#cx-2

***

Thick, rolling clouds nearly as dark as the night surrounded them, wind and snow and ice rattling the whole ship with so much force that Hunter felt the vibrations in his feet. They traveled up his legs, nearly turning painful. Soon his legs would become numb.

If they could just get above the storm, then maybe they'd have a chance. Hunter tried not to think about the star destroyer the gunships would have come from, but a small part of him was already considering abandoning the mission for the safety of everyone onboard. 

Even if it meant abandoning Wrecker, and Tech.

As much as Hunter wished to head up at a steep angle, the winds would knock the ship down in seconds.

Not knowing when the gunships would catch up, he and Omega scissored the ship through the air—well, as best they could with the wind. What it ended up looking like was them wavering around in the sky, making some headway, but not as much as he wanted, or as much as they needed, jets sputtering. The forty-five degree angle they were at was nearly too steep, the storm trying to knock them back down. Everything was storming clouds and black night, Hunter's heart racing, wondering when the Empire would be upon them. He thought he could sense the ships, but the storm had thrown his senses into chaos.

A green particle beam lit up the sky to their starboard side, ramming into their shields. They fishtailed violently from the force of it, Hunter's neck cramping to try and keep his head in position.

Well, that's going to hurt tomorrow.

The Marauder nearly spun into a roll. The yoke vibrated in Hunter's hands, and he gritted his teeth as he tried to pull out of it.

"Crosshair, can you get a lock on them?" Hunter cried.

"No, the cloud layer's too thick."

"Maybe if we fly back down into the ravine, we could have them follow us, and pick them off that way," Omega suggested.

A smile nearly lit Hunter's face. She was thinking just like Tech, though there was one problem:

"Only Tech could pull that off in this storm."

"But—"

"We keep going up." Hunter's tone was firm.

Suddenly, particle beams flashed before them from both sides, and Hunter had to angle the Marauder back down to avoid it. There was a shudder as a beam made contact with their dorsal fin, the ship trying to roll toward their starboard side, yawing into their negatives by a few degrees.

What would Tech do?

Hunter couldn't help smiling as it came to him.

"Omega, hang on!"

He kept them pitching down, and gritted his teeth as he twirled the ship as fast as he could. Hunter used the momentum from the energy converters to shoot back upwards in a swoop, hopefully getting ahead of the gunships.

Crosshair started firing.

And so did the gunships.

Flying became mostly training and guesswork, but Hunter figured the storm was as confusing for the gunships as it was for them. Where they could, the gunships kept trying to keep the Marauder heading back toward the surface, cutting off escape.

Even with poor visibility, having an enemy above them in a fight was incredibly dangerous, and that was where the gunships stayed, firing to cut off any retreat or advance.

Not sure why he did it, but listening to his gut (even as it felt like it was pushed right up against his spine from the speed they were flying at), Hunter rolled them to their port side, and with Omega's help initiated a Tech turn, but on the y axis, essentially having them loop back in the direction they were going in. The Marauder shot past the gunship that had been on their tail, leading both now in a chase, opening them up to fire from the rear guns.

"Got one!" Crosshair cried within seconds.

Even in the storm, Hunter sensed the flames, heard the destruction as metal tore and burned and men died.

"One to go," Echo said.

Omega seemed to move faster than Hunter, swooping the Marauder from side to side, avoiding particle beams that screamed past them like lightning. Not having to worry about friendly fire in this confusing mess, the remaining gunship now fired upon them with unbridled fervor.

Scissoring through the air was the only way they avoided most of the fire, though the shields wouldn't be able to hold for much longer.

"Hunter, pull up!" Omega suddenly cried.

"If we pull up any steeper, the winds will knock us down."

"Just pull up!"

There was no time to argue, and she sounded so insistent that he listened.

The wind knocked them back as their incline grew steeper, and a hot, sickly smell began to suffuse its way through the ship… but the gunship soared right through their previous position. It would have rammed into them if they had stayed on their previous course. The gunship was clearly guessing as much as they were.

The sensors caught on to what Hunter had smelled, flaring in alarm.

"The engines are overheating," Echo informed them.

Omega seemed to know what Hunter was thinking, setting the keel as their source of gravity.

Still, in case the acceleration of the winds was stronger, Hunter called, "Hold on!"

Dear Force, I hope we're high enough for this.

He killed the engines. The Marauder plummeted.

***

Emerie shifted where she lay. Something felt heavy about this drowsiness, and her head throbbed. She tried to open her eyes, to fight it, but so far she was held down.

"Curious how your access card was used in not one, but two, incidents involving members of Clone Force Ninety-Nine gaining temporary freedom within this base."

Hemlock's words had Emerie stiffen, heart pounding so loud she swore he would be able to hear it.

Perhaps if she didn't open her eyes…

"I know you're awake."

Trying to force a deep breath in, Emerie opened her eyes. Despite the dim room she'd been laid in, the light still seemed too bright, eyes watering, the throbbing in her head worsening.

She pushed through it, forcing herself to sit up, turning to face Hemlock who sat on a stool by her. Her access card was held in his left hand. He turned it over, not looking at her.

Taking in her surroundings with him present was difficult, like his very existence sucked in everything around it. For years that had been a good thing to her, and now…

She was in a private room in what might be the medbay, a door only a meter from her. Part of her worried if she would be able to open it and walk out.

"They overpowered me," she lied. "What did you expect? That I could fight them?" 

Lying to him had her feeling much too hot, heart pounding as she waited to see if he believed her. She'd never lied to him before, and it left her stomach aching.

"The vast majority of our prisoners have military training, and yet you've never had an issue with them."

"You know Clone Force Ninety-Nine has unorthodox methods."

"That they do."

Hemlock rose, Emerie straightening to try and not have him towering over her from where she sat on the cot.

"I am also aware of their frustrating ability to find allies in unlikely places."

He finished the sentence, eyes boring into her.

Emerie's mouth had gone dry, and she found it was open as she struggled to think of something to say.

Hemlock fiddled with her access card, threading it between his fingers. With a sigh, he held it up, his other hand resting on the cot beside her, nearly touching her hip and thigh. This had her just about breathing the same air as him, looking up at him.

"Did I err in making you Chief Scientist, Dr. Karr?"

Usually when he didn't refer to her as Emerie, she felt detached from him, like she'd done something wrong, like she didn't deserve the relationship they'd built over the years with her as his personal assistant. Now it was a threat, being held before her like her access card.

"No, D-Doctor."

His left eyebrow rose. "No? Are you confident of that?" He leaned in, till his breath was on her, a shudder running through her at the sensation. His voice grew softer as he spoke, "I will allow you to walk free, Emerie, but I want you to think about something—very—carefully. Omega will be held in the Vault once she is in my possession, and you know far more than anyone that simply keeping her confined with the other M-count specimens will be a mercy compared to what else I am capable of."

He paused, letting Omega with her strength, and her love, fill her mind; letting all her thoughts focus on her sister, her hope for a life less lonely than the one she'd been forced upon. Emerie clutched the cot like it was the only thing tethering her to the planet.

"Have you ever deeply considered the torment of solitary confinement?" Hemlock asked, tone almost conversational. "Oh, it's dreadful." His voice took on a pleased note that left her trembling, and he'd leaned in to speak into her ear, lips so close her brain imagined she could feel them hot and soft against her. His hands weren't on her, but they might as well have been, holding her in place while fear for Omega ran hot through her like a live wire, breaking her out in a cold sweat. "In the first week prisoners experience panic, like the walls are closing in around them, each sound and stimuli growing more insistent till they're an agony. Even the most intelligent of prisoners can no longer focus, failing to think clearly. There's anger, terror.

"Twenty-five percent of prisoners begin to experience hallucinations and delusions after the first week. They lose sense of time, reality, hearing things that aren't there, perceptual distortions. Many become paranoid, thinking their every moment is watched. That's when the headaches start—the dizziness, the insomnia, even heart palpitations.

"And then it gets so—much—worse. They become apathetic, hopeless, and the hippocampus shrivels. I know you understand what that means: memory and emotional regulation cease to function properly. They eventually lose the ability to interact with other life-forms. 

"Were you aware neurons in the brain can shrink in prolonged solitary confinement? They do so until the behavioral changes and social dysfunction become permanent, and damage to the hippocampus, and amygdala, are irreversible… if they even live that long, if they haven't already found a way to take their own life." 

