#trans clone week

Commando Group 187-C3 “Eddy Squad”—Incident Report #597

Dates involved: 7952.98.1–7952.725.4

Description: RC-3119 stole proprietary Kaminoan medical technology, modified it, and implanted it in himself herself and RC-3120 without physician supervision. Despite this, the self-inflicted “procedure” had no lasting side-effects, and subsequent evaluations have deemed them suitable to continue Commando training. 

—

It was the only option I had left. Well, it wasn’t the only option, but I was 7 and my anti-authoritarian streak was in full swing. Kinda funny for someone bred to be a soldier to have a problem with authority, but hey, I’m a Clone Commando. It’s kinda my job to be outside the norm.

Let me introduce myself. I’m Jack (the Kaminoans call me RC-3119), the Technology and Medical specialist of Eddy Squad. My sisters in the squad have been effective since the first battle of Geonosis, and we get better every mission. If you don’t know much about the GAR besides the headlines, you may be surprised by my use of “sisters”, but we clones are more than just a string of identical men. General Windu (my boss) once told me that every individual, even a clone, has their own signature in the Force. I’m not sure I believe him, but it’s certainly a hell of a lot more compelling than whatever “scientific” explanations the Kaminoans tried coming up with to explain us. For a while they just completely denied we exist, so I’m hesitant to believe their “expertise” about our own personal lives. 

Let me tell you the story about how I broke some regulations and wrote the new ones.

We first-gen clones had a slightly different upbringing than the shinies you see fighting today. No older clones to give us advice. No hands-on training with the Jedi, none of the spiritual guidance the new kids get today. And we were pretty isolated from the galaxy at large, given we were a secret project nobody knew about. So our only social contact was the Kaminoans (who kept us at arms length so we never got close to them), the mercenaries they brought in to train us (who only stayed for a year or two at most), and each other. Obviously, we were exceptionally close with our squad, but we also had plenty of contact across divisions and battalions. Beyond the loyalty to our brothers and the Republic, we basically had to develop our own society. Weird rituals were developed partially out of superstition, partly out of boredom. Our idea of family is, I suspect, very different from most beings in the Galaxy. And gender…

Most of us first-gens didn’t conceptualize our own gender until we were about 6. That might sound normal for most humans and near-humans, but remember, we age twice as fast. When we started learning about galactic cultures in the programs, we started imagining ourselves as part of a larger society. At about the same time, Eddy Squad and several other commando groups were being trained by the mercenary Sugi. And she was…everything I wanted to be. Incredibly skilled, irreverent of power structures, but believed in honor and justice. She would always say, “Never break an oath. Your skills are one thing, but if you don’t use them with honor, you’re no better than a common thug.” And she was just so effortlessly her. So I started emulating her, first skills, then philosophy. But I realized something was missing. Something…a bit more ephemeral.

—

I first met Sister in the mess hall. The 187th and the 302nd were doing basic tactics training together. I usually ate with Eddy Squad, but I’d stayed late, staring at an encyclopedia page about Zabrak society. Having grabbed my food, I noticed an open seat across from a clone with her short hair in a few braids. I ask if I can sit there. 

“Of course you can, we’re family. I’m Sister, and these are my brothers in Charger squad. Do you have a name like Colt and Bronco here? Or do you still go by your Number, like Six-Oh-Three and Two-Nine?” 

I’d never really thought about having a name back then. It hadn’t felt important. We were all numbers, cogs in the GAR machine. “Uh I’m RC-3119. But my squad are all RC-31s, so I’m usually called Nineteen”

“Ooooh boys did you hear that? We’re sitting with a future Commando. Colt, do you want anything signed?” He grumbled something about wanting to be an ARC trooper not a Commando, before Sister continued “So what brings a Commando over to a table full of regs? I thought you always stayed as a squad.”

“I stayed late at class, just kinda staring at my notes and thinking. I told the rest of Eddy Squad they could eat without me.” It was enough of the truth without saying something embarrassing.

Most of Charger squad went back to chatting amongst themselves, but Sister kept talking to me. “Staring off into the distance and thinking? Maybe about your mercenary mentors? Done that plenty of times, Nineteen. Self-reflection is a pretty good teacher.” Her implications were pretty obvious, and suddenly “Nineteen” felt incredibly, viscerally wrong. My demeanor change must’ve been obvious, because she asked, “Was that…too relatable?”

I felt the urge to whisper. “How did—how did you know?” I had never felt so seen, so exposed, not even when I kriffed up a training exercise. 

She just smiled and said, “call it a hunch. How you approached me sitting down. It was different from a curious brother.”

