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“Escort me to my rooms, clone.”
CC-4477 followed without question. Everything he did these days he did without question, something that he would find the humor in if he had a sense of humor anymore. Why wasn’t he asking questions? He ALWAYS asked questions.
The senator continued the walk to her rooms, not caring of the existential crisis not happening happening behind her. They were on Alderaan for some kind of summit, something about distributing relief supplies to different systems, if CC-4477 remembered correctly. He did, because it had reminded him of the handmaidens and how they would deliver food to the barracks. He missed them. And their food.
They finally made it to the room. “Follow me.” Don’t do it. It’s a trap. Don’t. DON’T.
He did.
“You must be hungry,” Senator Tali said as she took off her shawl. “I haven’t seen you eat a thing all day. Allow me to-”
“I am not allowed to eat while on duty.” At least that was one order that he was happy to follow in this instance.
She raised an eyebrow. “I can make it an order.” With an evil smirk, she poured a glass of wine. The cost of that could’ve fed the guard for weeks. Why would no one help them? Then, she pulled a vial of white powder from her purse and added it to the mix.
Holding it out to CC-4477, her grin became more vicious. “I order you to drink this.”
He took off his helmet, letting it rest at his side. Please no. Stop. Stop. Why won’t you karking stop! He took the glass and ignored the screaming of the voice inside his head that said this was wrong, the voice that was drowned out by the one command that superseded anything else: Good soldiers follow orders.
When it was empty, he passed it back to the Senator’s waiting hand and moved to put his helmet back on.
“Oh no,” she said, lazily putting the glass on the side table, “I order you to leave that off. It’ll be so much more fun that way.”
Something felt wrong. At least, more wrong than it usually did. His fingers began to feel heavy, and the helmet clattered to the floor. CC-4477 blinked, and the room began to spin and sway. He took a staggering step forward, only for the senator to grab his arm. “This way, clone.”
She all but dragged him to the couch, where a gentle nudge sent him crashing into the cushions. Senator Tali looked at him with unrestrained want and swept back to the bedroom. “I’ll be right back.”
He fought to remain conscious, his orders to protect the senator helping to keep him awake. Which was the only reason why he heard the door slide open. “Commander?” a man’s voice echoed through the room, or at least, CC-4477 thought it did. It was becoming harder and harder to focus. Organa, senator, safe. “Oh force, Sabé’s going to kill me.”
Then, his voice changed, becoming as enraged as he’d ever heard it. “Senator Tali, what is the meaning of this?”
CC-4477 faded in an out of consciousness, only catching snippets of the conversation. He felt disconnected from his body, not like that was an unusual situation these days.
He opened his eyes. When had he closed them? Senator Organa hovered nervously above him. “It’s going to be alright, Commander, medics are on the way. We’re going to get you out of here.” Under his breath, he muttered, “Sabé’s never going to let me do anything on my own ever again.”
The Chief. Safe, protector, vod. She would know what to do. Where was she? Why wasn’t she here? With the last dregs of his strength, he muttered, “Sabé.”
“I’m going to call her as soon as we get you and your men settled,” the senator promised. “She’ll be here soon.”
Good. Sabé was coming. She’d know what to do. CC-1010 always said that he could listen to her orders. Did that even apply now that the Republic had fallen? It didn’t matter. CC-4477 closed his eyes and let the drug run its course. The Chief was on the way. She would know what to do. She could give him new orders. Good soldiers follow orders. He’d follow hers.
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Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
Thire groaned, rubbing his head. “I hope someone got the number of that speeder.”
“I’m afraid not, my friend.”
He froze. That voice. It belonged to – “General Kenobi.”
The jedi nodded from where he sat by the medical bed. “Yes, although I’m not a general anymore.”
“You’re a traitor.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Really? And what are you going to do about it?”
What was he going to do? His orders were to capture or kill any jedi traitors. But why were they traitors? They hadn’t done anything.
Kenobi finally had mercy on him. “Your behavioral modification chip was active, that’s why you’ve been doing all these things that don’t seem right. We took yours out.”
That made sense, in a twisted, sick sort of way. “And my men?”