He laughed, making Emerie flinch, her eyes squeezing shut.

A tear fell.

"Of course, I need what's in Omega's blood, so she won't be completely confined. But I am curious to know what it does to a person to only be taken from solitary confinement for… torture. Hmm, I wonder if she'll enjoy it. It's quite a fascinating thing to think on, isn't it, Emerie?"

He did touch her then, taking her trembling right hand in his left one, and turning it over. She jumped as he placed the access card into her palm, his left hand closing over hers, wrapping her fingers around it.

Finally, he pulled away, and Emerie gasped, feeling like she hadn't breathed in minutes, her head spinning. She had the strong urge to wipe her hand against her trousers, like she'd touched something vile. Being afraid of him was quite a new experience for her, and it left her confused. How could the man she'd worked beside for years, looked up to, terrify her this much? Had she done something wrong? What if she had, what if Omega was wrong, Clone Force 99 was wrong, and Hemlock was right? Yet if he was right, then why did she feel so awful?

Meeting his gaze in that moment was one of the hardest things she'd ever faced in her entire life, which said much seeing as she'd been cast aside by Nala Se as a child.

She almost dropped her gaze, each second she held it like fighting for her very survival.

Those glacial blue eyes she had thought she'd known were a mystery to her, holding depths she'd never imagined.

Yet, what if she was seeing something that wasn't there, seeing a monster where there was only a man?

"I trust you won't disobey me again."

"No, Doctor."

The words were like swallowing poison, and nausea fluttered in her stomach. Her fingers clasped her access card tightly, and she fought to not have her other hand go to her abdomen, not wanting to show further weakness.

His smile left her feeling like she was falling.

A ping sounded at the door, making her jump, eyes closing tightly. More tears fell.

"Enter," Hemlock called.

Emerie quickly wiped the tears from her cheeks, turning her head away and down.

The door whooshed open, an Imperial Commando stepping in. She was just thankful it wasn't Commander Scorch, as he was on Lau.

"Yes?" Hemlock asked, not turning from Emerie.

"CX-2's vessel is on approach, sir."

Those words had Emerie shudder, thinking of Wrecker, of Omega. She'd never told her sister Tech was alive.

Maybe I'm just as bad as Hemlock.

"Excellent." To Emerie he said, "Are any further words required?"

She shook her head, lips clamped tightly shut to hold in a sob.

"Continue your work in the Vault," Hemlock ordered. "I'll handle CX-2 on my own."

As soon as Hemlock and the Imperial Commando left, Emerie hunched over around a sob. The walls closed in, and she gasped for breath, pulling at the collar of her tunic, shaking so hard it was a wonder she could move at all.

When she did sob, she covered her mouth, not wanting to be heard. Though, Tantiss was no stranger to hopeless tears. Her tears joined those of the other clones who were Hemlock's property, never to be heard by the galaxy at large.

Even with the keel as their source of gravity, Hunter was still pushed back into his seat, having the sense like he was about to be crushed, as the Marauder fell. They couldn't hold this for too long, but he wanted to give the engines a break, and perhaps use the energy of their fall to shoot back up.

This gave them a tactical advantage as well, making them harder to locate. The gunship was equipped with sensors, as was the Marauder, but in this storm they were barely functional.

Thankfully the smell of the engines overheating dissipated somewhat.

"You could have at least warned us you were going to be as insane as Tech!" Crosshair called.

Hunter's whole body tingled, his stomach feeling like it was going to fly up out of his mouth, black spots flickered in his vision. With a roar, he restarted the engine, and it took both him and Omega to pull them up out of their fall. The boost of energy to the converters had them shooting back up, higher, higher.

They moved faster than sound, altitude nearly at sixty thousand feet. Hopefully at sixty thousand feet they'd be out of the storm.

Hunter's ears popped, the screaming winds now muffled.

They lost their momentum, though thankfully the cloud layer seemed to be thinning. Hunter and Omega decreased the pitch, knowing the ship couldn't keep up this speed in this storm without serious damage to the engine. Even as it was, that sickly sweet burning smell was returning.

The only warning they had of the gunship was a quick blip on their sensors, and then green particle beams lit up the viewport.

***

Tech/CX-2 landed the Dagger on the landing pad on the side of the base opposite the hangar. His breath caught, stomach clenching at the sight of Hemlock on the edge of the platform, waiting for him. Training was the only thing that kept him from clutching at the datadrives in his pouch. He took deep breaths, easing the trembling that had started up in his body.

Everything was so confusing, his head aching, but maybe Hemlock could help with that.

No, that doesn't make sense.

Nothing did.

He exited the ship, stepping out into the warm, muggy air of Wayland. Clouds obscured the sky, threatening rain. His boots clanged with each step on the platform, the sounds somehow digging into his brain, like they were too loud, too much. Not raising his shoulders with each step was a battle.

To Hemlock's credit, he barely reacted to the blood Tech/CX-2 was covered in, just kept his hands clasped behind his back. In Hemlock's presence, Tech seemed to shrink, CX-2 holding him down. He was glad his face was covered, hiding the quick spasm of distress.

"The pirate's blood, I presume?"Hemlock asked.

"Yes, sir."

"No wonder she gave up the information we require." Turning toward the base, Hemlock said, "Follow me."

Tech wailed. CX-2 followed Hemlock into Tantiss in silence.

***

"The shields took a massive hit," Echo informed Hunter as they fought to keep their pitch at forty-five.

Hunter's hands were nearly numb at this point, though there was still that sense of shuddering, only dulled. If they survived, his hands would surely be aching later, the pain shooting up his arms.

"Are they holding?" Omega asked.

"For now."

Hunter initiated a turn to avoid the gunship, and to change the angle of attack. If he could get them behind them again…

The gunship did as predicted, swooping in an arc, chasing them.

They flew in a sinuous line, the gunship doing the same, Crosshair cursing at misses, and cheering at hits.

"I took out one of their guns!" Crosshair announced.

Green bolts shot past the Marauder, the flashes so consistent, and so bright that Hunter's eyes watered, a dull ache starting up behind them.

"We're nearly at sixty thousand feet," Omega informed him.

"Let's hope that's as high as this storm gets."

Crosshair yelled, "Hunter, the gunship's rolling."

Which meant they were going to try and get in tight, changing the angle of attack to thirty degrees, essentially making it difficult for the Marauder to fire upon them, or find an escape.

"We could initiate a high G turn," Echo suggested.

"On it!" Hunter called.

Hunter and Omega changed their pitch to ninety, soaring up, up, before turning in fast circles. In seconds, Hunter's vision tunneled, and he struggled to breathe, trying to focus as it felt like his entire body was getting crushed.

Come on, come on…

They shot out of the storm, and into open night. After the murk of the storm, the stars were too bright, but they might have been the only thing keeping Hunter conscious. That, and the horrible sight of what was up there.

The gunship fired from beneath them.

Particle beams hit home, the Marauder shuddering violently. They lost power to the shields. Alarms screamed that the engine was overheating again.

And above them, covering a vast expanse of the night, was a star destroyer.

Hunter leveled them out.

The star destroyer fired. It was sheer training and luck that had Hunter avoiding heavy laser fire.

"We have to jump to hyperspace," he gasped.

"But Wrecker!" Omega cried.

"We can't help Wrecker if we're dead. Echo, have the computer calculate the jump."

"And just give up the mission?" Omega asked.

"We need to leave the atmosphere first," Echo said.

"Whatever you're going to do, do it quick!" Crosshair shouted.

"Echo, one hit from one of those lasers and we're done for. We make the jump now."

"Tech would advise against this," he warned.

"Yeah, well, Tech's not here. Do it!"

Hyperspace surrounded them in streaking white lights just as a laser was about to tear through them.

Reality seemed to bend and twist around Hunter in rainbow bursts, stretching him to the brink of destruction. He might have attempted to reach out for Omega, but even his mind seemed distorted, random memories of Tech, and Wrecker playing through his head, till they seemed to be pulled from him, playing on the edges of hyperspace, voices echoing, tearing at his heart.

Reality snapped back together, the blue-white of hyperspace too calm after what they had just been through. They were all left gasping, and panting. Smoke wreathed up through the deck.

Omega rose on shaky legs, and stumbled into Hunter. He grabbed her arms to keep her steady, and she nearly tried to pull away. She took her helmet off, and it fell from her fingers. Tears wet her cheeks. Hunter removed his own helmet, wanting her to see his face.

