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fanfoolishness · 22 days

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Evaluations (The Bad Batch)

A selection of evaluations of the health of CT-9904, as performed by Nala Se. Nala Se POV, Crosshair whump/medical whump, angst at a remove. ~3200 words.

---

Nala Se walks through the long white corridors to the clones’ medical bay. Troopers march past in tight formation, each one perfectly uniform, created precisely to match their original specifications. Behind them small cadets trail their older mirrors in imitation, small brown faces all alike, dark hair in the same short military style. She has only to glance at them all to see her own flawless work marching beside her.

She allows herself a small, secret smile. There have been some clones with flaws, of course. Adjustments to obedience, size, intelligence. ability. She is most curious to see how the clones of the 99 designation fare as they age.

Her work, she suspects, is not unlike that of the artist or musician. Like them there is an idea she carries in her mind, the delicate dance of DNA and genetic modification, a vision she has planned and put into motion through the work of her own hands and her own vision. Now there is only the waiting to see the finished product that remains. She knows what she expects of her enhanced clones one day. Yet she also anticipates there may be surprises to occur in their development, unexpected interplays of inspiration or epigenetic accidents leading to something greater than the sum of their parts. It is a pleasant source of anticipation in her day to day, to see the finished music that her work might make.

She reaches the medical bay and the doors slide open for her. She is mildly taken aback at the scene of disarray that appears. A clone cadet, bio-equivalent to a seven-year-old human, sits hunched over himself on the floor, surrounded by scattered medical equipment that appears to have been thrown or kicked around the room. AZI-3 hovers a safe distance away from the clone, and seems relieved to see her.

“Doctor Se,” he says, pitching his voice modulators to a quiet scale. “You have asked me to inform you of any medical visits regarding clones of the ninety-nine designation. This is CT-9904, and he is here with a minor injury, but he is proving… difficult.”

Nala Se nods. CT-9904 would be identifiable from across any room nearly instantly; with his modifications, it is obvious. The clone’s proportions are unusual, thinner and taller than would be expected at this stage of development, and streaks of gray pepper his dark hair despite his young biological age. She had expected that variation. On many species her work has shown an inextricable link between hair color and visual development, and humans are no different.

“CT-9904,” she murmurs. “Please explain yourself.”

The clone unfolds himself and gets awkwardly to his feet, bowing his head briefly to her before looking down at his boots. The injuries are apparent, a blue-black bruise swelling his right eye shut, scrapes up and down his rather thin, angular face. He sniffs, rubbing the back of his hand against his nose. It comes back bloody.

“There was a fight,” the boy says slowly. His voice is odd, slightly raspy, with an accent to his Basic that deviates from the norm. That variation had not been anticipated. One of her intriguing surprises.

She waits, giving him an expectant look. He takes a deep breath.

“The other clones didn’t like that I’m different.” His fists clench at his sides. “I beat all of their scores in marksmanship. It’s so easy. They got mad… they started it. I tried to finish it, but there were more of them than me.” He crosses his arms over his chest, scowling, then wincing.

“Fights are not uncommon at this stage of training,” Nala Se murmurs. “The tendency is typically outgrown.” Though there is the matter that with his enhanced visual acuity, CT-9904 has been training in marksmanship with clones four cycles older. Perhaps seeing a clone so much earlier in his development excel has triggered the aggressive response from the standard units. She turns to AZI-3. “What is the prognosis?”

“There is a hairline fracture of the right zygomatic arch, but with the rapid growth rate and the improved healing capabilities, this is not expected to have any negative long-term effects. Which I have tried explaining to him!”

“I don’t believe you!” the boy bursts out. Nala Se tilts her head to one side, studying him.

“Why?”

The boy looks furtive, anxious, fidgeting where he stands. His hands twist together. At last he stammers, “I can’t see!” He tries to open the swollen right eye and fails, hissing with the effort.

“I have informed him that this is temporary,” says AZI-3. He addresses the clone directly. “The swelling needs time to come down, and then you will see normally again. All of the scans indicate that your eye itself was not damaged, only the tissue surrounding it. You should be back to normal within ten rotations.”

