Work Text:
Omega dove out of the pilots seat the moment the engines were powered off, but Tech took a little longer.
Tech tried to push himself up but felt his legs wobble as Omega began lowering the ramp, practically bursting from excitement to see Echo again. All Tech knew what he couldn’t let his brothers see him this rattled. Forcing several deep breaths into his lungs and feeling a little less unstable, Tech stumbled for the door. The bright Pabu sunshine is streaming into the cockpit by the time Tech reaches the open doorway as Omega launches herself at Echo who looks surprised to say the least. Tech’s legs wobble under him a little but he manages to hide it well as Hunter looks over, probably sensing his brother’s barely calm heartrate. As Tech approaches Hunter grins smugly at him, the smug grin of a brother who had endured a lifetime of Tech’s erratic flying now watching the squad pilot get a taste of his own medicine.
Tech ignores Hunter’s smug grin as he approaches, forcing himself to focus on putting one boot in front of the other and sounding like he hadn’t just been swallowing panicked screams for the last hour. Echo glances at him as Omega untangles her arms from around his neck, grinning in greeting.
“You mentioned needing some assistance with data decryption?” Tech offers by way of a greeting. He never did understand the need for small talk or pleasantries.
Echo removes a standard issue, GAR data-spike from his belt and extends it to Tech. “This is what’s left of the files I recovered from an Imperial Shuttle,” Echo explains as Tech accepts the data-spike curiously. “It was transporting clone prisoners and we need to know where and why.”
Echo’s last statement hangs heavy, like the heavy rain clouds that formed over the ocean on humid days before dumping the rain in the late afternoon. Tech had long wondered what the Empire would do with all the clones they no longer had use for, now they were recruiting from across the galaxy. He had plenty of theories, plenty of unpleasant theories but this would be the first piece of hard evidence telling the true horror beyond ghost stories that surfaced on the anonymous holo-net message boards. Tech looked up, meeting Echo’s gaze feeling his mouth run dry.
“I’ll uhh show Echo around shall I?” Hunter offers, his way of removing Omega from the process. Tech hadn’t shared any theories with Hunter but when Tech didn’t respond, simply nodding in response he knew.
Hunter, Echo and Omega head off in the direction of the rental house Shep had provided them with in exchange for their work around Pabu, leaving Tech on the landing pad holding the data-stick. Once upon a time Tech would be sprinting for the ships computer, eager to crack the puzzle of heavily encrypted data that no one else could get into, eager to prove why he was the best splicer in the GAR. But that was then and this was now. The Empire was continuously proving itself to be an ever-evolving nightmare and just when Tech thought they couldn’t descend to murkier levels they did. Tech watched the trio vanish over the edge of the landing pad, down the flight of stairs and musing how once upon a time the worst thing he had seen done to his brothers now looked halfway decent and even happy. Echo would never be the clone he was pre-Skako but his time away with Rex and renewed purpose seemed to be making a difference. Tech turned and headed steadily to the ship, turning the data stick in his hand.
Tech closes the door of the ship behind him, engages the artificial environment and shrugs out of his vest deciding he wanted to be comfortable. He had already developed software to read Imperial files but the encryption required the human, or in this case clone touch. Inserting the data-stick into the port Tech watched the files load, marvelling that Echo had got as much as he had given it would have been on the clock and likely while being shot at. The ARCs nerves of steel never ceased to amaze Tech as he watched the software begin to read the files. Once the files are replicated on the ships computer, Tech pulls up the keyboard and regards it for a moment.
Many files ended with ‘Long Live the Emperor’ so that was an easy starting phrase which worked at least half the time. Tech mutters as this is the other half and that phrase doesn’t appear anywhere for the software to find and use to crack the rest. Tech rubs his chin thoughtfully, staring at the keyboard while replaying Echo’s statement and previous message in his head.
Tech smiled smugly as the phrase ‘detained clones’ does the trick, the software immediately latching on to the files and beginning to read them. The computer displays a countdown clock- eight minutes. Tech pushed himself out of his chair, deciding a cup of Nemoidian tea was in order while the computer did its job, while congratulating himself for getting it second go and with a phrase he had never used before to crack the files. By the time his tea brewer had made a mug of delicious black tea that Phee had bought him from one of her trips, Tech returns to the computer to watch it finish the last 5% of the files. Tech stirred the tea, tapped the side of the mug with his spoon and carefully placed it aside before opening the first files available.
The first file is a stream of numbers, hundreds long that Tech immediately recognises as CT numbers. Tech scrolls through them with a frown, wondering if they were captured, defected or deceased clones. The numbers blur in front of Tech’s eyes as he sips his tea with a frown, hoping to see some he recognised to give him some clues. He has almost reached the bottom of the list, no closer to understanding why all the troopers were here, when Tech sees one that makes his heart stop.
CT9904
Tech freezes, his hand hovering above the keyboard as suddenly his heartbeat begins echoing in his ears.
Crosshair. Why is Crosshair on this list? Tech thinks in panic.