Searching her brown eyes, he tried to think of something, anything, to say to her.

"I'm sorry, Omega," was all he could manage.

She hugged him, burying her face against his chest. Hunter pulled her tight against him, resting his chin on her head, reality slowly sinking in, pulling him down, a great pain surging up within his chest. Crosshair, and Echo managed to get themselves to the cockpit. Echo had his head in his hand, and Crosshair held his side, face pale, expression grave, free hand on Omega's shoulder.

Hunter looked them all in the eye, and saw the same pain there.

They'd failed.

He held Omega closer, squeezing his eyes shut. No one said anything about his tears.

"We'll get them back," he assured her, assured all of them. "We have to."

We have to.

***

Tech huddled in a corner in CX-2's mind while a medical scanner looked him over. Hemlock had a datapad in one hand, probably also using the chip in the back of his head to assess him. Thankfully he was allowed to sit on a lab table for this part, as blood loss was making him dizzy.

"Why do you have significant blood loss?" Hemlock asked.

"The pirate,"—Phee! Tech cried—"attempted to kill herself during interrogation. I"—we—"rendered medical attention, and gave her a blood transfusion to keep her alive long enough to give up the information."

"That was quite the risk," Hemlock observed, glancing up from the datapad.

Tech backed up into a corner, arms protecting his head, making it difficult for CX-2 to sit still. As it was, his eyes kept darting around, and following Hemlock's every movement rather than maintaining a neutral position.

Hemlock's brows furrowed, blue gaze calculating. CX-2 nearly closed his eyes as the machines picked up the rise in heart rate. He was sure his blood pressure had risen, as well.

Usually he had better control of himself. But that was when he wasn't filled with questions, and trying to hold back Tech. Even now Tech wanted to speak, to act, and he was Tech, even as he wasn't.

His mind returned to the datadrives, returned to those broken moments with Phee.

A droid hovering nearby began to ready CX-2 for a blood transfusion.

Hemlock placed the datapad down, and approached. Somehow CX-2 kept his muscles slack, though each one screamed to tense.

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, even as he imagined the quick rush of pleasure his pain medications granted him, the way his stomach seemed to soar as he followed Hemlock's orders.

Hemlock stripped him of all weapons and devices, hands touching him like he expected compliance, like all of him was his property. CX-2 looked straight ahead as Hemlock found the datadrives.

"What are these?"

"Datadrives, sir."

"I can see that," Hemlock snapped. "Thank you, CX-2, for using your vast intellect to provide me with a well thought out and detailed answer. Now what do these contain?"

"Unknown, sir."

His voice might have quavered a tad, his heart rate rising.

Tech was now doing more than cowering. He was scrabbling at the walls in his mind, begging to be heard. He wanted Hemlock dead, wanted to leave this mountain and planet behind, wanted… his family.

CX-2 didn't even know who his family was, if he even had one.

Do I have one?

Where did I come from?

I don't understand.

See, you don't understand because I'm you, Tech said. You're me.

I am CX-2.

No, we're Tech.

My name is Tech.

I don't have a name!

"Really, Tech?" Hemlock breathed, sounding disappointed. "That's the story you're going with?"

CX-2 froze, fear shooting through him so intensely he swore he could hardly feel his body, even as it weighed him down, tethering him to a world so terrifying it froze the blood in his veins.

"I… I don't know…" Who's Tech?

Really, he wasn't entirely sure.

The droid shoved the catheter in his arm, making him grimace. Blood began to pump into him.

Restraints CX-2 hadn't known were there closed over his wrists and ankles. His eyes widened, breaths coming hard and fast through his nose. Only the knowledge that it was completely futile kept him from struggling, though his body trembled with the urge to do so.

He knows. He knows, he knows, he knows, Tech ranted.

Hemlock inserted the datadrives into the console beside him. Tech struggled in his restraints as a hologram of Tech, and Phee appeared. He couldn't fully see Hemlock's face, but he was trying, needing to know his mood, what he'd do to him.

Memories of surgeries he'd somehow forgotten about were coming back to him, agonizing procedures that Hemlock had taken great pleasure in. Tech could barely breathe.

A long sigh left Hemlock.

"The fault is mine," he said. "I hadn't considered just how close you were to the pirate." He turned to him, the movement like a blow, having Tech jump—as much as his restraints allowed. "She's still alive, isn't she?"

"No."

A small smile graced Hemlock's face, Tech whimpering as he stepped closer.

And his head, oh his head! Tears ran, unbidden, from his right eye at the pain.

"Don't worry," Hemlock breathed, grabbing his jaw, touch nearly gentle. Even just this simple touch was like being defiled. "I'll soon take away your pain."

Something else flashed in his mind, making his whole body go cold, and his eyes widen, Hemlock's touch now burning.

"Y-y-you touched me," Tech said, not meaning to voice the words, though the memory wished to be released like water from a burst dam.

Hemlock raised his eyebrows, appearing amused.

"You'll have to be more specific than that, Tech. After all, how else was I supposed to save your life, create CX-2?"

"Not… that."

Hemlock's smile had Tech wishing he could curl in on himself, his mouth suddenly making too much saliva.

"Ah, yes. So you remember that now, don't you? How fascinating."

Tech was too overwhelmed with the past and present, and himself and CX-2, bleeding together, tearing at each other, his head feeling close to bursting, that he couldn't move as Hemlock caressed his lips. His touch left him shaking.

"What else do you remember?" Hemlock asked, voice taking on a low, hungry quality. "Do you remember enjoying yourself? I know I did, especially when you—"

Oh, blast, what will Phee think? What will anyone think?

What do I think?

Who am I?

"Stop!" Tech roared.

Hemlock laughed, hand stroking down his throat, nearly wrapping around it. Tech might have whimpered as he attempted—and failed—to pull away.

With a growl, Hemlock grabbed his jaw once more.

"You're lucky I don't have time to play."

The promise of what could almost have been left Tech trying to force himself to take deep breaths so he wouldn't be sick. Even with that particular memory there was plenty to be sick over.

Even as part of him needed eyes on Hemlock, his gaze drifted to the hologram, chest tight. Hemlock noticed; of course he did.

He tightened his grip. A gasp left Tech, and he struggled, trying to cope with just how much Hemlock's fingers could hurt. Hemlock then angled his head so that he could see himself in the hologram.

White clouds, and screaming air like blood rushing in his ears flashed through his mind, Omega screaming his name loud in his ears.

"You aren't that man anymore. You never will be again. After all, you came to me broken, just barely clinging to life. You are only breathing because of me, and you are only doing so now because I allow it. You're useful to me, Tech—your brain, your skills."

"Why?" Tech asked, not sure where the question had come from.

Why any of this? Why am I here? Why am I alive? Why am I not dead?

I'm supposed to be dead!

Please, I want—

Hemlock laughed, making him face him again. Tech in the hologram was in the corner of his vision.

"Why not? After all, you're quite special compared to the other clones." His other hand reached up, stroking his head, making Tech tug against his bruising grip. "The Kaminoans gave you the perfect brain, one far superior to the average life-form's. To have it in my service, well… it's quite exhilarating. That, and your skills and ways of thinking are beyond exceptional, even when leashed to my will.

"However, I can't abide weakness. You are that weakness, Tech: your emotions, your memories. Even now I can see them ripping you apart."

"Please, just let me go," he got out, nearly choking on held back sobs.

"Aw, you haven't begged for that in months." 

He inhaled deeply, like he could smell his fear, his desperation, the splitting agony in his head. His face was far too close to Tech's for comfort, just centimeters apart, breath hot on him. A small moan came from him that had Tech grimacing. 

"I will admit I have greatly missed that. But no matter. Just knowing I get to watch you become mine all over again is all the pleasure I need. That, and sending you to destroy your home."

"No, no, not Pabu. No, no, please."

A wild idea came to Tech in that moment, one born of fear, of pain, of distress so acute he wasn't even sure if the reality before him was real anymore (what if he was still falling on Eriadu?): he could bite down on the capsule in his mouth.

He didn't know what his tell was. Perhaps it was how he moved his jaw, the look in his right eye, but suddenly, Hemlock let go of him, and used his blaster to hit him with a stun blast. While a single shot no longer left him unconscious, it didn't feel good, especially when compiled with blood loss. The dark lab began to spin, tingles pounding through his body, everything becoming too hot, vision in his right eye tunneling, disjointed from the cybernetic one, leaving him nauseous.