“Already awake and in recovery. We’ve had to stage a rebel attack to make it seem like you all died protecting the senators.” He took a quick look at Thire’s vitals monitor. “You had been drugged by Senator Tali, which is why you were the last to wake up.”
Thire nodded, trying to figure out what had been going on the past two years. When he started to remember what he had been forced to do, he clutched the covers. Before he could start spiraling, Kenobi grabbed his arm. A wave of calm and peace that was not his own washed over him until he could start to think again. “Whatever they made you do, it wasn’t your fault. The blame lies with Palpatine.”
Taking a few shaky breaths to try and help himself calm down, he was finally able to ask, “What’s going to happen to us now? Where will we go?”
The jedi smiled. “Sabé will be here in two hours.” He stifled a laugh. “I overheard the conversation between her and Senator Organa. I think it’s safe to say that she’s ready to get you home.”
“Home?” The Guard didn’t have a home. They had a barracks, but that was just where they lived. Home was where his brothers were, and so many of them had marched on.
As if he knew where his thoughts had led, Kenobi placed a hand on his shoulder. “I would remember, Commander, that you’ve been declared ‘killed in action’. Some of the brothers you may be thinking of are probably with the Chief at Harbor House.”
He thought about the other commanders, his vod’ika’s, everyone that had marched on since the fall of the Republic. “Not even the Chief could save that many.”
There was a sparkle of mischief in Kenobi’s eyes. “I wouldn’t be too sure. She and the other handmaidens tend to surprise even the staunchest of critics.”
They fell into an uneasy silence, Thire thinking about his fallen vod’e and Kenobi wondering if he’d be able to hear Sabé ream out Senator Organa from the medical bay.
His question, at least, was answered sooner rather than later. “Where is he?” echoed down the hall.
“Hmm,” the jedi said, looking at his comm, “she got here faster than I thought she would. Must have made some modifications to the ship.”
Before Thire could unpack any of that, the Chief burst into the room. (Who knew automatic doors could slam?) Her face crumpled into relief as soon as she saw him. “Thire.”
He was about to answer when he caught sight of who was following behind the Chief. Leveraging himself up on his elbows, he choked out, “Ori’vod’e?”
“Thire’ika.” Thorn had him crushed in a hug within a heartbeat, Stone only hesitating to make sure that he wasn’t going to block any IV lines.
His ori’vod’e were here. They were alive. The reports were wrong. Thank the force they were wrong. “How?” he asked, ignoring the fact that Thorn’s shirt was quickly becoming wet.
“The Chief.” Thorn ran his fingers through Thire’s hair, not bothering to hide his smile when his brother melted into the touch. De-chipped clones, without a doubt, needed more tactile input after surgery. Luckily for them their brothers were always happy to be of service. “She saved us.”
Sabé looked up from where she had been talking with Kenobi and Organa in the corner of the room. “You would’ve done the same.”
Thinking of all the names he had seen on the KIA reports, he asked, “How-how many?”
As always, Stone knew what he was really asking. “We have about two hundred brothers already de-chipped, and we’re making plans to save more every day.” He pressed his head against Thire’s. “It was easier for them to plan when there were more of us. Now, Palpatine’s keeping an eye on the Guard more than ever.”
“But we’re not going to stop,” Sabé interrupted, putting a hand on Stone’s shoulder, “not until everyone is free.”
With a smile, she added, “The senator says that we can leave as soon as you’re ready. The ship is waiting in the hangar and Stitches is waiting to get his hands on you.”
“Stitches?” In any other situation, he would be dreading seeing the Guard’s CMO. But in this moment, he couldn’t be happier. It was like all of his brothers were coming back from the dead.
But there was one that was suspiciously absent. He turned to Sabé. “What about Fox?”
Her eyes darkened, and he almost took the question back. Before he could, she clenched her fists and said, “That crusty sack of bantha-osik is keeping him close. Never lets him off-planet, rarely lets him go anywhere except the senate building. He doesn’t even go to the barracks often enough to find a pattern. But we’re going to get him back. That I swear.”
Thire nodded, hope burning in his chest for the first time in months. “What’s the plan, Chief?”