“Are you sure? But that’s -- it’s all I -- I have to --” His face is flushed. “It’s what I’m for!”

“Your vision will return in time, CT-9904. Your enhancements remain intact. The droid tells the truth,” says Nala Se. “There are other skills you may continue training in during this time. I will see to it that you are assigned extra training in stealth and hand-to-hand combat as you heal.”

The clone gives her a worried look, then nods, letting out a long breath.

“Please help AZI-3 clean up this mess. After that, you should return to your quarters. Your fellow cadets should be returning from their own training soon.”

The clone laughs slightly, a small smile shifting on his face. “Wrecker’s going to be mad he missed the fight. He could have taken them all out. I know it.”

“Hmm.” She sighs. This is not the first time these particular clones have been at the center of discord among the standard cadets, and she has a strong suspicion it will not be the last. Yet another unique trait in a batch full of them. She wonders which one of them will be in here next.

---

CT-9904 is led into the medical bay by red-painted clone troopers, stripped of his armor and walking with his head down. Nala Se is waiting. She has been curious to assess the effects of the inhibitor chip on her modified clones; the chips themselves had not been modified or calibrated for the minds of this particular batch, and she had long wondered if she would ever see the effects on them were the chips to be activated. Here then is her opportunity to learn, though her curiosity feels subdued from what she had anticipated. Perhaps it is merely that she feels disquieted by the presence of Admiral Tarkin in the chamber beyond.

My work does not need your supervision, Admiral, she thinks, then turns to the clone at hand.

CT-9904 has only rarely needed medical assistance after completing his training; as his squad’s long-range sniper, he has typically avoided the types of injuries accrued by the others. It has been multiple cycles since she has last seen him up close, and he sits obediently on the examination table under armed guard, his eyes shadowed, his face grim.

“How do you feel, CT-9904?” she asks.

“I don’t know why I’m here,” he bites out, looking away. “There’s nothing wrong with me. Perhaps you should look at Hunter. He’s been acting irrationally.”

“He will be examined in time,” she assures him. “There are some questions I am going to ask you.”

He shrugs, sighing. “All right.”

“Have you had any episodes of seizures?”

He sits up straight, looking at her suspiciously, a wary surprise in his eyes. “No.”

“Have you experienced any episodes of fainting?”

“No.”

“Have you experienced any disorientation?”

“No.”

“Have you experienced any headaches?”

A short, sharp intake of breath. His eyes focus beyond her, fixating in the direction of the Admiral, and a guilty look crosses his face. “...yes.”

“Thank you, CT-9904. The examination will begin.”

One of her new medical droids hovers forward, extending a long hypodermic. The clone’s eyes widen. “Is that necessary?”

“Yes, it is.” The droid injects him in the shoulder. He grimaces, but then his expression slides into something dreamy, a placid, half-lidded stare. He slumps where he sits and the droid eases him onto his back, preparing him for imaging. Nala Se recuses herself to the outer chamber.

She has read CT-9904’s report of Kaller, contradicting the reports from his squadmates. They have informed her of his attempts to convince his squad to follow orders. It is a fascinating finding. CT-9904’s chip may be working -- she will run the necessary tests to confirm, but the headaches are the earliest stage of an incomplete chip activation -- yet loyalty to his squad appears to be superseding its commands.

Admiral Tarkin waits for her as the test commences. As she has suspected, the chip is partially working, but CT-9904’s mutations have muted its effectiveness. She transmits the order to amplify the chip’s effects as the Admiral looks on.

The amplification process is one that she has never used before in practice, though it was developed for theoretical use in an event such as this one. As she watches it becomes plain that the dose of sedative has been insufficient for such a procedure. CT-9904 trembles, hands curling beside him, his chest rising and falling jerkily. She assesses his vitals. They are stable enough, but the elevated heart rate and erratic breathing are consistent with pain.

She considers adding further sedation, but the process is nearly complete, and she refrains.

The arms of the machine retract. She checks her datapad. The clone’s vitals have returned to normal, and he is starting to stir.

“Did it work?” Admiral Tarkin asks, voice clipped with impatience. “If not, you may begin the decommissioning process. But if it has worked, I would like the same procedure performed on the remaining squad.”

