips around. Nax is halfway out of the water, but there’s… something keeping him from pulling one of his legs out. Nax struggles, and for a split second Hevy gets a glance of scales and fins and sharp teeth and blood around his leg.

“Nax!” Hevy levels his gun at the water and fires over and over again. There’s a strangled screeching noise, and the water churns as the creature thrashes. It must let go of Nax’s leg because the mechanic heaves himself out of the water, practically throwing himself onto dry land. Beta grabs him and drags him farther away from the river as Hevy fires several more shots into the water, gritting his teeth. He’s not fast enough to kill it, but he does see wisps of inky-black blood drifting in the water after it’s disappeared and feels a surge of satisfaction as he turns back towards the team.

Whatever that creature was, it’s teeth had been sharp enough to pierce through Nax’s armor. His leg is still there, which is good, but it’s also a bloody mess. Coric is stripping off his greaves to try and get a better look and apply pressure to stop the bleeding. Cutup and Echo are holding him down as he writhes in pain so that he doesn’t kick the medic.

The droids pick that moment to come investigate the noises. Hevy freezes as two of them come into sight, blasters raised.  

“Clones!” one of them shouts, and Hevy knows if they don’t move now they’re going to be overwhelmed by droids in seconds.

He drops his gun. It goes against every instinct in his body, but he does it anyway. He’ll need his hands free for this.

“Coric, we’ve gotta move!” he shouts. “Do something to slow the bleeding!” Carrying injured brothers is normally Zeer’s job, with his larger muscles mass, but Zeer isn’t here right now. Hevy’s plenty strong from hefting a Z-6 everywhere. Picking Nax up and hoisting him won’t be easy, but Hevy can do it.

Blasterfire rings out. Coric is tying a strip of fabric around Nax’s leg, who yells in pain, but they don’t have time to be gentle. The moment Coric is done Hevy grabs Nax, hoisting him up into a fireman’s carry. Nax swears violently, but Hevy doesn’t even spare a breath to apologize.

He runs.

Nax is still bleeding. Coric has slowed it for the time being, but it won’t last long, and if Hevy doesn’t hurry Nax will start to bleed out.

Hevy is aware of the rest of Beta flanking him, helping him go in the right direction, but all he can do is focus on moving forwards.

Nax moans by his ear, breath hitching, and Hevy clenches his jaw and pushes himself to move faster.

They’re running out of time.

When Beta squad bursts into the clearing where the Republic is currently stationed, they stumble into even more chaos than Fives even thought was possible.

The camp is in disarray. Gunships swoop overhead, and men are streaming towards them, carrying the wounded between them. Others are racing to arm themselves, fully aware that there aren’t enough gunships for everyone and bracing themselves for a fight.

It’s mayhem. Fives can’t even keep up with Hevy—the gunner storms towards the nearest gunship, and the sea of trepidatious brothers parts to let him through. Perhaps it’s Nax shouting in pain over his shoulders or the rivulets of blood dripping down both of their armor that convinces them to move so quickly for him—regardless, they don’t get out of the way like that for the rest of Beta, so Fives is forced to shove his way through the crowd to catch up. He loses track of his squadmates momentarily, and he’s barely able to make it to the gunship Hevy had gone for.

“Hurry, hurry!” the pilot is shouting over comms. “We’ve got to take off soon, the blockade is locking into place! Get in!”

Hevy is already inside the ship, as is Coric, tending frantically to Nax’s leg. Fives pushes past several other men to make sure they’re alright. Hevy looks tired, but he’s uninjured, so Fives turns back as the rest of Beta joins them. Droidbait and Echo come in at the same time, and Del is just a few seconds behind them, but—

“Where the kriff is Cutup?” Fives barks out, glancing at the rest of Beta. Echo freezes and turns around.

“What? He was—he was right behind us!”

“Where is he?” Droidbait says in horror. “How did he lose us? We were right there!”

Force. Fives feels a twinge of panic as he pushes his way through the brothers still squeezing into the ship to stare outside. It’s still chaos out there, and Fives doesn’t see Cutup anywhere.

No, no no this isn’t good. Cutup was just with them. Just barely. Where had he gone?

“We can’t wait any longer!” the pilot cries. The gunship’s engines are whining, preparing for takeoff. Fives’ heart clenches in terror. No. They are not leaving Cutup behind. It’s bad enough that they’re still missing Zeer and Tipper, but Cutup—

No. Fives refuses to let this happen.

“Wait, we can’t—we can’t leave him!” Hevy cries, and tries to make his way outside. He almost stumbles as he moves. He’s too tired after carrying Nax through the jungle.

Fives will have to go after Cutup himself. It’s better like that anyway, Fives can handle himself. This way no one else will have to take such a large risk—

Suddenly, Echo is next to him. Suddenly, Echo puts a hand on his shoulder. Suddenly, Echo steps out of the gunship.

Fives blinks.

“Echo, what are you… Echo, wait!”

The realization is too late. Fives tries to go after the other ARC, but Echo whirls around and shoves him with a push to the sternum. Fives stumbles back, and then the gunship doors slide shut.

“No, no—Echo, you can’t—!”

He’s practically reaching for the emergency button to open the gunship doors as the ship rises into the sky. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s jumped out of a moving ship like this before, and he’s willing to do it again in a heartbeat because now both Cutup and Echo are down there still and the droids are coming —

Someone grabs his hand before he can do so. The gunship is packed, far too crowded for Fives to throw the punch he wants to—at least, he wants to until he sees that it’s Del who’d stopped him.

“Don’t,” Del tells him gravely. “He knew full well what he was doing.”

Fives shakes his head. “But—”

“But nothing,” Del interrupts. “He made a decision. He’s protecting you this time. Don’t let it be for nothing. Hevy and Droidbait need you.”

“We can’t just leave them down there!” Fives snarls, and instantly regrets it when Del actually turns his head away. His face is hidden behind his helmet, but Fives knows what he’s thinking about and sucks in a horrified breath.

They’re leaving Tipper and Zeer behind too, after all. This is just as hard for Del as it is for Fives. Del is just better at controlling himself.

“Del, I—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—” he tries, stumbling over the words. His mind is whirling, struggling to deal with with his fear and his relief and his nerves all at once.

Instead of getting angry, Del just sighs deeply. He puts a hand on Fives’ shoulder as the gunship lurches, fighting against the atmosphere.

“It’s alright,” he says carefully. As if he’s trying to convince himself of the words just as much as he’s trying to convince Fives. “They’re all going to be fine. We just have to trust them to get out of there safely. They can take care of themselves, you know.”

Fives knows that. Of course he knows that… but it doesn’t make leaving them behind any easier.

Chapter Text

Cutup’s head is throbbing. He thinks… he thinks that he’s on his back. Maybe. Probably. He’s looking up at the underbelly of a walker and he doesn’t really understand how he got there. Even though he’s not moving, the world is spinning. Which really isn’t a good sign.

He’s vaguely aware of noise all around him—lots of noise. It’s muffled to his ears, but incessant, and he’s conscious enough to recognize that something… something is happening, they’d been doing something important before he’d…

Force. His head hurts. He lets out a groan, mind scrambling for an explanation. What had happened? He’d been running, following right on Echo’s tail as they’d sprinted for the gunships. The crowd of brothers had been thick. Everyone was trying to get out of there, because—

Oh, no. They’d been evacuating.

The thought sends a pulse of adrenaline through his veins. He jerks, ordering his body into a sitting position, but he’s only about halfway there when two hands suddenly clamp down on his shoulders, forcing him back down.

“Oh, no you kriffing don’t, you idiot. You could sit up, but you’ll probably lose whatever’s left in your stomach in the process, and I really don’t wanna have to deal with that.”

It’s a brother’s voice. Not any of Beta’s, the cadence isn’t quite right, but it’s close enough that Cutup relaxes just a bit.

He doesn’t try to sit up again. Instead, he just turns his head, wincing as his vision goes a little fuzzy at the movement. It takes him a moment to register the medic cross on the shoulder of the man crouched over him.

“What… Coric?”

“No,” comes the curt answer. “The name’s Kix, brother. You have a concussion.”

“Again?” Cutup mutters, gritting his teeth. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“The good news is that you aren’t dying. The bad news is that you’re not dying, so you’ve got to get up.” Kix says it matter-of-factly, a hint of controlled urgency in his voice. “Do you feel fit to fight?”

“Yeah, but I—wait, didn’t you just say if I sit up I’ll—?”

Kix sighs. “Yeah, I did. Get up when the world stops shaking. You should be fine. There’s not much I can do for you, and if you can stand, you can fight. We need fighters.”

“I… okay, but—”

Kix shakes his head. He starts to pull away. “I’m sorry, Cutup. I know this isn’t ideal. There are others I need to see, I can’t waste any more time. I promise Jesse will explain things, alright?”

He’s gone a moment later. Cutup doesn’t blame him at all for it. Now that he’s slightly more aware of his surroundings he can hear the sounds of men groaning in pain all around him. Kix likely has his hands full.

He can also hear the sounds of blasterfire fairly close by.

Where is the rest of Beta squad? He really, really hopes they all got out in time. If the sheer amount of blasterfire he can hear is of any indication, the massive droid army is already making their move.

“Hey. It’s Cutup, right?”

Cutup blinks and turns his head sluggishly the other way. There’s another clone crouched next to him underneath the walker, holding a rifle in one hand and his helmet in another. The Republic cog is tattooed over his face. Cutup wonders offhandedly how badly it had hurt to get it done.

“Yeah,” he answers. “I’m Cutup. You’re… Jesse?”

“You got it,” Jesse replies. He gives Cutup a weak smile that’s riddled with exhaustion. Cutup remembers Jesse’s name—he knows that Fives and Echo know him and Kix, would trust them with Droidbait’s life, but he doesn’t remember any more of the fine details. “You feeling alright? You took a nasty hit.”

“I don’t even remember it, so you tell me,” Cutup mumbles petulantly, and then flinches when a particularly loud explosion sounds in the distance. Jesse chuckles, but his hand had flown down to his rifle at the noise and it stays there afterwards, too.

“A couple guys found you unconscious on the edge of our old base. They tried to get you onto a gunship, but they weren’t quite fast enough, so they brought you to Kix instead. We think you just got unlucky, took a weird hit from someone in the crowd in all the chaos. You’ve been out for almost a whole day.”

“That’s the stupidest reason to get separated from the others,” Cutup groans out. “Please tell me you’re joking. Force.” He pauses for a moment. “Wait. You said… old base?”

Jesse’s little grin slides from his face.

“Yeah. About that. We’re in trouble.”

“I gathered that.”

“It’s worse than what you think, probably,” Jesse counters grimly. “The gunships that came in mostly escaped, but the Separatist blockade closed behind them. The Republic fleet was pushed into a retreat. We’re on our own here, and the droids know it. They’ve been slowly surrounding what remains of our men for the past several hours.”

Cutup sucks in a nervous breath and finally sits up, ignoring the concerned noise Jesse makes. His fear is enough to push him past the brief spell of dizziness, and he finally gets a better look at his surroundings.

He isn’t the only one under a tank. There are four walkers positioned in a circle as a protective shield, guns silent for now. The spaces underneath them, partially shielded from the elements, have been converted into makeshift medbays. There are injured men all around them, struggling to stay alive in the weak shade the tanks provide.

Cutup feels cold, suddenly.

“Are four walkers all we have left?” he asks quietly. Jesse shakes his head.

“We have a few more, and one turbo tank, but they’ve moved out into the jungle to try and keep the droids from closing in. This is the center of our army now. If this position falls, we’re done for.”

Numb horror settles heavily in Cutup’s gut. Now he understands Jesse’s grim demeanor.

“How many men didn’t make it onto gunships?”

“Probably around a company’s worth. The Jedi are still here, too. They all refused to leave.”

Cutup swallows. “Commander Tano?”

“Still here,” Jesse confirms. “That reminds me. Echo made me promise to let him know when you woke up—”

“Echo’s here?” Cutup blurts out incredulously. “Did he not make it onto a ship either?”

Jesse looks at him for a long moment, as if deliberating what to say. Finally, he sighs.

“Echo did get on a gunship. He came back for you. From what I understand, the rest of your squad got out, though.”

Cutup’s heart sinks in his chest. This is the second time someone’s had to come after him. It’s his fault again, and if Echo dies here, it’ll be on Cutup.

“Where is Echo?” he asks, shoving aside his guilt. Jesse frowns. He grabs something from the ground by Cutup’s feet and offers it to him—Cutup’s helmet, the Togruta markings barely visible through the grit coating its surface. Cutup takes it from him and puts it on carefully, ignoring the way his head throbs.

“You’re going to need this. Echo’s in the thick of things, right with Commander Tano and General Skywalker. He wanted to stay with you, but Commander Tano asked him to join them and he didn’t refuse her.”

“He better not have,” Cutup says, tensing in preparation to try and get to his feet. He knows it’s not going to be fun, and he’s definitely concussed worse than usual because he still feels vaguely queasy and his vision is just a little blurry. There’s no time to focus on that, though. Just as Kix said. If Cutup isn’t dying, he’s needed to fight.

Jesse offers him a hand, helping him shuffle out from underneath the walker before standing. Cutup sways as he gets to his feet. It’s only Jesse’s steady grip on Cutup’s elbow that prevents him from toppling over.

It takes a long moment, but eventually Cutup orientates himself. He takes a deep, steadying breath as Jesse offers him a rifle.

“Take me to Echo,” he says. Jesse nods, shoves his helmet on, and starts for the trees.

Cutup can’t see droids through the trees and fungi, not quite yet. He can see flashes of explosions, fairly close, but for now the clones are preventing the droids from closing in on them. The closer they get to the front lines, the more injured men they pass, struggling to recuperate and acting as a second line of defense at the same time. Some of them can barely stand, but they remain on guard anyway, hands tight around their weapons.

They go a bit farther, and the change is extreme.

It’s as if the Republic have managed to create a tiny bubble of safety around their circle of tanks—a bubble that shrinks with every moment, but a bubble nonetheless. One of the free tanks is up ahead, and it’s definitely the only thing keeping the front line in place. There are men all around it, crouched in the foliage, huddled behind the walker’s legs, and flattened in the dirt beside it. Jesse breaks into a sprint when it comes into view. Cutup takes a deep breath and follows.

For a long moment, Cutup is worried that they might not make it to cover in time. He can finally see the droids, which means the droids can see him. Wave after wave are marching steadily towards them. The walker and the men are keeping them from getting too close, but there’s no end to the machines—for every one cut down by blue blaster bolts, three more take its place.

A red bolt of energy flies past Cutup’s shoulder, far too close for comfort. He lists to one side frantically as he runs, anticipating a second shot and barely avoiding it. The clones by the walker notice them coming a second later and lay down heavy cover fire so that Cutup and Jesse can slide finally to safety. They end up squeezed behind one of the walker’s legs, pressed to the ground next to a dirt-streaked lieutenant. Jesse addresses the brother even as he begins to fire at the droids from around the shield.

“Is the Commander still around?” he shouts loudly. The lieutenant nods.

“She’s here!” he replies. “Around by the front of the walker, protecting the pilot! The General isn’t, though—he went to go protect the East side. The Captain should be on the North—”

Jesse swears forcefully. Cutup only vaguely hears it—some strange combination of Huttese, Mando’a, and Basic that doesn’t make sense at all but does effectively convey Jesse’s frustration.

“Great,” Jesse grunts once his tirade is over. “Kriffing perfect. Right… guess that means we’re going to the front, then.”

Cutup’s eyes widen in alarm. He clenches his jaw.

“Oh, joy. Yeah, this is going to be just wonderful,” he says.

“Yep. But we’re going to need some help in order to get up to her. Wanna give Echo a call?”

Cutup hesitates for a moment, because if Echo’s engaged in the battle a comm might be distracting. The need for assistance outweighs the concern, though, so Cutup reaches for his comlink. Echo’s ARC, he’ll be fine.

“Cutup?”

Echo’s voice is muffled due to the tank round that goes whistling out just as he responds. Cutup hears it twice, almost exactly overlaid but just a hair off through the radio. It sounds much louder from wherever Echo is.

Regardless of the situation, Cutup feels a little part of himself relax at Echo’s voice.

“Echo, Jesse and I are behind the walker,” Cutup tells Echo immediately. There’s so many things he wants to say, but it can wait until they’re not struggling against an army. “Are you near the Commander? How the kriff can we get to you?”

Echo lets out a loud breath that isn’t quite in relief, but it’s close. “Force. Good to hear from you. Give me a minute. I’ll figure something out.”

He hangs up. Cutup trusts him to figure something out, so he throws Jesse a wait gesture and peers out from behind the walker’s leg to fire at the droids.

He catches sight of the Commander’s lithe form and glowing lightsaber for a split second, directly in front of and a dozen yards away from the walker in a pocket of space that Cutup is barely able to see. He nearly loses his head to a blaster bolt for the effort, and quickly settles back to firing at the droids approaching from the sides instead.

His comlink comes to life.

“Alright, Cutup, listen up. When I give the word, the Commander is going to change positions, moving slightly to the left to cover you and Jesse while you make the run to join us. It’ll leave our pilot unguarded for a moment, so a heavy trooper is going to fire a rocket and cause a distraction before he can get targeted. It’s a small window, but you should be fine. Just try and stay behind the Commander, alright?”

Commander Tano will have their backs. Cutup steels himself, glancing over at Jesse, who’d stopped firing to listen in. Jesse nods back at him.

“I’m good. Tell me when.”

“Copy that, Echo,” Cutup says, ignoring the way his heart is beating a hole in his chest. “Give us the word.”

There’s a long pause, filled only by the sounds of blaster fire.

“Now, Cutup!”

Cutup moves. There’s no hesitation, no time for hesitation. He trusts Echo completely, so throwing himself out into the open at the command isn’t hard. Jesse’s only a half-step behind him, and together they race around the walker’s legs. Flames light the jungle beyond them as the distraction rocket impacts with a tree.

Cutup has eyes on the Commander, who’s swung to the left side to protect them as they race forwards. Her lightsaber is a blur, twisting around frantically as it deflects fire.

They’d be dead already if not for her presence.

There are clones behind the Commander already, huddled in a tight formation behind her to remain protected while still firing at the incoming enemies. They move as she does, but it’s not a completely safe place to be—even as Cutup runs, he sees one man near the edge of her range get hit. Commander Tano’s lightsaber had been on the other side, and she’s unable to be in two places at once.

Jesse lets out a war-cry and increases his speed, thundering past Cutup to join the defensive wall. Cutup is right behind him, joining the dense group of brothers and instinctively moving with them as Commander Tano swings back to continue defending the tank pilot.

Someone presses closer to Cutup in order to be heard over the increasing sounds of battle. Cutup doesn’t look at who it is, too focused on gunning down an SBD that was taking aim at Commander Tano, but when the brother speaks Cutup feels a wave of relief.

“Nice of you to join us, brother! It took you long enough!” Echo says in a false-cheery voice.

“Yeah, well, it’s not like we almost got shot or anything!” Cutup shoots back at him with a grin. “It’s not my fault that we couldn’t—”

“Watch the left side!” someone shouts, and the clones shift position to face a new wave of droids emerging from the jungle. Echo hisses out a curse.

“Later,” the ARC tells Cutup quickly. “Let’s get out of this, first.”

Cutup clenches his jaw and wonders if they’ll ever get out of this, but he turns his attention to their enemies anyway and sinks into the repetitive motions of look-aim-fire.

He’s not sure exactly how long they stand there, holding firm against a never ending stream of opposition that continues to advance no matter what they do. The Commander seems to have planted her feet in front of the walker, refusing to budge an inch from where she stands. She’s too busy to order the men around, so the clones take it upon themselves to be her backup, determinedly watching her back.

It really doesn’t feel like Cutup and Jesse are making much of a difference. They’re still barely keeping the droids from overrunning their position. A blaster runs out of ammo behind Cutup and its owner lets out a frustrated shout.

All at once, everything stops.

The droids pull back without warning, fading away into the jungle. The clones take potshots at the straggles until there’s not a working droid in sight, and then everything is quiet.

Commander Tano lets out a heaving sigh as she deactivates her lightsaber. Everyone relaxes. Cutup stares around in confusion for a long second until Echo claps him gently on the shoulder.

“It’s alright, Cutup. They’re pulling back for now.”

“What?” Cutup blurts out. “Why? If they had kept at it… we’d be…” Dead. They’d be dead.

“Yeah, I know,” Echo tells him grimly. “They’ve been pulling back every hour or so for a while. Didn’t you wonder why they hadn’t overwhelmed us yet?”

“Well, yeah. They’ve got enough bodies to do it, easily. We’re outnumbered pretty bad.”

“It’s not for us,” Echo explains. “It’s to try and wear down the Jedi. The Separatists could crush us, but they’d still have the Jedi to deal with afterwards. By coming in waves like this they’re just wearing us all down, making it easier to take down the Generals. They’re in no rush, basically. We’re stuck here, so they’re taking their time about it.”

Cutup swallows nervously and tries to loosen his fingers from around his rifle. He’s only partially successful.

“Wonderful,” he mutters. “They’re playing with us.”

“It’s a mistake,” Jesse chimes in, shifting closer to join them. There’s an injured brother leaning on him for support. “The longer they wait to finish us off, the more likely it is that General Skywalker and General Kenobi will come up with a plan to get us out of here.”

Echo nods in agreement. “We’ve just got to hold out until then,” he says.

Cutup is suddenly reminded of something, so he turns around so that he’s facing Echo head-on.

“Hey, Echo?”

“Yeah?”

Cutup punches him in the shoulder with as much strength as he dares. It’s not enough to actually hurt either of them, but Echo still flinches back, arms flying up defensively.

“Cutup, what the—”

“Why the kriff didn’t you get on a gunship!?” Cutup snarls. “That’s the stupidest thing—there’s too much at stake! We need you alive!”

“I wasn’t about to leave you here,” Echo says indignantly. “The squad needs you, too!”

“You have the datapad with all the information on it, idiot!” Cutup tells him, acutely aware of Jesse’s eyes on him but uncaring in the heat of the moment. If all goes according to plan Jesse will probably know about the chips soon, anyway (assuming they survive this). At his words Echo does stiffen just a little, hand hovering over the section of his armor where said datapad is likely hidden.

“I know, Cutup. I just… you were more important to me then. There wasn’t any time, I had to—”

Cutup groans and shakes his head. “Echo, you didn’t have to… I would have been fine.”

The frustration is draining out of him as quickly as it had manifested. He’s glad he isn’t alone, as much as he knows Echo should have gotten to safety. It’s a bit selfish, but Cutup can’t really bring himself to care.

“I know you would have been,” Echo says, shoulders slumping a little. Cutup realizes how tired his brother must be and winces in guilt. Echo’s been holding off hordes for hours at Commander Tano’s side. “But being alone really isn’t fun. Believe me, I know.”

“I wouldn’t have been alone,” Cutup justifies weakly. Echo waves a hand.

“You know that isn’t what I mean. Cutup, we kriffing learned this on Kamino, remember? Rule one. Never leave a brother behind.”

This is different. Cutup doesn’t think it’s quite the same. There’s too much going on, too many important things that still need to happen. If leaving a brother behind means the war will end…

“Hey,” Echo says gently. “Don’t think about it too hard, okay? Now isn’t the time or place. You alright?”

Cutup sighs. “Yeah, yeah. I’m alright.”

He stops thinking about it. It’s easier that way. He’s still never going to forgive himself if Echo dies for staying behind, but right now it’s best to just focus on the task at hand.

“Cutup!”

The young voice makes Cutup turn, a tired grin springing to his lips.

“Commander, are you alright?” he asks the Togruta. Commander Tano shrugs as she approaches, smiling at him wearily.

“I’ll be fine, Cutup. This isn’t nearly as bad as some of the other things I’ve done. These tinnies won’t get past us.” The false bravado is endearing, even though she’s listing to the side just a little. “I’m glad you and Echo had my back. Are… where’s the rest of Beta?”

“They got out, sir, don’t worry,” Cutup says quickly, wiping the worried look from her face. “I just… got a bit unlucky, didn’t quite get to a ship behind. Echo stayed behind to come find me.”

“Well for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here,” she tells them both in dry amusement. “Don’t get me wrong, I wish you’d gotten out, but it’s good to have my men here, too.”

My men. Cutup tries really hard not to preen under the phrase and is mostly successful on the outside. The inside is a different story.

“What’s the plan now then, sir?” he asks. “I just woke up. What are we going to do until they come back?”

“Stock up on ammo and try and find something to fortify the tank with,” the Commander says. “Sit down for a few minutes and recuperate. There’s not very much—”

Her comlink goes off. She answers it immediately.

“Master? Is everything alright?”

“We’re good, Snips, don’t worry. The droids have fallen back on our side. From the sound of things, they’ve done the same on your side, too.”

“Yes, Master. We’re restocking to prepare for the next wave.”

“Good work, Ahsoka. Listen, me, you, and Obi-wan need to get together and talk some things out. Can you get to the center area?”

Commander Tano surveys over the troops, many who are listening in despite themselves.

“You boys think you can handle yourselves while I’m gone?” she asks seriously. Jesse’s the one to answer, giving her a lazy salute.

“Leave it to us, sir. We’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it.”

The Commander smiles at him gratefully. “Copy that, Master. Give me five.” She drops the call and turns to Cutup and Echo immediately. “Echo, Cutup—with me, alright?”

“No problem, sir,” Cutup answers. “We’re right behind you.”

It takes longer than expected for all three Generals to convene back into the center, in the middle of the four walkers that have been converted into momentary medical facilities. Captain Rex is there, too, but General Skywalker is actually last to arrive. He looks displeased, and Echo can come up with a pretty good guess as to why. It’s unlikely that he’d want to leave his men alone on the front, despite their urgings that they’d be able to handle anything. General Skywalker hates to be out of the action.  

“How good of you to join us, Anakin,” General Kenobi says smoothly. “I worried you’d been eaten by a plant.”