By the time he knew what was happening, and the room had stopped spinning, Hemlock was holding his mouth open, pliers reaching inward.

"Why I ever installed the electro-capsule is beyond me."

Tech groaned as the pliers grabbed hold of said capsule, but he couldn't fight, still recovering from the stun blast.

No, no, no, no.

"Hubris of my own, I suppose," Hemlock went on, tone casual, which clashed with the way he tore the capsule from his mouth.

Ripping, hot pain stabbed through Tech's gums, blood gushing into his mouth, making him gag. He tried to spit it from his mouth, but he was in too much pain. Still, blood made its way past his lips, trickling down his chin.

When Hemlock released him, a droid hovered in to suck away the blood, and cauterize the wound, as invasive as Hemlock had been. Tech nearly choked, just struggling to breathe, to see Hemlock through the tears from his right eye. All he tasted was blood and burnt flesh, thin wisps of smoke curling up out of his mouth to his nose.

For a moment, Hemlock's face wreathed in smoke flashed in his mind, his tongue on fire as he branded it. Tech had grown quite used to the brand as CX-2, and hadn't even questioned its existence. Yet now…

Memory and reality bled together, leaving him dazed, not even sure of his own body.

Hemlock's comm beeped, and he answered it, as if he weren't busy torturing Tech.

The walls seemed to be closing in on him, every sensation too much, and he just wanted to scream, wanted a way out. Memories assaulted him, of things Hemlock had done to him, of things he himself had done at Hemlock's command. Through it all there was so much blood, and there were so—many—screams. There were enough screams to practically deafen him. And all the while he could have sworn his skull was splitting open.

Please, make it stop, make it stop.

"Do you have Clone Force Ninety-Nine, Commander Scorch?" Hemlock asked through his comm.

"No, sir. They jumped into hyperspace," a reg's voice answered.

Where the term reg had come from in his mind, Tech didn't even know.

"Can you track them?"

"No. There was a storm, the conditions—"

"No matter. Return to base."

"Sir?"

"I have learned exactly where Clone Force Ninety-Nine will be. I have the matter well in hand."

Please, not my family.

Hemlock looked back to Tech as he ended the call, a triumphant smile on his face.

The lab table began to recline, lying Tech down. He was being moved into a machine, similar to something he'd seen on Kamino.

A scream left him as he fought, thinking he almost remembered this, remembered the pain, his mind being altered.

"When you wake as CX-2, you will remember none of this," Hemlock told him. "And then you're being sent to Pabu to burn everything you love. You think you can fight me? You couldn't be more wrong. I have contingencies upon contingencies planned for. I will get what I want, what the Empire wants, no matter the cost, no matter who is in my way, or who I have to hurt. And right now, Tech, you are the one in my way."

I'm going to die. He's going to kill me.

After all, wasn't forgetting himself a kind of death?

"I don't want to die again," he cried out with a mouth that screeched in agony.

Hemlock stroked his face, Tech unable to pull away as something was injected into the line connected to his arm, his whole body going slack. He struggled with heaving gasps, moaning as memories of torment ripped him in two.

"Shh, it'll be over soon," Hemlock murmured.

There was a cruel smile on his face that reached his eyes, blazing with fervor.

The hologram of Tech laughed.

Hemlock removed his hand, reaching for the datadrives, other hand pressing buttons and settings like what he was doing to Tech was of no consequence. Electricity shot from the machine around Tech's head, seeming to pierce his very brain. His body contorted, a choked scream leaving him.

Hemlock removed the datadrives, Tech's laugh dying.

The clatter as he dropped the datadrives to the floor was somehow worse than the current shooting through him like a million needles stabbed deep into his splitting head. Rather, that clatter seemed to strip him bare, leaving him vulnerable to looming destruction, Hemlock hovering like a cruel, sadistic god of death.

"Goodbye, Tech."

Hemlock's heel slammed down on the datadrives.

Tech faded under a scorching haze of electricity the same blue as Hemlock's eyes.

No answer.

"Tech?" 

Her voice was noticeably weaker on that, and she almost shrank in on herself. If he was still here…

Maybe he's not.

Maybe he's dead.

No, he can't be.

Getting to her feet was a struggle, and she stumbled more than once. Not feeling in control of her body, clumsy, she barely caught herself when she accidentally kicked something with her left foot, sending it rolling. Trying to steady herself had her stepping on something with her right one, and she ended up having to bend over to catch herself on her hands. The throbbing that began in more than one spot at that had her letting out a grunt. With fingers that didn't fully want to listen to her, Phee reached for what she'd stepped on. It was a hypo, and there were other things around it: med patches, bacta, her medkit. Had Tech laid these medical supplies out for her?

That wasn't important, something else was, something…

"I have to…"

What do I have to do?

Pabu.

Pabu!

They're in danger.

Phee stooped to grab the hypo. Sure, Tech could have left her with something that looked like medicine and was actually poison, but he hadn't killed her, and the other supplies like the bacta and med patches he'd laid out said he was trying to help.

Then where is he?

There wasn't time for this, even though her heart ached.

Phee jabbed herself with the hypo. An instant rush of numbing warmth followed, though she fell to one knee, her whole ship seeming to sway.

Regaining her feet nearly made the world go black. Blast it!

Stumbling, Phee made her way through the ship, shaking with cold, and fear.

"MEL," she muttered.

She found the droid, and switched her on, trying to hold off her questions as she made it to the cockpit. Thankfully, she didn't come upon Tech's body; the worry that he had killed himself had been rooted in the back of her mind.

Phee swayed in her seat, MEL by her side to let her put a hand on her.

"I'll… I'll explain… later."

Suddenly she was swallowing back nausea.

Shep.

Hunter.

Have to warn them.

Her ship didn't feel quite like hers anymore, not now that Tech had been here, had tortured her, had… had… broken.

Oh, Tech.

Everything looked the same, but not at all. She had the eerie sense of someone having searched through her things, invading her privacy. There was no safety in that.

The computer fizzled as Phee tried switching on the long-range communications.

"No, no, no. No, please no!"

Phee stood so fast she tripped on MEL, an oomph leaving her.

Tears blurred her vision.

"Get out of the way!" she cried.

MEL beeped at her.

"No, I'm not okay. Nothing's okay! Now move!"

A sob tried to burst free as Phee stumbled over to her tools, MEL trudging off to the side. Phee dragged the tools over, and set to work, frantic, not even caring about the scabs reopening in her right hand. Each movement and breath seemed to pull at her gut, which hurt immensely even with the pain medicine. Her whole body shook, and she felt barely in control of it. Her ears rang, heart seeming to beat to the wrong rhythm within her, like it was about to fling itself from her chest.

She tried to switch on the damaged communications.

More sparks.

"No, no, I swear…"

Tech had clearly done a number on this. He'd left her alive, but he still had his mission.

Phee couldn't let him succeed. She just couldn't. Pabu was… it was her home. She'd never really had that before Pabu, and it was the same for everyone who lived there. They deserved that safety. Hunter, Echo, Crosshair, Wrecker, and Omega deserved it. 

Tech deserved it.

"Come on, please," she murmured as she worked.

Her spanner fell from her trembling hand.

"Damn it!" she cried.

Pain that was instantly numb and sharp flared in her right hand as she slammed it against the console. Scabs tore, blood trickling.

Holding in a sob, Phee dragged herself up, looking out the viewport. She'd been unconscious long enough for everything to become clear, blinding white. Her body barely wanted to work, yet she had to go out there, had to find someone who could help. She just needed to send a transmission. She had to.

Her mind went to Shep, and Lyanna. What would the Empire do to them? She couldn't let them get hurt, especially not Lyanna.

And not Omega either.

"MEL, I'm going out there."

MEL beeped a warning.

"Yeah, yeah, I know."

Luckily the coat she'd taken off just before all this had simply fallen to the deck and been kicked aside. Phee grabbed it, gritting her teeth hard around a groan as she put it on. There was no way she could stand up straight, but she could stand. Mostly.

She opened the cockpit, and went out into the overpowering white, the light like a hammer to her head.

Please don't let me be too late.

Frantic tears blinded her unsteady path back to the durasteel and rock interior of the spaceport.

***

"I know he's wrong because I love you, Tech."