Placing the mug aside he dives into the next few files, frantically digging for information on the purpose of the list while trying to push the image of his batch twin stood on that maker-damned platform from his mind. Did they not believe he was the sole survivor? Did they find him dead on that platform? Why was he on this list? All Tech can see is his brother’s tall, lean figure in the plain black armour staring resolutely out to sea, his mind fixed on the Empire and his heart on being a soldier. Crosshair was stubborn from the day he was decanted, but not even Tech appreciated just how stubborn until that moment. Tech is almost at the point of screaming obscenities in several languages, when he finds the cover letter for the trooper list, detailing clones who had defied direct orders, were marked unfit for active duty and were transferred to an unnamed location that was part of Advanced Science Division.
Defied direct order…
Tech stopped, suddenly feeling a cold shiver run down his spine. Crosshair had defied a direct order. He defied. Tech sat back in the seat for a moment, feeling as unsteady as when Omega pointed the nose of the ship at the sea and refused to pull up until the ocean filled the viewport. Crosshair defied direct orders. He resisted the Empire. The same Empire he begged them all to join moments before that Empire bombed Kamino into the next parsec. Tech never believed his brother had his chip removed, it made no sense but even if the Empire had removed it for reasons Tech couldn’t conceive, the results were the same. Good soldiers follow orders and Crosshair did as he was told.
Until he didn’t…
Tech picked up the mug and began sipping the now stone-cold tea, his mind racing. What did Crosshair do? What order did he disobey? Did he finally realise that supporting the Empire meant being complicit in war crimes, atrocities, unlawful occupations and a burgeoning refugee crisis? In the weeks that Tech and his brothers helped around Pabu, Tech heard more and more stories of the Empire’s actions on a variety of worlds and systems. Some were expected, like Ryloth where their ore refineries promised an almost endless supply of mineral to build a fleet of ships, but some made no sense. Hunter had become friends with a young Rodian from a tiny world called Eadu that offered nothing Tech could discern of value to the Empire. The Rodian had herded nerf and enjoyed a peaceful existence moving his herds through the jagged mountain peaks fed by almost continuous storms until the Empire showed up. Some of the population were put to work but the majority were given 500 credits, taken to the nearest space port and told never to return. There wasn’t much about Eadu on the holo-net so remote and inconsequential it was but that meant nothing to the Empire. They wanted it and there was nothing anyone could do to stop them.
Perhaps it was something more personal and close to home, Tech wonders after a moments thought. Crosshair being the far-sighted sniper he was saw the world in broad strokes, the big picture but life wasn’t about that and often the devil was in the detail. From a distance being the Empire probably looked just like the GAR- three meals a day, missions, reports, training, more reports, the same barracks. Its not until one looked at the details, the why and the how that things became murky, at least to begin with anyways. These days only a blind womprat would miss the Empire encroaching darkness.
With his tea empty, Tech puts the mug aside and returns to the files, his brain returning to this so-called Advanced Science Division. Out of lack of originality and laziness, many former departments, agencies and divisions of the now dead Republic had been repurposed under the Empire, but the Advanced Science Division wasn’t one Tech had heard before. A quick search through his data-bank and the GAR-net found nothing similar, aside from the Republic’s Science Corps that did nothing discernible, but did visit Kamino a few times. Tech had no empathy for Kaminoans, much less Nala Se but watching her lead tours of the Republic’s so called ‘best and brightest’ who asked questions Tech could have answered as a cadet was cheap entertainment.
After several minutes of mentally debating with himself, Tech decides to take a gamble, determined to find out what this Advanced Science Division was and hopefully where. One of the advantages of the holo-net and the Empire now switching over to a recruited body was the never ending, usually unintentional data leaks. A recruited body had families, sweethearts, old school friends and the amount of posts on the holo-net between recruited troopers and their families where they accidentally mentioned what world they’re on, or didn’t sufficiently clean their data trail or took selfies with military hardware or buildings in the background was astounding. It made Tech’s life easier, but he shook his head frequently at just how sloppy these replacements were in more ways than how they handled blasters.
The results thought were… underwhelming.
After a solid hour of following every data-trail, post, link and other digital crumb he could, Tech found precious little. One person referenced the Advanced Science Division, but the post was from Coruscant and Tech severely doubted it was located there. Another commented that they had been reassigned to the division, before all their digital footprint went cold. The only thing Tech found of interest that was who their chief scientist was- a certain Dr Royce Hemlock.
Tech switched accounts, cleared his trail and opened a new incognito profile and began searching Dr Hemlock and immediately his stomach turned. There was an article from the days of the Republic published by an independent journalist from Chandrilla, decrying how Dr Royce Hemlock had been expelled from the Republic Science Corps, but no charges had been laid despite being caught red-handed with a number of unethical experiments. The article didn’t, and possibly couldn’t, go into explicit detail but it was clear that whatever the Doctor was caught doing it wasn’t good. Tech looks back at Crosshair’s CT number on the opposite screen and feels his stomach flip over anxiously.