“Hey, lay off,” General Skywalker replies lightly. He looks tired—they all do, Echo realizes with a sinking feeling. The droid’s tactics are working. “Contrary to popular belief, Master, I do have other responsibilities that I sometimes attend to.”

General Kenobi sighs. “If only you’d had that attitude four years ago,” he mumbles. General Skywalker huffs out a weak laugh and rolls his eyes. Next to Cutup, Commander Tano stifles a giggle, which makes General Skywalker turn towards her.

“How are you holding up, Ahsoka? Are you still doing okay?”

“I’m tired, but I’ve still got plenty of energy left,” Commander Tano says. “I’ve got this, Master, don’t worry.”

Her words seem to relieve General Skywalker, who nods proudly at his padawan before turning to Captain Rex.

“What about you, Rex? How are the men?”

“We’re alright, General,” Rex answers. He’s standing a little oddly, keeping his weight mostly on one foot. The injury doesn’t go unnoticed by the Jedi, but General Skywalker doesn’t comment, nodding in approval instead. He trusts Rex to speak up if an injury is bad enough to hinder him.

The Jedi get down to business quickly after that. General Kenobi has news.

“Our transmissions are mostly jammed, but before the blockade could fully settle on the planet we received word that the 104th battalion are in route to assist us. They were just entering hyperspace from a nearby system when we lost the signal. With any luck, they’ll be here soon, but we have no way of knowing if it will be soon enough.”

“We can hold out as long as we need to, Master,” General Skywalker says determinedly, and Cutup can believe him when he says it like that. “As long as they can get through that blockade, we’ll be alright.”

“General Plo Koon’s men are some of the best pilots in the whole GAR,” Captain Rex contributes quietly. “They’ll get through.”

“On another note, though, it’s not just exhaustion that we’re going to be dealing with soon,” General Skywalker says. “The waves of droids aren’t nearly as thick as I thought they’d be. They’re staying spread out, so our tank rounds can’t take out as many in one go. They’re trying to drain our resources, and it’s working. Too many of the tanks are running out of ammunition.”

“Can’t we get more?” Commander Tano asks. “There are plenty of abandoned walkers in the jungle around us. If we scavenged a few for fuel and ammo cartridges we could hold out for longer.”

General Skywalker frowns. “You’re right, Snips, but it’s a pretty risky move. There are droids everywhere. A scouting party wouldn’t make it far enough. We’ll have to find a way to ration what resources we have left—”

Echo frowns. He doesn’t… feel quite right about that. Something’s wrong.

He thinks back to the numbers he’d seen before in his past rate of the number of men who’d actually survived being stranded on Felucia. Forty-two had made it out. Less than half a company.

General Skywalker had shut down the idea of going for more ammo very quickly, but Echo knows how this is going to turn out.

Perhaps if he goes for more ammo they can change that. It’s dangerous, but it could very well be worth it.

“General,” he interrupts quietly. “Instead of sending a patrol, just a few men could go out. They wouldn’t be able to carry much, but the condensed ammo cartridges are better than nothing.

General Skywalker’s eyebrows shoot upwards.

“It’s still a dangerous job, Echo,” he says.

“I can do it,” Echo tells him confidently. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Cutup jerk. “If Commander Tano is alright with it, I’d be more than willing. I’m certain I could bring us something back, sir.” This type of mission is familiar to him, at least. Sneaking around, coming out with intel or equipment. He’s done it thousands of times before, not that any of them know that.

General Skywalker crosses his arms contemplatively. “I don’t doubt that you could do it, Echo, but I’m not going to send you alone.”

“Of course not!” Cutup interjects, a hint of annoyance evident in his tone. “I’m going with him, if he does.”

Ah, Force. Cutup’s mad at him for this.

General Kenobi strokes his beard thoughtfully.

“Anakin, it would be extremely helpful to have those extra cartridges, even if it’s just two or three. If Echo is confident in his ability to navigate through the droids we should allow him the chance to try.”

“If something goes wrong, we lose two extremely valued men,” General Skywalker protests. Echo appreciates the praise, but he feels like he needs to do this.

“Please, sir. We can do this. We need that equipment.”

General Skywalker frowns.

“Alright. I don’t like it, but I’ll trust you on this. Snips?”

General Tano is frowning, but she gives a short little nod that makes Echo inwardly wince. She’s not happy with it either, but she’ll allow them to go anyway.

“Don’t worry, Commander,” Cutup tells her quietly. “We’ll be back before you know it. We’ll be fine.”

“Be careful,” she says in response, eyes darting over them both worriedly. “Your squad would kill me if anything happened to you.”

“We will, sir,” Echo says calmly.

“It might be best if you two head out now, before the droids begin their attack again,” General Kenobi suggests, nodding at Echo. “There may be a chance to snatch up the cartridges without incident.”

“Yes, sir,” Echo says. He glances at Cutup. He can’t see his brother’s expression through the helmet, but he can imagine Cutup isn’t pleased with him.

Echo steels himself for the rant likely to come and takes a deep breath.

There’s a reason he and Cutup hadn’t made it onto that gunship. Echo firmly believes that—he just needs to find out what the reason is first.

Echo doesn’t lead them towards the jungle to start out. He heads for a tank, and the medics working below them. Cutup has to break into a jog to keep up with Echo’s quick walk, all sorts of unpleasant emotions running through him.

Why the kriff had Echo volunteered for something so dangerous, especially after General Skywalker had already said it was a bad idea? He’d even interrupted the Generals in order to chime in, which is more likely of Fives than it is of Echo.

Echo seems confident enough. He’s probably done things like this before in his past life, but Cutup definitely hasn’t. Echo and Fives had put them through an ARC crash course, but that’s nothing compared to the real thing. Cutup isn’t nearly as proficient as Echo is, and he’s… a little bit nervous right now.

Scratch that. He’s a lot nervous right now.

“Alright… are you going to give me an explanation?” Cutup demands as they walk. Echo ducks under a tank and heads straight for a medic that Cutup actually recognizes—it’s Kix.

“I feel like we need to do this,” Echo mutters to Cutup quietly, which really isn’t a kriffing answer. The ARC steps closer to the medic and taps Kix on the shoulder. Kix is in the middle of checking over a brother with a head wound, and only glances up for a half-second.

“Echo, everything alright? The kriff did you do now?”

“Nothing yet,” Echo replies seriously. “But I need you to hold onto something for me. Are you willing?”

“That depends,” Kix mutters, but he holds out a hand anyway. Cutup gapes as Echo passes over the datapad—the one with all the information on the chips and the Kaminoans.  

“If something happens to both of us while we’re down here, this datapad needs to go back to the rest of Beta squad. Can I trust you with it?”

Kix glances at it and shoves it into the backpack at his feet. “I’ll make sure it gets to them if anything happens,” he replies. “Gonna tell me what it is?”

“Maybe after we get out of here,” Echo replies. “We’ll be back.” He turns and starts walking away again. Cutup shakes his head in disbelief and follows, waving as Kix calls out a quiet goodbye.

“Sorry,” Echo says once Cutup has caught back up to him. “We don’t have very much time, and I needed to get that out of the way. Cutup… I really think this will help us. It will save a lot of brothers, if we’re able to pull it off. We’re definitely capable. If we’re careful, we could change something big here.

Cutup sighs. That’s valid reasoning, at least, and it would be nice to be able to change something here. To save as many brothers as possible. “Force. I know that, Echo. Just… don’t spring it on me like that, okay? I’m on board with it, but I’d appreciate some warning next time.”

“I’m sorry, Cutup,” Echo says sincerely. “It was a sudden decision. I just… there’s a reason we’re here. What if this is it?”

Cutup thinks it’s entirely possible that they’re here simply because Cutup got unlucky. He’s not going to say that, though, and Echo does have a point. Considering everything that’s happened to them so far, there may very well be a reason they’re here.

“Alright,” Cutup says in weary acceptance. “Let’s go, then. We shouldn’t keep the flesh-eating flowers waiting.”

Echo snorts at him, turns on his heel, and heads straight for the jungle.

The good news is that they find an abandoned walker fairly quickly, standing silent among the trees. They’re droid-free on the way there, and there are several condensed ammo cartridges inside the downed machine. They’re still large—about the size of Z-6 length-wise, but wider, and heavier. Cutup can only carry two, though that’s better than nothing.

The bad news is that the droids come back while they’re inside the walker. They march past without suspecting anything, but Cutup and Echo can’t risk making a run for it.

They’re trapped.

Echo can’t help but think he’s made a mistake. They have what they need, but there’s no way to get it back to the Republic—at least not until the droids retreat again, if the clones back at base can last that long.

“Could we get into contact with the others?” Cutup whispers to him, tense and shifting nervously in the dark. They have a little bit of space in the cabin, but not too much.

“We could, but is that a good idea?” he counters. “They’re under attack right now. Even if they got our transmission, they wouldn’t be able to send any help.”

Cutup groans. “So, what now, then? We just sit here and wait?”

“That might be our only option—”

Blasterfire cuts through the quiet whispers. Echo actually flinches, raising his gun uselessly until he realizes that it isn’t aimed at them. The sound is coming from outside, and the walker doesn’t move.

“What’s going on?” Cutup hisses. There’s no windows in of this section of the tank. “That’s too close. Are they shooting at us or not?”

“I don’t—I don’t know,” Echo says. “It’s possible they’ve seen us, but I don’t know why they haven’t just destroyed the walker if that was the case—”

He jinxes it. The walker suddenly shudders so violently that Cutup loses his balance, stumbling into Echo. Fortunately he isn’t holding the ammo cartridge.

“Kriff!” Echo hisses, panic suddenly clawing at his throat. They’re like fish in a barrel, here. He feels trapped, suddenly. The sound of blasterfire pinging off of the walker’s armored hull grates on every single one of his senses. Echo grabs his rifle, shuffling over beneath the hatch above them. If the droids have really found them, he isn’t about to go down easy. He grits his teeth and reaches up with the intent to throw the hatch open.

“Echo, wait—” Cutup says urgently. “What are you doing?”

Echo’s not really listening. He’s helpless, here, trapped inside the walker. He hates it, hates the sensation of being trapped, unable to fight back. They’ve been found. It’s too late to hide, too late to run, so Echo’s going to fight.

He refuses to be helpless. Not again.

Above him, the hatch opens. Echo hadn’t touched it yet. He jerks back, finger tightening on the trigger of his gun until two armor-clad figures drop through—

“Tipper?” Cutup yelps. Echo blinks, peers at the armor. The blue swirls are faded, covered in grime, but they’re there.

Impossible. Tipper is dead.

But Tipper is also clambering painfully to his feet in front of them, shouting frantically to his companion to close the hatch. Zeer obeys him, reaching up to slam the hatch shut and Force, they’re both here, both alive, if not somewhat worse for wear. Zeer’s left arm is in a sling, hastily fashioned from some sort of plant, and he’s missing his helmet. Tipper has all of his armor, but there are scorch marks across his back, and he’s wielding an E-5 blaster in each hand.

“Wait—Echo? Cutup?” Tipper gasps incredulously. “What—how are you—does this mean—?”

Zeer growls as the walker shakes even more intensely. “Later!” he snarls. “Later, we need to get out of this first!”

Tipper shakes himself, helmet twisting as he skims his gaze over the whole room.

“Right, right,” he says quickly. “We need—could we pilot this thing? I bet we could, but someone would have to get into the cockpit—”

“It’s too exposed,” Cutup tells him. “Tipper, what… how are you not—”

“Later, later!” Tipper cries, hurrying past Echo towards the cockpit. “We’ve got to figure out how to work this thing!”

Echo’s mind is racing, struggling to comprehend the situation and get a handle on things. He needs to focus. Tipper and Zeer are alive, just as Beta squad had hoped. Which means they’ve been surviving alone in the jungle for a week now. That explains a lot about the desperate way Tipper is diving for the cockpit, easily willing to expose himself in order to get them out of there. Echo had deemed it too risky, too loud—but now the droids are onto them all, so there’s no point in bothering to stay quiet. “Do you want help?” he shouts to Tipper, frantically recalling details from the crash course he’d been given on this kind of tank in ARC training.

“I can get it, you focus on stopping them from killing me!” Tipper yells back determinedly. “It can’t be that hard, right?”

Tipper’s a quick learner. Echo’s fairly sure he’ll be able to get the vehicle moving at the very least. Defense is just important right now, anyway.

“We’ve got to distract the droids so they don’t shoot him before he can do anything!” Echo orders Cutup and Zeer. “Thermal detonators, here!” He passes the little orbs to the others and tosses one blindly away. The boom is accompanied by a satisfying pause in the amount of blasterfire coming at them, which gives Zeer enough time to stick his arm out and fire at the droids with his one good arm. He comes ducking back down a half-second later, red bolts streaking over his head.

The tank lurches unsteadily. Cutup has just thumbed the trigger on the thermal detonator, and there’s a terrifying second where he stumbles, barely able to toss it out of the hatch in time.

Around them, the walker is shuddering to life. Tipper, far ahead in the cockpit, lets out a whoop.

“We’re good, but the droids are—ahh!” Echo hears glass shatter. The droids are targeting the visible pilot, and he can still hear Tipper swearing so they hadn’t landed a hit.

It had been close, though.

“Oh, no they don’t,” Zeer growls. He reaches up and heaves himself out the hatch. Echo grabs Cutup’s shoulder.

“Squish yourself into the cockpit and give Tipper a hand!” he yells, and climbs after Zeer to the top of the walker.

Now that the tank is moving, lurching ahead at a steady pace, Echo and Zeer are much less likely to be hit by the droids on the ground below. Echo keeps moving, keeps firing, presses his back against Zeer’s and prays they’ll all get out of this. At the edge of his hearing he’s aware of Cutup shouting directions to Tipper, firing out of the shattered front window to protect them both.

The walker plows through B1s easily. They’re lucky—very few heavy super battle droids get in the way, especially once Tipper figures out how to work the gun. The regular battle droids don’t have the firepower necessary to bring down a walker. Echo and Zeer keep working anyway, clearing spaces around them as the walker plows towards the Republic lines again.

Echo loses time. He can’t spare the energy to focus on how long they’ve been moving. At one point Zeer throws their last thermal detonator behind the walker and lights a large swath of the forest on fire. Curses flow from between his clenched teeth a moment later, tinged with fierce fury and the barest hint of wild glee.

Echo can’t blame him for it. They’ve been sneaking through the jungle for too long. It must feel good to finally be able to let loose.

Cutup and Tipper cheer when they see white-armored bodies up ahead, but it isn’t over until the walker is finally encompassed by brothers on all sides, urging them forwards and taking down the machines foolish enough to attempt to follow. Only then does Echo allow his gun to drop down to his side, tension bleeding out of his body as familiar voices flood his ears.

Somehow, they’d survived. Echo’s honestly surprised that had turned out so well.

If Tipper and Zeer hadn’t shown up, he and Cutup would have been sitting in that walker for a long time.

Cutup doesn’t know all the details of what happened on Felucia the first time. He does know a few things about this time, however, that he’s sure have changed things for the better.

The first thing he knows is that Tipper isn’t dead.

The moment they get out of that battered tank Cutup practically tackles his friend in a hug. Tipper flinches at the contact briefly, no doubt still on edge from the jungle, but he relaxes after a moment.

“Thought you were dead, you kriffin’ idiot,” Cutup mumbles. Tipper chuckles quietly against him, weary and practically boneless in relief.

“We thought we were dead, too,” he replies, and lets the scavenged E-5s fall from his fingers into the dirt.

There’s not too much time to hear the story, because the droids are still attacking, but Tipper does give him a brief overview of how they’d survived—describing how Zeer had broken his arm in the rancor attack and how they’d gotten separated from all the others. He mentions how they’d scavenged supplies off unfortunate brothers afterwards, how they’d struggled to stay ahead of the hordes of droids filling the jungle. How they’d gotten their hands on Separatist weapons once their own ammo had been depleted, how they’d struggled to reunite with Republic forces as the army retreated. How they’d been found and raced for the silent walker in a last-ditch effort to hold off their pursuers, stumbling right into Echo and Cutup in the process.

It’s a miracle they’d survived, and Cutup couldn’t be more grateful. They’re sent straight to Kix, who forcefully confines them to the inner circle of the safe zone. Both of them pretend to be frustrated by that, but Tipper actually falls asleep after sitting down for two minutes, so Cutup doesn’t feel too bad about it.

The second thing Cutup knows is that by bringing the entire walker back instead of just a few ammo cartridges, the Republic actually has a chance to survive. The walker had multiple condensed cartridges stored within its hull, as well as several uncondensed cartridges.

It’s not a lot, really, but considering they only have seven walkers left, two of which are heavily damaged, it’s pretty spectacular.

The tanks come alive again with extra ammo, peppering the trees with explosions. They aren’t capable of pushing the droids back, but they do keep them at bay. The men don’t have to work as hard, and hours pass by easier (though no less tense), with fewer casualties.

The third thing Cutup knows—or, learns, more accurately—is that the Wolf Pack is definitely the battalion one wants guarding their back.

The 104th Battalion breaks through the Separatist blockade twelve hours after Cutup had woken up, thirty-four hours since the original evacuation. It’s a testament to the skill of the 104th’s pilots that they’re able to get through so quickly. The gunships swoop down to deposit fresh men and evac what remains of the 501st.  

Cutup and Echo are with Commander Tano on the lone remaining turbo tank when the Wolfpack finally arrives, providing her with backup as she furiously defends their most powerful vehicle. The droids are running, unable to stand against the Jedi and the tank. The order for retreat comes in from General Skywalker, directing all men back to the center of their outpost. For a moment, Commander Tano looks frustrated, like she wants to pursue the retreating droids, but at Cutup’s cheer of relief her expression softens.

“Come on, boys! We’re going home!” she cries, and the turbo tank tears up the ground as it turns around towards safety.

Cutup does, in fact, get on a gunship this time. Echo hovers behind him the whole evacuation just to make sure. The droids are still coming, but there’s less men to get out this time, and the Jedi can cover everyone more easily. The second evacuation is far less panicked than the first. With the 104th’s assistance, everything goes smoothly despite everything around them.

“We wouldn’t have found Tipper and Zeer if we hadn’t stayed,” Echo mutters as the gunship doors slide closed. “They would have never made it back to the safe zone.”

“Are you saying I got knocked out so Tipper and Zeer wouldn’t die?” Cutup whispers back. “Not that I mind, but it could have happened in a way that didn’t make me look so stupid.”

Echo snickers at him. “I don’t know. What I do know, though, is that this means they’re important somehow. I don’t really—”

“Brace yourselves, men, the ride out is gonna get pretty bumpy!” the pilot shouts as the gunship takes off, and even though they aren’t quite in the clear yet, Cutup feels a wave of relieved exhaustion wash over him.

They’re finally off Felucia.

They’re finally going home.

Chapter Text

They wait in tense silence by the wall, watching as the gunships streak into the hangar and battered men pile out. Droidbait hasn’t seen any sign of Echo or Cutup yet, and he’s starting to get scared. At his side, Hevy keeps shifting nervously, trying to keep his composure.

Fives is pacing behind them, but the other ARC doesn’t seem nervous—at least, not in the same sense the Droidbait and Hevy are. He’s restless, but not fearful.

Fives has absolute faith that Echo and Cutup will return. It’s almost ridiculous, but he’s so incredibly certain. His trust in both Echo and Cutup’s skills is unshakable. If he’s worried, he’s hiding it well. Droidbait had inwardly thought Fives might be more panicked considering what had happened last time he’d left Echo behind—but Droidbait would never say that out loud, and Fives seems alright now.                      

Another few gunships swoop in, depositing dozens of troops who stumble back into the hangar, supporting the wounded. Medics rush in. For a few moments, it’s too chaotic to pick anyone out from the crowd.

“ Force, I see them,” Hevy suddenly breathes. Droidbait’s heart stutters in his chest as he finds them, too—leaning on each other and exhausted, but alive.

Droidbait is moving before he can even think about it. Hevy and Fives are right on his tail. Droidbait nearly collides with Echo until he sees the way his brother sags in tiredly, instead reaching over to loop one of Echo’s arms over his own shoulders to support him. Echo lets out a relieved sigh and lets his weight drop.

“Hey, guys,” he says, quietly, relieved. Over on the other side Fives has a careful hold on Cutup while Hevy hovers around them all, searching for injuries.

“Kriff, it’s good to see you two,” Fives says. “How are you feeling? What do you need?”

Cutup lets out a feeble chuckle.

“A week’s worth of sleep and a week’s worth of food,” he mutters. Droidbait snorts. Mind-numbing relief sweeps over him at the sight of all five of them together again. His knees feel a little weak.

“Fives… where’s the rest of Beta?” Echo asks suddenly. “There’s something important we need to tell them.”

Droidbait winces. Coric, Del, and Nax (with bandages all down his leg) have been teetering on the edge of mourning again, only holding off long enough to see if Cutup and Echo will arrive safely. They’ve all but submitted themselves to the fact that Tipper and Zeer are dead.

“Back at the barracks,” Fives answers grimly. “They’re not doing so good, Echo.”

Echo grins. The expression startles Droidbait a little.

“I think we can help them out,” he says. “Tipper and Zeer are alive. They were in the ship just behind us, I think—but they’ll be taken straight to medical once they arrive.”

Fives whips around and looks at Hevy.

“Go get Del and the others,” he orders. Hevy’s eyes go wide, and he turns to race away without a word.

No one is uninjured, but everyone’s alive, and that’s much better than any of them had been hoping for.

The days after Felucia are quiet. Echo’s fairly sure at least two-thirds of the battalion are asleep, and even another Separatist attack wouldn’t be enough to wake them.

Beta squad isn’t among those blissfully resting, because they’re pacing impatiently around the medbay, waiting for Tipper and Zeer to be released. The medbay doesn’t hold them for too long, fortunately—there are too many others wounded that need the attention more. Zeer is released to them first, with his arm professionally wrapped in a cast. He’ll be able to get into a bacta tank eventually, once the deadlier injuries are taken care of. Until then he has to let it heal normally. Tipper takes longer to be released. His armor had been partially welded to the skin of his back under scorching blaster-fire heat. He emerges from the medbay without the top half of his armor, a bit loopy from painkillers and with a large bacta patch spread across his shoulder blades.

Just like, the entirety of Beta squad is back together again.

It’s nothing short of a miracle that they’re all alive.

Once Tipper and Zeer are released from the medbay, Beta squad rests. Droidbait sleeps for almost eighteen hours straight and is only woken because Nax and Hevy start a game of sabacc while they stand guard.

Technically, they all know there’s no need for a guard. They’re on a Republic ship, in their own barracks, surrounded by other brothers. There’s nothing to be afraid of here. Even so, a guard is posted. They’re still on edge—everyone is. Dreams of the jungle flash before Droidbait’s eyes sometimes, and he wakes in a cold sweat, shaking off phantom vines and staring around in a panic to find the rest of Domino.

He isn’t the only one who dreams, not by a long shot. Especially during the first few days. After spending weeks on high alert with nothing but fungus trees for cover, it takes legitimate effort to calm their bodies and minds from the battle-mindset.

Droidbait doesn’t let any of Domino squad out of his sight for the first three days back on the ship.

His brain needs the constant recognition that they’re all safe. He gets anxious again if someone leaves. It’s easier just to keep watch over everyone and wait for the battle-shakes to wear off than try and fight his own instincts.

Echo and Fives seem to understand this. They’re obliging whenever Droidbait turns awkwardly to try and keep everyone in his line of vision. They move when he asks them to without complaint and pat his shoulder comfortingly when they can tell he’s feeling on edge.

Of course they understand. They’ve been through things like this before. Droidbait, Hevy, and Cutup are all new to this kind of mentality, and they’re all dealing with it differently. Droidbait likes to keep everyone in sight, and Hevy refuses to go anywhere without a weapon, just like Fives. Echo and Cutup are a little more like Droidbait, suddenly extra cautious and hesitant to leave the group.

The nightmares begin to fade eventually, as does the pressing need to remain with the rest of the squad. Slowly, things start to feel normal again.

Five days after getting back to the ship, Domino squad gets their hands on a can of 501st blue paint and sets out repairing their armor.

Cutup, in particular, seems the most annoyed that his armor markings have been damaged. He claims a paintbrush quickly and sets to work without another word, scowling at the sorry state of the Togrutan markings. Hevy gets to work on his flame pattern, muttering quietly under his breath. Echo and Fives seem less concerned, patiently waiting for their own touch-ups.

Droidbait settles down with his paintbrush and sets to work placing tally marks up his left gauntlet, little groups of five that glisten rewardingly as they dry.

He’s earned these marks. They’re his, and his alone. He’d been responsible for the destruction of all of these droids.

When he’s finished, there are tally marks from his shoulder to his wrist. Fives, sitting next to him, lets out an impressed whistle.

“Not bad at all, ‘Bait! Very impressive. You sure that’s the right number?”

“Perfectly sure,” Droidbait responds a little distractedly. He can’t say a number but he can practically see every kill, every explosion of sparks as he’d shot out joints and circuits. “Think I should count them?”

Fives stares down at the painted gauntlet for a long moment, taking in the meticulous tallies. It wouldn’t be too hard to count them. They’re in groups of five, it would be easy to breeze right through.

“Mmm. If you want to,” Fives finally responds, shooting Droidbait a gentle grin. “I’d want to, if it were me. But I’m not you, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Droidbait agrees. He frowns down at his work. “Maybe… maybe not. It’s enough for me just to see the marks. I don’t really…the number isn’t the point.”

He thinks back to when he’d first painted the armor, when he’d come up with the idea to use tally marks. It had never been about numbers. It had been about potential, about growth and duty.

He’s grown far past the man he was during his first life. The fact that he’s survived this long is testament to that. Droidbait doesn’t need the number in order to know that he’s done something important this time around.

Fives shrugs at him. “That’s fair,” he says, running the paintbrush across his helmet to fix the Rishi eel across the top. “I get it, DB. It does look pretty kriffing cool, though.”  