Tech, or CX-2, or whoever he was, couldn't get Phee's words out of his head. He'd tried, attempting to say it was nothing, it meant nothing, he felt nothing. He wasn't supposed to feel, and how could anyone love him? That wasn't his function. He wasn't meant for it. He didn't even know what love was, exactly.

Sitting in the cockpit of his Dagger, he buffed his RK-3 blaster, trying not to think of the datadrives he'd placed in a small pouch at his belt. He also tried not to think about the fact that Phee was alive. Something in him was glad she was, while the rest of him wanted to turn the ship around and blast her in the chest. Though, thoughts of that had his own chest constricting.

There was still the main mission: find Clone Force 99.

Tech/CX-2 didn't understand much of anything at the moment. He'd supposedly been part of Clone Force 99, but how?

As much as he'd scoured his brain, he didn't retain any previous memories of them save for… the railcars. There was nothing else.

Perhaps there's a malfunction.

Though with what?

His brain?

Hemlock's programming?

Had Hemlock programmed him?

Did he even care that he had?

What was so bad about who he was now? What had been good about who he had been before (if before even existed)?

His RK-3 already shone, any carbon scoring taken off from around the edge of the barrel, but if he stopped he wasn't sure what he'd do with his hands. There was the burning urge to do something, but what? Mostly he wanted to rip into himself, remove every non-organic part, and bleed, and see if he still existed after that. He wanted to remove the metal plate in his head, and dig into his brain, and ask why. WHY?

Yet he could never rebel, didn't really want to. The time till his next dose of pain killers was running short, and there were dull aches in his body he'd learned to count long ago. Oh, how he wanted that next dose. The injections hurt, till the medicine entered him. Those few seconds of a warm, white haze felt so good, even if they did nothing but take his pain. He bounced his leg, and then had to tense his muscles to stop himself. This was no way to act.

Thankfully he'd be arriving at Tantiss soon.

If he was so grateful, then why did his gut clench? His hand drifted to the datadrives of a man he thought he could almost remember.

***

As soon as gunships had flown overhead, Hunter had hissed for everyone to find cover and get down. The sky had darkened to shadowy charcoal, which at least made it easy to know where the gunships were looking, gold-white beams traversing the snowy landscape, dipping in and out of the hills.

The Marauder was only half a klick away. Hunter had been huddled behind a boulder with Omega when the first blue stun bolt whizzed through the air.

"They spotted us!" Echo cried.

"Break cover. Stay low, get to the Marauder."

He helped Omega out of the snow, and pushed her on ahead.

"Go."

"What are you going to do?"

Crosshair caught up to them, cursing as he ducked behind the boulder, dodging a blast, snow flying. Hunter shifted aside with hardly a thought as blue flares of stun blasts came at him.

"I'll see if I can slow them down." he answered. He asked Echo, "You got her?"

He nodded.

"Come on!" Crosshair urged. "I'll take the rear. Now go, go!"

Hunter only spared his family a glance before getting into position behind the boulder, firing over it. Troopers topped the hill above, hard to make out in the stormy night. Unfortunately, Hunter and the rest of his family would be much easier to spot.

He managed to down a stormtrooper, and he was lucky with the next shot as well. At least the gunships that had transported the troopers had landed, clearly not having spotted the Marauder, but two? They hadn't come from the direction of the control tower. This spoke of Hemlock's interference.

There was no time to let himself think of it, not as he ducked and dodged stun blasts, and took down troopers who tried coming down the hill, their bodies tumbling into the snow. He spared a glance behind him, making sure his family was okay. They were lost to him, and while the snow muffled their steps, he could still sense them. They were all heading in the right direction, no new injuries. For now.

His best bet would be to hold the hill behind him.

A shot was fired several meters above his head, coming from behind him. The aim wasn't great, but several more followed in quick succession. Crosshair had had the same idea as him.

"I suggest you get out of there," Crosshair said.

Hunter had to throw himself to the side to dodge a blast, rolling, so he could come back up on his feet quickly. His blaster burn from earlier didn't like that, and neither did his shaken up body.

"Yeah, no kidding!"

Some troopers were setting up a position on the rise, others coming in a forward assault, but more were beginning to get into flanking positions.

Just how many men did Hemlock send after us?

As he retreated, steps steady, aiming and firing repeatedly, Hunter considered leading them away, perhaps more to the north. Though there were too many men to pick off, even with Crosshair's help. Some would go after him, and the rest would go after his family. The Marauder was their only hope.

Hunter tried not to think too far ahead, to how this could mean ruin for their plan.

Wrecker, you'd better be okay.

Even with his worries he couldn't help a fierce grin as he and Crosshair had troopers ducking and crouching to avoid them.

***

The halls of Tantiss seemed like a pulsating, living thing around Wrecker, his body barely real. Emerie had lied to two stormtroopers that he needed to be escorted to another lab, and now they were doing so. Emerie had explained there was a hall on the way to this other lab that if they broke off and went down it it would lead to a communications array.

She was stiff beside his trembling form, her face pale.

Wrecker's heart pounded hard, nearly making him gag. His grip on her access card was trembling, sweaty.

Two stormtroopers could pose a problem, but at least he felt much sturdier with them holding him up. His plan was to ram himself into them, and he might have to do the same to Emerie if she was going to be able to keep helping from the inside.

Any second now.

He stared hard at others they passed, seeing some clones, trudging, shoulders down, heads bent. While Wrecker didn't like regs, no one deserved this. There was no time for his heart to break over their imprisonment.

Yet break it did.

Each hall they passed, Wrecker wondered if they had reached it yet, shoulders rising, waiting, waiting…

"Now," Emerie whispered as a hall opened up to their left.

Well, here goes nothing.

With a cry, Wrecker slammed into Emerie and the trooper on his left. They went down, the trooper's blaster falling from his hands. Emerie pretended to scrabble so it was pushed toward Wrecker.

Huh, clever!

"Hey!" the other trooper called.

Trying to stay on his feet, adrenaline running high, Wrecker put the access card in his mouth, and then grabbed the blaster. His head pounded from bending over, and he swayed.

On instinct, he moved, which had him avoiding a stun blast. It hit Emerie, and she went down with a sigh. Wrecker turned, firing, stunning the trooper. For good measure he stunned the one still trying to get off the floor. After a glance at Emerie, he shambled off into the hall.

Wrecker wasn't the best at stealth, but was wholly cognizant of the ever-present danger around him, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. He took time to peer around every corner, keeping as low as he could. He stunned any trooper he saw before they could see him or react.

They did almost hit him several times, but that was far better than getting stunned.

The farther Wrecker went, the more troopers he downed, the more his heart raced. At any moment now it could all be over. He'd be found, his path would be known, they'd drag him back to Hemlock.

Well, either way he'd be taken again.

Just not before I'm done with this mission!

He came to the door Emerie had described, dead ahead, halls branching off on either side. It was locked, which was one reason he had her card, but… there was no way of knowing if anyone was behind that door.

Here goes nothing.

Wrecker inserted the card, and then quickly ducked to the side as the door slid open. The console and monitors on the wall let him know he was in the right place. Unfortunately, three officers manned it: one armored, two in uniforms.

In a matter of seconds he learned their blasters weren't set to stun.

A curse left Wrecker, and he fell forward onto one knee as the trooper's blast grazed his right leg. This thankfully had him avoiding getting shot through the chest.

With the stim in him he barely felt the burn, though the marred, red wound was visible through the gray trousers he'd been put in. Wrecker managed to take down the trooper, but a man in dark gray sounded an alarm.

Red lights flashed, a siren blaring.

Blast, no!

The doors began to seal.

With a cry, Wrecker threw himself in with them. Failure was not an option. Wrecker just barely took in their shocked expressions as he lunged around the console, and tackled the man closest to him. He headbutted him, the man's nose crunching, blood spraying. As he fell back, Wrecker gained just enough distance to stun him. The officer who had sounded the alarm was still a threat. Wrecker rolled, and attempted to grab the man he'd downed and use him as a shield… only… he didn't have a right arm.

It felt like he did, like he could move it, but it was like it was moving through mud, slower than his left arm. The blaster was shot from his hand.

"Surrender," the officer ordered. "Whatever your plan is, it is futile."

Wrecker grinned at him.

"I wouldn't say that."

With a roar, he surged up, tackling the officer. He nearly got blasted in the side, but the officer thankfully dropped his weapon. Though his left hand made contact with Wrecker's right shoulder.

A scream tore from him, pain blinding him, everything seeming to sway.