“Understood, Admiral. I will assess him myself.”

By the time she enters, CT-9904 is clumsily sitting up, breathing hard. He raises one hand to his right temple, shaking his head. “What happened?” he asks.

“You have been found clear to return to duty. With your squad.”

CT-9904 frowns, his face going cold. “My squad disobeyed orders.” He gets off the table, swaying slightly, and straightens up. “Good soldiers follow orders.”

“And if your squad does not?”

“Then they need to be eliminated,” CT-9904 says evenly. His eyes are blank, devoid of the suspicion and wariness that had been plain earlier. She nods, feeling a slight pang. She would have preferred to have had the time to study the interplay between the clone’s mind and the partially activated chip in case there were new insights to be gleaned. Observing him for several weeks would have been most intriguing. But she is certain now that in this regard, at least, CT-9904 is no longer unique.

---

“Status report,” Nala Se asks, gazing down at the unconscious clone in recovery.

The medical droid catalogs the clone’s injuries while removing the field bandages marred by strikethrough. The list is long and troubling. Ion burns to the chest, hands and face. Concussion to the right temple. Corneal abrasions. Right shoulder dislocation, replaced in the field. Inhalation injury. It is disheartening to see such a unique specimen in such shape. The corneal abrasions are the most concerning, given the nature of his enhancements, but the droid’s readings confirm that they are thankfully superficial and should heal without issue.

“How did this occur?”

“Exposure to an ion engine, Doctor,” says a human woman with a clipped, stern voice, her helmet carried under her arm. “We were shocked he survived. None of the other clones with him made it.” Nala Se gives her a cool look. One of Admiral Tarkin’s conscripts, her training nonstandardized, her breeding unknown. She does not understand the Admiral’s obsession with ‘updating’ the army of the Republic, no, Empire, and it is an affront to have one of those inferior soldiers here in her own medical bay.

The soldier is still standing at attention. “Will the Commander be all right?” she asks, and there is something calculating in her eyes. Nala Se frowns. Clones would never show such hints of naked ambition.

“Yes. There is extensive treatment to be done, but he will likely be fully rehabilitated within a matter of weeks.” They have repaired far more grievous injuries to their clones over the years. Kaminoan work was strong, and it was reparable when desired. “CT-9904 is valuable to the Empire, and he will recover.”

The soldier frowns. “Even with the seizures?”

Nala Se gives her her full attention. “He has had seizures?”

“Two, on the journey back from Bracca,” she says. “I thought the medic told you. Is that from the head injury?”

“There will be no further questions,” Nala Se says. “You may leave.”

The woman shoves her helmet back on, nodding, and finally leaves. Nala Se immediately locks the laboratory door behind her.

There is a faint groan from the bed. CT-9904 raises his left hand weakly before it drops back against his chest. He coughs, the sound amplified in the oxygen mask looped over his face.

She casts her eyes over the blistered flesh above his right ear, then directs the medical droids to set up the imaging device to assess the chip. CT-9904’s breathing rattles in the confines of the imaging chamber. It is disconcerting.

The machine whirs, its testing cycle complete, and it retracts to leave CT-9904 back in the open. She frowns at the results on her datapad.

“The inhibitor chip is damaged,” she tells the medical droid at the clone’s side. “Swelling in the brain has interfered with its functioning. The seizures are the result of an improper connection.”

CT-9904 fumbles at the oxygen mask on his face, making a garbled noise. He manages to pull off the mask, and rasps, “Take it out, then.”

Nala Se stiffens.

She has made a mistake.

She has never spoken of the chips in the presence of a clone beyond Omega. Now in her curiosity, with CT-9904 so wounded as to appear unconscious, she has erred. She turns to him, wondering how she should proceed. Despite what she had said about CT-9904’s value to the Empire, she is certain there would be no repercussions if he were to not survive his injuries.

“What do you mean?”

“I know…” He swallows, coughing, flecks of blood-tinged fluid dotting his lips. “I know about the chip. They told me.”

“Who?”