Droidbait can’t help but smile proudly at the compliment. He looks over his armor and sees a story etched into the plastoid-alloy. Scratches, chips, and streaks of paint represent who he is and how he’s changed. His armor before had been pure white and smooth to the touch. He’d admired it then. Now he knows better.

“It does look pretty good,” Droidbait says, more than pleased with himself. He glances over at Fives’ armor, the pattern unchanged but bolder now. “Yours looks great, too!”

Fives blinks, almost startled by the compliment. He glances down at his own armor and brushes a hand over the design fondly.

“Thanks,” the ARC says. “It’s survived a lot. Must be lucky or something.”

“And it’ll survive a lot more if I’ve got anything to say about it,” Echo chimes in from behind them. Cutup and Hevy are close enough to being finished that they can contribute grunts of sincere agreement.

Droidbait smiles.

It’ll take much more than a filthy jungle to knock the Dominoes down.

At one point in his life, Echo had Kix’s medbay shifts memorized. Perhaps it’s more accurate to say later in life Echo will have Kix’s medbay shifts memorized—or perhaps not, Echo’s still not entirely sure how that works. Regardless, he doesn’t know the medic’s schedule now, so he spends an awkward hour hanging around the medbay entrance, waiting for Kix to emerge from its busy depths.

He gets lucky, eventually. Kix does appear, which is a miracle in itself. Kix doesn’t take breaks, not at times like this when there are still far too many lives on the line. The medic notices him quickly and heads right for Echo, mouth set in a hard line.

“You alright?” Echo asks him worriedly, and then blinks in surprise when Kix pulls out the datapad and shoves it into Echo’s hands.

“Listen, I can’t really talk,” Kix says hastily. Echo stiffens at the medic’s cold tone. “I kept your datapad safe. Excuse me, I need to get to the bridge.”

The medic brushes past Echo quickly. Echo nearly drops the datapad in surprise.

“I… did you look at it?” Echo calls after him, a bit desperately and not knowing what he wants the answer to be.

“No,” Kix calls back instantly. “It’s yours, isn’t it? I’m not going to go through your private stuff without permission.”

He’s gone a moment later, leaving Echo standing alone in the middle of the hallway.

“So stupid,” Echo groans, letting his head fall onto the table. “I didn’t even think, that was dumb of me to assume—”

“Hey, hey!” Fives cuts in from next to him. “Calm down, it’s not your fault. I forgot too, you know.”

They’d all forgotten.

They know Kix. They’d trust him with just about anything. They need his help to get their plans to succeed.

Kix doesn’t really know them at all. He’s treated them on Felucia, and he’d done a quick favor for Echo. That’s not enough.

Echo had been blinded by the faith he had in the medic of their old life. The relief of seeing a trusted face had made him forget that it isn’t the same person. Not yet.

Echo sighs heavily and lifts his head up to glare at the wall in annoyance.

“It’s just—irritating. It’d be easier if it were our Kix.”

“I know,” Fives mutters sympathetically. “A lot of this would be easier if they were ours from before.”

Echo takes a deep breath.

“It’s fine,” he says, partially to convince himself. “We can fix this. If we can talk to him and Jesse, I know we could convince them to help us regardless of how well they know our squad. The trust will come later. Just like last time.”

Fives claps him on the shoulder gently.

“Don’t worry, Echo. We’ve the whole flight to Coruscant to figure this out,” he reassures. “We’ve got this, alright?”

Echo relaxes a bit and grins gratefully at his brother. Fives is right. For once, they do have a little bit of planning time. The 501st is being sent back to Coruscant. It isn’t leave—not exactly, but it’s close. Enough that the clones will be able to take a long breather. Echo doubts they’ll be allowed on the surface. The Resolute will likely be kept in orbit while the Jedi visit their temple.

Echo just needs to convince himself to be a little more patient. They’re nearly at the point where they can start fixing things. Just a little longer.

“Hey, has anyone seen Hevy?”

Fives lifts his head at Del’s question and glances around the barracks for a second, half expecting Hevy to be crouched in a corner with his Z-6. He doesn’t see a single sign of the gunner, however.

“Haven’t seen him since breakfast,” Nax contributes quietly. “Don’t know where he went after.” It looks like he and Cutup are getting ready to head to the training rooms, stripping down to just their blacks.

“Saw him leave, but I don’t know where to,” Tipper chimes in. “I’ll help you look for him, if you’d like.”

Del frowns. “I was just thinking we could go in for some squad training again, it’s nothing too important.”

Fives reaches down to his communicator and tries Hevy’s comm. Hevy doesn’t answer, which is a little odd.

“Echo?” he says, glancing at the other ARC. Echo shrugs and shakes his head. “Huh. Maybe he’s already in the training rooms.”

“Wouldn’t he have picked up his comm if that were the case?” Zeer says.

Droidbait suddenly enters the barracks, glancing around with a surprised expression when they all immediately turn to look at him.

“Uh… everything alright?” he asks nervously.

“We can’t find Hevy,” Fives explains. “He won’t pick up his comm.”

“Oh,” Droidbait says. He relaxes visibly. “Is that it? I thought something bad had happened. Hevy’s fine. He’s up by the communication center. Got his hands on a long-range holoprojector for a few minutes, I think.”

Fives blinks. “Oh, he’s—” There’s only one person Hevy could be calling at a time like this. Fives looks over at Del. “I’ll go get him, sir. Give me fifteen. We’ll meet you all down by the training center if that’s alright.”

Del nods in approval.

“We’ll meet you down there,” he agrees. “Alright, men. Blacks. We’re headed down for the sparring rings.”

“...cut its legs off,” Hevy is saying excitedly when Fives enters the little communications room. “Then it nearly ate Echo! It was fine, though. Commander Tano took care of it—sliced it’s kriffin’ head off. It was pretty cool.”

“That’s — that’s impressive,” Ninety-nine responds. Fives grins at the old clone’s voice. “Well, what about the rancor, then?”

“Force, it was big,” Hevy responds. “The holograms don’t really do it justice. We watched two of ‘em smash a turbo tank to bits, an’ they weren’t even attacking us! We thought Tipper and Zeer were dead after that, but we found them eventually, too.”

“I’m just glad you’re all okay,” Ninety-nine tells Hevy. As Fives steps into view of the holoprojector, Ninety-nine’s image smiles. “Fives! Ah—it’s good to see you.”

“You too, Ninety-nine,” Fives responds warmly. Hevy doesn’t seem surprised that Fives has joined him. “How are you? Everything alright back there?”

Ninety-nine smiles. “As alright as it can be. I think… A few new batches are being sent out. Some might be headed your way.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Fives tells him, a bit more grimly. “We need the men. Felucia… didn’t like us very much.”

“Yes, I heard that,” Ninety-nine tells him with an amused glance at Hevy. When he looks back at Fives again his expression has gone serious. “I’m… I’m really glad you all got out of there. I don’t… I don’t know what I would have done otherwise.”

Fives’ heart drops to the floor. He and Hevy share a quick glance, wide-eyed.

“I… Sorry, Ninety-nine,” Fives apologizes sincerely. He hadn’t even thought of that. “Force, I’m sorry. We’re getting this fixed soon, I promise.”

Ninety-nine smiles at him gently. “I know you are, Fives. Don’t worry about me.”

“Except that we do,” Hevy mutters. He turns to look at Fives. “Since you came here to find me I’m assuming I’m needed?”

“Del’s putting together a training session,” Fives answers. “But I bought you… ten minutes, now. You’ve got a little more time.”

Hevy grins brightly. “Thanks, Fives. Want to stay?”

“Yeah,” Fives answers without even thinking. He’d love to talk with Ninety-nine. A moment later he wonders if he’s infringing on something private, but Fives and Ninety-nine both seem pleased at his agreement, so he relaxes as Hevy picks up where he’d left off.

There’s something… different, about Tipper and Zeer.

Fives notices it immediately, and he’s positive Echo does too based on the way his brother suddenly perks up in interest when the two of them step onto the sparring mats. The matches are two versus two this time around, with winning teams advancing to battle the others. Fives has already gone once. He’s paired up with Coric (no one will ever allow him to be paired with Echo during these type of things anymore). The two of them make a decent team. Coric lacks heavy muscle mass but makes up for it in speed and awareness. Together they’d managed to take down Cutup and Del, who aren’t a great matchup but had still done fairly well for not quite syncing together.

Tipper and Zeer are healed for the most part, but Del had hesitated in allowing them to participate. Zeer’s cast has only been removed for a day. Zeer doesn’t seem to care about that, and Del had caved eventually anyway.

Tipper and Zeer have been put up against Nax and Hevy, which seems somewhat logical. Nax knows Zeer’s fighting style well, and isn’t afraid to fight dirty if he needs to. Hevy has a muscle mass advantage over Tipper, and when the match begins initially the two start by splitting up. Nax flings himself towards Zeer determinedly, attempting to come from the side of Zeer’s freshly-healed arm in the hopes that Zeer won’t be able to react fast enough. Hevy dives for Tipper in the same moment, hoping to pin him quickly.

Hevy’s improved by leagues since the last time their team has sparred. Fives can see he’s gained much more awareness of his own body and his opponent’s. He’s actually thinking his movements through instead of charging in blindly—a massive sign of advancement that Fives is very proud of him for.

For a long minute, Nax and Hevy have the upper hand.

The key to fighting Zeer is to keep him off balanced, which is harder than it sounds because Zeer is fast when he wants to be. Nax seems to have perfected a strategy, however, and his earlier position had helped him somewhat—Zeer’s left arm is slightly slow to react. As long as Nax keeps up a flurry of quick kicks designed to keep Zeer from planting his feet, Zeer is unable to land a solid hit.

Hevy and Tipper are wrestling on the ground to try and pin each other. Hevy does indeed have the advantage, but Tipper isn’t making it easy on him—the younger clone is struggling fiercely, bringing up his knees and thrashing so that Hevy can’t manage to pin him. It isn’t long before Tipper gets lucky. His arm catches Hevy across the jaw. Hevy reels backwards a few inches, pain flashing through his expression. When he moves, Tipper gets a knee in Hevy’s chest and shoves him stumbling back.

Hevy is disoriented. It would be easy for Tipper to take advantage of him, but instead of pressing the attack, Tipper whips his head around almost frantically and looks at Zeer as he gets to his feet. Hevy stabilizes himself and preps for another attack. Tipper’s opening is gone. The glance towards Zeer had cost him.

It had been a small motion, but not an unfamiliar one. Fives recognizes it—mainly because he’s done the same thing before, to Echo.

It’s the kind of glance you spare to make sure your partner’s still alive, watching your back. A lot of clones do it, but there’s something different about the way Tipper does it, and the way he turns his back on Hevy to race towards Zeer and Nax instead.

Hevy shouts out a warning, but Nax can’t react fast enough to dodge. Tipper slams into Nax and knocks him away from Zeer. Nax only just manages to stay on his feet. When Hevy stands next to him, they’re right back in their starting positions, facing each other and panting.

Nax and Hevy glance at each other to coordinate and charge. They move as a united front, and Fives is expecting them to do much more damage this time.

Something changes about this time around, though. Instead of splitting up to take on their opponents separately, Tipper and Zeer stick together, so close that they’re almost in each other’s space. Zeer takes up a heavy fighting stance while Tipper bares his teeth and stands firm halfway in front of him, defending Zeer’s lower half.

Suddenly, Hevy and Nax are unable to make any progress.

Tipper and Zeer have set up a perfect defense. Zeer’s one weakness is now covered, and he’s simultaneously defending Tipper from getting overwhelmed. Hevy and Nax can’t get close enough to take either one of them out. The spar turns into a dangerous game of cat and mouse. Hevy and Nax circle and prod at Tipper and Zeer’s defenses, but each time they try to get close they’re stopped either by Zeer’s fists or a swift kick from Tipper.

They’re hardly even looking at each other as they move, Fives notices. Tipper and Zeer seem to instinctively know what the other will do, and when they need to cover for each other. He can’t see any signs or signals being used, which is extremely impressive.

Trust is one thing. Most clones trust each other. This isn’t just trust. It’s absolute trust, true faith in each other.

“They’re good,” Fives mutters to Echo, leaning over his shoulder. “They understand each other.”

“They were completely alone in the jungle with no one to rely on but themselves for more than a week,” Echo responds quietly. “I’m not surprised that they’ve forged a bond like this. Everything was trying to kill them back then. If they hadn’t trusted each other completely they’d likely both be dead.”

Tipper and Zeer go on the offensive. There’s something wild about how they move—it isn’t practiced or even fully planned. Their movements seem more instinctive than anything. When Tipper darts forwards to bat Hevy’s wrists aside Zeer is right there behind him, one fist headed upward in a massive uppercut. Fives winces as Hevy goes sprawling.

“Force. That’s amazing,” Echo murmurs. “What did they go through while they were on their own that made this necessary?”

“I’m not sure I want to know,” Fives says, watching as Zeer corners Nax at the edge of the mat. In desperation Nax attempts to roll away, but Tipper intercepts him before he can escape. Nax gets knocked to the floor. Tipper gets him in an armlock as quickly as he can, and Nax only has a few seconds to struggle before he’s trapped. Even if he could throw Tipper off, Zeer is standing a foot away. Nax is beaten, and he knows it. Even so, he squirms helplessly for a few moments before admitting defeat.

“I’m done,” he calls out, voice a little strained. “Force, let me up, won’t you?”

The rest of Beta squad bursts into applause. On the other side of the mat, Hevy gets to his feet slowly. He hadn’t been knocked unconscious by Zeer’s hit, but he definitely seems a little stunned. For a moment Fives worries he might try and continue the fight, but then Hevy grins incredulously.

“Well, kriff!” he says good-naturedly. “I wasn’t expecting that at all! Where’d that even come from, huh?”

Tipper lets Nax up. Fives is watching closely, so he sees the way Tipper suddenly starts shaking—how he blinks and shakes his head, uncertain until Zeer steps closer.

“Tipper. We’re alright.”

That’s all Zeer says, but Tipper relaxes anyway, shifting his body to keep Zeer in his line of sight as they leave the mat.

Of course they’re still emotionally recovering from their time alone on Felucia. Fives can’t believe he hadn’t suspected something like that earlier.

He worries for a few more seconds, watching as the two approach. Tipper seems fine now. He’s grinning as he talks to Cutup and Droidbait, and Zeer’s face is almost impassive in the moment. He notices Fives’ gaze and tilts his head inquiringly, but Fives looks away after that to fake checking Hevy over for injuries.

When Fives glances over at Echo again, he can practically see the wheels in his brother’s head turning.

“Echo? What are you thinking?” he asks quietly. Echo hums pensively.

“A lot of things, Fives. A lot of things. Nothing that I feel like sharing quite yet.”

“Alright,” Fives tells him. “Let me know if you think of anything cool.” Echo nods distractedly, and Fives rolls his eyes fondly. He’s used to this after two lifetimes.

He casts another careful look back at Tipper and Zeer as Del speaks to them, giving out pointers. Fives doesn’t really register his words, too caught up in his own thoughts.

He’ll have to keep a careful eye on Tipper and Zeer. Brothers who trust each other like that are useful, but they’re volatile in some ways as well until the majority of the trauma has faded away. That takes time.

Fives should know. He and Echo were like that at one point.

Speaking of Echo.

“Hey, aren’t you next to spar?” Fives asks the other ARC, elbowing Echo in the ribs. “It’s you and Droidbait, right? You’d better step up your game if you want to beat that performance…”

The 501st gets a new shipment of troops  once they’re in orbit above Coruscant, true to Ninety-nine’s words. Most of them are shinies. It’s a bit odd to see pure white armor again—Hevy hasn’t seen that since the Rishi Moon, practically. Now the mess hall is full of chattering shinies.

It’s kind of fun, actually. Hevy likes talking to the shinies. They’re curious, always asking about the battles Hevy’s been in and eager to hear his stories. Hevy’s ego is a big fan.

He walks into a training room during a quiet afternoon and blinks in surprise when he sees it’s only inhabited by a single clone. The man in question is crouched in the center of the room, surrounded by a smattering of disassembled machinery. He barely glances up when Hevy curiously approaches.

“Careful,” the he eventually warns. “There’s some explosives hidden somewhere in this pile, I think.”

Hevy can see a small explosive a few inches from his right foot. He inches away, taking care not to disturb any other parts.

“What are you up to, brother?” Hevy asks. The other clone lifts an eyebrow at him warily.

“Why d’you want to know? You gotta problem?” he says aggressively. Hevy snorts.

“Hardly,” he replies. “I want to know why you’re trying to rig all those mines together, though. You’re not worried about them all going up?”

The clone blinks. “I—no, they won’t. They’re remotely connected to a controller, and I’m being careful. You’re not… going to confiscate them?”

“Kriff no,” Hevy says. “Why would I do that? Seems like you’re up to something cool.”

A slow grin forms across the other clone's face.

“You know… I could always use a hand, if you’re not busy,” he says slyly. “I’m trying to make some… improvements, to the mines, and it would go faster with two.”

Hevy considers for a moment. It’s tempting. Looks fun, too. It would be nice to have an actual excuse to blow things up for once.

“Count me in,” Hevy says. He feels a shiver of excitement. “What do you need me to do?”

The clone rummages around on the floor and picks up a cluster of wires. “I mean… I’m nearly finished with the assembly. But I do need something to test it on…”

“Say no more,” Hevy tells him. “I’ve got just the thing.”

The clones aren’t allowed to take anything from the battlefield, but that doesn’t mean the Republic doesn’t have access to several droid husks—for target practice, or to study. There’s a couple posted at support stations around the training rooms. Hevy takes one from the nearest mechanic station and isn’t even spared a second glance by the man on duty. The mechanic only grunts and mutters a tired, “Just bring me back the pieces,” that Hevy’s absolutely going to ignore.

If the other clone’s grin had been of any indication, there won’t even be pieces of the SBD husk left when they’re finished.

“Perfect!” he shouts when Hevy heaves the useless body through the door. “That clanker’s gonna get it. Put him in the middle, won’t you?”

In the eight or so minutes it had taken Hevy to retrieve their target, the other clone has transferred his mines into a semi-circle on the ground and cleared out the remaining spare parts. He’s currently lugging a clear ballistic shield into the corner, and the moment Hevy sets the droid down he moves to help the other.

“Alright,” the clone says, a pleased look on his face. “This ought to be good.”

Hevy positions himself behind the shield and looks over their setup on the other side of the large room curiously.

“What, exactly, did you do?” he asks. The clone chuckles. He palms the detonator and hovers one finger over the button.

“You know… it’s more fun if I don’t tell you,” he says gleefully, and presses the button.

The fireball is spectacular. Hevy has to shield his eyes, and the force of the explosion rattles his very bones. Shrapnel rattles against the shield. The other clone lets out a whoop.

When the room stops trembling, Hevy peers back out to see if he can spot any sign of the droid. There’s twisted metal scattered by the walls, and few yards away from the ceiling a single metal leg protrudes from the wall of the ship. The ground is blackened, which Hevy knows they’re likely to get in trouble for but he can’t bring himself to care in the heat of the moment.

Hevy lets out an incredulous laugh.

“Force, that was cool,” he says. “The clanker got obliterated. Seriously, what did you do?” Adrenaline is singing through his veins. Hevy likes how this feels. It’s a little intoxicating. If the way his companion is grinning is any indication, he feels the same way.

“Well… I may or may not have taken out some of the safety features in order to make room for additional explosives, to start with. Then I added a makeshift filter to stop the explosion from spreading to a maximum radius, like they’re designed to do. Basically… I made it more powerful, and more condensed. Cool, right?”

Hevy laughs again. “You said it!” he replies. There’s a long pause where both of them are staring out at the wreckage with far too much excitement. Eventually, Hevy glances at his companion and shuffles his feet. “So… we’re doing this again, right? I’ve got some ideas.”

“Oh, yeah,” the clone agrees. “Tell me all. I think we’ve got something good going, here.”

Hevy balls his fists in excited anticipation.

“You got a name, brother?” he asks. The other clone looks at him as Hevy bends down to inspect a twisted strip of metal.

“Call me Hardcase, brother.”

“I want to make you two an offer,” Captain Rex says. They’re standing in a small meeting room, at ease in form, but tense in anticipation. Echo spares a quick glance at Cutup beside him, who looks slightly confused. He doesn’t know what the Captain’s on about either.

“I was very impressed by both of your actions on Felucia,” Rex says. He looks considerably better than the last time Echo had seen him. He’s gotten some rest, at least, which is good. If anyone deserves rest, it’s Rex. “Both of you showed courage, valor, and quick intuition. I couldn’t have asked for better men to serve at my side during such a dark hour.”

Echo frowns. He’d expected something like this—a reward, or another medal, but this is starting to sound suspiciously like something else.

“You were both able to step up in the heat of battle and get things done. The retrieval of the walker was crucial to getting our men out of there safely,” Rex continues. “Many of our brothers would have died without it. Both of you deserve the highest praise.”

“Thank you, sir,” Echo says, heart warming at the compliment despite his confusion. A compliment from Captain Rex is something to be truly proud of.

“I’d like to give both of you the opportunity to become ARC troopers, if you’d like,” Rex says, and Echo’s warm feeling is immediately erased.

Kriff.

They can’t accept this. They can’t. ARC training takes months that Domino can’t afford to waste. But it will look strange if they reject it—every clone dreams of being ARC. It was practically all any of  them could talk about during their cadet years. Also, if Rex is only offering this to two of them, the squad will be split in half. They can’t do that, either.

Echo is so wrapped up in his own frantic thoughts that he almost misses Cutup’s surprised inhale.

“I—what? Are you serious, sir?”

The corner of Rex’s lips twitch upwards. “Plenty serious, Cutup.”

Cutup gapes at him for a long moment.

“But sir… I don’t— me? Why not Fives?”

Rex claps a hand on Cutup’s shoulder. “You’re just as qualified to be an ARC as Echo is, Cutup. As an ARC trooper, you’d be out of my jurisdiction for the most part. ARC troopers technically work outside of traditional command structures. I want to promote Fives eventually, if he’ll allow me to. He would be of most help to me here. You and Echo, though—I think you’d both do extremely well as ARCs.”

Echo bites his lip, watching nervously as Cutup basks under the praise. There’s a long moment where Echo worries Cutup is going to agree blindly, stuck on the excitement of a childhood dream achieved—but then Cutup’s shoulders sag. Echo knows his brother is coming to the same realizations.

“Sir…” Cutup begins, voice heavy with disappointment. Echo jumps in before Cutup has to give an explanation.

“We appreciate the offer, Captain, but… would there be consequences if we declined?”

Echo’s bracing himself for the worst, but Rex only sighs.

“I suspected you might say that,” the Captain says. “Though I thought it was worth a try. You could really help the Republic as ARC troopers, boys.”

“We can help the Republic here, too,” Cutup chimes in. Echo nods at him encouragingly. “We want to stay here, sir.”

Echo doesn’t remember having a choice to become ARC the first time around, but he hadn’t thought anything of it at the time. Now, his whole body tenses. He doesn’t think Rex will force them, but he can’t help but worry about it anyway. He watches as the Captain nods at them slowly.

“I didn’t think either of you would want to leave your batchmates,” he says. “Your squad is one of the closest I’ve ever seen. I won’t break up such a strong group, even if it does mean I’m short two ARC candidates.”

Echo’s shoulders slump in relief.

“We’re sorry, sir,” he says. Rex waves a hand.

“No need to apologize, Echo. That’s fine. As I said, I expected your answers. You two still deserve the highest praise for your work. You saved a lot of men that day.”

Suddenly Echo has an idea. He’s not entirely sure what Rex will think of it, but it might be worthwhile to suggest it.

“Sir,” Echo begins carefully, “If you’re still looking for men to be ARC… I might have a suggestion.” Rex raises an eyebrow curiously and gestures for Echo to continue. “There are two men in our squad who might have some of the necessary skills already. Tipper and Zeer.”

Rex’s eyes widen in recognition. “The men we thought we’d were lost to the jungle,” he confirms. Echo nods.

“Yes, sir. They’re worth investigating. I’m not sure if they’ll pass your qualifications, but they’re definitely skilled. They survived alone in the jungle for more than a week and helped us bring the walker back afterwards.” Echo honestly thinks they’d be fantastic ARCs. Especially if they’re partnered together like he and Fives had been. The way they’d worked together during the spar had shown trust and ferocity, two things definitely needed as an ARC.

Rex hums pensively, shifting his weight as he thinks. “I haven’t seen much of them since Felucia, but I trust your recommendation,” he says. “I’ll keep an eye on them. Do you think they’d accept the offer if it was made?”

Echo frowns. “I can’t say, sir. They might. I have no idea.”

“Hm. I’ll look into it,” Rex says seriously. “Thank you, Echo. That’s all I’ll need from you, then.”

“Thanks, sir,” Echo says sincerely. Cutup echoes the thanks.

“Echo… do you really think Tipper and Zeer could be ARC?” Cutup whispers as they leave. Echo nods.

“I do think they could, if they stick together,” he responds. “But whether or not Rex chooses them isn’t up to me.” Those two are still recovering, after all—but Echo thinks that if he were in charge of choosing the ARC candidates, those two would be very high on his list.

In the end, Echo isn’t patient enough to wait.

He takes the datapad to Jesse, shoves it in his hands, and takes a deep breath.

“Tell him to read those documents,” Echo instructs firmly. To his credit, Jesse immediately knows who Echo’s talking about.

“What’s Kix done now?” he asks, accepting the datapad without even blinking.

“Nothing,” Echo reassures him. “But I need his help.”

“His help, or a medic’s help?”

“Both,” Echo answers. “Can you make sure he at least looks at it? Don’t let anyone else use it.”

Jesse frowns, but nods his head.

“Alright, I’ll see if he’d be willing to look at it after his shift is over,” he promises. From Echo’s experience, that means by tonight Kix will have seen the contents of the datapad. Kix will listen to Jesse.

“Thank you,” Echo says. “When he’s finished, will you have him come see me?”

“Sure,” Jesse says easily. “You’ll have to work around his shifts, though.”

“That’s fine,” Echo replies quickly. “As long as he reads it.”