Yet he took the officer with him as he went down, releasing his blaster so he could grab his face and slam it into the floor. A red haze taking over his vision, and he screamed as he slammed the officer's head against the floor again, and again. He didn't stop till he realized blood had flown, and the man's breathing was a bubbling, hissing wheeze. The breaths faded to nothing.

A soft hiss sounded from above Wrecker. He glanced up as yellow gas began to seep from the vents. 

***

"There!" Omega cried. "I see the Marauder!"

Echo glanced back toward the steady incline the Marauder was on, and he could make out the sharp angles of its wings through the snow. He'd turned to defend Omega, picking off troopers who had managed to circle around Hunter, and Crosshair.

"Run, run!" Echo urged her. "Go!"

Hunter, and Crosshair slid down the hill before him, which made them easier targets, but they were closer to safety. Echo's heart was in his throat at the realization they were almost surrounded.

However, from what troopers he could see, and could guess from the number of stun blasts lighting up the night in flashes, not all of them were on the ground. Enough must have stayed behind to man the gunships.

Hunter and Crosshair were nearly back to back now, taking down as many troopers as they could, but they weren't unbeatable. Echo had his aim on a trooper in Imperial commando armor, but then had to roll to the side to avoid getting blasted from the left. The Imperial commando aimed, fired.

The stun blast hit Crosshair.

"No!" Echo yelled.

"Crosshair?" Hunter asked.

The strangest thing happened: Crosshair stumbled, nearly fell to his knees, and then straightened.

How…?

There was no time to question it, not as a trooper Echo hadn't seen fired from several meters to his right.

Blast!

Eyes widening, he dropped. Stun blasts had their ups and downs when it came to dealing with them in combat. The up was that it wouldn't kill you. The downs were that only one hit was needed to down you, and they were larger than regular bolts, making them harder to dodge.

Instead of simply moving to the side, Echo had to throw himself to the ground, hoping to make himself as flat as possible. Snow crunched beneath him.

The trooper was on him, kicking him in the head, before he could fully realize it. Even as pain radiated through his jaw, and his helmet went flying off, exposing his skin to freezing, biting air, training kicked in. Echo rolled, expecting the trooper to attempt to get on him. He did, which allowed Echo to shoot him through the abdomen. A stray stun blast was fired as he fell onto him, hitting Echo's right foot.

Electricity flashed and fizzled, the sensation like a shock traveling up into his spine. Echo fired again for good measure, and rolled the trooper off of himself. He managed to grab his helmet with his scomp in time and use it to deflect a blast, though now his comms certainly wouldn't work.

Donning his helmet, he managed to turn in time to take down the other trooper closing in with two blasts to the torso.

The lights of the Marauder came on, engines powering up. Omega had made it.

By the time Echo looked back to Hunter, and Crosshair they were already toiling up the slope, Crosshair slower than before, but still standing.

How in the hell?

"Can't wait to take this party to space," Echo commented as they reached him.

"Yeah, let's see if we make it that far," Hunter said. Then he must have been speaking into his comms because he said, "On it."

"My comms are busted," Echo told him.

"Omega's on her way."

"Thank the Force," Crosshair gasped out.

There was a steady roar as the Marauder rose into the air. Calls from the troopers sounded as they no doubt relayed information into their comms. Some stilled, holding their positions, others tried to get in closer. The night became so full of blasts that Echo could still see the trail of them when he blinked.

Exhaustion shivered along every one of his muscles, and his arm twinged so badly he wasn't sure how he was still raising his blaster.

The Marauder swooped in, the fizzle of shields absent, the power probably re-routed. The forward facing guns fired, again, again. Troopers screamed, either blasted apart, severely injured, or thrown from the blasts. Omega picked off the ones to their right first, and quickly turned, hovering above the ground just in front of them.

The ramp lowered, and they raced for the Marauder (though Echo's "run" was more of a shuffling limp).

A stun blast hit his left leg just as he reached the ramp, burning stabs flashing up his spine. He went down, grabbing hold of the ramp, as he cried out.

***

The gas must have been heavy, as it was billowing down toward the floor.

There was no time to contemplate what it was.

Wrecker hauled himself up, trying to get a sense of the controls. His head pounded all of a sudden. His eyes watered, nose, and throat burning. It took him three tries to put in Emerie's access card. At least the computer accepted it, he supposed. He hadn't been entirely sure just how much access Hemlock would allow her to have, what freedoms he'd led her to believe were real.

A hot stench akin to sparking metal shoved itself up his nostrils, like he was breathing in flames. Wrecker tried to cover his mouth and nose with the right arm he didn't have, the phantom limb moving in slow motion once more.

The console doubled in his vision, buttons and controls and lights like a myriad of blue and white streaks. He groaned, limbs shaking as he fought with everything he had to remain standing.

"No," he groaned.

No, no. I have to—

A strange pricking sensation seeped into his body, almost like small zaps from electricity. Finding just the right buttons was difficult, the whirl of red and blue lights as nauseating as it was confusing.

What am I supposed to be doing?

What's my mission?

I…

I…

Coordinates.

Have to… have to send out… location.

Have to…

With clumsy fingers that were starting to sting inside and burn, like his nerves had electrical currents running through them, Wrecker transmitted the location of Tantiss out into the galaxy.

Please…

Choking agony drove him to the floor, a cloud of yellow blinding him.

***

Hunter turned, and grabbed Echo, hauling him up just in time: a stun blast hit where he had been lying helpless. He dragged him inside, Echo having to stay sitting on the deck while the others rushed about. Hunter took over as pilot, Omega now co-piloting, the both of them flipping switches, and pressing buttons nearly as quickly as Tech could. Arm shrieking at him, Echo managed to get himself into one of the seats.

Crosshair rushed to the stern to man the gunner's mount, stumbling and hunched over around his wound, but otherwise staying on his feet.

"Reroute power to the shields," Hunter said to Omega. "This is gonna be rough."

"On it. Rerouting power."

Realizations were spinning in Echo's head, a million strategies forming and being tossed aside, brain looking for the right one, and...

Oh no.

His stomach sank, a pit forming.

No, no.

They were beginning to take off, wind shaking them badly, when a blast slammed into the port side wing, the force of it like getting shoved. The Marauder shifted into a slight roll, metal groaning.

The single blast rather than the focused laser of a particle beam spoke of some of the troopers having carried rocket launchers. Great. At least they hadn't used them till they were on the ship. Hemlock wanted them captured, not killed, and not many survived a rocket launcher.

Echo's realization still hung heavy in him, like it was dragging his body down, even as they rose through the air, angling up forty-five degrees.

"Hunter, those gunships didn't come from the base, and I guarantee they didn't come from the spaceport," Echo informed him.

"Yeah, I know."

"Two ships on the scanner," Omega informed Hunter.

"I see them."

"Hunter, they're from Tantiss," Echo went on.

"I know."

How was he still not getting it?

"Hunter!"

"What?" he snapped.

"Those gunships can't travel through hyperspace."

Hunter paused, shoulders hitching, Omega easily taking over, though there was tension in her movements.

"There's another star destroyer up there," Hunter realized.

"Yes," Echo heaved out.

"We need to get off-world, alive, first," Hunter said, voice hard because it had to be. "That's our priority. Be at the hyperdrive computer," he went on softly. "Just in case."

Echo nodded, and dragged himself over to the hyperspace computers, the deck humming beneath him. Somehow Tech's absence still felt like a horrible presence within the ship, and his goggles being on the console weren't helping at the moment. The urge to sweep them aside rose up within him, but he couldn't do that. He had to focus. They had to get out alive.

Yet their plan…

How were they ever going to save Wrecker, save Tech, save all the clones?

Exhaustion waited to spring in and take him, but he clenched his jaw. Not yet. Not now.

Echo linked up to the ship's computers.

They all laughed.

Echo: "No, thank you."

Echo crouched down by Omega.

"How are you holding up?" he asked her.

"I certainly wouldn't mind hitting a growth spurt," she joked.

"Don't grow up on us too fast, kid," Hunter told her.

They'd already lost time as it was.

"Why? Scared I'm gonna be taller than you?" she teased.

Despite joking around, Omega took the time to lift up her helmet, and have some water from her canteen, her cheeks flushed. Hunter, and Echo followed her lead. The water was too icy for Hunter's taste, a sharp burning filling his insides at its passage. Nothing that more jogging couldn't fix.