I don’t remember much of the rest of the conversation, but she clearly enjoyed talking with me because we remain friends to this day. After that night, I told the other Eddies I was a girl, and they were just as supportive as Charger squad was. Slowly, one by one, the rest of them came out too, until none of us were going to be the men the Jedi had ordered. But we’re still clones, so we gave each other our names.

—

7952.98.1, 1526 hours: RC-3119 submits Form 306.768 requesting Estradiol (“Request 1”) 7952.98.1, 1527 hours: Request 1 immediately rejected, as Estradiol is not on the approved medication list 7952.98.1, 1539 hours: RC-3119 again submits Form 306.768 requesting Estradiol, with slight differences (“Request 2”) 7952.98.1, 2034 hours: Junior Researcher Elo Panil reviews Request 2. He rejects Request 2 and attaches the standardized uses of Testosterone in human male development. 7952.98.2, 0921 hours: RC-3119 again submits Form 306.768 requesting Estradiol (“Request 3”), this time attached with Tag #34 (“appeal tag”) and six research papers (see Appendices Jenth–Nern) 7952.98.2, 0943 hours: Junior Researcher Elo Panil refers Request 3 to Disciplinary Committee and Genetic Council 7952.98.2, 1313 hours: Disciplinary Committee begins deliberation 7952.98.2, 1656 hours: Disciplinary Committee submits recommendation “to threaten decommission” to Genetic Council  7952.98.2, 1738 hours: Genetic Council tables discussion of Request 3 7952.98.3, 1000 hours: Genetic Council continues discussion of Request 3 7952.98.3, 1855 hours: Genetic Council tables discussion of Request 3 7952.98.4, 1030 hours: Genetic Council continues discussion of Request 3 7952.98.4, 1223 hours: Genetic Council votes 5-4 against Request 3 7952.98.4, 1911 hours: Chief Scientist Nala Se formally rejects Request 3

—

Puberty is hell for most humans and those adjacent, but when you have to go thru it twice as fast, it really sucks. Even worse when you go thru the wrong one. By the time testosterone had really started kicking in, I was done. I knew from the anatomy programs that humans could easily change their sex by simply changing what hormones were coursing thru their veins, so I set my heart on that.

Little did I know how much trouble I would get into. But even knowing, I still wouldn’t change a thing.

One of the most common forms I have to fill out on a daily basis is Form 306.768: Requisition for Medical Supplies. While the glamor of the field medic comes from patching up people and keeping everyone alive in the fight, that’s the easy part. Adrenaline is a hell of a drug for both treated and treater. No, most of my actual mental load as a medic is spent filling out forms. It’s still just as boring as when I started my med training (but not boring enough that I can do it on autopilot). But you can always fill it out for personal requests, and for most clones it’s actually sleeping pills to deal with insomnia. 

So 7-year-old me, Med trainee dealing with hellish puberty, thinks “why not fill out 306.768 to request estrogen?” Honestly, it’s kind of hilarious I thought it would be that easy back then. So I diligently filled out the form, and pressed submit. 

The initial rejection was so fast, I thought it was an error. 

So I went over my formatting, changed a few words to make sure it didn’t get flagged as a duplicate, and resubmitted it. 

It took a few hours to get the rejection notice this time. At least this time, it had some reasons attached. “Testosterone improves muscle mass and other athletic abilities. Eliminating it would decrease the effectiveness of a soldier in the Grand Army of the Republic.” 

I was fuming. You know what else decreases the effectiveness of a soldier? Hating yourself and your body so much you don’t want to do anything besides run away and cry. 

But by the next day, I was able to pull myself together enough to send in the form again, this time with a detailed explanation of why I needed estrogen, along with multiple research papers from across the galaxy showing why estrogen does not decrease athletic effectiveness. 

This rejection notice took several days to arrive, and was apparently written by Nala Se herself. I had been holding out one last hope that someone on the research team would finally understand, but apparently none of them saw the value of soldiers outside their own ideals. There was even a veiled threat about being 99’d.

That’s when I knew I had to take matters into my own hands. Embrace the Slicer lifestyle. I had gotten the name “Jack” from being able to plug into any computer jack (and I mean any, not just the standard droid ports) and extract the information I needed. I had already sliced into the Holonet at large and began importing culture beyond the carefully curated media the Kaminoans liked to show us. I’m honestly not sure why they tried keeping so much from us, that kind of exposure made me fall in love with every part of the Republic, not just the Core. The Taris undercity, in particular, put out some of the best techno music and some of the greatest Slicer philosophers. Those that embraced the freedom and self-expression of doing it yourself, rather than just seeing slicing as a technical skill. 

And now it was my turn.