Echo has no doubt that Kix will come see them on his own after looking at the documents. As Jesse tucks the datapad away Echo feels a surge of anticipation.

This is it. It’s far past time to get this taken care of. If everything goes well, they’ll have a medic on their side by tomorrow.

Then things will really start to change.

Chapter Text

Beta squad is waiting for Kix the next morning when he storms into their barracks with a furious expression on his face and the datapad clenched in one hand. The medic’s eyes find Echo immediately.

“Echo, what the kriff is this?” Kix hisses. “Where did you get it, how—”

He stops himself abruptly, eyes darting around the room to peer suspiciously at the rest of Beta squad. He spends a long moment looking at Del, who’s standing near the door with his arms crossed, and then glances back at Echo.

“Your squad… ”

“They were the first to know,” Echo tells him. “They’re here to help.”

Kix nods once and hands the datapad to Cutup, who’s simply closest. He takes a deep breath, as if to steady himself, and then sets his jaw.

“How did you get those files?” he asks quietly. “Those are classified Kaminoan records. We shouldn’t have access to those.”

“We have a reliable inside source back on Kamino,” Fives answers vaguely. Echo winces when Kix fixes Fives with an unimpressed look.

“Why would you need an inside source in the first place? How did you know these records would even exist? This isn’t something you just… stumble onto. Even if this wasn’t what you were looking for, you were doing something that led you to find it.”

Sithspit. Echo should have known Kix wouldn’t settle for less than the full story. Fives blinks blankly. Echo jumps in before the other ARC can try and bluff his way through their pre-planned explanation.

“General Shaak Ti has been suspicious of recent Kaminoan activities,” he told the medic carefully. “We worked with her before we were sent here. She tasked us with the investigations, as she couldn’t try anything without falling under suspicion herself. These documents were the result of our search.”

“Force,” Kix mutters. He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs heavily. There’s a beat of silence before he speaks. “This is big. Dangerous, too. It could change the entire war.”

“We know,” Del tells him seriously. “And that’s why we need to do something about it.”

For a heartbeat, Kix hesitates, and Echo doesn’t blame him. This burden is heavy. Kix has never been one to back down from a challenge, though. Echo watches the flash of determination cross the medic’s face as he steels himself to help, just as Echo had known he would.

“Why come to me? You already have a medic.”  

“Two minds are better than one,” Coric answers quietly. “This is too big of an operation for one medic to tackle. The more people we can get on our side, the better.”

“You and Jesse helped us on Felucia,” Echo reminds Kix. “You barely knew me, but you held onto the data without even glancing at it. We know we can trust you with this.”

Kix looks around at them all slowly, and then he nods once.

“Alright,” he says. “Alright. First thing’s first. Those chips need to go.”

Echo resists the urge to punch his fist through the air in victory. The rest of Beta are grinning in success, because suddenly their numbers have grown. One, for now, but if Echo knows Kix, Jesse will know everything by tonight as well.

“Any ideas?” Coric asks. He looks relieved. “I was trying to do some brainstorming, but I couldn’t think of anything inconspicuous enough. We can’t just have every member of the 501st in for brain surgery.”

“Right,” Kix agrees slowly. “Brain surgery won’t get approved without reason, anyway. Maybe we could sneak a few men in. It’s risky, but not impossible.” He looks at Coric. “Have you done a scan to locate the chips yet?”

Coric frowns. “No. The medbay is still far too busy. It will start to clear out soon, though. Now that we’re above Coruscant, some of the more heavily wounded will be transported to the Medical Stations in orbit.”

“First chance we get, we need those scans. You realize this is something every single clone is going to have to deal with, right? We can’t keep this among ourselves,” Kix tells them. “I understand being wary of the Jedi, and the Republic, but our brothers deserve to know about this.”

“You’re right, but isn’t that a bit risky?” Droidbait asks. “If we start distributing data, we run the risk of it falling into the wrong hands.”

“We’ve got to start somewhere,” Fives points out. “Being cautious hasn’t helped us so far. We’ve got to trust that our brothers can keep the secret.” Droidbait nods slowly in agreement, but he still looks concerned. Echo doesn’t blame him for it—he’s right. It’s risky, but Fives is right too.

“We shouldn’t send information through unaltered datapads,” Nax chimes in suddenly. “Echo’s has been modified so that it isn’t connected to the public network, but others just rely on what we’re given. Who knows how often those streams are monitored?”

“Word of mouth only, then,” Echo says, and takes a deep breath.

The idea of telling everyone is daunting. The men won’t be happy about being lied to. And all of this—the chips, the orders—are secrets that Domino squad has protected for so long already. Echo is eager to tell the others, to start fixing things, but it’s terrifying at the same time.

“Right,” Fives says suddenly, stepping forwards. “So, for the time being, we’re still stuck in place, right? We can’t do anything until we have better access to medical equipment.”

“Yes. But if we can get the word out, I’m confident the battalion will work together to cover our actions,” Kix says confidently.

“Alright. In that case, our first mission is to spread the word.” Fives is taking charge. Echo glances around, wondering for a brief moment if anyone will object. No one does. Even Del is nodding with every word Fives says. “That’ll be our job. The medics will deal with the brain scan. Those two things need to be done before we can take this any further. And once the medics are done with their scan we can start with us—as many as we can risk freeing without being caught.” Fives narrows his eyes in determination. “We’re doing this. I’m done waiting.”

That’s it, then.

Echo’s heart is beating so fast that he almost feels sick.

Things could go so very wrong here. All it takes is one person to reveal the secret to the wrong person, and the whole thing goes up in flames. However… maybe it’s just best not to worry about that, now. They’ve spent so long waiting, worrying, struggling to come up with ideas. They haven’t made any progress.

Maybe it’s time to throw caution to the wind and take action.

It doesn’t feel wrong. Echo keeps waiting for that sick feeling in his stomach to make an appearance, to tell him that they’re making the wrong decision, but it doesn’t come.

Echo glances around at his teammates, his brothers. Droidbait’s eyes are wide. Hevy’s fists are clenched. Cutup has gone completely still, brow furrowed in concentration. They’re worried. Who knows what will happen if they go through with this?

Fives… Fives stands tall, shoulders back. Echo meets his gaze for a brief moment. There is pain there, and hope. Fear, and resolve. Echo can’t imagine how he feels in this moment. He’d lost his first life for this cause. In some ways, he has even more to lose this time around, but he isn’t going to back down.

Fives is right. It’s time. The sooner they can do this, the better. The Chancellor will have one less weapon in his pocket.

“Give us a plan, Fives,” Kix urges. Fives looks at him, confused by the prompting. “We need some way to start this.”

Fives glances around the room again, and takes a breath when he sees that everyone, including Echo, is watching him. Waiting for the word. Fives is the leader in this, that much is obvious.

“We need to reach as many men in the battalion as we can, and quickly,” he begins carefully. “But we need to be careful about explaining things, as well. Our brothers need to understand that only a few people are behind this. We don’t want the wrong people to be blamed. Ah… Echo?”

He wants someone to help him explain, to make sure he doesn’t say anything incorrectly. Echo steps up without hesitation. He knows exactly what his brother needs.

“Here,” he says. “Listen up, boys. This has to be done right.”

The news spreads like the subtlest wildfire in the galaxy.

Beta squad splits up into pairs and take their message to any brother who can spare the time to listen. Word is whispered through the mess hall to brothers who abandon their meals in shock, in the training room to men who scorch the walls with blasterfire in rage. To the medbay, where steady hands shake, to the communication officers who answer calls with wavering voices and clench their teeth.

Echo had expected men to be skeptical. He’d expected to be accused of making things up, and there are some who do—but Domino has proof. Solid documents that contain signatures and theories and records far too complicated for mere soldiers to come up with.

There are others who believe Beta squad instantly. It isn’t hard to believe that the Kaminoans would do something like this. There are so many things the long-necks hide from the rest of the galaxy, so many things that the clones aren’t aware of. Sometimes the documents aren’t necessary, even though Echo always presents them.

The whole battalion knows about the chips within forty-eight hours. Those who learn pass it on to others, who pass it on even further. Echo only explains for about two hours until men start seeking him out intentionally, wanting to see the proof.

It’s a bit of a dangerous game that they’re playing, because they’ve all heard the story of Slick on Christophsis. They’re not trying to start a revolution, and they don’t want to anger the men against the Republic. Many of the people haven’t done anything wrong, and the Jedi, as far as Fives knows, have nothing to do with it. That’s one of the first things Beta squad tells the battalion, along with strict instructions to not spread the news to others until they can find better ways to work everything out. They push for brothers to stay calm and wait for further instructions. Echo wishes they had evidence to prove that Palpatine is the one behind it, but they don’t—not yet.

Regardless, news spreads, and the brothers listen. The battalion is willing to learn and willing to wait. They’re all in the same boat, uneasy, nervous, but patient. Echo can hardly believe it.

The medics get to work immediately. Kix and Coric get a level five atomic brain scan done within the first day of the reveal. The chip is there, just as Beta claimed it would be, and it’s yet another confirmation that they’re telling the truth.

So many men suggest they tell General Skywalker that it almost hurts Echo to have to continually deny them. The 501st trusts their Jedi unconditionally. They’re so certain that General Skywalker and Commander Tano can help. Echo wonders if they’re right. Perhaps they are, but the suggestions subside when Beta squad explains that they’re keeping the news between brothers only for now. This is a clone problem, and no one wants to risk the rest of their brothers by talking to the wrong person, even if it is General Skywalker.

Fives is the one to take the news to Captain Rex. Echo goes with him, standing in silent support as Fives quietly shows the Captain their evidence. Echo doesn’t have to step in once. Fives is perfectly composed as he tells the Captain their cover story—how they’d worked under Shaak Ti’s supervision to try and uncover possible malicious Kaminoan secrets, how they used an inside source to gain access to the records. Captain Rex sits down with Echo’s datapad for fifteen minutes to go over the contingency orders himself. Echo and Fives wait patiently for him to finish.

Rex’s expression gets more grim the longer he reads, and his fingers clench over the sides of the datapad. When he finally looks up at them, his eyes are narrowed. It takes him a moment to find his voice.

“We’ve always known they want to control us, but this… this is too much,” he says quietly. Echo nods along with Fives. Neither of them say anything. They’ve already said what they’ve wanted to.

Rex drags his hand down his face and takes a deep breath. His fingers brush back tentatively and feels along the back of his skull. A lot of men have done the same thing, feeling for any sign of the accursed chip. The action is more involuntary than anything, because it’s impossible to feel it, but they always try.

Rex sighs heavily. “Cody and I were right, then. You five were never shinies.”

“No, sir,” Echo answers honestly. “We were not.” Rex is correct, even though it’s for the wrong reasons.

“I should have known.” He pauses for a moment. Echo can see the knowledge fall on their Captain like a physical weight. “Who knows about this?” Rex says suddenly, so softly that Echo almost misses the words. Rex’s expression has suddenly gone from worried to graveyard grim.

“Just the men, sir. We haven’t told anyone else—”

“Who knows about the codes and could potentially access them?” Rex says, louder now. Echo grimaces. Of course he’d ask the hard question right off the bat. “How many traitors does the Republic have in its midst? How deep does this scheme go?” His tone goes dark, angry, and Echo really wishes they had proof of Palpatine’s involvement in this moment. Fives shifts next to him, a pained look on his face.

“We… we don’t know, sir,” Echo’s forced to lie, and bites the inside of his cheek as Rex’s fists clench. “We know the Jedi weren’t aware of it, though,” he continues in a weak attempt to pacify him. It works for the time being. Rex takes a deep breath.  

“Right,” he says, strained. As if he’s struggling to keep himself calm. “Alright. There’s—There’s nothing we can do about that now, if your squad doesn’t know.”

Echo worries for a moment until Rex lifts his head, squaring his shoulders. “Well? I’m assuming you’ve started to come up with a plan.”

“Sir?” Fives says in surprise. Rex fixes him with a humorless smile.

“We’re getting these chips out, at all costs. You’ve brought me solid evidence to support your words. These… contingency orders… they would be the end of the Republic. They need to be taken care of immediately. It’s the first step in fighting back against whoever’s responsible.”

Echo lets out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

Force. Finally, someone with some amount of influence knows. A strange knot in his chest unravels. He’s wanted to go to Rex for help for so long. If anyone can make this work, it’s the Captain.

“We don’t have a solid plan, not quite yet,” Fives tells Rex. “We’ve been concentrating on spreading the word to the battalion, first. The medics got the brain scans done, and they’d like to try operating on a few volunteers.”

Rex hums thoughtfully. “There’s no way they’ll be able to operate on everyone. Once all the brothers know we can hide some of the surgeries, but we’ll run out of supplies eventually. We’d have to find a way to justify sending for more.”

Echo and Fives share a relieved glance. No one had thought of that. It’s an immense comfort to have a mind as sharp as the Captain’s thinking over their problems. Rex seems to be falling deeper into thought with every second, brow furrowing.

“It won’t be easy to resolve this problem on such a large scale,” he muses.

“You’re right,” Fives agrees. “But we have to try. There are others who would be willing to help us, too—eventually, once we feel like we can tell them.”

“We should tell the Jedi eventually,” Rex says. “General Skywalker and General Kenobi would be more than willing to help.”

Echo winces. “Yes, but…”

“Not yet, of course. This is our fight, and as soon as they get involved there’s a risk that unwanted parties will realize we know about it,” Rex continues. Echo sags in relief again. The Captain truly is amazing. This is the first time Echo hasn’t needed to explain that decision.

“Sir… do you think the battalion will be able to keep this a secret?” Fives asks seriously. Rex nods.

“They’ll do what it takes to be rid of that chip. You won’t have to worry about that, Fives. I’ll do everything in my power to help.” He glances at Echo. “Can you transfer the data about the contingency orders to my datapad?”

“Not if it’s monitored,” Echo responds without hesitation. Rex shakes his head.

“It isn’t, not anymore. I have two. The second has been modified.”

Echo nods, accepting his own datapad back from Rex and keying in the code to send the documents to the Captain. It’s good that he can send it to someone else. He’d been worried about that earlier. Now, they have a backup just in case something happens to the original datapad.

“We’ll need to tell the rest of our brothers about this, too,” Rex tells them as they wait for the transfer. “The other battalions are at just as much risk.”

“That’s the plan,” Echo tells him. “Once we figure out how to effectively deal with this ourselves, we can help the others.

Rex nods. “Good. Tell the medics to do what they can without raising suspicion. Start clearing men as soon as possible, but be as discreet as you can. Too many at once and someone might become suspicious. They don’t have forever, either. This break won’t last. Eventually the 501st will be deployed again.”

“We’ll let them know,” Fives says. Rex turns to his datapad, offering them a dismissal. Echo starts to go, but Fives doesn’t move for a long moment.

“Sir…”

Rex glances up. The stress lines in his face make him look very tired.

“Fives?”

“I… thank you, sir,” Fives forces out suddenly. “Your help is… more appreciated than you realize.”

Rex looks surprised for a second. He offers Fives a small smile.

“So is yours,” he responds. “Thank you, Fives. If we hadn’t known about these chips… that could have been disastrous. You’ve saved lives today.”

It still could be disastrous, but Echo doesn’t care to point that out. It’s the pessimistic side of his brain that thinks it, anyway, and Echo is trying to ignore it.

They’ve made immense progress today. It’s a good start, for sure.

When they turn to go, Echo sees a flash of something sorrowful and betrayed hidden behind Rex’s carefully schooled expression. His mask of control is crumbling. Echo wants to say something more to reassure him, but there’s nothing else he can say. They get out of there quickly, and Echo hopes that the Captain will be alright

Fives’ jaw is clenched tightly as they leave. Echo taps his shoulder gently in concern.

“You alright?” he asks softly. Fives closes his eyes for a long moment.

“Yeah,” he says finally. “Yeah, I’m alright. This is just… a lot. I worried that we wouldn’t even get this far. We’ve gotten further than I did in my first life and it’s only been two days.”

“And we’re going to get a lot further,” Echo reassures him. He offers his brother a comforting smile. “We’ll be alright, Fives. There’s a whole battalion behind us now. We’re going to make it work. It’s just a little overwhelming for you, yeah?”

“Sure, whatever,” Fives grumbles, feigning annoyance at the displayed weakness. He shoves Echo gently. “But I’ll be fine. This is going better than I could have hoped.”

Of course, Fives volunteers to be the first to have his chip removed. Echo doesn’t know why he ever thought otherwise. He is surprised, however, when Cutup also volunteers.

“I want it out,” Cutup tells Coric determinedly. “I hate the thought of it there. You can use me as a test subject if you want, but I need it gone.”

Coric had shot Echo a concerned look, but Echo just sighed and shrugged. He isn’t that worried—Fives had gone through the operation before, in his first life, and he’d been perfectly safe. The medics are worried that they’ll mess something up. They aren’t droids, aren’t perfect, but Domino trusts them anyway. Echo is confident that his brothers will be fine.

The first operation, Kix tells them, will take a while. They don’t want to mess anything up, and they want time to investigate closely, take their time to ensure that they don’t miss anything. Echo knows they won’t.

Fives goes in for surgery on the morning of the third day since the reveal. There are nonchalant-acting guards scattered throughout the corridors leading to the medbay that morning, quietly keeping watch. Echo doesn’t go with them into the medbay. He’ll be of no help to them, and he isn’t in the mood to sit and pace in front of the doors like Cutup, so he follows Droidbait and Hevy to go get food once Fives has been ushered inside.

Half of the battalion turns to look at them when the three of them enter the mess hall. Echo is sharply reminded that the whole 501st is waiting for news.

Force. It’s daunting, suddenly. Echo hadn’t anticipated it to be this intimidating. Everyone knows now.

“They took one of our squad in for surgery just now,” he announces quietly. His voice carries, because every brother has gone silent to listen. “We won’t have news for at least another hour while the medics work.”

There’s a massive collective sigh as everyone goes back to their food. Echo exchanges a glance with Droidbait and Hevy, acutely aware of dozens of eyes still on them.

“I’m gonna go get food,” Hevy announces uneasily. He’s fidgeting under their gazes, slightly uncomfortable. Droidbait follows him as he leaves, a tiny frown on his face. Echo… isn’t really hungry, suddenly. He scans the mess hall until he spots a familiar tattoo and makes a beeline for Jesse.

“Echo,” Jesse greets cheerfully, scooting over to make room once Echo’s close. He takes in Echo’s unsettled expression and frowns. “Kriff. You alright?”

“You know,” Echo begins, placing both elbows on the table, “no, not really. This is… the first time we’ve been around the battalion since this whole thing started.”

Jesse raises his eyebrows. “How is this only the first time?” he asks. Echo shrugs helplessly.

“We ran around spreading the news, sure, but we didn’t spend too much time around the same groups because we needed to talk to as many men as possible. We snagged rations when we could, and spoke with the medics a lot. Then we were mostly around people who already knew, to help them figure out what we were going to do. But everyone knows, now.”

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“I mean, yes. It definitely is. It’s just… we’ve protected this secret for a long time, Jesse. We tried our best to remain in the background, to not be noticed. It’s different now, and that’s… a little unsettling.”

“You’ll be alright,” Jesse reassures. “I wouldn’t worry about it too much. From what I’ve heard, the men are with you all the way. They’re curious and concerned, that’s all. It’s not every day something like this happens.”

It’s not every timeline something like this happens, not that anyone but Domino squad would realize it.

“What else have you heard?” Echo asks. “I haven’t been asking. Haven’t had an opportunity to yet.”

“Nothing bad. There’s not much we can do about it, after all,” Jesse answers. “I guess it’s a little tense, mostly because anything could happen at any time and there wouldn’t be much we could do about it. That could have happened way before this, too, though. Your team did a good job of keeping everyone calm. We understand that there’s a lot at stake, so the battalion is holding steady for the time being.”  

Echo exhales slowly in relief as Hevy and Droidbait join them, sliding trays onto the table. If there was any battalion capable of taking the news without panic, it’s the 501st. It makes Echo’s chest swell with pride.

“I get the feeling they’re aching to crowd us, but restraining themselves because they don’t want to make a scene,” Hevy mutters conversationally as he stuffs a breadstick into his mouth. “It’s kind of weird.”

Droidbait nudges Echo’s elbow. “The brother I was next to in line suggested a battalion-wide meeting of some sort, just to explain everything again and talk about the plan. Is it possible?”

Echo frowns pensively. “It’s possible. Maybe we could do it, but an impromptu battalion meeting might attract General Skywalker’s attention. We’d need the Captain’s help in order to pull something like that off. Grapevine will have to do for now. I’ll see what I can do, though.”

Droidbait nods and gets out of his seat, presumably to find the man he’d been talking to earlier and spread the word. His seat is almost immediately filled by a brother that Echo doesn’t know, who looks at them all with wide eyes.

“Should we be worried?” he asks without preamble. “Some of us are nervous. We just… we just don’t know what’s happening.”

Echo takes a deep breath. This has to be unnerving to the men who’ve only just learned about it. Echo remembers how shocked he’d been—though the shock of the chips had been slightly overshadowed by the shock of being alive in the first place, even after the month or so in between the two reveals.  

“The medics are working to fix things as we speak, brother,” he reassures. “We’re finding a solution. Just hang on, and be patient.”

The man doesn’t look very reassured. Hevy grabs his arm before he can pull away from them.

“Hey,” Hevy says. “We’ll be alright. If only brothers know about this, there’s no way whoever’s responsible will know that we’ve become aware of the chips. He hasn’t activated them before now, and he won’t activate them yet. Besides, the medics will start de-chipping people within the next few days. We’re fine,” he emphasizes.

The clone blinks. He looks between Hevy’s determined face and Echo’s patient one, then glances at Jesse’s supportive grin.

“Alright,” he stammers out, and shakes Hevy off gently. Echo watches as he heads back to a group of men across the room and begins to talk with them urgently. Their tense expressions soften as he does. Echo sends a grateful look at Hevy, who grins back at him.

“Keep that up and we’ll be okay, I think,” Jesse tells them encouragingly.

Echo hopes that he’s right.

Fives comes out of surgery perfectly fine, just as Echo knew he would, and Cutup is sent in. Fives won’t wake up for a little while, still drugged, and the medics want to keep him longer to double check him anyway. Regardless, Echo has time to kill, so he makes his way back to the barracks and sits on the edge of his bed with his datapad in hand.

He might as well start looking at what’s coming next.

The big problem is Geonosis, for sure. It’s a necessary fight, one that definitely can’t be avoided. Echo has no idea if it’s even possible to change something of such a large scale. Changing the outcome of a skirmish is one thing. Changing the outcome of a planetary invasion is another. They hadn’t even bothered to try with Felucia.

The problem on Geonosis, the first time, had been that the gunships carrying walkers had been shot down before they could deposit their heavy hitters. Echo briefly entertains the idea of somehow convincing the men to drop the tanks sooner, to try and get more of them on the ground. Would that really help, though? The walkers are slow and large, easy targets for the airborne bugs. Even if they were set down sooner, the long walk to the rendezvous might get them destroyed just as fast.

Echo doesn’t have a good solution. He grows frustrated with the problem after a while of research and consideration, tossing his datapad onto the bed in annoyance.

“Well, that didn’t look good,” a brother says from the doorway. Echo glances up as Tipper enters the room, a sympathetic look on his face. Zeer is behind him, expression neutral. “Wanna talk about it?”

Echo sighs. He does, but not with Tipper. “I’m alright, Tip. Just tired and a little annoyed. It’s nothing some rest won’t be able to solve.” A lie. One Echo wishes was true.

“Is it something about the… you know,” Tipper tries carefully, tapping the back of his skull. Echo shakes his head.

“Not that. This is something else. It’s fine, really. Nothing you need to worry about.”

“Alright,” Tipper says with a shrug. Echo half expects the exchange to end there, but Tipper has stopped a few feet away from him and is shifting his weight a bit awkwardly. Zeer is still behind him, silent as if waiting for something. Echo frowns.

“Tipper? Zeer?”

Tipper takes a deep breath.

“Can I… can I ask you a question, Echo?”

Echo lifts an eyebrow.

“Of course,” he answers. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Tipper reassures. “It’s just… it’s—” Zeer nudges him gently to urge him onward. “Captain Rex came to us today, and asked us if we wanted to be ARC,” Tipper blurts out. He looks almost guilty as he speaks. “Zeer and I—we told him we’d think about it and I kind of want to but I’m not sure if it’s such a good idea because of the whole chip thing going on right now—”

So this is what it’s about. Echo had been worried it would be something worse. He holds up a hand to stop Tipper in his tracks.

“Tipper, I’m not going to tell you whether or not you should be an ARC,” he says, a little amused at their concern. “If you want to, go right ahead. Both of you would make excellent ARC troopers.”

Tipper’s eyes go wide. Zeer takes a half step forwards.

“Would it be wrong for us to leave?” he asks. “We might be needed. Would Del be angry with us?”

“He’d better not be,” Echo replies. “He might be sad that you’ll be gone for awhile, but you’ll be back if the Captain has any say in things—which he does—and being selected to be ARC is one of the highest honors a clone can have.” Neither of them look convinced. Echo smiles. “Trust me, you two. It wouldn’t be wrong. Del wouldn’t be angry. If anything, having men at ARC training might benefit us. When the time comes to get word of the chips out, you’ll have the connections necessary to speed things along.”

“Oh,” Tipper says softly in realization. “I didn’t think about that. What… what would you do if you were asked, Echo?”

Echo remembers adrenaline and pride and a firm “Yessir, thank you sir!” that he had shouted at the top of his lungs, Fives a steady presence next to him and excitement bubbling through his body.

“I would do it,” he tells them honestly. “I would do it, and be proud to.”

It takes a split second, but Tipper grins.

“I’m gonna do it,” he says determinedly. “We could really help the Republic.” He looks over his shoulder at Zeer questioningly, something hopeful in his gaze. Zeer nods at Echo before looking back at his companion.

“If you’re in, I’m in,” he says. Tipper’s grin widens.