Omega gave Hunter a thumbs up, and he searched out a path ahead. This part of the ravine plunged down for a ways in the south, the north side many feet above it. Going down wasn't an option as the boulders that jutted out from the other side made too narrow of a gap at the bottom.

"Echo, go ahead, stick to the north side. I'll go next to help Omega."

Echo nodded, and jogged ahead, easily finding a safe path up the rock wall. The strength in his left arm, and shoulder always impressed Hunter, and he had to resist the urge to cheer Echo on like they were in training.

A sigh came from Omega.

"You okay?" Hunter asked.

"I really do wish I was taller than you."

And I hope I get to see it happen, kid.

"At least you won't get taller than me," Crosshair added.

"Oh, shut up," Omega said with a laugh.

"And I can always get myself longer legs," Echo panted out.

They all laughed, though Echo's was more of a grunt as he engaged his chest and shoulders to heave himself up.

"All right, cut the chatter. Let's keep moving."

Hunter bounded up after Echo, Omega sticking close.

***

CX-2 considered letting Phee Genoa die as the knife clattered to the deck.

He could always tell Hemlock…

What would he tell him?

No, he required that information on Clone Force 99.

Hot blood left CX-2 a little too warm where it had found his clothes under his armor. It had splashed onto his whole front, getting on his torso, his legs, and it was all over his gloves. Phee was covered in it, and more was pumping out of her, her dark skin taking on a deathly pallor.

A strange note of terror and despair niggled at CX-2's consciousness. He ignored it, just as he ignored the way his lips still tingled from that kiss.

The slash in the pirate's abdomen could easily be deadly from the blood loss, but as her chest still rose and fell in her stupor—albeit in shallow gasps and pants—there was still a chance he could save her.

CX-2 leaned in, using his whole left forearm to put pressure against the wound. A wheezing grunt left the pirate, but she otherwise did not wake. Training kicked in, mind running through all the tools available to him, and what he knew of the wound. Without his helmet the smell of blood was thick, and cloying, but it was all he smelled, meaning in their struggle they hadn't perforated any of her gastrointestinal organs. He was sure Phee had medical supplies on her ship, though he couldn't reach them without taking pressure off the wound.

The droid.

He'd deactivated the droid, leaving it in one of the passages.

Well, this is certainly going to be complicated.

Without even pausing to consider the distastefulness of what he was about to do, CX-2 tugged his bloodied gloves off using his mouth so he could still keep pressure on the wound. They fell to the deck, and he spat out what blood he could, somehow not gagging with it all hot in his mouth. With unbloodied hands that wouldn't slip around, he was able to uncuff the pirate's other hand.

Despite how this might jostle her too much, CX-2 removed her leather jacket, then wrapped it around her, tying it as tightly around the wound as he could, and laid her flat on the deck.

Without pausing to check if she was still breathing—there was no time for that—he went to activate the droid.

The droid attempted to shock him when it came to, but he easily dodged.

"Droid, your owner is dying. I request you direct me to the medical supplies aboard this ship."

Thankfully, it responded immediately, though of course it had to be this lumbering piece of junk that he depended on at the moment. Once he had supplies he'd be more in his element. The droid led him to a compartment in the hull by the cockpit.

The couple of pounds the medkit weighed promised a good amount of supplies. Once CX-2 held it, he deactivated the droid (though it did try shocking him again).

The deck clunked beneath CX-2's boots as he raced back over to the pirate. In a manner of seconds he was rifling through the medkit, the taste of the pirate's blood heavy in his mouth, and it seemed it was all he was breathing.

Ah, there was a laser cauterizer!

Knowing he surely only had seconds, CX-2 untied the pirate's jacket, lifted up her tunic to her chest, and got to work. He had to hold her down with his bloodied forearm against her collarbone, hand still gripping her blood-soaked tunic to keep it out of the way, as the pain seemed to be shocking her into wakefulness, a cry leaving her. CX-2 pinned her slim legs down with his knee.

She lost consciousness again as the wound closed, and he slathered it with bacta. Agonized moans left her as he sat her up, her head resting against his chest, soft hair at his chin, and he bandaged her abdomen with careful precision. For some reason this closeness made his heart race. CX-2 was all too grateful to lie her back down when he was done.

Now, this next part was going to be unpleasant as he would have to deal with her screams, but it was necessary to keep her alive.

CX-2 searched the medkit again, getting blood on quite a few supplies. After finding one of the stims, he injected it into her arm.

She woke.

***

Someone was groaning, crying out, and Phee just wanted them to stop. With the way it felt like every cell in a line along her abdomen was being obliterated, burned to a crisp by a star ship jet primed for hyperspace, the sound was too much.

Several sharp, sore jabs assaulted her right arm, one after the other.

She was shivering, dizzy, and freezing like she'd been out in the snow, unprotected, for an hour. The uncomfortable puddle of wetness around her only provided a little bit of warmth.

A device beeped, and she tried to open her eyes. Her eyelids didn't quite listen to her, fighting to stay closed.

"Wha-what…?"

"The knife you foolishly attempted to end your life with slashed through your abdomen when I tried to seize it from you," a familiar voice said. Though the tone was as cold as she was.

Phee managed to open her eyes. Tech's scarred face met her, though her vision swam. Scars. When did he…?

Tech.

"Oh," she sighed, trying to reach an arm up. "Tech. But… not Tech."

He grasped her arm tightly, till it ached.

A small moan left her, her head lolling to the side, eyes closing, as another sharp, sore pain jabbed into her upper arm. Fuzzy warmth washed through her. The burning in her abdomen faded to something still agonizing but slightly more manageable.

"You're delirious from blood loss."

Oh. So that's what she was lying in.

I should be more worried.

No, Tech's got it.

Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she tried reaching for Tech again.

"I…" I missed you so much.

Blue lights flooded her vision from the scanner Tech was using. To her surprise, he then grabbed what might have been a sonic scalpel and sliced into the back of his bare hand. He didn't even flinch. He scanned his blood, and a small sigh of relief left him.

Phee tried to sit up, and the burning in her abdomen became a soreness.

With a cry, she gave up on that notion. Her head swam far too much as it was.

"Stay down," Tech ordered.

Phee laughed, though quickly learned the torment of it, crying out.

"You're cute when you give me orders."

"I… Never mind. I need you alive."

"Mm, I bet you do."

"Blood loss, pain medication," he explained, though his tone suggested he was talking more to himself.

Tech grabbed her arm again, and two mechanical fingers pressed against her, along with the three flesh ones.

"Someone took your fingers," Phee bemoaned.

He lifted her sleeve, and then a sharp pain slid into the crook of her arm. The pain grew and grew as he wasn't exactly being gentle with her.

Weird.

"Ow! Hey."

Tech ignored her, doing who knew what with a tube, and muttering something about hoping clone blood wasn't too different.

Her vision was fuzzy, black around the edges.

"I don't… I don't like this."

"Yes, well, I have ensured you haven't enjoyed a single second since I arrived."

"Why wouldn't I like being with you?" she got out.

"I was torturing you," he replied simply. Tech, always so blunt.

Wait…

No.

This couldn't be right.

She tried to focus her vision, but it doubled, tripled. Something red ran through a tube that connected the both of them, and Tech's scars were quite visible. She reached for his hand.

His fingers wrapped around her own, but squeezed a little too tightly.

"Torture," she said, trying out the word. "I always knew you'd be weird in bed."

"This is by far the strangest interrogation I've ever done."

"In—interr— What?"

"Must I gag you until you're less delirious?" he snapped.

"Jeez, somebody woke… woke on the wrong side of the bed."

A frustrated sigh left Tech, sounding harsher than she was used to.

All of him was much harsher than the Tech she remembered.

"Am I dreaming?"

Something hot ran into her arm. Mm, that was sooooooo nice.

"No."

Phee wandered in a haze for who knew how long. Tears wet her face again.

"I am dreaming," she muttered. "You're dead. You're dead. Please, I want to wake up. It hurts too much. No, no, don't do this to me. Don't make me think he's alive," she begged.

She started to sob, but had to quickly stop by holding her breath as pain so violent she feared she'd die took over her abdomen.

A whine escaped her, but she was able to let out a breath.

"Please, come home," she muttered. "Pabu. Our home. Pabu."

Something seemed to change in him, and she managed to open her eyes. His face was nearly gentle now. He lightened his hold on her hand, and the other hand cupped her cheek.