The Kaminoans had some old research on creating organic computers from human tissue. I’m honestly not sure why they didn’t progress further on it, it seemed light-years ahead of the the rest of the galaxy’s biotech research. The process for growing a chip seemed simple enough, and the programming of “create xesh amount of estradiol each day” wouldn’t be much harder. Only problem was, the tech needed to grow one would not be easily requisitioned. 

So I did the only logical thing: steal it.

Okay, it was more like borrowing, because I was never planning on keeping it forever, but the higher-ups would almost certainly see it as stealing. I was going to copy the specs too, and see if I could build one myself (and improve on it). Ironic that we call all of it slicing, when this would be the first slice I did that involved literally slicing into something using a scalpel. 

—

7952.306.5, 2357 hours: during routine inventory of Genetics Lab 45-23, a B37D cell programmer was reported as missing 7952.307.1, 0630 hours: inspections looking for the B37D cell programmer find it at 187-C3’s computer terminal. All 4 members brought in for questioning separately.  7952.307.1, 0645 hours: blood tests reveal both RC-3119 and RC-3120 have Estradiol and Testosterone levels consistent with human girls at their biological age. RC-3121 and RC-3122 have hormone levels consistent with other clones. A Disciplinary Committee meeting is called into session. 7952.307.1, 1230 hours: despite refusing to offer information about the stolen B37D, RC-3121 and RC-3122 are released to their programs 7952.307.1, 1300 hours: RC-3119 and RC-3120 are placed in the same room in an attempt to elicit answers from both

—

For more context in the rest of this story, I need to introduce you to the leader of Eddy Squad, and my partner in crime for this escapade, Spice (aka RC-3120). She’s been basically been our leader since we first learned how to walk and talk. She can talk her way out of pretty much any situation, and can fight out of the rest of them. Her hand-to-hand skills were top of every chart on Kamino, and it translated onto the battlefield: her preferred weapon these days is an electrostaff she took from a MagnaGuard she destroyed (that little stunt got her promoted to Lieutenant). But above all, she doesn’t break anyone’s trust; she never shares a secret. This is both highly valued by Republic Intelligence and loathed by GAR Police. 

She’s also the second member of Eddy Squad to come out. While I’m pretty masculine despite being a woman, she’s deep into her femininity. So when I told her that I was planning on modding myself, she wanted in too. 

Stealing the cell programmer was easy enough. There was a genetics lab storage closet that had a spare programmer, and as a Med trainee, I had access to the science levels. I went after one of my programs on the level. I stayed a bit late to “finish up” my report, then when nobody was looking, I went to the genetics lab. The outer lock was easy enough to slice into, and the storage space still had its door left open. And security recordings wouldn’t’ve caught me either, I had set up a basic recording loop as I walked to the lab. After grabbing it, I simply dropped it off at our squad’s terminal (it was small enough I could put it in an empty drawer). 

To build a bio-computer for humans, you first need human stem cells. They’re easy enough to acquire, as bone marrow is full of them. After a simple extraction, I placed the cells into the programmer’s gel matrix (thankfully, it used a standard bacta gel so I wouldn’t have to requisition anything suspicious). I had already written the necessary code, so the programmer got to work growing the bio-implant. It would function as an artificial organ, responding to other hormone levels to produce healthy amounts of E. And after about a week, it was fully grown and ready for implantation.

Spice and I were the only ones awake for it. We didn’t want to implicate anyone else, have anyone else suffer consequences. I made a small incision with a plasma scalpel into the skin on the side my rib cage, where two parts of Katarn-class armor would overlap. Wouldn’t want a lucky shot from a clanker to damage it. As Spice held the gel matrix, I used a pincer to extract my hard work from it. She asked, “You ready? There’s no going back.” 

“There never was.”

I gently tucked the mod underneath the skin flap, and closed it up with microsutures. The thin film of bacta on the implant caused it to instantly integrate with my body. I felt an immediate thrill. Brand-new blood vessels branched off of my existing ones, and fused with the pre-grown capillaries of the mod. A rush of new cells growing around the chip making it a part of me. I swear I could feel it come to life. That’s when I knew, I was finally becoming myself. 

Spice clearly saw I was enjoying myself. “Girl, when you come down off that high, I’m gonna need you to start growing one for me.” She disposed of the used gel matrix, and started preparing a new one as I slowly came back to my senses. She had planned to wait for a week and see how I felt first, but it seemed like that had gone out the viewport.

As I got up, I grabbed the autosyringe. “You sure you don’t want to wait and see how this goes for me?” I ask her. “I might’ve messed up something in the process.” 