“Should we tell the Captain, then?” he asks, and practically bolts for the door. Zeer follows him.

“Thanks, Echo!” gets shouted back down the hall. Echo barely hears it as the door slides shut.

To some extent, they’ll be safer at ARC training than they would be in the 501st during Geonosis. And Echo was serious about them connecting with other men while they’re there. They’re friends, and all of Beta squad will miss them, but Echo is certain that it’s a good thing.

They’ll do well as ARCs, especially as a pair. It reminds Echo of himself and Fives a little bit, and he smiles fondly to himself as he reaches for his datapad again.  

He may not be able to find a solution for Geonosis quite yet, but there is something he can do in the meantime.

He types up an anonymous message to the security center of the Jedi Temple, notifying them that he’d overheard plans to steal a Jedi Holocron from a bounty hunter called Cad Bane and an accomplice. He remembers a lot of the details, though he can’t mention all of them in the message. It had been all over the news their first life, and the 501st had been deployed afterwards to regain the holocron anyway. Echo wonders if he’ll be able to stop things before they even happen this time. If the temple is on high alert to begin with, Bane won’t stand a chance.

He’s admittedly a little smug at the thought of ruining one of Bane’s heists. The Duros had always seemed too proud for Echo’s tastes, and if the Republic can catch him now it will save them plenty of trouble in the future.

He encrypts the message to make it untraceable and sends it with a satisfied tap of his finger. Job done, he sets the datapad down on his bed much more lightly than before.

He’ll have to wait to hear what happens, but it feels good to try for now. With any luck the Jedi will be more than prepared to catch Bane off his guard.  

Echo checks the time and takes a deep breath. He’s done everything he can for now, and the medics should be releasing Fives soon. He crosses his fingers quietly and starts the walk up to the medbay.

He has a good feeling about this.

Chapter Text

“Have the men been acting a little strange recently, or is it just me?” Commander Tano wonders, completely casual as she sets a card down. Cutup nearly chokes. 

Next to him, Droidbait sends a faintly panicked look at Hevy, whose eyes have gone very wide. The both turn to Cutup simultaneously, who resists the urge to throw up his hands in exasperation. 

Of course this would come up while the ARCs are busy. 

The Commander doesn’t notice their alarmed looks. She’s too busy surveying her cards with careful precision. Cutup has to say something, and fast, otherwise the pause will grow too long and she’ll realize that something’s off. 

“What do you mean, Commander?” Cutup asks, keeping his voice as even as he can. “Strange, how?”

The Commander hums and shrugs her shoulders. She glances over at Hevy’s cards. She’s trying to teach him how to play better, so they’ve teamed up this round, whispering to each other every time Hevy’s turn comes around. 

“I don’t know. It’s hard to describe. It’s like the battalion is… distant. The men seem uneasy for some reason. Master Skywalker says that they’re worried about our orders, but it’s never been like this before. Do you guys know anything about it?”

“Yeah, we do,” Hevy says before Cutup can come up with a good answer. Cutup snaps his head around to stare at Hevy in surprise. “The General is right. It’s the orders.”

Cutup relaxes. He’d panicked for a split second, not knowing what Hevy’s intentions were.

“Oh. Why? None of the other deployments made the battalion this nervous.” Commander Tano says, sounding a little confused. 

“Ah—Geonosis is somewhat of a legend to us troopers,” Hevy tells her. “It’s where the war started. There were a lot of casualties, and a lot of stories from the survivors. It’s easy to get caught up in the rumors, especially with a place that has so much history.”

Cutup nods in approval at the quick lie. An idea suddenly strikes him. “The fact that the Republic has fought there before is putting us on edge,” he contributes. “The bugs might have implemented countermeasures against our usual strategies.We’re worried that we’ll lose just as many men as we did before.”

Commander Tano looks away from the cards in front of her and turns to Cutup. There’s a serious expression on her face. 

“That won’t happen, Cutup. We’ll be fine. Master Skywalker and Master Kenobi will come up with a good plan.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Cutup sees Droidbait perk up suddenly. 

“Yeah, they probably will,” he says casually. “It’ll be interesting to see what they come up with. Last time, the GAR forces came in on gunships to take the Geonosians by surprise. They’ll have put in much more effective anti-aircraft weaponry since then. It’ll be tough to get to the ground, I’m thinking.”

Cutup perks up in excitement. Droidbait has caught on. Hevy is glancing between the two of them curiously. Cutup sees the exact moment he realizes what they’re doing, a quick grin curling around his lips before he schools it into something much more concerned. 

Geonosis is coming up fast. Echo and Fives had talked them through everything they could remember from their experiences, including the walker dilemma that Echo has been struggling with since they got back from Felucia. No one’s been able to find a solution yet, but maybe Cutup and the others can help with that. Maybe the Commander herself can help with that. 

“Huh,” Commander Tano says thoughtfully. “That’s a good point. They’ll be on the lookout for gunships as soon as their scanners pick up our cruisers in the atmosphere.” Her cards are getting closer and closer to the ground as her attention is pulled away from the game. “There’s no other way to get our men to the surface, though. It has to be gunships. The 501st isn’t equipped with anything else.”

“What if we were? We don’t have any other vehicles, and neither does General Mundi’s men, but someone must have something else we could use.” Hevy taps his cards against his cheek as he speaks.

Cutup frowns. They’ve already had a version of this conversation with Echo and Fives. They’ve got to steer the topic to something new. “The Republic doesn’t have any other vehicle that can drop off such a large number of troops that fast.”

Hevy glares at him for a fraction of a second, as if Cutup isn’t taking the conversation in the direction he wants it to go. Cutup glares right back.

Can’t read your mind! he signs sharply when the Commander’s gaze is elsewhere. He raises an eyebrow when Hevy sighs in gruff acknowledgement.

“Okay, so we need gunships, but maybe we can do something to draw the attention away from them,” Droidbait tries—again, another point that they’ve mentioned among Domino squad, but one that they haven’t yet fully thought out. “Especially gunships carrying heavier equipment. They’ll be easy targets.”

Commander Tano is glancing between them all, brow furrowed. “You’re really concerned about this, aren’t you,” she states. Cutup shrugs sheepishly at her.

“Sorry, sir,” he says, not actually sorry in the slightest. “We just want things to go well. We can get back to sabacc, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, it’s alright! Tell me what you’re thinking. I’d like to know!” Commander Tano interrupts. She sets her cards down completely.

Cutup resists the urge to grin in success and catches Droidbait doing just that behind the Commander’s back. He meets her eyes and is surprised at how sharp her gaze is, how honestly interested she seems.

She’s growing.

“Well,” he begins slowly, “I think that our gunships will be pretty exposed. Maybe a vanguard of some sort could try and shield them.”

“The fighters will be busy in atmosphere, though,” Commander Tano points out. 

“You know, considering the terrain of Geonosis, I think that it’s likely we’ll be using the walkers during this campaign,” Hevy comments conversationally, as if he’s speculating. They already know they’ll be using the walkers, though Commander Tano doesn’t yet.

“I’d be more worried about the walkers just as much as the gunships, in that case,” Droidbait says lightly. “Gunships are fast, but anti-aircraft can still get them—especially when they’re carrying heavy machinery. The gunships wouldn’t be able to set the tanks down fast enough.”

“Hey!” Hevy suddenly says—and his excitement sounds legitimate. Cutup looks at him with wide eyes. “Back to what I was saying before, about other vehicles! If the Geonosians are focused on a larger threat, then the gunships would be able to set down the walkers without a problem! Sure, some of them might still get hit, but if the enemy’s attention is divided there’s a better chance of walkers getting on the ground!” 

“What’s a larger threat than gunships and walkers?” Droidbait questions doubtfully, but Commander Tano snaps her fingers. 

“Juggernauts!” she says triumphantly. Cutup blinks. 

“Turbo tanks? I guess, but we don’t have any,” he reminds them. 

“Yeah, but we did on Felucia!” Hevy says. “So it’s not impossible for us to get them!”

“Every single one of them is still on kriffing Felucia, too,” Droidbait mutters glumly. “The Republic would never give us more after that. They’re too expensive.”

He has a good point, but Cutup finds himself latching onto the suggestion anyway.

“If we could land turbo tanks somehow at the beginning of the invasion, their fire would be torn between the gunships and the tanks,” he muses quietly. “We wouldn’t lose as many gunships, and the walkers would be somewhat protected by the faster vehicles…”

“Only if we could get our hands on some,” Hevy says. “And turbo tanks are too big to be brought down by gunship, they have to be let off of cruisers. There are ways around that, I guess, but you’ve gotta get inventive.” Cutup frowns. It’s a still good idea. How could they pull it off, though?

“Hm,” Commander Tano mumbles. Cutup jerks. They’ve… probably gone a little too far. To his own ears it sounds more like scheming than speculating now. He’s not sure what the Commander is thinking, but maybe it’s best to end this while they’re ahead. He makes eye contact with Droidbait and slices a quick finger across his own throat. Droidbait coughs.

“Ah, who’s turn was it again? Was it mine? Sorry, I got caught up in the conversation.”

Commander Tano blinks. She picks up her cards.

“Hevy’s, I think,” she answers. “Do you guys run through strategies like this before every battle?”

Cutup thinks about it for a split second and realizes that, yeah, they actually do. Usually, it’s just because they’re trying to change things, though. He wonders if they would have still done it during their first life, when they had no knowledge of what was to come.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Hevy says with a grin. He shifts his cards over so that she can look at them again. “It’s time-consuming, and good practice, I guess. Sometimes we get serious, but it’s all in good fun.”

Hevy, Cutup thinks, is starting to get really good at lying. 

They get back to the game, but Cutup’s mind is whirling. 

Turbo tanks. He really thinks it could work, if they could just find a way to get some approved and figure out how to land them. It had been Commander Tano’s idea, but who knows if she’ll really think anything of it, or if it was just part of the speculation. He wonders what Fives and Echo will say about it. Cutup thinks that it’s worth looking into.

Hevy wins the round, but only because Commander Tano is helping him. To his credit, he does make a few plays himself near the end, but it’s nothing special. The Commander had set him up perfectly for victory beforehand, but he crows at the end as if he’d done it all himself. Cutup rolls his eyes and kicks Hevy’s legs out from under him when he leaps to his feet. Commander Tano snorts at the antics as she gets to her feet as well, stretching.

“Thanks for the game, guys!” she says cheerfully. “I’ve gotta go, though. Master Skywalker promised to spar with me in a few minutes.”

They wave after her as she leaves, but once she’s gone the three of them go quiet for a long moment. Cutup starts to gather their cards.

“So… turbo tanks?” Hevy says quietly.

“Worth a try,” Droidbait replies. “It won’t be easy, though.”

“Nothing in this galaxy is ever easy,” Cutup growls out, fighting to pick up the flat sabacc cards from the smooth floor. Hevy laughs at his struggle and kneels back down to help him. 

“We’ll take it to Echo and Fives, see what they think,” he says. “At the very least, it’s an idea.” He smiles. “Our Commander is a lifesaver, you know.”

Cutup thinks of the Blue Shadow Virus, of Ryloth and Felucia and everything in between. He thinks of the markings on his helmet.

“She really is,” he agrees, and stuffs the cards back into their box.

Echo opens his eyes. Fives lets out a relieved breath.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” he says, grinning at his brother. “How do you feel?”

Echo groans and starts to sit up slowly, wincing at the bright light of the medbay. 

“Normal, I guess,” he mutters slowly. “I don’t feel anything different. Am I supposed to?”

From the other side of the medbay, busying himself with equipment, Kix lets out a quick chuckle. “No, you’re fine, Echo. Free to go, too—so long as you don’t feel anything. Your head will hurt in a few minutes once the anesthesia wears off, but other than that you should be alright.”

Echo blinks and takes a deep breath. Fives can see him taking stock of his surroundings, carefully thinking through every one of his senses to make sure nothing is off. After a moment, Echo nods.

“I’m good,” he confirms. He grins at Fives. “Were you worried, Fives? What are you doing here?”

Fives flushes, unwilling to admit that he’d been feeling extra paranoid about Echo’s surgery. “I wasn’t worried. Just wanted to be here when you woke up.”

“Sure, sure,” Echo tells him knowingly, and slides off the cot so that his feet touch the floor. Fives hovers at his side to make sure he’s alright until Echo waves him off, a look of fond amusement on his face. 

“I promise I’m fine, Fives. If anything, you should be excited right now, not worried.”

Fives smiles. “Excited isn’t quite the right word. Relieved, for the moment. It’s a small victory, but I’ll take it.”

Echo is the last of Domino to go through the chip-removal surgery. Domino squad is officially chip-free. Fives is relieved, but the looming challenge of de-chipping millions more makes the emotion a little hard to enjoy. 

“We’re going to have to pause the operations for now in order to prepare for the Geonosis campaign,” Kix informs them suddenly. “We’ll get more supplies after the invasion, and with injured being brought in I should be able to sneak more men into surgery. Captain Rex is pulling some strings, getting us the equipment we need so that no one questions us. With any luck, things will start progressing faster soon. This would be much easier if we didn’t have to hide it from the General, you know.”

Fives sighs guiltily. “Kix…”

Kix rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, I know, I know. It’s just… frustrating. It’s so kriffing slow. There’s only five men de-chipped out of the entire GAR. ”

Fives clenches his jaw and wonders, not for the first time, if there’s a better way to do this. Before he can get too deep into thought, however, Echo pushes himself to his feet and heads for the door.

“Thanks, Kix,” the other ARC says, turning to give the medic a grateful look. Kix waves him off. 

“Don’t thank me yet. After Geonosis and once the 501st is de-chipped I’ll be a lot happier.”

“It’ll happen, Kix. We just need to be patient,” Echo reassures him. Kix frowns, but he nods in agreement as Echo makes his way out of the medbay. 

Fives follows Echo into the hallway. Echo has pulled his datapad out and is scrolling through the notices that he’d missed while he was unconscious. Fives lifts an eyebrow at him when Echo reads something particularly interesting and practically crows in victory.

“Do I even want to know?” he asks, slightly nervous. Echo is capable of devious things when he’s in the right mood.

“Oh, you definitely do.” Echo holds up the datapad triumphantly. Fives squints at the title and snorts.

“Notorious Bounty Hunter Cad Bane Arrested,” he reads out loud, and feels a surge of incredulous satisfaction. “Is this because of that notice you sent?”

Echo looks extremely pleased with himself. Fives huffs out a laugh. That’s one infuriating problem taken care of for the time being. Bane will break out eventually—he always does—but now the 501st won’t have to worry about going after him.  

“Echo… you are a genius,” he says sincerely. “Congratulations on making the arrest of this lifetime.”

“Echo arrested someone?” Cutup asks as he turns the corner, frowning. Both ARCs jump, and then Echo snorts. 

“So much for awareness training,” he mutters. Fives runs a hand down his face and sighs. They’d been standing in the middle of the hallway talking about arresting Cad Bane, of all people. Anyone could have heard them. To be fair, they’d been distracted and in good spirits, but that’s no excuse to let their guards down. They need to be more careful.

“Yes, I arrested someone,” Echo answers, somewhat quieter this time. “And I’m chip-free on top of that.” Cutup grins brilliantly at the news. “We’ll explain once we get back to the barracks, alright?”

“Yeah, sure, but guys, listen,” Cutup begins. He looks more excited than Fives has seen him in a while. “We think we might have found a solution to the Geonosis problem.”

Fives’ eyes widen. “Are you serious?”

Cutup smirks. 

“Come on, back to the barracks. We’ll explain everything.”

“Turbo tanks,” Fives repeats slowly. Around the table, Droidbait, Cutup, and Hevy are nodding eagerly. “You three are right, it’s a good distraction, but it’s basically a suicide mission for the pilots and any men inside.”

“Except the fire won’t be completely focused on them,” Hevy defends quickly. “It’ll be split between the tanks and the gunships. Neither one will be taking the blunt force of the enemy’s attacks.” Fives nods, but frowns anyway, not entirely convinced. It’s still extremely dangerous.”

“From what they’re saying, it sounds like the Commander was on board with the idea,” Echo chimes in. His voice is contemplative. “Bringing turbo tanks in is a plan reckless enough to be agreed to by General Skywalker. If she mentions it to him…”

Fives remembers walkers dropping through space and grins. It’s definitely right up General Skywalker’s alley.

“If she was just playing along we’re on our own, though,” Droidbait reminds them solemnly. Fives wonders if Captain Rex has enough influence to get them turbo tanks on a short notice. It wouldn’t hurt to ask, as a last resort. 

“We have a week until the invasion of Geonosis is set to happen,” he tells them all. “We’ll wait for four days to see if the Commander mentions the idea to the General. When those four days are up, we’ll go to Captain Rex. Sound good?”

Domino squad voices their assent. Fives takes a deep breath. The logic of the plan is solid, but there’s still a chance that it won’t work. What if they can’t manage to sneak turbo tanks into the mix? Then what? Geonosis is too dangerous to leave completely up to fate. Fives wants to have some sort of influence on the battle, even if it is something small. Anything could help.

He can’t imagine things going much worse than the original invasion had gone. As long as they can do better than that, everything will be alright.

“Four days,” Fives repeats. “Then we go to Rex.” 

He really, really hopes this works. He doesn’t have any other ideas, and they’re running out of time.

The next day, Beta squad heads down to the hangar to see Tipper and Zeer off to ARC training. 

It starts out as a cheery walk, full of friendly banter and horseplay. The closer they get to the hangar, the more sober the Teth survivors become, and the more Cutup’s heart sinks. 

The squad is proud of Tipper and Zeer, and supportive of their decisions to attend ARC training. It’s a big step for the two of them, and, for a few months, it takes them out of immediate danger. Cutup is happy for them, but he’s sad, too. Tipper is a close friend. So is Zeer. Even though they’ll be back, it feels like their squad is being torn apart. 

Cutup can’t even imagine how Del feels right now. The Sergeant’s shoulders are back and his head is held high, but his entire body is tense as he leads them down the hall. The Teth survivors have lost so much already, and now one more of their destroyed company is leaving—albeit not for good, but for a while. 

“They’ll let us send updates every week, so I hear,” Tipper is saying, continuing the conversation even though the others are starting to quiet down. “We’ll keep in touch.”

Nax chuckles weakly. The mechanic’s hands are fidgeting, like he can’t keep them still. 

“Just make sure Zeer doesn’t skip meals, he does that sometimes when he’s stressed.” Zeer grunts in protest and glares at him, but Nax only offers him a sad smile and shrugs. “Don’t look at me like that! It’s true!”

Coric slaps Zeer’s arm with an offended noise. “Zeer! I thought we talked about that!”

“Sometimes there isn’t time,” Zeer mutters defensively. Fives nods in agreement behind them.

“He’s right. Sometimes there are more important things to worry about.”

Cutup falls into step with Tipper and nudges him fondly as they walk. Tipper nudges him back as Coric lets out a displeased sigh.

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, guys—skipping meals isn’t healthy. You really need to—”

In front of them, Del enters the hangar and stops dead. The rest of them follow suit, peering around each other to see why Del has stopped. 

There’s a gunship waiting for them already. An ARC with red accents on his armor waits by the ship in full gear. He nods to them cordially when he notices their arrival and turns his head away, allowing them privacy to say goodbye. 

A shared feeling of panic flashes through Beta squad almost simultaneously. Cutup can practically see it as it passes through them all, leaving the men with wide eyes and held breath. It’s time, but they don’t want it to be. For a long moment, no one speaks. 

Tipper is the one to break the silence again. He sighs, and his smile goes from excited to wistful.

“Guys. It’s okay, I promise. We’ll be back.”

“Not soon enough, though,” Hevy grumbles. Tipper shrugs helplessly. Zeer steps forwards until he’s right in front of Fives. 

“We’ll be back,” he repeats, and grabs Fives’ hand in a tight, respectful shake. “Just figure out all this stuff with the chips and keep everyone alive while we’re gone.” It had been tempting to de-chip Tipper and Zeer before they were to leave, but Beta squad had decided it was safer if they waited until after their ARC training. They’re going to be under close supervision by Kaminoans, and they can’t risk the long-necks finding out that their ARC candidates are de-chipped.

“You’ll do great,” Fives tells Zeer honestly. It shatters the awkward tension. Tipper grabs Cutup’s hand and pulls him into a hug, slamming his free fist against Cutup’s back. 

“You know…” Tipper muses, “I probably would have died if you hadn’t been with me on Naboo.”

Cutup snorts. “I was unconscious, I barely did anything.” He squeezes Tipper’s hand. “You survived on your own. Be safe out there, okay? We’ll miss you two.”

“You guys be safe, too,” Tipper replies lightheartedly. “Don’t die.” Cutup groans.

“Well, there go my plans,” he mutters. “Fine, fine. We won’t.” Tipper laughs, then lets go of him with a final smile to go and say goodbye to the others. 

Beta squad admittedly drags out their goodbyes as long as they can. Zeer shakes everyone’s hand and spends a long moment chuckling with Droidbait over the memory of their first sparring session. Tipper flashes bright smiles that hide his nerves impressively well—until Del is the last one they have to say goodbye to, standing tall between them and the gunship. Zeer steps up to face him. Tipper follows.

Del takes a deep breath. 

“I’m proud of you boys,” he begins. “And I want you to do your best out there, you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Tipper and Zeer say in unison. Del nods in approval, and then hesitates for a heartbeat.

“Attie would be proud, too,” he says. Beta squad collectively sobers. Droidbait inhales sharply. Even Tipper flinches a little. He hadn’t known Attie for long, but they had still been friends. “He’d be cheering if he was here right now. Wherever he is… I’m sure he’s still cheering for you. Do him proud, boys. Good luck out there. Come back to us in one piece—that’s an order.”

Zeer steps right up to the Sergeant and presses their foreheads together gently. Del takes a deep breath when he pulls away, grasping Zeer by the shoulder to look him in the eyes.

“Be careful, sir,” Zeer tells him seriously. “Let us come home to a squad we know.”

“We’ll be here, Zeer,” Del responds. He smiles. “Work hard. Look after each other.”

Zeer nods and lets go of the Sergeant, taking the first step past him towards the gunship. Tipper launches himself at Del, pulling him into the same hug he’d given to Cutup. 

“Thanks for everything, sir,” he says, just loud enough for Beta squad to hear. “We won’t be gone long.”

“It was a pleasure, Tipper,” Del says quietly. Tipper pulls away and steps past him as well, until he’s side-by-side with Zeer.

It’s bittersweet to watch them greet the ARC trooper by the ship. Cutup can’t help but glance at Del, whose stoic expression has started to crumble, revealing something almost regretful underneath. Cutup’s heart aches for him. The five Teth survivors are being separated, slowly but surely.

 When Tipper gets into the gunship, he waves at them. Beta squad waves back until the gunship doors are closed and it begins to rise into the air. 

Del watches, motionless, until the gunship rises out of the hangar and disappears from view.

Coric and Nax exchange a concerned look that Cutup sees out of the corner of his eyes. They step up on either of Del’s sides to flank him, reassuring him that they’re still there.

“It’s alright, Del,” Coric says. Del sighs. He sounds so tired. 

“I know, Coric. Thank you,” he replies slowly. “Back to the barracks, then. There’s work to be done.”

He starts to leave. Nax and Coric don’t leave his sides as they go. Domino falls into step behind them.

Cutup bites his lip in worry as he follows the others towards the barracks.

Tipper and Zeer will be back, but it hurts to see them leave anyway.

Domino squad hears nothing from Commander Tano, and the fourth day comes. Fives is teetering on the edge of full panic mode. 

In the days leading up to now he’d grown more and more worried about the upcoming invasion, doubts and fears swirling around his head. They’re lucky that no one had died on Felucia. Fives wonders how long they can go until their luck runs out. He wants their plan to work. It has potential, and it may be the only chance they get to alter the invasion. The lack of news makes him stress more and more until he’s grinding his teeth in anxious impatience.

He paces around the barracks wringing his hands. Not even Echo can calm him. Fives doesn’t want to be calmed down. There’s so much at stake, and he knows that losing his mind will just make things worse, but he can’t help it. 

“Fives, you need to keep it together,” Echo tells him seriously. He’s sitting on the edge of his bunk with his brow furrowed, trying to figure out what to do even as he coaxes Fives away from a mental breakdown. “Listen, I’m worried, too, but we have to be rational about this.”

Fives doesn’t want to be rational right now. Echo’s right—Echo’s always right, but Fives wants to scream what he knows to the galaxy. So many brothers are going to die regardless of what they do, but maybe, maybe they can lessen those numbers a little— if this works out. 

“Echo, I’m going to lose my kriffing mind,” he growls in frustration. “We can’t go into this without help. We might get killed before we’re even on the ground. We need something. If not turbo tanks, then something else.”

“Yes, Fives, I know,” Echo says patiently. “This is why we have a last resort, remember?”

“Captain Rex isn’t all-knowing,” Fives groans, flinging his hands in the air. “I mean, the turbo tanks were a good idea, but kriffing —it’s probably not going to happen, and we don’t have anything else to work with! Three days is not enough time!”

“Not with that attitude it isn’t,” Cutup mutters from his bunk, where he and Droidbait are sitting, quietly polishing their DC-15s. Hevy is on the floor in front of them, working on his Z-6. They’ve been silent up until now, listening to the ARCs argue it out. Fives ignores the comment.

“Captain Rex may not be all-knowing, but he does have much more influence over General Skywalker than anyone else in the battalion. He can help.” Echo says.

“So… we tell him everything, then?” Fives asks incredulously. “We can’t pull the same trick that Hevy and the others played on the Commander. Rex will see through it for sure, especially since he knows we aren’t ordinary men. We’d have to tell him the full truth—how else would we explain what we know about Geonosis?”

Echo frowns. “If it’s the right time, we’ll tell him. I thought you wanted Captain Rex to know.”

“I do! But what if it isn’t the right time?” Fives snaps. “Then what?”

“I don’t— I don’t know, Fives,” Echo growls, raising his voice for the first time. It sounds like Fives is finally getting on his nerves. “But we aren’t going to get anything done by sitting here.”