“Clone Force 99,” he manages. “Said it’s… controlling me. But I don’t --” He presses the oxygen mask against his face again, taking in several deep breaths before removing it again. He squints up at her through blepharospasm, eyelids struggling to open despite the pain of the abrasions. “I don’t need a chip to be loyal. To --” His chest heaves. “To be a good soldier.”

CT-9904 suddenly stares off into space, his good eye transfixing on the ceiling. His jaw slackens, and she recognizes the prodromal signs of an impending seizure. Nala Se gives a swift look to the medical droid. “He will need an anticonvulsive. Immediately.” The droid complies, heading off the seizure before it can truly begin.

Nala Se hesitates. There are three paths remaining to her now. Euthanasia of the enhanced clone to prevent possible awareness of the chip from being spread to other clones; treating the injuries but leaving the clone in his current state, potentially compromised by seizures and prone to worsening degradation of the chip; or --

She makes her choice, recalling the clone’s words. CT-9904 and his cohort have always represented a new era in experimentation for her. Perhaps by removing his chip now, she may continue to be surprised.

---

The walls of Tantiss press in around her, a windowless narrow world of her cell and the hallway beyond. Tipoca City lies beneath the waves of her homeworld, her lab, her work, her calling buried in the sea; and now there is only the Empire and its brutal destruction.

She has been a fool. She had so buried herself in her work that she had blinded herself to the dangers of being indispensable. She knows that she will never leave this planet alive.

The days are endless, the monotony almost worse than the clumsy efforts of the Empire to extract the information they needed by force. Their interrogation droids had been programmed for human physiology, and while unpleasant, their methods had failed to force her to share her scientific knowledge. They have since given up on that, and now Hemlock attempts to use the clone Omega as a bargaining chip, despite having no idea of her whereabouts.

Nala Se cares little for his efforts. She cares little for anything at all, now.

The one slight bit of interest in her day is her daily walk. They bring her to the lab once daily under heavy guard and supervision, perhaps hoping she will be enticed by the technology to resume her old work. She has no interest in the lab, refusing to examine its machines and capabilities, but she watches closely the clones walking by under their own guard, amusing herself with guessing which batches they had arisen from. She has no way to confirm her guesses, but to her trained eye, subtle changes in the degree of aging -- the appearance of fine wrinkles starting at the edges of the eyes and corners of the mouth, a slight shift in glossiness of the hair, faint alterations to the gait -- provide significant clues. It puts her in mind of happier times, when she could truly focus on science and take pride in the results of her labors.

One day -- or perhaps night, there is no way to tell -- she awaits the lift with her captors and a group of clones stops beside them, waiting for the same lift. She turns to study them and is taken aback. One clone stands above the others, several inches taller despite the slump in his shoulders.

Her mind swirls with questions. Had the removal of CT-9904’s chip -- omitted from his final medical report after his injuries on Bracca -- come to light? Was he sent here for betrayal of the Empire? Or had he merely been injured and deemed unfit to return to duty, so was sent here for study to remain useful?

He does not meet her gaze. She is not sure he has even noticed she stands beside him. His face is skull-like, his skin sallow from lack of sunlight, deep shadows etched beneath his eyes. A flicker of movement catches her eye and she notes a fine tremor, nearly imperceptible, along the edge of his hand. He shakes his hand almost subconsciously, a small, subtle jerk she is not sure that even he has detected. There are no obvious injuries, but there is an emptiness that is apparent, a lack of something vital.

She does not know what has brought him here, but she knows that he is a soldier no longer.

The lift arrives and the guards herd them within. Force is not required; the prisoners know their place. They stare down at the floor, heads bowed.

Nala Se gazes away from the ruined clone beside her. The music she had once carried in her head, the clever dance of DNA and ingenuity, the spark of creativity, of creation, falls silent. She does not speak to him, nor he to her.

There is simply nothing to say.