She turns to me, “Jack, I’ve seen your slicing and medic skills. There’s no one I trust more to do this than you.” I see the warmth in her eyes. The same brown eyes as me, but somehow even more like my own than anyone else. “We’re sister, we’re in this together. I don’t want to be an accomplice if I can’t have all the benefits.” As she smiles, I stab the autosryinge into her hip and pull out a bone marrow sample. “Hey! That hurt!”

I turn to the programmer and offer, “it hurts less if you don’t expect it.” I place the sample into the tray and start the mod program once again, and feel a new era for clones beginning.

—

It was a couple months before anyone discovered what was amiss. A few other clones (Sister and few others she had befriended) expressed interest, but none were ready to commit to the implant. A few tried (and failed) to use Form 306.768, but most were content to just be socially accepted as they were. Not from the aiwha-bait (they still called us men), but from our brothers. 

It was early one morning when an unannounced inspection took place. These were annoying, but not usually a problem. Most clones seem to have an unshakeable need to be tidy. This time, they were looking for something specific—the cell programmer. As soon as they found it in our terminal drawer, they hauled all four of us off for questioning. Separately. I’d worried about this for some time now, but not that much. The only way they could punish us is what they would probably do anyway if I hadn’t done this and instead fell apart as a soldier.

I’m not sure how long they tried the separate questioning, but it was probably hours. They alternated between questioning me about my sex, and weird unrelated questions about brain research. I refused to give them any straight answers. Then Spice was brought into the room with me. “Don’t worry Jack, I didn’t tell them anything,” she said with a smile. I doubt even the most advanced interrogator droids could’ve gotten anything out of her. 

Then someone new entered. One of our mercenary instructors, Mirta Rau, a Mandalorian Protector, apparently an old friend of our distant father. As she sat down, she took off her helmet and we got an up-close look at her piercing blue eyes. “Don’t worry, you’re not in any serious trouble. Most of this is pure bluster on your creators’ part.” She somehow reclined in the extremely rigid chair. “Just tell us the truth, and the worst you’ll get is extra programs for punishment.” She winked, “maybe even more training with me.”

It was a tempting proposition. The slicer ethic was, after all, that all information should be free. Why was I trying to even hide my slices from them? Then I remembered they consider us property that can be disposed of at any time. I turn to Spice and whisper, “do you think she’s telling the truth?”

She thought for a second then whispered back, “she’s never lied to us before. I’m pretty sure deception like this is against the Mandalorian creed or something.”

Mirta, apparently hearing us, leaned in. “I’ve seen your scores and your skills. If they do kick you out or try to dispose of you, I’ll make sure you two have a place on Concord Dawn. Being punished for living as yourself is downright heresy in our culture.”

It was enough assurance that I laid it out for her. The 306.768 rejections, how I was never planning on selling the programmer and only wanted to use it to help my sisters, and how Spice and I have been using the mod for months and our scores have only gone up. I just hoped it was enough.

“Wow.” Mirta Rau was stunned. “I can’t believe that’s what they’ve been mistreating you for.” She paused for a moment. “Thank you for your honesty, Jack. I’ll make sure you two are treated well.” She got up, donned her helmet, and left. 

The two of us had to wait another hour or two before we learned of our fates.

—

7952.307.1, 1313 hours: Instructor Mirta Rau questions the cadets. RC-3119 explainshisher actions. 7952.307.1, 1342 hours: Instructor Mirta Rau advocates for RC-3119 and RC-3120 at the Disciplinary Committee meeting.  7952.307.1, 1604 hours: Disciplinary Committee submits recommendation to “temporarily restrict privileges, confiscate stolen equipment, and increase program load” to Director of Clone Training Ko Sai. 7952.307.1, 1705 hours: Director Ko Sai officially releases RC-3119 and RC-3120 7952.307.1, 1730 hours: Junior Researcher Elo Panil submits a recommendation for “frequent blood tests” to Director Ko Sai 7952.433.4, 0931 hours: Blood tests of RC-3119 and RC-3120 continue to be within normal range for human girls at their biological age. 7952.725.4, 0829 hours: Blood tests of RC-3119 and RC-3120 continue to be within normal range for human girls at their biological age. This incident is considered officially closed.

Next Steps: Continue to Monitor RC-3119 and RC-3120 for future medical issues and further conduct unbecoming of a soldier. Occasional questioning about research is permitted.

Addendum #597-01: Further questioning may lead to RC-3119 to discover the true nature of the Clone Inhibitor Chip, and should be discontinued. He She does not seem to be aware of our classified research (Added 7953.22.3)

Addendum #597-02: In accordance with Clone Gender Directive 1, RC-3119’s pronouns have been corrected. The medical implant she created should be used as template for other, similar clones. Contact Nala Se for further information. (Added 7954.12.3)

—