“Fives, come on,” Hevy butts in carefully. “Listen, we need to at least try talking to the Captain before we start freaking out.

Droidbait gets to his feet without warning, motioning for the others to do the same. “Come on, guys. Let’s go find the Captain.”

It’s as simple as that, to them. Droidbait, Hevy, and Cutup walk out, leaving Fives stunned in the middle of the barracks and Echo sighing on his bunk.

“Fives,” Echo says quietly. Fives presses his hand to his forehead and inhales slowly, pulling himself together. 

“How,” he asks through gritted teeth. “How are you so calm? You know as well as I do how bad things go down there.”

Echo slips off of his bed and puts a hand on Fives’ shoulder. “I’m not calm,” he says honestly. “I’m terrified that something’s going to go wrong. We could all die instantly the moment our gunship comes within range of the cannons. I’m just… better at hiding it than you are. I told you earlier—we’re not going to get anywhere by panicking. We were so cautious before word of the chips got out. Patient, too. Even though things are moving now, we can’t forget to hang onto that. They’ll keep us alive, I think.”

The tension in Fives’ body drains away. 

“I’m sorry, Echo,” he mumbles. Echo shrugs at him, offering a smile.

“It’s alright. Should we catch up with the others? They’ve certainly taken the lead with this one.” He says it easily. Echo is so quick to forgive. Fives wishes it was that easy for him.

“They’re learning fast,” Fives agrees. He forces himself to straighten, to focus. Echo hums proudly as he turns towards the door. 

“They really are. Soon, we’ll be taking orders from them.”

Fives snorts. “I don’t think so,” he protests. Echo snorts at him as they hurry out the door. 

It would be easier to just comm the Captain, but Domino decides that it’s better to talk to him in person. If they’re really going to tell him everything now, it’ll be much easier face-to-face. It takes longer to find Rex than Fives expects. Everywhere Domino goes to find him, they get redirected somewhere else. They try the mess hall and are directed to the communications center, who directs them to the firing range, who directs them to the bridge. They get lucky on their way to the bridge—a concerned deck officer spots them and turns them back towards the hangar, where he claims the Captain is supervising a supply drop. 

Fortunately for Fives’ sanity, Captain Rex is indeed in the hangar. He’s listening intently to his communicator off to the side when Hevy spots him, and even as they watch, he frowns. When they approach, he holds up a hand in a silent request for them to wait. They obey.

“Of course, sir,” Rex finally says into the comm. “I’ll take care of it.” He hangs up the call and turns to Domino squad expectantly.

Fives stares at the Captain intently, struggling to sense any promptings from the Force. He doesn’t feel bad about talking to the Captain, though he doesn’t really feel good about it, either. He just feels… nothing. 

“It’s good to see you boys, but I’m going to have to skip the small talk unless there’s something important you need to tell me,” Rex tells them. “General Skywalker just put me in charge of borrowing turbo tanks from the 442nd battalion. I’m going to have my hands full for the next few hours.”

Fives freezes in place. His mouth hangs open. 

“Uh—turbo tanks, sir?” Droidbait jumps in hurriedly. “What for?”

“The invasion, I’m assuming,” Rex says. His eyes sweep over them. Suddenly his expression becomes worried. “Is something wrong?”

Fives almost laughs. Relief makes his knees weak. 

He’d been panicking for no reason, as usual. Of course, Commander Tano had come through. 

Echo’s always right. When will he finally realize that?

“Nothing’s wrong, sir,” he answers. “I just wanted to make sure you’d heard the report the medics gave us.”

Rex relaxes. “I did,” he confirms. “Kix visited my office yesterday. The chip removals were a success, then?”

“Yes, sir. Everything worked out fine,” Fives tells him, as casually as he can. “That’s all we wanted to tell you. As soon as this campaign is over we can continue with the rest of the battalion.”

Rex nods. “Good. Let me know if anything changes… but not until after the invasion, please. This invasion gets more ridiculous with every passing moment.”

“What do you mean?” Hevy asks. Rex sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“General Skywalker’s suddenly convinced that we need turbo tanks—which I can agree with, but it’s not gonna be easy. We’ll have to sacrifice four gunships for every juggernaut he wants to land.”

“Four?” Droidbait repeats incredulously. “That’s… a lot. Don’t we need them to ferry men to the surface?”

“Four is necessary, considering the length and weight of the tanks,” Rex says. “But they can carry men and turbo tanks at the same time, because the tanks will be carried with cables instead of hooked to the underbellies of the gunships. The tank will dangle below, waiting to be released, and the gunships can still carry squads in the main cabin.”

“That’s… definitely one way to do it. It’s a very... Skywalker plan.” Fives isn’t surprised.

“A very stressful plan,” Rex corrects, and then sighs. “But a good one, as usual. I have complete faith that it will work. So, like I said—until the campaign is over…”

“One thing at a time. You got it, sir,” Echo says for all of them. Rex snaps them a quick little salute as he leaves, which Echo and Fives don’t react to out of familiarity but Droidbait, Cutup, and Hevy straighten at instinctively.

There’s a long moment of silence. Fives tilts his head back and takes a second to breath.

“Okay,” he says. “So… turbo tanks, yeah?”

“Kriffin’ turbo tanks,” Hevy responds, voice low in satisfaction.

Two days later, they get the official orders for the second invasion of Geonosis. A lot of the details are the same. The goal is to arrive at the rendezvous point near the primary droid foundry, with the 501st coming in from the South, the 21st Nova Corps from the North, and the 212th coming down the center. The only difference this time is that the 501st has two turbo tanks paving the way for them.

The triumph doesn’t last long at all, though. Just because they have the tanks doesn’t mean everything is suddenly solved. 

The trip to Geonosis via lightspeed takes a day, but it feels like an hour, if that. The Resolute buzzes with men bracing for battle. Cutup loses himself in the bustle of preparation, racing to double check weapons, to grab extra ammo packs, to stay out of the way of the mechanics and pilots. They have the harder jobs here, after all.

When the order comes to load up, Cutup is almost relieved, if only because if they wait any longer the stress is going to kill him. 

Beta squad congregates in the barracks and packs up. Their squad is two men short—they haven’t gotten replacements for Tipper and Zeer yet, so it’s just the eight of them, waiting with bated breath for everyone to be ready. Eventually, Del straightens. 

“Let’s move, Beta squad. We’ve got a job to do.”

Mission jitters have them all nervous. They’re on edge as they make their way to the hangar. Cutup keeps sharing worried looks with Droidbait and Hevy. The turbo tanks had been their idea, in some sense—what if it doesn’t work?

When Beta squad arrives in the hangar, it’s pure chaos. Squads are hurrying into place. Pilots are testing engines. The deafening sounds of roaring engines echoes through the room. In the chaos, Del somehow catches sight of Commander Tano waving at them from next to a gunship. He leads Beta towards her. She gestures them inside the ship, raising her voice to be heard over the commotion.

“I’m not riding with you this time, I’ll be with Master Skywalker. I’ll see you guys at the rendezvous, though, alright?” Cutup offers her a thumbs up. She grins at them all and waves as she darts away, disappearing into the crowd of white and blue.

“Load up, men,” Del orders. He steps into the ship, Coric and Nax right behind him.  

For an instant, Domino has a moment alone. They look at each other gravely. 

“No turning back now,” Fives says. “Let’s hope it’s enough.”

“It’s enough. We’ll be alright,” Echo says. “I have faith that this will work, guys.”

“You guys coming?” Nax shouts at them, and the moment is gone. Cutup swallows down his nerves as he steps into the gunship and tries to clear the doubt from his head. He needs to be focused. He needs to do his best, for the Commander, for the squad—and for the galaxy, too.”

“Hello there, Beta squad,” their pilot says through comms. “Remember me this time?”

“Flak!” Droidbait calls out instantly. Cutup grins—they may not be with the General and Commander Tano, but they have Commander Tano’s pilot, which is encouraging. Flak is truly a talented flyer. 

“Good to have you again!” Flak calls out cheerfully. Cutup has no idea how he can be so excited at a time like this. “You boys ready? It’s gonna be a bumpy ride.”

“As ready as we’ll ever be,” Coric grunts. Flak laughs. Despite everything, Flak’s playful nature is putting Cutup at ease.

“Aw, don’t be like that, Coric. Show me a little enthusiasm!”

Cutup can’t see Coric’s face, but he can imagine an impressive glare behind the medic’s helmet. Flak laughs again at Coric’s stubborn silence. 

“How you feelin’, Flak?” Echo asks jokingly. “We aren’t going to crash and burn, are we?”

“Not if I have anything to say about it, we aren’t! We’ve got tank support going on ahead of us, anyway. We’ll be fine.”

“Stick together once we get on the ground,” Del instructs everyone. “Keep your eyes in the sky. Don’t forget that those bugs can fly.”

“You got it, boss,” Nax replies. The rest of them nod in agreement. 

“Takeoff in thirty seconds,” Flak suddenly announces, a tad more professional now. “Hold on, boys.” The gunship doors slide shut. Cutup tightens his grip around his gun and feels a little better once he does. He reaches up and grabs onto one of the hooks up above to steady himself.

“Here we go,” someone behind him whispers. 

Del has his head tilted, listening in to the command radio. “They’re sending the juggernauts first, then the men and tanks,” he relays. “The turbo tanks are headed out.”

The gunship’s engine roars beneath them. “We’re airborne,” Flak says. “Hang tight. We might experience some slight… ah, turbulence, in a moment.”

The tiny gaps in the side doors slide open, and Cutup gets his first glimpse of Geonosis. He can’t really make out too many details—he catches a glimpse of a gunship soaring beside them. Other than that the only thing he can see below is bright orange rock.

Everything blurs completely a second later when an explosion nearby rocks the whole ship. Someone swears. The gunship bucks in the air for a second. Cutup’s heart leaps to his throat, but Flak has it under control, even as more bursts of enemy fire come streaking through the air. 

Flak doesn’t talk to them again, no doubt concentrating so that they aren’t shot out of the air. Cutup misses the friendly chatter but doesn’t really mind too much in favor of not dying.

The gunshots sound like extremely close thunder, at first—and then the first gunship gets hit, and Cutup flinches as the unmistakable sound of a gunship exploding sounds behind them. Metal and fire screech together horrifically. Red laserbolts streak past them.

 “Sithspit,” Del snarls next to him. Cutup heartily agrees without even hearing what he has to say first. “The first Juggernaut got down without losing any gunships—caught them by surprise—but the second one lost a gunship. It isn’t on the ground yet!”

Fives swears in Huttese. Cutup closes his eyes and hopes. Del keeps listening to the command radio.

“They’re trying to get it closer to the ground, but—” Del gets cut off for a moment when a violent shudder runs through the ship. He raises his voice to a yell in order to be heard over the howling wind. “ Force . A second gunship got hit. It’s still way too high in the air, and there’s only two ships carrying it.”

Geonosian fighters go screaming past. Flak jerks them to the side very suddenly. Cutup barely manages to hang on to his hook, gasping involuntarily at the motion.

“General Skywalker told them to drop the tank,” Del yells. “They’re dropping it—I don’t know if—wait… wait—it’s down! The second turbo tank is on the ground! They say it’s operational, just a bit damaged—!”

Cutup should feel happy about that. He is, sort of, but he’s also very afraid. The turbo tanks may be down, but they aren’t out of danger yet. He loosens his jaw to stop his teeth from snapping together when the gunship lurches up and down. G-force snaps his body to the side, and it’s only his hold on the hook above that keeps him from tumbling into Droidbait’s side.

“The fire should ease up in a moment!” Fives says. “With any luck, we’ll be able to—”

The gunship next to them explodes without warning. Cutup yelps as the heat of the flames washes over them through the gaps in the door. There’s a horrible crunching sound, a violent jerk of the ship. Flak lets out a cry of panic. 

Their gunship drops like a stone.

It takes a moment to register, it’s such a shock. Cutup is vaguely aware of Flak yelling—something about shrapnel, words that he can’t really comprehend as the world spins and turns. His stomach drops, and fear makes his head swim—they’re falling, they’re falling they’re falling—!

“Brace yourselves!” he hears someone scream. “ Brace yourselves, we’re going down—!”

Chapter Text

“Get up!” someone shouts into Droidbait’s ear. “Get up, we’ve gotta move!”

Droidbait groans and swallows thickly. He feels lightheaded, weak, slow. Something’s happened. He remembers the gunship, the invasion—and then a sudden feeling of weightlessness, a drop so sudden that he’d lost his grip on the hook above him.

“Droidbait, come on!” a brother cries again. Droidbait feels someone grab his shoulder, shaking him incessantly. Droidbait moans at the sharp lances of pain that drill through his skull at the motion, and the shaking stops.

He opens his eyes slowly and nearly chokes when he realizes he can’t see anything out of his left eye. The only thing he can make out is a terrifying red haze. His whole body seizes in panic, and he reaches frantically for his helmet, tearing it off. Nothing changes. He still can’t see, and he reaches blindly for something, anything—

“Oh, Force. Oh Force oh Force oh Force,” someone mutters. Droidbait feels hands grab either side of his head gently. “You’re okay, ‘Bait. You’re alright.”

“How—how can I be?” Droidbait gasps, all too aware that his breathing is speeding up, because his eye, his eye, his eye . The brother holding his head reaches up, feeling somewhere along Droidbait’s forehead. A sharp stab of pain from the same area makes Droidbait hiss in pain. Someone is still shouting nearby, yelling frantic orders. The thud and rattle of a mortar hitting the ground in the near distance makes the ground tremble for a second.

“Hold still,” the brother murmurs. “You’re fine.” They wipe their hand over Droidbait’s face, sweeping across his eyelid. “Your eye is okay. It’s just blood, alright? From a head wound. Your eye is fine, I just need to wipe this away.”

“Kriff,” Droidbait gasps, nearly sagging in relief. He’s gaining enough presence of mind to reach up and help. Now that the brother has pointed it out, Droidbait can feel the blood running down the side of his face. When he tries to open his left eye again, he can see out of it again, though he has to swipe his hand above his eyebrow every few seconds to keep the blood from streaming back into the way.

Now that he isn’t panicking, he can make full sense of what’s going on. Coric is standing in front of him, rummaging through his medic pack semi-frantically. While he pulls out a bacta-patch Droidbait shifts to let Coric apply it to his head while he glances around for the others.

The gunship feels upright, but it isn’t in good shape. Sparks fly from crushed machinery inside, sending shadows flickering across the walls. Weak streams of light come in from the gaps in the closed side doors, and dust swirls through the air in strange patterns. Fives and Del are conversing grimly by one door, guns at the ready while the others struggle to pick themselves off the floor.

“How—how aren’t we dead?” Droidbait asks, wincing when the bacta patch seals over his wound. It stings for an instant before the whole area goes numb. Coric shakes his head, an awed sound escaping him.

“Somehow, Flak managed to land us so that we didn’t impact too hard, or roll. I don’t know how he did it. We’re okay, though. We’re… somewhat okay. No one died, at least.”

Droidbait takes a breath. “My helmet…”

“Protected you from the worst of the impact. Even then it wasn’t quite enough. You hit the wall pretty hard,” Hevy mutters, stepping up to Droidbait’s side. He offers Droidbait his helmet back, wordlessly brushing his other hand over Droidbait’s shoulder in reassurance.

“Is everyone alright?” Del asks. “Droidbait, you okay?”

“I’ll be fine, I think,” Droidbait answers. He doesn’t feel concussed, although that might not mean anything. It doesn’t matter, though, because even if he was concussed he would have no choice but to continue onward.

“What’s the plan, boss?” Hevy asks solemnly. Cutup lets out a cough as he stumbles closer to them, and Nax lifts his head, hanging onto Echo’s shoulder as he gets to his feet.

“There’s good news and bad news,” Fives tells them tensely once they’ve gathered closer together. Droidbait wants to tell him that it’s going to be alright, because Fives seems to be practically vibrating with nerves, but there’s too many others around. “The good news is that we haven’t been on the ground for very long, so the bugs haven’t sent anyone to finish us off yet. The bad news is that we’re two klicks out from the cliffs, and there’s zero cover around us until then.”

Droidbait’s eyes widen. They’re a little more than a mile away from cover, but the chances of them being seen before they can make it there are extremely high.

“If it helps, General Skywalker and Commander Tano’s gunship crashed at the bottom of the cliffs, at the beginning of a canyon. The comms are full of static, but I’m pretty sure most of them survived and are trying to find a way through the rock formations to the rendezvous. We could meet up with them if we hurried,” Del includes, but he doesn’t sound very optimistic. Droidbait grimaces as he puts his helmet back on carefully, trying not to jostle the bacta patch as he does.

“Well… it sounds like we don’t have much of a choice, here,” Echo contributes quietly. “We have to at least try and get to the cliffs. We won’t survive otherwise.”

In the ensuing silence that only lasts a moment, another explosion makes the ground shake again. It feels closer this time. Droidbait looks over at Echo, who’s whole body is tense.

A ball of ice settles low in Droidbait’s stomach, and he shudders involuntarily, turning to look at the rest of Domino squad helplessly.

They’ve accomplished nothing. General Skywalker’s ship still crashed. They crashed. It’s a heavy failure. Droidbait feels an invisible weight settle over his shoulders—guilt and stress and fear all combined into one. He can’t even imagine how Fives and Echo feel.

No time to focus on that, though. It’s too late to change things. Droidbait forces himself to stay in the present, and knows that the rest of Domino is doing the same.

“Come on,” Fives barks roughly, snapping into ARC mode. It’s like a defense mechanism for him, Droidbait realizes. “The longer we stay here the less time we have to make it to the cliffs. We need to get moving before we’re surrounded.”

Beta squad snaps into action. Droidbait falls into step behind Nax, who’s a bit wobbly on his feet but able to move. The gunship doors are heavy, but not so much that they’re impossible to open manually. When the ship had crashed the magnetic locks keeping the doors sealed had failed, so Beta squad is able to push them open with some effort.

Ryloth had been a dry planet, but Geonosis is even worse. Droidbait steps out into the scorching sun and winces at the dry heat, apparent even through his armor. The landscape is ragged, rocks and sand competing for dominance, and in the distance he can see the cliffs that General Skywalker had landed near.

Beta squad stays close to the sides of the gunship as they disembark, clinging to the white metal to try and stay camouflaged for as long as they can. They’ll stick out like sore thumbs once they make a move into the desert. Droidbait wishes that they could have gotten access to ARF armor for this mission. He feels far too exposed, and unlike Felucia, there’s no way to cover their blinding white armor this time.

Fighter jets zip far above them, thankfully less concerned with the grounded enemies for now. Droidbait is glad for it, but he knows it won’t last. They’ve got to get moving before they become the priority targets.

Their gunship is missing a chunk of one wing, and there’s a massive metal chunk sticking out from close to where the engine is. It’s likely a piece of shrapnel from the ship that had exploded near them. Droidbait winces just looking at it. Things could have been a lot worse.

Droidbait isn’t blind to the way Fives and Echo are subtly positioning themselves, ensuring that one ARC is at the front and one ARC is at the back of their squad. Echo takes point, leading them to the front of the gunship while Fives stays at the back, walking practically sideways as he scans both the sky above and the horizon for trouble.

Miraculously, Flak isn’t dead. It seems like he is for a long moment, motionless in the cockpit, until they get close enough to see the weak twitch of his arm as they pass. Coric lets out a quiet curse and surges ahead of everyone else, hurrying to climb up and reach the pilot. The plexiglass of the cockpit is shattered. Coric grabs him under the arms and tugs him free. Beta squad collectively winces at the agonized groan the pilot lets out.

“How is he alive?” Cutup mutters incredulously as they gather around, waiting for Coric to look the man over. Droidbait shakes his head in amazement, but then flinches when Flak lets out another moan.

The pilot isn’t bleeding, at least not that Droidbait can see, but he is in immense pain. His legs… aren’t right. They’re not supposed to bend that way. Droidbait swallows down bile and looks away, more uncomfortable than he’d like to admit.

Coric is shaking his head slowly, fingers clenching and unclenching fitfully in the way that means there’s nothing he can do.

“They’re both broken, for sure. I can’t tell you anything about the extent of the damage, but… it’s bad. I wouldn’t be surprised if something’s wrong with his ribs, too. Regardless, he’s not walking for a while.”

“Force,” Del mutters grimly, hands tight on his gun.

Droidbait sees Fives and Echo exchange a meaningful glance out of the corner of his eye, and sees a flicker of movement between them as they sign something rapid-fire. Droidbait doesn’t look fast enough to see what they’re saying, but he can tell that they’re bracing themselves—preparing to make a hard decision.

Kriff. Droidbait doesn’t want to leave Flak. He knows Echo and Fives know what they’re doing, he knows that they understand, but he also knows that they’re aware of when sacrifice is necessary and he really doesn’t want one of those times to be now.

Flak himself seems to be too out of it to give input, motionless on the ground. Droidbait can hear his labored panting through his helmet, and his heart aches for the other man.

Before Echo and Fives can speak up, however, Del steps forwards, squaring his shoulders.

“We’ll do what we can to take him with us,” the sergeant orders. “Shoot him up with as much painkillers as you dare.” Del hesitates for a split second before continuing. “If it becomes too much, we’ll leave him. Until then, he’s with us. We’ll try our best to get him out of here.”

Droidbait lets out a relieved breath.

Trying is better than nothing, even if it will slow them down a little. Fives and Echo exchange one more glance before settling, apparently alright with the decision for now.

They have to wait for another tense minute as Coric eases Flak’s helmet off to stick a hypospray in his neck. The air above them is bright with laser fire. It makes everyone antsy, and to top it all off, Droidbait spots a Geonosian fighter dipping lower in the sky. It could mean anything, but they all tense anyway, lifting their weapons to the sky until it soars back up again.

They don’t have much time. Coric and Hevy put Flak between them, ignoring his weak cries of pain as his legs are jostled.

“Let’s move,” Del orders, and they set off for the cliffs.

It’s only a mile away, but it feels like a whole continent. Droidbait stares up at the cliffs in despair as they jog-walk along, prevented from going any faster by Flak. The dust swirls underfoot, and the heatwaves rising off of the sand distort Droidbait’s vision, only making things worse.

Geonosis, Droidbait decides, is pretty bad. Maybe not as bad as Felucia, but it’s up there.

Flak drifts in and out of consciousness as they move, mumbling out half-sentences that Droidbait doesn’t understand even though he’s right in front of them. At the quarter-mile mark he gasps sharply enough that Hevy and Coric slow, concerned, but Flak only shakes his head weakly.

“Shoulda left me,” he hisses. “Stupid… idiots, should have—”

“Shut up,” Coric tells him sharply, and presses forwards even faster than before. Flak bites down on a whimper, but tries again—

“No, you don’t… sithspit, the chips, you need to—you’re… it’s too important—”

“Stop it,” Hevy says gently. “We weren’t gonna leave you.” Flak lets out a shuddering breath and goes quiet again.

Droidbait bites his lip and shoves away the thought that Flak does have a point. Domino squad knows an awful lot of things. If one man has to die so that they survive in order to save the rest of their brothers… well.

Still. Droidbait isn’t leaving anyone behind. Rule number one, and all that. They’d failed their first test because of it.

He wonders if it’s different in ARC training. During basic training they’re taught to stick together and work as a team, but sometimes ARCs are required to prioritize the mission over everything else. Droidbait doesn’t like that. It doesn’t sit well with his conscience.

“We need to angle around a little,” Echo calls back from the front. “I can see blasterfire near the cliffs, a bit to the right. That’s got to be where the General is.”

“Lead us, Echo,” Del orders quickly. “Coric, Hevy—switch out with Fives and Cutup.” The switch is fast and efficient, and then they’re moving again, heads on a swivel, looking out for enemies.

The closer they get to the cliffs, the more rugged the terrain becomes. It gets harder to get Flak over the ridges of stone peeking out from the sand. The silence of their nerve-wracking trek becomes interspersed with occasional swearing as men trip over the rocks.

They’re close enough to see General Skywalker’s downed gunship and tiny white figures running around at the base of the cliffs in the distance when their luck finally runs out.

They hear the whine of high-powered engines before they see them—three Geonosian fighters, soaring low to the ground and headed right for them. Droidbait’s stomach drops abruptly at the sight.

“Run!” Fives shouts behind them, scooping Flak into his arms and staggering into the fastest sprint he can manage. Droidbait tears after him, and the rest of Beta squad follows suite.

They’re a little less than a half mile away from the cliffs.

The Geonosian fighters fire on them, sending stone fragments and dust exploding everywhere. Droidbait yelps and throws himself to the side, praying that it’s enough to keep him from harm. The shrapnel rattles against his armor, but he isn’t hurt, so he scrambles to his feet and keeps running. Beta squad is all around him, shouting as the fighters go hurtling overhead.

Droidbait’s heart beats faster and faster when he hears the fighters loop around again, coming in for another run. He risks a glance behind him and slows in horror when he sees Fives behind them once again—the ARC is setting Flak down, he’s setting Flak down and Droidbait wants to scream. He skids to a stop, turning around as Fives starts sprinting to join them.

“Fives, you—! ”

“Droidbait, kriffing move!” Fives shouts, grabbing Droidbait’s arm and hauling him back around so fast that Droidbait yelps from the suddenness of it. Droidbait runs. His fists are balled and he feels anguish, betrayal on Flak’s behalf but he can’t stop, Fives is right, he needs to move.

They’re a quarter mile away. Droidbait can make out more details of the battle raging in front of them, now—the Geonosians have gun placements in stone structures high up on the cliffs, as well as forces down on the ground at the front of the canyon. The clones are using the natural trenches in the rock formations as cover, struggling to deactivate the mounted turrets above them. A few of them have noticed the fighters, but there’s not much they can do to help. They’ve got their own problems to deal with.

The fighters fire again. It isn’t close enough to Droidbait that he has to dive this time, but someone gets thrown several feet from the explosion and lands painfully. Droidbait can’t tell who it is through all the dust, and Fives keeps pushing him forwards anyway so he doesn’t have time to look.

