Chapter Text
Crane — The Surgery
The operating theater gleamed. White lights. Sterile steel. A child clone on the table, chest small enough that Crane could nearly cover it with one hand.
And above, the gallery. Senators, aides, brass in polished uniforms. Watching. Waiting.
Crane’s jaw clenched so tight it ached. They wanted to see him perform. A spectacle. A half-clone miracle on display.
He flicked a switch without a word. The glass between gallery and theater fogged instantly, opacity shielding the room from view. Gasps rippled above, muffled.
“This isn’t theater,” Crane muttered, voice flat behind the mask. “This is a life.”
He bent over the boy, gloved hands steady as durasteel. Incision. Retraction. Sutures finer than hair. His mind narrowed, world contracting until there was nothing left but anatomy and survival.
Every heartbeat on the monitor was louder than the senators pounding at the glass. Louder than their protests.
And when the boy’s heart stabilized, Crane finally stepped back, drenched in sweat. Empty gallery lights glared down, but he didn’t look. His reflection in the steel tray was enough—scarred, cold, tired.
The boy lived. That was all that mattered.
⸻
Sol — Alone With Jules
Camp settled quiet after orders dispersed. Most clones drifted to mess or to their bunks. Sol lingered by the medical tent, half-hoping, half-dreading.
And then she was there. Jules. Gray-blue eyes finding him in the low glow.
“Did Anakin talk to you?” she asked softly. No preamble. Just slicing straight to it.
Sol’s chest tightened. “…Yeah. He—warned me.”
Her expression flickered. A shadow of guilt, maybe, or frustration. “He means well. But he thinks he has to protect me from everything.”
Sol shook his head quickly. “I don’t— I’m not trying to—”
“I know,” she interrupted, voice calmer than he expected. Kind, but tinged with something else. Weariness. “That’s why I wanted to find you. To say… don’t let him scare you off.”
His breath caught. She didn’t notice—or pretended not to.
Instead, she pulled a datapad from her belt, flicked it on, and the map of their next mission glowed between them. She pointed, close enough that her sleeve brushed his hand.
“Here. This ridge. My squad’s going to need someone quick-thinking if things go sideways. That’s you.”
Sol stared at the map, but all he felt was the warmth of her presence, the way her trust settled like a weight he wanted to carry forever.
“…I won’t let you down,” he said quietly.
She gave him the faintest smile. “I know.”