"Yes, I can't wait to see home again," he said. "Pabu—it's been so long. I've almost forgotten it."

"Outer… outer rim," she sighed. "So pretty… such a lovely island. You told me… you told me once it reminded you of Kam—Kaminoa… Kamino. Being surrounded by water. I was… I was going home."

His thumb brushed her cheek, and she leaned into it.

"Will you go home with me?"

A smile grew on her face as he nodded.

"Yes. I'll go home with you."

Phee tilted her head up to kiss him (had she done that before? She couldn't really remember), and his lips met hers. He was a bit unsure, but she didn't care because it was Tech. A small mmph left him as she gently sucked on his bottom lip.

Tech pulled away, and had her lie back down.

"Rest. We'll be there soon."

Warmth pulled her under.

***

CX-2's headache had grown worse the longer he'd spoken with Phee. No, not Phee. She was just a pirate. She had to be.

Just a pirate.

Then why did she seem so familiar, almost as if they had met before?

He knew he had a job to do, and he had played the part she expected. Pabu. He'd never heard of it, and he'd memorized every known planet and moon in the galaxy—which made it the perfect place to hide from the Empire.

The Trandoshan had informed him that Clone Force 99 had gone off with this pirate, meaning wherever she called home, it was certainly their home, their refuge.

His whole body tingled with the urge to search the ship's logs, but he had to stay here, giving Phee blood until he was sure she would live. Exhaustion pulled at him as he gave her his life, and he was a bit shaky and nauseous. These things tended to be easy to ignore, but she had somehow left him unmoored.

Though he'd been playing a part when he'd kissed her, something about it had been enjoyable. Surely it was the simple pleasure of touch; his brain producing dopamine, and oxytocin, and perhaps a bit of adrenaline.

CX-2 had been trained to withstand pain, but he couldn't recall that training with pleasure.

Though, for some reason he couldn't remember, the very idea of pleasure seemed to be connected to Hemlock in his brain, which made little sense. Not that it was often on his mind. His mind belonged to Hemlock as well. Only the mission mattered.

And this mission was turning out to be quite strange.

Glimpses of this pirate smiling at him before a vast ocean and pale blue sky spread out into the distance flashed in his mind, headache seemingly burrowing into his brain. For some reason those images—or whatever they were—came with a comforting warmth in his chest, and the smell of salt on clean air. He… couldn't remember ever feeling that before: comfort. It was so foreign he decided to discard it, falling back into cold calculation, and finding peace in that. Yet he couldn't get the smell of the ocean out of his nose—probably a memory from Kamino.

Once Phee was well enough, he'd check the ship's logs. Too bad he had to kill her after he was sure he'd gotten all the information he needed. Giving his blood just to have it bleed out of her hours later was… regretful. There was no way out of this, however. It wouldn't do to have a loose end out in the galaxy, especially one that had such ridiculous notions about him.

Phee Genoa would die.

***

Emerie nearly pulled back from Wrecker, but she was a little too frightened of him to do so. Despite all the wonderful stories Omega had told her of Wrecker's kindness, he was in an agitated state at the moment—which she couldn't blame him for—and she didn't know how he'd react.

"Wrecker, I believe accepting your circumstances will be far more beneficial than resisting," Emerie said slowly.

Though, she knew none of Clone Force 99 was very good at that. It had taken quite awhile before Crosshair had become compliant, Tech was constantly a work in progress, it seemed (one she had never had the chance to tell Omega of), and Omega had never once accepted it.

Emerie couldn't lie, that was something she loved and admired about her sister, but couldn't discern why.

And while Emerie cared for Wrecker in her own way, cared for the man who loved her sister like she did, there wasn't much she could do for him. She'd tried to help Crosshair in his mission before she'd met Omega, but that had ultimately failed, and had broken apart rather quickly.

No one could get in or out of Tantiss without Hemlock's say so. For awhile that had made Emerie feel quite secure, but from all her talks with Omega, she wasn't sure anymore. Lately she found herself almost flinching at Hemlock's words, rather than eagerly doing everything he said, rather than forgetting others were in the room when he was present.

"Is that what you think?" Wrecker asked.

For some reason her chest began to feel quite hot, discomforting tingles running through her body. She turned her head away.

"I…"

Before Emerie could answer—what was she even supposed to say?—the ray shield went down.

"Ah, good. You're awake, Wrecker."

The sound of Hemlock's voice had her nearly jump. She tried to contain it by tensing her shoulders. Wrecker released her immediately, turning to Hemlock, a rumbling growl in his chest.

Emerie managed to get away from Wrecker in case he got violent. Not that she entirely blamed him given what he had been through, but it was foolish. Hemlock had saved his life.

Hemlock entered with two Imperial commandos, and two more flanked the door.

The room seemed to shrink with every one of his steps. Emerie tried to look at her datapad. She had a job to do, which was to evaluate Wrecker's condition.

"How are you feeling?" Hemlock asked.

"Like you care," Wrecker spat.

He tried to rise, Emerie backing away. Wrecker failed, and he had to sit back down with a groan.

"Emerie?" Hemlock asked, favoring her with a look, left eyebrow slightly raised.

She took a deep breath, and reported, "His breathing's finally stable, cranial pressure is normal, though some burns have yet to heal, and he is… not acclimating well to losing an arm."

"Hmm, as predicted."

Emerie took her place at Hemlock's side, but for some reason that made her sick to her stomach. She tried to avoid meeting Wrecker's glare. Shaking wracked his body; clearly from struggling to remain still.

"Now, Wrecker, I believe it's time to give up the act. You don't have all your strength. Why don't you simply lie back down?"

"What, so you can torture me?"

"I certainly have questions. Starting with wishing to know what your plan was."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Hemlock was grinning now, getting dangerously close, hands clasped behind his back.

"Oh, don't you? The feigned attack on the former Grand Republic Medical Facility was clearly your group's work, and quite obvious, I might add. The trackers found on both your body, and the ship that took you from Coruscant was also nearly clever, but not clever enough. Yet here you are. Now, I'm sure you didn't imagine yourself in quite a horrible state for whatever your plan was."

Wrecker didn't have time to jerk away before Hemlock was running his hand along the bandaged stump by his right shoulder. The touch wouldn't leave him in much pain, but it was enough to have Wrecker gritting his teeth, tense. A shudder passed through him, one Emerie was sure she felt in her stomach.

"Get away from me," Wrecker ground out.

His right eye had a fire in it that made Emerie clench her teeth. Before she could shout a warning, Wrecker swung with his left arm. Hemlock must have predicted such a thing because he easily stepped out of his reach.

The swing unbalanced Wrecker and he toppled onto his right side. His scream left Emerie wincing. Though she immediately tried to make her face blank as she realized Hemlock was looking at her. What thoughts lay behind his eyes in that look?

Wrecker nearly fell off the table he'd been placed on as he tried to move away from the pain, to right himself with an arm that wasn't there.

"Restrain him," Hemlock ordered, his voice hard, commanding.

Emerie stepped closer to him to let the Imperial commandos by to do as instructed. She'd done it without even realizing it.

"Emerie," he said, voice soft, "reduce his pain medication. Maybe with only half a dose he'll be ready to talk in a few hours."

"Yes, Doctor."

"Follow me out once you've completed the task. I need to speak with you."

Without thinking, she nodded, and went to do as he said, no matter how much Wrecker pleaded.

Yet she couldn't forget the strength in him, the earnest look on his face, as he'd, I need your help.

Once Emerie had typed in the changed instructions, and was about to tell Wrecker to do as Hemlock said, she hesitated, mouth open. To her surprise, Wrecker didn't glare at her as he did everyone else, even as she… hurt him. His face softened, eyes big. Words caught in her throat.

"Dr. Karr, come along," Hemlock ordered, back already turned to leave the room.

Emerie glanced at him, then at Wrecker.

A small groan left him through teeth clamped tightly shut.

"Dr. Karr," Hemlock called, tone sharp enough to make Emerie's shoulders rise.

She was good at reading his moods after years at his side, and he only truly called her Dr. Karr when he was irritated, dropping all notion of their personal connection, turning her into nothing but a subordinate. If she complied he'd call her Emerie again.

Oh, how she wanted that.

"Go, Emerie," Wrecker said. "I'll be okay," he lied.

Chest tight, she left Omega's brother to suffering, and followed Hemlock out.

And she was just as curious as Hemlock: what was Wrecker's plan?