“Keep going, don’t stop!” Fives yells, matching Droidbait’s strides step-for-step. The ARC reaches down for his comlink. “Commander Tano, we’re coming up behind you and I know you’re undoubtedly busy but if these fighters get one more pass we’re gonna start losing squadmates, if you could spare two kriffing seconds—”

“Oh, Force, they’re coming around again!” Droidbait yelps as the fighters start to circle back. “Kriff, kriff.” Calling the Commander is a great idea but Droidbait doesn’t know if she’ll be able to get to them, if she has the time to spare, if she even heard—he can’t even see her yet from here—!

A boulder easily the size of three clones goes hurtling up into the air from out of nowhere. Droidbait gapes wordlessly as it shoots up like it weighs nothing. He turns to watch it fly just in time to see it collide head-on with the first Geonosian fighter. The explosion is brilliant.

“Holy kriff!” someone shouts. The other two fighters turn away abruptly. The dust is starting to settle, and Droidbait can finally make out a green glow near the trenches, right next to a blue one.

The Commander has their backs, as usual, even though it’s technically supposed to be the other way around. Droidbait has never been more grateful.

“Head for the trench!” Fives yells, and they run for it. It takes too long—Droidbait’s eyes shoot up, waiting for the mounted Geonosian turrets to target them, but the Jedi push forwards as Beta squad runs for cover and they’re much bigger targets than the desperate clones.

Droidbait practically falls into the trench, right on top of two other 501st clones who yelp in surprise as both he and Fives tumble into safety. Droidbait is panting hard, and it takes him a long moment to catch his breath, hands curled tightly around his gun.

“You guys alright?” one of the other clones asks, sounding concerned. Droidbait takes a deep breath as turret fire blasts over their heads.

“I think we’re okay,” he answers, glancing back up at Fives. “Did everyone make it?”

“Del got thrown, but Echo got to him,” Fives answers. “Nax, Coric, Cutup, and Hevy made it somewhere over to the left, I think.”

As if summoned, four familiar dust-streaked men come charging through the trench, heads ducked low. Droidbait sighs with relief upon seeing them, then immediately feels guilty about it and turns to Fives in horror.

“You left Flak!” he says accusingly. Several of the others let out pained sounds as they join them, similarly upset. “Fives, how could you?”

Fives sighs.

“‘Bait…”

“Don’t ‘Bait me,” Droidbait snaps. “We could have made it!”

“Or we would have all been killed,” Fives responds instantly, but he doesn’t sound angry, or even annoyed. He just sounds… sad. Droidbait deflates a little bit. “I had to leave him, but I did everything that I could to keep him alive until we can go back. I left him against a rock ridge, so he’s partially hidden. He’s got my pistol, and my emergency homing beacon. He can defend himself, and once everything dies down we can go back for him.”

Droidbait frowns and tries to stay optimistic. It’s not ideal, but it’s better than nothing. There’s no guarantee that Flak will survive, but he’s got a much better chance of it now.

Del and Echo appear from the other side of the trench. Del’s limping, but he’s walking without help, which is good. Coric rushes to his side to fuss over him.

“Okay,” Fives says. “We made it here. That’s good, that’s great. What’s next?” It sounds like he’s talking to himself, just a little, but Droidbait helpfully points forwards, towards where two lightsabers are spinning furiously to deflect blasterbolts.

“Everyone, on me!” someone shouts. Captain Rex comes careening through, both pistols in hand. “With me, let’s go!”

Everyone goes after him instinctively, even though none of them know why he’s rallying them all together. Droidbait sees Echo race to catch up with Rex and exchange low words with him very briefly before falling back to the rest of Beta.

“General Skywalker wants to rush the guns,” he reports a bit breathlessly. “We’re stuck here unless we do something about them, that’s why we’re all getting together.”

“Oh, wonderful,” Cutup groans. “I can’t wait.”

“Force,” Del mutters. “Stay sharp, boys. Every shot counts.”

Up ahead, the Jedi are waiting in the trenches, lightsabers lowered to hide their positions from the guns. The men gather around them.

“We’re all here, sir,” Rex tells General Skywalker. Droidbait glances around and takes quick stock of the men around them. There’s the eight current members of Beta squad, plus ten other troopers.

Commander Tano’s montrals are faded and dust-streaked, but she offers Beta a quick wave when she sees them.

“Keep your eyes up,” Fives advises Beta quietly. “Don’t forget that the bugs can fly. Concentrate fire on the turrets, but don’t ignore the grunts.”

“Stick as close to the Jedi as you can,” Echo adds, just as quiet. “This isn’t going to be pretty.”

“Everyone ready?” General Skywalker calls, voice just a little hoarse from the dust. Droidbait really, really isn’t ready, but he takes a deep breath and nods anyway.

“Now!” the General shouts, and throws himself into the open. Commander Tano is right next to him, with Captain Rex barely a step behind. Droidbait watches the Captain go without hesitation and steels himself, surging out of the trench alongside his brothers.

They run, again, but this time there’s Geonosians floating above them, hanging off of the cliffs and firing at them from carved rock towers. The Jedi deflect what they can, and it’s impressive, but not enough. Someone gets shot right out the trench, going down with a cry. It makes Droidbait’s adrenaline surge, because he wants to live. He looks up like Fives had advised and shoots a Geonosian out of the air.

His first tally mark from Geonosis.

Turret fire turns towards them. Droidbait plants himself a few feet behind General Skywalker and stays. He aims for the Geonosians that try and fly overhead to get the drop on the hustling men, gritting his teeth and hoping that his squad mates are alright.

Someone else gets shot.

“The turrets! Aim for the turrets!” a brother cries. Most of the clones readjust their aim, firing at the heavy guns. Droidbait sticks to hitting bugs, because someone has to, otherwise they’ll get hit from the air. He clips one by the wing and watches as it drops out of the sky, right into Commander Tano’s blade. It screeches horrifically when she runs it through.

The turret fire starts to lessen as they run further into the canyon. Droidbait isn’t sure if that means they’ve passed the turrets or that the clones have been successful in destroying most of them. It’s probably a mixture of both. They start to get more cover further in as well. Droidbait throws himself behind a boulder to avoid a neon green sonic blast and gasps when his head wound throbs despite the bacta when he impacts a little too hard with the rock.

“You alright, DB?” Nax shouts, joining him behind the rock. Droidbait peeks around the boulder to fire a couple shots off in response. The Geonosians are falling back under the pressure of two Jedi, who stand firm in the middle of the canyon while the clones find hiding spots. One takes a dive at Commander Tano, chattering angrily, but Droidbait shoots it down before it can get too close.

A minute later, the bugs are in full retreat. The clones take a few last potshots as the bugs escape further down the canyon, and then finally the shooting stops completely. Droidbait sighs in relief.

“Everyone alright?” General Skywalker asks worriedly, glancing back at the men as they come out from cover to join the Jedi. His gaze lingers on Beta squad—all of which, Droidbait notes gratefully, seem to be alright. Del is limping heavily now, but he moves at the same speed as the rest of them do determinedly. There were eighteen men total, but now there are only fourteen. “Beta squad, when did you get here?”

“Just before the charge, sir,” Del answers. “Our gunship crashed two klicks from here. Commander Tano chased off the fighters that were after us so that we could join you.”

“Oh, is that what that was?” General Skywalker says slyly, glancing at Commander Tano. “I saw the rock going backwards and just thought you had really bad aim.”

Droidbait chokes out a tired laugh. Commander Tano lets out a mock-offended sound, but before she can defend herself the General is moving on. “Glad to have you, Beta. We don’t have any time to waste, we’ve got to keep moving. We can make it to the rendezvous if we can get through this canyon. It’s faster to go through this way than to wait for the turbo tanks to come pick us up.”

Droidbait blinks.

“Yes, sir,” Captain Rex says. “Let’s move, men!”

The group falls into a jog again. Droidbait leans over to Fives. “Fives, the turbo tanks—maybe—”

“I know, hang on,” Fives interrupts. Beta squad is forming up behind Commander Tano as usual, and Fives takes a few steps so that he’s in the front, next to the Commander.

“Can you give us a sitrep, Commander?” he asks. “We don’t know what’s going on.”

“Of course,” Commander Tano says, turning to face them all. Her expression softens for a moment. “First of all, I’m really glad you’re all okay,” she tells them sincerely. “I wish you’d gotten to the rendezvous, but this is okay, too. My pilot…?”

“He’s actually okay for the time being,” Hevy volunteers quickly. “He’s pretty messed up, though. We had to leave him on the mesa, but he’s alive. We can go back once this is all over.”

Commander Tano nods, expression wavering between relieved and concerned before she takes a deep breath.

“This is what I’ve heard from Rex,” she begins as General Skywalker starts a light jog down the canyon. “Master Kenobi and most of the 212th made it to the landing zone, as did most of Master Mundi’s troops. Master Mundi’s gunship was shot down, but one of the turbo tanks picked him up, and he and the rest of his men are on their way to the rendezvous as we speak. Because of the rocks, it’s harder for the juggernauts to get to us. Master Skywalker decided that cutting through the canyon would be faster and safer than running out in the open for a pickup.”  

Droidbait can’t speak for a long moment. He’s pretty sure most of Domino are in similar states of shock.

It actually worked.

“That’s good news, sir,” Del says when Fives doesn’t immediately respond. “Thank you.”

Commander Tano nods and speeds up to fall into step beside her Master. Fives keeps walking, but the motion seems automatic until Echo whaps him on the shoulder.

“Well, then,” Cutup mutters triumphantly.

They can’t exactly celebrate, not when there are so many others around and not when they’re still technically in enemy territory, but Droidbait wants to yell in excitement.

They’d assumed that they’d failed because they’d been shot down, but things are changing anyway. General Kenobi isn’t heavily wounded. Both the 212th and the 21st have landed at the rendezvous and are working to hold the position. General Mundi is safe and on his way.

“Thank the Force,” Echo whispers quietly. Droidbait quietly agrees.

Now, they have to survive.

Droidbait is starting to see a pattern in that, and he doesn’t like it.

They run along the canyon carefully, eyes up to watch for bugs. Droidbait remembers what’s coming—the giant wall is up ahead. Is there something they can do to help with that? He glances at Fives curiously and signs a quick question: what do we about the wall?

Head to cover ASAP. Right when you round the corner, Fives signs back, then passes the signal to the others surreptitiously. Droidbait frowns. That’s okay advice to start with, but how can they help afterwards?

He doesn’t get a chance to ask. The canyon bend comes up faster than Droidbait realized it would. Fives and Echo are already moving before the wall comes into sight, speeding up and ducking for the sides of the canyon. Domino follows, so Beta does too. The other troopers are confused with their speed but follow them anyway, so when General Skywalker lets out an alarmed cry of “Take cover!” half of the men are already racing for safety. One man at the back is unlucky, letting out a cry as he’s hit by two blasterbolts simultaneously.

Droidbait ends up next to Echo, Del, and Coric, the four of them squeezed behind a rock that’s barely big enough to hide them all. Droidbait sticks his head out once and yelps when thirty droids and twenty turrets fire at him, ducking back into safety.

“What are we gonna do about this?” he says to Echo, who pokes his head over the rock to fire at the turrets for a moment before diving back down. Gunfire makes their rock vibrate, and larger explosions make the ground tremble. Droidbait flinches.

“Just wait,” Echo replies. “Look!”

Droidbait glances to the side and blinks when he sees the Jedi braving the enemy fire, sprinting towards the canyon wall. He turns back towards Echo in confusion. “What are they—”

Echo leans closer to Droidbait, so that Coric and Del can’t hear him when he speaks.

“Sometimes we don’t need to interfere in order for General Skywalker and Commander Tano to succeed,” he says quietly. “They’ve got this. Don’t do anything crazy.”

Droidbait nods and watches as General Skywalker and Commander Tano use grappling hooks to scale the canyon wall, making it to the top faster than any clone could and activating their lightsabers. The droids at the top of the wall are effectively distracted, so the clones have more opportunities to take out the turrets.

When General Skywalker and Commander Tano start to make their way onto the wall, droid parts get flung over the edges as they hack their way through. Droidbait cheers for them as he fires at a turret.

“Focus on the droids at the top of the wall!” Captain Rex suddenly shouts. “Give the Jedi a hand!” Droidbait obeys mindlessly, aiming for the B1s scattered across the top. The droids get confused fast—they waver between firing at the clones below and at the Jedi in front of them.

“Stay in cover!” someone yells—it sounds like Fives. “Stay behind the rocks, we’ll be alright! Hold position!”

Droidbait keeps blasting. The number of droids decreases steadily, until there are only a few left around each of the Jedi. They’re quickly sliced to bits, and Droidbait  grins triumphantly. There are only a few turrets left, and the Jedi will plant the explosives to bring the whole thing down any minute. Droidbait aims for a turret and feels a surge of satisfaction when it goes up in flames.

“Oh, no,” Coric suddenly gasps. Droidbait’s eyes shoot back up to the Jedi. He gasps as well when he sees the two droidekas on either side of the wall. He hadn’t seen them come out, and the Jedi hadn’t expected them, either—they’re back to back, on the defense.

“We’ve got to help!” Droidbait says, ready to burst out of cover, but Echo grabs his shoulder before he can move.

“Wait!” he says, and gestures up.

Captain Rex is there, moving soundlessly towards the droid attacking Commander Tano. Droidbait blinks—he hadn’t even seen the Captain climb up.

Rex gets close enough to put his gun through the droid’s shield and blow a hole through its processor. It crumples, leaving General Skywalker free to—well, Droidbait can’t quite see what the General does because the angle is wrong and General Skywalker ducks low, so he misses it, but whatever it is it’s enough to take the second droideka down for good.

Echo whoops in victory. “Duck your heads, boys!” he cries. Droidbait sees Captain Rex come flying off of the wall, then Commander Tano and General Skywalker leap after him—

The wall explodes. The clones all cheer as the fortress crumbles with a deafening boom . When the dust clears, the Jedi are unharmed, and General Skywalker is picking the Captain off of the ground. Fives is laughing, for some strange reason—Droidbait can hear him from the other side of the canyon.

They regroup as General Skywalker and Commander Tano catch their breath. Captain Rex seems a bit… disgruntled. Fives is still chuckling, and he shrugs when Droidbait tilts his head at him.

“The Captain screamed the whole way down,” the ARC whispers gleefully. “I’m so glad that happened this time. We teased him about it for months the first time. I can’t wait to do it again.” Behind him, Echo huffs in weary amusement. If Droidbait could see his face he’s sure Echo would be rolling his eyes good-naturedly.

“Alright, men, we’ve got to keep moving!” General Skywalker finally announces. “Keep your eyes peeled, we’re not out of this yet.”

“Sir, yes sir!” Droidbait chimes with the rest of them, and they keep surge ahead.

It takes the thirteen surviving clones and two Jedi a few worrying minutes to clamber over the rubble left from the fortress, but once they get across, the canyon widens further and further until the cliffs on either side end, and they’re running through open desert. Droidbait is getting tired, and the other clones are too, but they stick with the Jedi doggedly with blasters at the ready.

There are a few stray bugs scattered about, flying through the air, but the clones are quick to shoot them down. Apart from that, they seem to be in the clear. Droidbait can hear the distant thuds of walkers firing and the higher whine of Separatist tanks far ahead.

“We’re getting closer!” General Skywalker rallies. “Keep going, men!”

Droidbait sets his jaw and obeys.

They reach the top of a slight ridge. Droidbait looks down and can suddenly see the the rendezvous out in the distance—or at least, he assumes that it’s the rendezvous. From here it looks more like a massive dust storm that gets illuminated every other moment in blue and red flashes of light. Farther in the distance, the red glow of a shield generator is visible, protecting their main target—the primary droid foundry.

Nearly there. They’re probably less than a mile out.

General Skywalker charges down the slight incline at top speed. The men follow. Droidbait nearly stumbles as he goes, and that’s pretty much the only reason he looks to the side and sees the massive object headed straight for them, kicking up so much dust that Droidbait can barely even make out its shape. He has a brief panic moment, shouting for the others and fumbling for his gun, but as the Jedi ignite their blades Cutup lets out a shout of excitement.

“It’s a Juggernaut!” he yells, waving his arms back and forth. “A turbo tank, to the East!” As it grows closer Droidbait can hear the low rumble of its wheels. The massive vehicle stops next to them, and the back ramp lowers, an obvious invitation to get in. There’s already a few 21st men inside, as well as a few more 501st. All of them perk up at the arrival of two Jedi and Captain Rex.

“Hang on, everyone. The closer we get to the rendezvous the rougher our ride becomes,” the pilot informs them grimly, voice blaring over the intercom. The back ramp slides back up with a hiss, sealing closed, and the turbo tank lurches back into motion.

“Good call with the turbo tanks, Snips,” General Skywalker says as they all shuffle to find a place to sit. Commander Tano grins brightly.

“Thanks, but my men were partially responsible. They deserve some credit, too.”

Hevy’s chest puffs with pride, and Cutup scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. Droidbait grins as General Skywalker looks them over proudly.

“Is that so? Good work, men. These tanks have been a critical point of our attack.”

The turbo tank turns what would have been a ten minute run into a two minute ride. True to the pilot’s word, explosions shake the vehicle as they get closer to their goal, but the turbo tank pushes its way through. When it rolls to a stop and opens the rear door again, Droidbait hears the familiar shouts and calls of brothers hard at work.

“Alright, let’s move!” Captain Rex orders. They pile off, and Droidbait takes a deep breath of relief as he steps into the rendezvous zone.

According to Fives, the ground forces at the rendezvous last time had been completely surrounded and running on fumes by the time Admiral Yularen was able to provide air support. Everything is completely different, now—especially since there’s already two Jedi on the front lines, providing cover for the turrets and walkers. Instead of the defensive circle Fives had told them about, the rendezvous is shaped more like a large square, with the walkers and men in front and injured in the back. They aren’t worried about being attacked from the rear—the walkers prevent any enemy forces to flank them, and the Geonosians have their hands full in the front, anyway.

It… doesn’t look that bad. They certainly haven’t won yet, but they aren’t desperate, either.

That being said, one turbo tank is a flaming husk of metal off to the side, and the one that Droidbait had just gotten off of smokes dangerously. They’d done their jobs, but at least one pilot had been lost in the process.

Speaking of pilots.

Droidbait whirls around and steps in front of Fives as an idea strikes him.

“Fives, could you give the emergency beacon frequency for Flak to the tank pilot?” he asks quickly. “Maybe he can go get him.”

Fives stops. “Not a bad idea,” he says. “But he might not be able to, ‘Bait, they might need him here—”

“If he goes out to pick up more stragglers he could, though!” Droidbait pushes. “Please, Fives. At least ask! The longer we wait the more chance there is that he’ll get found by the wrong people.”

“Alright, I’ll go see what I can do before he leaves,” Fives reassures him quickly, whirling around to run towards the front of the juggernaut. Droidbait silently crosses his fingers.

“We need to go help the front,” Echo tells them all. The Jedi and the men they came in with are already surging towards the line to assist. “They need as many men as they can get. Everyone okay? Right, then, let’s go.”

Beta squad only walks a few steps before Del stumbles, swearing viciously as his leg finally gives out. He’s been limping for a while now, keeping up with sheer determination, but he can’t last forever. Coric grabs him gently so that he doesn’t fall.

“I’m taking him to the back,” the medic says firmly, thwacking Del’s helmet with his knuckles before Del can even try to protest. “Be careful out there, alright?”

“We’ll do our best,” Hevy answers. Coric whisks Del away, and then it’s just the five of them—Droidbait, Echo, Hevy, Cutup, and Nax. Everyone turns to Echo instinctively, who straightens under their attention. Del and Fives are gone, so Echo’s in charge now.

“Follow me, then. One more time, boys, let’s go!”

Droidbait is tired. He’s sick of running and sick of this planet already, but he forces himself forwards anyway.

“You know, just once, could we go to a planet where we aren’t under fire the second we breach atmosphere?” he mutters petulantly as they weave through the legs of a walker. Nax’s quick laugh is half-hidden underneath the boom of the walker firing above them.

There are four glowing lightsabers standing in front of the clones, pushing the Geonosians back with startling speed. The Separatist tanks seem to be the most troublesome, but Droidbait catches sight of General Skywalker breaking away to dash towards them and can’t help but grin in awe. The tanks won’t be a problem for that much longer.

He earns more tally marks. He’s got a good amount of them already, and he’s proud at the thought. There’s a few bugs on speeders that cause the clones to momentarily scramble for cover, but Commander Tano somehow manages to leap onto one and kick the rider into the dirt, leaping off in time to send the speeder spiralling into a column of grunts. Hevy also manages to shoot one down with a well-placed stream of blasterfire. He hadn’t brought his own Z-6 because he’d worried that it would slow him down, which was a good call. He’d stumbled across an abandoned Z-6 as they moved to the front and picked it up practically gleefully. He puts it to good use, cutting down the bugs before they can get close.

It goes on for too long. The dust, the explosions, the constant screeching of the bugs—it starts to get on Droidbait’s nerves. He grits his teeth every time he pulls the trigger of his gun and waits impatiently for it to be over. When the Seps finally fall into a retreat Droidbait can’t even muster up the energy to cheer. He’s just glad that they can rest, if only for a few minutes.

He meets back up with the rest of Beta squad at the edge of the section blocked out for the medics, huddled around where Del sits, fuming over his leg. Coric is gone, helping where he’s needed, but everyone else is there, including Fives, who shrugs helplessly when Droidbait tilts his head at him. Fives doesn’t know if the turbo tank pilot had been able to get to Flak or not yet. Droidbait groans in disappointment and sits down next to him.

“Good work, men,” Del complements them all wearily. “That wasn’t easy, but we pulled through.”

“Thanks, sir,” Droidbait responds softly, fondness for the Sergeant suddenly making him smile. Del shifts his weight and sighs heavily before continuing.

“We’ll move on the droid factory next, most likely. Stay at the ready, if you can. I don’t know what the plan will be, but we need to stay prepared just in case.”

The lightning-quick attack on the droid factory is something that Echo and Fives don’t actually know much about. Both Echo and Fives had been dropped in with gunships after the shield had been lowered, so they know very little about what was involved during the actual charge.

Ugh. More things to be uncertain about. Droidbait frowns and doesn’t even bother trying to hide the way his shoulders slump.

Beta squad relaxes slowly, waiting for more information and taking the moment of rest while they can. Droidbait glances over at the central section of the square where all four Jedi have convened and nudges Echo gently as the ARC sits down.

“So… how long do we have until we move again?” he asks quietly. Echo chuckles.

“An hour, hour and a half. Something like that,” he answers. “Why? Planning on taking a nap?”

“Exactly,” Droidbait confirms. Hevy snorts. Echo laughs fully this time.

“You know what, ‘Bait? Rest for a little bit. I’ll wake you up before we mobilize,” he says.

“Me too, then,” Cutup mutters, laying down on the ground uncaring of the dust beneath him. “‘M tired. Give us a few minutes, won’t you?”

Droidbait leans up against a nearby crate and tries to make himself comfortable. He’s vaguely aware of Echo shifting so he has a little more room.

“Fine, fine. Rest, guys. You’ve earned it.”

Droidbait hums in agreement and closes his eyes.

Commander Tano comes to find them after about an hour has passed. She grins when she notices the sleeping men and quietly sits down next to Echo.

“I was going to ask you guys for help, but they almost look too peaceful to disturb,” she whispers to Echo conversationally. Echo grins as she gestures to Droidbait, Cutup, Hevy, and Nax, all of which are dozing in various spots around Del. The sergeant is awake, but he’s resting, too—trying to will his leg back into full health so that he can come with them later.

“I can wake them,” he tells her, starting to get to his feet already. “What do you need, sir? Just say the word—”

Her hand finds his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.

“It’s okay,” she says. “It’s fine, I promise. It might be too dangerous, anyway.”

Fives tilts his head from where he sits, close to Hevy’s sprawled form. “We can handle it, sir,” he promises. “I’ll wake them up.” His leg is poised to kick Hevy in the ribs when Commander Tano frowns, waving him off.

“No, really. It’s fine,” she protests. “I only need two men, anyway.”

Echo shrugs, pointing at himself, then Fives. “Right here, sir.”

She’s still frowning. Echo frowns, too. Something’s wrong.

“Commander Tano? Are you alright?” Echo asks carefully. The Commander sighs.

“Is it selfish of me to not bring Beta squad on missions because they’re dangerous?” she asks abruptly. Echo’s eyes widen.

“What?” he says, too surprised to think of a good response in an instant. She makes a frustrated sound.

“I don’t want you to come with me because you might be hurt,” she says. Echo stares at her in surprise again. She hadn’t acted like this the first time—but then again, they hadn’t been friends with her the first time. The clones enjoyed her company, but it was different, detached.  

It’s changed now. An unintentional change, but one Echo suspects will be for the better.

“It isn’t selfish to be worried for your friends,” Fives speaks up gently. “But we aren’t helpless, Commander. We can take care of ourselves, promise. We’re supposed to be watching your back, anyway. What do you need us to do?”

She nods slowly, making a decision, and then she lifts her chin.

“I need two men to come with me. The shield around the droid factory has to be taken down before we can get any further,” she tells them seriously. “Master Skywalker already has a squad, and I could borrow men from him, but I wondered if you’d be willing to come. You don’t have to,” she continues before either of the ARCs can say anything. “It’s dangerous. Our goal is to get close enough to disable their turrets with droid poppers so they can’t shoot the walkers. We’ll be running straight into heavy artillery. If you’d prefer to wait for the gunships—”

“We’re coming with you,” Echo interrupts, climbing to his feet. He’s glad the others aren’t awake. The Commander is right—it’s a dangerous play, but it also proves to be effective. Echo and Fives have a greater chance at surviving than any of the others. “Del…?” he says, glancing over at the sergeant.

“Be careful,” is all he says in a grim tone. Echo nods. Commander Tano breathes a sigh of relief. Fives is giving him a look, figures twitching like he wants to sign something. He can’t with the Commander standing right there, and with his helmet on Echo can’t tell what he’s thinking. He sighs inwardly in annoyance.