Dr Hemlock was in charge of a clandestine, Imperial science division, a scientist who had been expelled from the Republic for unethical experiments. Crosshair, along with a number of other clones had been transferred to a facility that no one knew the location of, that was under the jurisdiction of this doctor. Clones who were no longer useful to the Empire but biologically were humans and would yield identical medical and diagnostic data without presenting the ethical issues of ‘sentient rights’ because who would miss them? Who would they complain to? They weren’t citizens under the Republic and they were even less in the eyes of this Empire, in other words the perfect control group for any number of heinous experiements.
Tech suddenly had a very bad feeling about all of this…
Leaving the computer, Tech returns to the galley to make himself another cup of tea. Outside the ship the sun had begun to set on Pabu, the golden rays slipping gracefully through the stone columns surrounding the landing pad as the Moon-yo’s bounded between them, chittering happily. Residents of Pabu milled around in the dying light, enjoying the cool sea breeze laden with the scents of meals being cooked, the salty ocean air and the heady local flowers. Tech braced his hands against the bench and screwed his eyes shut, forcing his brain not to conjure up where Crosshair could be and what could be happening to him while Tech and his brothers lived a sinfully idyllic life on this island. But when his own short life had been pot marked by traumatic incidents at the hands of Kaminoan scientists, it didn’t take much imagining at all to begin to picture what could be happening to his batch twin.
Tech carefully poured hot water in his old GAR mug before adding the Nemoidian tea leaves to them, watching the water stain black. It had been almost two years since the Republic fell and not quite a year since they left Crosshair on that platform and not a day passed that Tech didn’t think about him. He knew the others thought of him too, even Omega which surprised Tech a little. After watching her throw herself into Echo’s arms this afternoon, Tech was once again reminded of just how large his clone sister’s heart was. She had melted right into the Pabu community, running around with Phee’s niece and the other local kids having the time of her life. For the first time since she joined them she didn’t have nightmares, she smiled more and seemed genuinely happy. They all did. But for every moment of joy, Tech found himself thinking of Crosshair and wishing the sniper was here to enjoy it too.
Tech took the mug of tea back to the computer but sat facing away from it, holding the piping hot mug between his insulated gloves and forcing himself to focus on the present and not entertain horrid fantasies, regardless of how likely they were. Crosshair was many things- creative and industrious just being two of them. It came with the territory. In battle, the lone sniper on the ridge was more likely to be captured than the rest of the squad, so they had to conceal themselves creatively and were psychologically conditioned to withstand torture. Tech allowed himself a small smile at the amount of times Crosshair would radio his position and it would take Tech’s thermal vision and Hunter’s senses to actually find him, so well camouflaged he was.
Radio.
Straightening up slowly, Tech felt his heart thud in his chest suddenly. Their old comm channel. Would he…?
Staring at the computer, Tech found himself wondering and after a couple of minutes he decided he had to at least look. The odds of their being anything was slim, they stopped using that frequency after they fled Kamino for obvious reasons but if Crosshair needed to send a coded message, he wouldn’t know they didn’t use it anymore. Placing the mug down, it takes Tech only a few minutes to boot the frequency up again on the ships long range communicator.
Almost instantly a message pings in.
Tech swallows hard, suddenly feeling cold all over despite the ships artificial environment being set at the optimum 23 degrees Celsius. The unopened comms sits there in the channels incoming frequency like a live grenade, Crosshair’s old code flashing red. Steeling himself, Tech reached for the play button not sure what he was about to hear.
“Plan 88.”
Tech sucked in an audible breath at the sound of Crosshair’s distinctive, reptilian rasp unprepared for how the sound of his voice felt like a kick in the guts. It had been so long since he had heard his voice outside of fitful dreams that it barely felt real.
“You have to hide. They’re after-“
And suddenly the transmission went dead. Tech stared at the screen for a moment before hitting play again and again. It wasn’t his end, Crosshair was cut off, likely as they realised an unauthorised transmission was leaving the facility. Tech immediately began running a program he improved from the GAR toolbox for tracing transmissions to their origin. Returning back to the comms screen, Tech stared at the now played comms before hitting play again.
“Plan 88. You have to hide, they’re after-“
Plan 88. The Seeker. He was warning them.
Tech plays it several times more until he feels like his heart is about to explode in his chest. Crosshair sounds unsteady and in pain. His voice shakes and delays unnaturally, even for himself. Tech feels certain Crosshair is about to say ‘Omega’ but the transmission cuts out. He dosnt say ‘come rescue me, im here’ but instead tells them to go the opposite way.
After all this time, Crosshair never forgot their plans, all ninety-nine of them…
Tech sat back in the chair and pushed his goggles on top of his head, suddenly realising his eyes were filling with tears. Crosshair was out there, alive and warning them they were being hunted by the Empire. Using the heel of his hand, Tech pushed the tears from his eyes and tried to calm himself but was struggling. Its only the chiming of the tracer program when its done that breaks him from it. Sniffling, Tech rubbed his eyes once more and returned his goggled to the bridge of his nose and opened the tracer.
Mount Tantiss on Weyland in the Mid-Rim.
Tech pulled up the world on his star charts, staring at it resolutely.
“We’re coming for you,” he whispered.