#the bad batch #the bad batch fanfiction #the bad batch crosshair #tbb crosshair #crosshair tbb #ct 9904 #nala se #whump #but like... dispassionate whump #this is such an odd little one but i had fun writing it #also nala se is kind of awful #my batcher fic #oh and if you were wondering #being a veterinarian I do like throwing in medical nonsense when I can

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twinsunstars · 2 months

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i’m thinking of starting a series of incorrect quotes but its the bad batch characters just saying random stuff behind the scenes while they’re filming the third season as actors, like omega wandering around vlogging the set and other chaotic stuff like written bloopers, what do y’all think?

#random thought #star wars #the bad batch #theyre all friends behind the scenes too no enemies #i cant draw well so writings my best way #the bad batch hunter #the bad batch echo #the bad batch crosshair #the bad batch wrecker #the bad batch omega #emerie karr #tbb #the bad batch tech #the bad batch season 3 #royce hemlock #nala se #phee genoa

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 1 year

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missed opportunities

This isn’t meant to be a summary or a translation of the Sunset Savanna event!! I just wanted to share my thoughts surrounding the actual tournament and the characters involved in the overall story.

I felt like??? This event was originally meant to be much bigger and much more elaborate than what we got. Is that just me?? Don’t get me wrong, what we ended up with was… okay. It was serviceable. It worked. I just feel like it could have easily been more, but there had to be significant downsizing for some reason.

One thing that kind of confused me was the hyping up of the Catch the Tail tournament versus what we actually got?? (Loved the tourism part though, hearing about local foods, stories, and customs is fun!) I understand the cultural significance of the game, but a tournament arc doesn't work that well if we're only invested in one side; obviously, we'll be rooting for NRC to win because we know them the best and have spent the most time with them, but... They have no significant rival or opposition to go against (which is at least one thing episode 5 had going for it in the form of Vil vs Neige, and even in the Harveston event when the Seven Dwarves reappear). We don't even really have names or faces to think of as their foes. We aren't really given the chance to cheer for anyone else. Like???? NRC's first opponents get no artwork at all, and then their second opponents are supposedly Cheka's usual trio of guards--except they're just beastmen mobs A, B, and C. What happened to the lore about "most of the important roles being fulfilled by female warriors"?? You really going to sit here and tell me that the people assigned to guard the person who is essentially the future of your country aren't roles traditionally fulfilled by strong "lionesses"? All three of the roles just happened be occupied by easily reused assets? Even the replacement/temporary guards assigned to Cheka were women, and the way the originals were foreshadowed made it seem like they would later be a big deal or the "rivals" NRC had to overcome in their final matchup. They technically were, but they were just your typical run-of-the-mill mobs. They have some investment, being that Kifaji trained them and they are bitter about having won previous years but Leona stood them up for training. It’s basically one big ploy to circumvent Leona not wanting to give the warrior lessons to the winning team, a way to counteract his laziness. It makes sense for the story, but it isn’t very high-stakes.

The other team NRC fought against was even more unremarkable; they cheated just as much as NRC did and didn't even compensate for it with at least recognizable artwork or personalities. In fact, they got NO art at all. If anything, this team should have been the run-of-the-mill mobs from how generically mean they were.

It feels like this event had a handful of red herrings and cheeky lines thrown in to tease at the reveal of significant new characters, only to never follow through on them. I like Kifaji, and it's reasonable that Leona says tourists like the NRC kids can't possibly meet the head of state (Farena/Falena). However, I don't like that a lot surrounding Cheka's guards amounted to nothing?? They even mention they have a member to substitute in that's a retired imperial guard, but that ends up being of no real importance either… (he throws the match because Kalim showed him great kindness.) It’s more like a convenience that lets Leona swap in and cinch the win for NRC). It's so... anticlimactic????? Especially since the competition is supposedly for the best warriors to prove their wits and might.

Another missed opportunity is that??? The competition is supposedly open to anyone, even those from outside the Sunset Savanna. That may very well be just a writing loophole for Leona to easily shoehorn Kalim/Jack, Vil, and Lilia in as competitors, but there's so much more you could do with that idea!