“We’re with you, sir,” Fives tells her reassuringly. “We don’t care how dangerous it is. We’re supposed to watch your back, anyway, remember?”

She smiles at them gratefully. “Come with me.” Echo and Fives follow her for quite a few yards before Fives stops and swears suddenly.

“Kriffing—hang on, wait. We’ve gotta tell the others where we’re going. Commander, can you give us a split second?”

“Meet us in the center of the rendezvous when you’re done,” she says, and starts to make her way back.

“Force, she’s changed,” Fives mutters once she’s a ways away. “She’s worried for us—I mean, she was friends with clones the first time, too, but after she lost her pilots over Ryloth she kept most of the men at a distance safe, all except Rex.”

“We changed that, too,” Echo mutters distractedly, watching her leave. “Will it hurt her more in the long run?”

“I… don’t know,” Fives answers, and groans softly. “This is ridiculous.”

Echo nods in weary agreement.

Fives snaps out of it quickly. “I was serious about telling the others,” he announces, turning on his heel. “I made a promise to Droidbait that I wouldn’t do that again. He’ll kill me if I run off without letting him know what’s happening.”

Echo blinks. He’d nearly forgotten about that. The Blue Shadow Virus incident seems like a lifetime ago—and Echo would know. He smiles, proud that Fives had remembered.

“Alright, but we’ve got to hurry,” he agrees. “Let’s get them up.”

Droidbait is confident that Echo and Fives will be fine. If anyone can pull of a full frontal assault without injury, it’s them—and besides, the Commander will be in front of them every step of the way. Droidbait has faith that nothing bad will happen.

The ARCs had explained the situation quickly even as the walkers around them were starting up, preparing to march on the shield. Droidbait is grateful that they hadn't simply left.

He doesn’t mind not being included in the lightning assault teams. Droidbait’s done enough running today, thank you very much. He’s happy to wait in a gunship for the others to knock the shield down. The gunship doors are wide open as it hovers lazily in the air, waiting for the shield to fall, so Droidbait can squint to watch as the battle progresses.

The assault begins fast and stays like that, General Skywalker in the lead. Droidbait can only just make him out, a tiny black and blue blur against the orange sand. Commander Tano is even harder to find because her skin blends in much better with the terrain, and the Geonosian sonic weapons send streaks of green hurtling through the air, making it hard to find her lightsaber. Cutup catches fleeting glimpses of her, and the two white dots running behind her that can only be Fives and Echo. When they disappear through the red shield Droidbait can’t see nearly as well, and he fervently hopes that everything will go well.

All things considered, it doesn’t take long. It isn’t called a lightning assault for nothing. The tanks make their way just inside the shield slowly. Hevy is right next to him, and points out gleefully that the walkers look more like large beetles from this distance. Droidbait smacks him on the arm and tries to concentrate.

Once the walkers are close enough to fire on the shield generator, it’s all over.

The strike teams have done their jobs well—the enemy scanners are jammed, so they can’t target the massive walkers. Droidbait pumps his fist in the air in success when the walkers hit the shield generator hard. The red bubble around the area flickers, then retracts slowly.

The men in the gunships cheer. Droidbait can even hear the men in the gunship hovering next to them, and grins at the sound.

His stomach lurches a moment later as their gunship suddenly swoops forwards. They’re moving in. He glances back to make sure Hevy and Cutup are right behind him on impulse—of course they are. Nax is there, too, checking over his rifle determinedly. Coric and Del are absent this time, but they’re safe.

When the gunship lands, Droidbait steps out into the sun again and raises his gun, prepared to shoot anything that moves, but the Geonosians are already throwing down their weapons. They know they’ve lost. The shield is gone, and the gunships are flying in like angry hornets, guns primed and at the ready.

Droidbait’s comlink chirps cheerfully at him, and he hears Fives’ voice come through, tired but triumphant.

“We’re good, Domino. Echo and I made it through without a scratch. How’d it go on your end?”

Droidbait grins.

“Perfectly,” he responds as the men let out another ragged cheer.

It’s not over yet, but victory is sweet in the moment, and everyone is safe, so Droidbait relaxes his grip on his gun and cheers, too.

Chapter Text

It’s kind of weird to walk around a warzone when everyone you look at knows who you are.

Hevy wonders if this is what it’s like to be a Jedi, or someone much more high ranked. He can practically feel the eyes of the whole battalion on him everywhere he goes, just like he had on the ship during the first few days after the chip reveal.

On his way to visit the medbay tent and see Del he catches men eying him curiously as he walks past, glancing at him quickly and nudging companions when they think he isn’t looking. Everyone knows Domino squad, now, and while most brothers are content to watch and wonder from a distance there are some that have no problems with marching straight up to Hevy and asking him for details.

Hevy tries really hard to remain patient with those men. It makes sense that they’d still have questions, and that they’d want updates. After the sixth time he’s stopped, however, he can’t help but grit his teeth. He doesn’t have any updates. The only thing he knows is that the situation has been put on hold until the Geonosis campaign is over, and it’s annoying to have to explain that over and over again.

It’s difficult to keep his frustration under control, because every single time he thinks about the chips his blood starts to boil. The mere mention of them makes him clench his fists in anger. When men groan in disappointment and irritation at not receiving any news sometimes Hevy wants to yell, because do they not think he’s just as anxious for things to be fixed?

Fortunately, most of the men are much more polite and understanding. It’s the ones that complain that grate on Hevy’s nerves. He uses those confrontations as practice for keeping his temper in check, for making sure his head stays clear as he talks.

Fives has told him time and time again that one of Hevy’s weaknesses is that he lets his strong emotions cloud his judgement. Frustration makes him reckless, desperation makes him clueless, anger makes him blind, and so on. Hevy had known that already, but he hadn’t cared enough about it to change anything until the day Del dropped him to the ground within seconds of their match during their first sparring session.  

It was a humbling experience, to say the least.

Hevy, at least, thinks that he’s improved a lot since then. Even though the temptation to go off at the ruder men is strong, Hevy forces himself to think before he makes a move. Sometimes that means he has to pause for an awkward second, but hey, at least he’s trying.

Hevy comes to the conclusion that the men who are abrupt and impatient are the most afraid. He can empathize with that. The unknown is a scary thing. The destruction of what little free will they have is worse. Hevy has his chip out, but there are millions that don’t, and they can’t do anything except wait and ask for updates.

Those thoughts help him to calm down, just a little bit. It’s still hard, but most of the confrontations occur without incident.

Del looks glad to see him when Hevy finally arrives at the medical area. The sergeant is propped up under a tarp that’s been set up to keep the injured out of the sun. Hevy takes his helmet off and grins as he sits down next to him.

“How’re you doing, Del? What’s the verdict on the ole’ leg?”

Del snorts. “Sprained a ligament near my knee, apparently. It wasn’t too bad at first, but I made it a heck of a lot worse by running around on it after.”

Hevy winces sympathetically, eying the large bacta patch on Del’s knee. “Is that gonna be enough?” he asks. Del’s expression sours.

“No. There’s no way. The bacta has to seep down to the bone in order to start repairing anything, and it’s not working nearly fast enough.”

Hevy sighs.

“It’s only been a day, Del.”

“One day is a day too many,” Del groans. “The exterior bacta won’t be enough, anyway. I’ll probably have to be submerged to recover fully—either that, or just wait for it to heal naturally. Regardless, I won’t be coming with you to the factory.”

Hevy frowns. “I’m sorry, Del.”

Del shrugs. His expression is annoyed, but also resigned.

“It could have been worse. I’m upset that I can’t be there, but I know you guys will get the job done.”

“We’ll do our best,” Hevy reassures him. “Don’t worry, sir.”

In the brief moment of silence that follows, Hevy’s eyes drift to the sleeping figure on the thin cot a few feet away from Del. Hevy frowns.

“How is he?” he asks Del grimly. Del follows his gaze and sighs.

“Flak… is in a lot of pain,” Del answers. “They’ve been knocking him out pretty quick after he wakes up each time, so I can’t really say. The painkillers don’t do much to help. He’s a lucky one, though. If anyone can pull through it’ll be him.”

Hevy nods in solemn agreement. It had been a relief to find out that the surviving Juggernaut had gone back for the pilot after the Separatists had retreated during the initial charge. There’s a light blanket covering the pilot’s legs so that the worst of the damage is hidden, but even in drug-induced sleep his breathing is slightly uneven. Hevy winces in sympathy.

“What are they doing for him?”

“Not much, as far as I know. I don’t think there’s much they can do. From what I can tell, it’s pretty bad. I don’t know most of the details, but it’s sounding like he needs proper medical facilities, not a simple field patch-up,” Del says.

“Is it bad enough that he won’t be able to fly?” Hevy asks quietly.

Del shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“It could be worse, though,” Hevy points out in an attempt to remain optimistic. “He could be dead.”

Del shakes his head.

“For a pilot, not being able to fly is just as bad.”

He’s right. Hevy takes a deep breath and hopes fervently that Flak will be able to recover.

His wrist comm goes off then, chirping too cheerfully for the sober atmosphere. Hevy picks it up quickly.

“Hey, Hevy. Where are you?” Cutup asks.

“With Del,” Hevy answers. “Why? Do you guys need me?”

“We will in a minute. Can you make your way over here soon? It’s not super urgent, but we need to talk about some stuff.”

“I’ll head over,” Hevy replies, and shrugs in apology at Del. The sergeant waves the apology off as Hevy hangs up.

“You’re fine, Hevy. Go prepare. You’ll need it.”

“Thanks, Del,” Hevy says, offering him a smile. “Someone else will come by to visit later. I promise we won’t leave you alone with the medics!”

Del chuckles tiredly as Hevy makes his way out.

“You’d better not!” he calls. Hevy waves at him and starts to make his way back to the rest of Domino.

Fives sits Domino squad down as they crack open ration packets for a late lunch.

“Alright,” he says quietly, glancing around to make sure no one is near. “Let’s go over the briefing of what we know should happen next.”

The camp around them is alive with mechanical sounds as clones go about making repairs and preparing for the upcoming battle. No one overhears as Fives recounts his memories of the march on the droid factory. Hevy listens carefully. He doesn’t want to miss a single detail.

Fives tells them about the arrival of General Unduli and her padawan, which the 501st as a whole already knows about. The 212th and the 21st have been relocated elsewhere on the planet, while the 501st and now the 41st are tasked with taking down the primary droid foundry. Fives also tells them about the march right up to the front doors, about the padawans sneaking in through the tunnels, and the supertanks. When he’s finished, Cutup raises his hand tentatively like he’s still a cadet in a classroom.

“So… the Commanders get buried, and there’s nothing we can do to help them?” he asks worriedly.

“General Skywalker and General Unduli were able to get them out last time,” Fives replies. “I really doubt we’ve changed anything enough to make that not happen.” Cutup nods in acceptance, but he’s still frowning.

Hevy takes a deep breath. “I was worried about marching right up to the front door at first, but as long as there’s no turrets I think we’ll be okay. There’s some cover scattered around. The only time we’ll be completely exposed is if we go across the bridge, and we may not even get that far.”

“Stick together and watch out for bugs, and we’ll be fine,” Echo tells them. “And… run fast when the supertanks come out. We won this, before. It shouldn’t be a problem now.” He glances at Hevy. “A Z-6 will probably be useful. They’re gonna throw a whole lot of clankers at us.”

Hevy grins. He loves the Z-6. It makes him feel powerful, like he could take on a whole battalion of droids by himself.

“I’d be happy to bring one along,” he says gleefully. Echo chuckles.

All across camp, heads start to turn upwards as the sound of ships breaking atmosphere are heard in the distance. Hevy glances up as well, squinting to search for the gunships. They’re tiny black dots in the sky above, but getting larger with every second.

“That would be the 41st,” Fives says. “I’d start gathering equipment. Once they drop off men and heavy cannons we don’t have that much time before we march.”

Hevy nods in understanding, getting quickly to his feet. He needs to go double check the power cells in the Z-6 before they go. He can feel a low simmer of adrenaline pumping through his veins already, psyching him up for the battle only a few hours away.

He doesn’t love battle. It’s dangerous, of course, and the risk of losing a brother is always a background worry. He does, however, love the thrill, and the success of tearing droids to itty bitty pieces, so he can’t help but be a little excited.

He’s got a good feeling about this.

Fives is impressed at the speed at which the 41st disembarks from their ships and unloads all of their equipment. All of the battalions are fast, but to drop off and load heavy cannons in a matter of minutes is frankly quite impressive. There is an interesting aura to the green-painted men that emanates order and control. Fives has no doubt that those are traits the men have picked up from their General—just as the 501st tends to be reckless and determined like General Skywalker. Many battalions pick up little qualities from their Generals, and Fives finds it fascinating to observe.

He’s waiting patiently for the others to finish getting ready, seated on an empty supply crate with his rifle held loosely in one hand. There’s not much to do but wait now that everyone’s arrived. Fives taps his foot on the ground and watches little puffs of dust rise up in a poor attempt to keep himself entertained.

“Should I bring droid poppers? What about thermal detonators?” Droidbait asks him curiously as he rummages around through another supply bin. “If we’re marching through parade-style, they might not be nearly as effective as we want them to be, though…”

“Bring droid poppers, but not thermal detonators,” Fives advises. “Less explosives is better. We’ll be close together, so if something goes wrong there’d be a lot a casualties.” Droidbait nods in agreement.

Hevy is doing last minute checks on his Z-6 a few feet away, with Cutup seated next to him looking faintly bored—either that or anxious for the upcoming battle, because he’s fidgeting restlessly. Echo, like Fives, has finished preparing. Nax is helping Coric pack his medical supplies into his backpack.

Everyone is ready to move out. The waiting is getting frustrating, and the anticipation is making men antsy. Fives sighs heavily and glances over to the side in the distance, where he’s certain General Skywalker and Commander Tano are doing briefings for various squads. He’s surprised when he notices two figures running towards them, darting through the dust. It takes him a split second to realize that the first figure is Commander Tano, and the second is…

Oh.

“Heads up, guys!” Hevy cries out quickly. “The Commander is headed our way!” He’s seen them coming, too, and in an instant Beta squad is getting to their feet as the Commander approaches, her companion a step behind her. They aren’t supposed to be here—by this time, they’re supposed to be on their way to the tunnels, if Fives is remembering right, but they’re stopping here for some reason instead.

“I wanted to ask about Del and Flak before I left,” Commander Tano says quickly, looking at Coric. “I hadn’t heard anything yet, and I didn’t have time to stop by.”

Coric frowns.

“It’s not good, sir. Del will have to get sent back to the Resolute so he can get put in bacta. So does Flak, but he’s… significantly worse off, sir. As soon as the 41st are done unloading we’ll get him out of here.”

Commander Tano takes a deep breath and hangs her head. After a brief moment she sighs.

“Okay. Thank you, Coric. Listen, men, good luck out there. Barriss and I are—”

She keeps talking, explaining the plan that she assumes they don’t know. Fives isn’t listening. He’s glad his helmet is on, because he’s openly staring at the other padawan in surprise.

The last time he had seen Offee had been on the holonet a few weeks before he died, and she’d been taken away from someone else’s trial in handcuffs.

Force. He hadn’t really spent time to think about that whole situation until now.  

Ahsoka’s trial had been stressful for the entire 501st. Speculation had spiralled out of control almost immediately, as it’s prone to do. Many of the men had argued loyally in the Commander’s favor, particularly the ones who’d served beside her, like Fives. There were plenty others who believed the evidence against her, arguing just as fiercely that she deserved whatever punishment the trial saw fit to give.  

Her decision to leave, despite being proven innocent after it was all over, had shocked them all badly. Fives had hardly believed it. He’d watched the Commander become a fine warrior as the war dragged on. He hadn’t understood her decision then, feeling angry and slightly betrayed as many others had.

He understands it much more, now. After all, he’d practically gone through the same thing. He hadn’t seen the similarities in their situations until now. Both of them had been hunted down, had tried to speak the truth only to be ignored and silenced. No one believed them.

Yeah, Fives definitely understands her decision much more clearly now.

He remembers stopping at 79’s once it was all over, once General Skywalker had sent the official announcement to the battalion, and getting absolutely wasted because he was so confused and sad and sick of it all.

Barely a week later they’d been sent off to Ringo Vinda, and Tup had killed a Jedi. Fives had shoved Ahsoka’s incident to the back of his mind in favor of the massive chip debacle. He hadn’t included the details of Commander Tano’s trial when he was telling Domino squad about what he’d been through—there were more important things that had taken priority in the moment. All things considered, it isn’t a monumental event in the war, and Fives hadn’t known— still doesn’t know —if they’ll even survive long enough to get there.

He wishes he’d told them more details now, because Barriss Offee is standing in front of them, wide-eyed and young—nothing like the furious young woman he’d seen on the Holonet before she’d been dragged away under heavy guard. Nothing like the woman who’d betrayed a close friend in an attempt to fix a broken system.

Fives looks at her and is speechless. What changes? Why does she decide that her only option is to turn to terrorism? When does it happen? He wonders if this is something they can fix.

She’d claimed that the Jedi were responsible for the war, and that the Republic was failing.Before, Fives had listened to her words and frowned, fresh out of Umbara and thinking that she might very well have a point. Such thoughts were treasonous, of course, but Fives had been full of treasonous thoughts after Umbara. A lot of them had. He’d brushed those thoughts away eventually, though, because there wasn’t anything he could do about it. He’d countered her words with his own loyalty and trust in General Skywalker.

Now, her words, combined with what he knows of Krell and Palpatine and the chips, makes him wonder if she was onto something, just as he had been before he was killed. Perhaps not all of the Jedi are responsible for the war, but there are plenty of traitors in the midst of the Republic. Fives doesn’t know what happened after he’d died, but he’s fairly certain that he’d gotten a glimpse of the beginning of the end. The Republic had indeed been failing.

This isn’t that Barriss, though. This Barriss is still loyal and faithful, trusting in her Master unconditionally and ready to fight for the Republic. She offers Beta squad a soft smile as Fives snaps back to the present, clenching his teeth as a thousand more questions suddenly make their way into his head. Commander Tano is introducing them quickly, not individually, but as a squad to save time.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Beta squad,” the other Jedi says gracefully, and dips into a little bow. Cutup offers her a friendly smile.

“Good to meet you, too, Commander. You ought to stop by sometime and come catch a round or two of sabacc with us and Commander Tano!”

Barriss blinks as Commander Tano giggles.

“I’m afraid I never learned to play,” she informs them, just a little bit confused. Cutup chuckles.

“We’d teach you, sir. We had to teach Commander Tano, too. If you’re ever around when we have some free time, let us know. We’d be happy to have you!”

“Perhaps I will,” Barriss replies evenly, glancing at Commander Tano, who only grins back. “I hate to cut this conversation short, but we should probably get moving.”

Commander Tano perks up. “Oh, right. The factory isn’t going to blow itself up. Be careful, men! We’ll be back soon!”

“Be careful!” Fives manages to say as the two of them go sprinting away, and then they’re gone. Fives catches Droidbait and Cutup staring after them worriedly.

“They’ll be okay, guys,” Echo says before Fives can speak. “I promise. And who knows, maybe something will change for the better. They’ll be fine.”

“I hope so,” Cutup mutters quietly. “I really hope so.”

Fives forces the distracting thoughts out of his head and makes an effort to unlock his jaw. They’ll be moving soon, and he needs to have his entire being focused on the battle to make sure they all get out of there unharmed.

They march on the factory. It’s a little odd, because even though they’re marching in massive columns there’s men from both battalions all around. Hevy doesn’t really mind it too much, but it’s strange to see green armor from out of the corner of his eye instead of blue when he glances back.

Fortunately, just because they’re in parade-style doesn’t mean they have to march, which Hevy is grateful for. The column reminds him of Kamino and boring formal events enough as it is.

Beta squad is about halfway down the first column. Hevy can’t help but wish that they were closer to the front—and not necessarily because they’ll be closer to the action, this time. He has to be extremely careful with his Z-6 because of the rows of men in front of him. It’ll limit him during the battle, for sure, but it could be worse. He’s glad they’re not at the back.

If he cranes his neck he can see General Skywalker and General Unduli at the front of the column, lightsabers deactivated but in hand. It’s comforting to see. Hevy knows that the Generals will do their best to defend the men.

Droids, bugs, droidekas, supertanks. Fives had made sure they’d all known the order. A lot of stuff is gonna get thrown at them in a very short amount of time, but Hevy isn’t worried. He takes a deep breath.

Droidbait is to his left, and Coric to his right. Hevy glances at his batchmate.

“Ready for some more tally marks, ‘Bait?”

Droidbait tilts his head. “Of course, Fives. I’m gonna get so many tally marks that I’ll be solid blue.”

“Oh, is that the goal?” Cutup mutters from the row in front of them, glancing back. “You know, if you make the tally marks longer and thicker you could practically do that already.” Nax and Echo are next to him, and Echo snorts at the comment.

“Aw, shut up, Cutup,” Droidbait says in mock-offense. “That’s cheating.” Hevy snickers.

“Shut-up Cutup,” he repeats, slightly gleeful. “I like that. Rhymes, and everything.”

“Hey! Watch it, Hevy!”

“Alright, alright. Focus please, guys,” Fives chimes in exasperatedly from behind them. He’s on his own, sandwiched between another 501st squad and a few 41st. “We’re getting closer to the factory.”

He’s right, of course, so Hevy gets one last chuckle out and tightens his hold on his weapon. The walker marching next to their column lets out a mechanical whirring sound as its pilots prepare for battle, and all around Hevy men are growing tense.

They march their way towards the bridge that leads up to the factory. The doors are visible in the distance, and as Hevy watches they start to slide open, revealing a horde of battle droids behind it.

“Here we go,” someone mutters behind him. Hevy does a final check over his Z-6 and places his finger near the trigger pointedly. The column continues forwards as the droids step into the light, raising their blasters.

There are a kriff-ton of droids. Someone breathes out a quiet curse, and Hevy can’t help but agree.

The moment the blue and green lightsabers flare into existence, it’s begun. The droids open fire, and the chaos begins.

The column spreads out instinctively as men search for cover or better vantage points—or, like Hevy, just want to get a shot off without hitting any friendlies. The column isn’t really needed anymore, anyway—it was mostly to get the Sep’s attention, and it’s looking like it worked. The walker next to them fires, and a group of droids get blasted to bits.

For a long, frustrating moment, Hevy can’t do anything to help. Beta squad is falling into place beside him, firing all the while. Hevy could shoot, but there’s still a chance that he could hit someone else. Men are still darting for cover, and the Jedi are there, too, slashing and hacking their way forwards. Hevy leans towards Fives.

“I’m moving closer!” he calls out, a snap-decision that makes Fives glance at him.

“I’m coming with you!” the ARC replies without hesitation, following Hevy as he races forwards towards the next bit of cover. Fortunately, his run takes them behind General Skywalker, so they make it without incident. Hevy grins in approval as Fives settles into place right next to him, already shooting again.

This spot is much better. They aren’t at the front, still, but Hevy can see larger pockets of empty space that he can afford to fill with blue blasterfire. He pops out of cover just long enough for his Z-6 to whine in greeting as it mows down four droids in quick succession.

“Remember, watch the towers!” Fives shouts over the sound of a walker firing again. “Don’t forget about the bugs!”

Hevy nods in understanding, then has a sudden idea, whirling around to face the nearest rock pillar that stretches above them. If he’s ready for them the moment they emerge, he’s sure he can do some major damage.

Sure enough, as the Republic presses forwards, the first Geonosians start to skitter out from the rocks, raising weapons in preparation for their ambush. Hevy doesn’t wait for them to fire the first shot. He lets them have it the moment they come into sight, and shoots three down before they even know what’s happening.

“Geonosians, behind us!” he shouts to the nearby men, and shouts in triumph as other men start to look upwards, too. The ambush is ruined, so the Geonosians come out at full force, bright green sonic blasts erupting from their guns. Hevy keeps his Z-6 pointed up into the sky, keeping up a steady stream of fire on one of the pillars so that the bugs are pinned and can’t swoop in closer.

There are other pillars, though, and other targets, too. Even though Hevy has one section pinned, more bugs emerge from the rocks on the other side of the passageway. Hevy catches a glimpse of one carrying a shouting man high into the sky and feels his gut twist. There’s nothing he can do to help.

He becomes aware of Droidbait at his side eventually, firing at the droids while Hevy takes the bugs so both of their sides are protected. They’re working together for a long moment when suddenly Droidbait yelps and throws himself to the side, shoving Hevy away in the same motion. Hevy isn’t expecting it, so he hits the ground much harder than usual. The Z-6 goes clattering across the rock, shaken from his grasp from the impact.

The sonic blast that hits right where they’d been standing makes Hevy’s ears ring. As he pushes himself up, his first instinct is to look for Droidbait. He’s a few feet away, similarly climbing to his feet and shaking his head in discomfort. Hevy’s second instinct is to go for his weapon again, so he dives for it, reaching out with both hands.

It’s too late—he’s become a high-priority target now. He’d been providing effective cover and keeping the Geonosians from getting close, but the second he stops they descend with a fury. The men can shoot some of them, but not all. His fingers brush against the machine gun, but he feels something clamp around his shoulder and yank him away before he can get a good grip on it. Hevy cries out and feels something else clamp around his other shoulder, and then there’s an abrupt sense of weightlessness.

The Geonosians are trying to carry him away.

Panic seizes him in the moment of realization, because his feet are off the ground and they’re carrying him higher and higher, wings buzzing from the effort. There are two of them. Hevy thrashes in their grip and they lurch a little, but their grips on his shoulders only tighten. He hears someone shouting his name in horror below.

Hevy twists again, throwing up his arms to beat uselessly against the Geonosian exoskeletons. It doesn’t do anything, and Force, Force he’s starting to hyperventilate just a little because his feet are dangling in empty air and he doesn’t know what’s going to happen—are they taking him somewhere or are they just going to get high enough and then just… drop him —