Maybe there are other outsiders come to fight for the title. Maybe Rook shows up as a competitor to spook them if the devs don't want to design that many actual "rivals" with unique designs or new faces. Maybe there are your "non-traditional" fighters as well, people that are very young (just for the lols, imagine a kid Cheka's size kicking butt, using their small size and speed to their advantage) or very old (Rafiki weaponizing his wisdom and experience in combat, idk) but are still skilled enough in their own right to participate. Maybe show us more types of beastmen and how they use their specific animal’s physical traits to their advantage! I don't know how likely it is for merfolk or fae to join (since those races seem like recluses compared to beastmen and humans and merpeople don't do well in arid climates), but it would have been cool to see others throw their hats into the ring!

There were probably just limitations in place due to this being a hometown event…? It wouldn't be fair for the others to only feature one new character while this one features a TON of them, nor would it be fair for this hometown even to be significantly longer or more detailed than the others. Basically only the Halloween events are super extensive. In which case, I get it. I still would have really liked to see this concept more fleshed out and fully realized though!

#twisted wonderland #twst #Leona Kingscholar #Vil Schoenheit #Kifaji #Farena Kingscholar #Falena Kingscholar #Kifaaji #Cheka Kingscholar #Nala #Rafiki #Rook Hunt #Jack Howl #Lilia Vanrouge #Kalim Al-Asim #spoilers #notes from the writing raven #Neige Leblanche #disney twisted wonderland

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the-little-moment · 13 days

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Angtspril Day 16: That Small, Bright Light

Alt Prompt: Emotionally Distant

Words: 686

Summary: Emerie understands Omega more than her sister knows.

Dr. Emerie Karr stood outside the door of her sister’s quarters, looked down at the doll in her hands, and sighed. She'd spent the day thinking about the little thing, lovingly woven from some kind of dried grass, perhaps from the kennels where Omega fed the animals each day. It rustled softly when she lifted its small, delicately-made arm.

Personal possessions weren’t permitted, of course. The girl had known that, had tried to keep the toy hidden. A small part of the doctor was impressed that she’d managed to succeed for so long, but when Emerie had taken it away, she’d thought it was for the best, despite her sister’s heartbreaking pleas. The sooner Omega got used to her new life, the better.

It had been hard for Emerie too, being taken from the only life she’d known to become Dr. Hemlock’s assistant. She had been the first attempt by the Kaminoans to create a force sensitive, female clone, or at least one with the ability to replicate that sensitivity in others. The male clones had proven to be useless for such a cause, and, in the end, so had Emerie. So she had been given up, discarded in favor of a new attempt, and because she was not created to be a soldier, she had had no purpose, at least until her life here on Tantiss.

After the war had ended, many more clones had been sent to protect the facility here. It had felt strange, something she hadn’t realized she’d missed, to be suddenly surrounded by more brothers than she had seen in years, to hear their familiar voices every day. Commander Scorch, the doctor’s head of security, was the one she saw most often. If she was Hemlock’s right hand, Scorch was his left. Emerie thought she should feel something, a sense of camaraderie towards the commando, after all, he was her brother, but if she was reserved, he was only moreso. She and the troopers stationed here on Tantiss, they were nothing more than coworkers, more loyal to Hemlock and the Empire than each other. Sometimes she felt the faintest ache when they went back to their barracks together and she returned to her private quarters, alone. But Emerie knew she wasn’t like them, not a soldier, a scientist. Dr. Hemlock had given her a purpose when she’d had none. That was why he deserved her loyalty.

Then Omega had come. The girl hadn’t even recognized Emerie as another clone, but why would she? All the time that Omega had spent on Kamino with Nala Se, Emerie had been here, learning to become a scientist.

Mistress Se and the other geneticists had learned a great deal from their failure with Emerie, the main point being that the result they desired could not come from a clone whose DNA had been modified for accelerated aging. And so, Omega was as pure a genetic replication of Fett as could be produced, except, of course, that she was female. And blonde. Emerie turned the doll in her hands again, smiling faintly at the memory of that little surprise. She had wondered if the girl’s hair would have darkened with age, but when Emerie had seen her again, after all those years, Omega was just as fair as ever. It seemed right, in a way, a deviance that matched the brightness of her sister’s heart.

Emerie had watched that light fade as the months passed, but she knew it still smoldered dangerously inside. This doll was a clear sign of that. If only she could convince Omega, for her own good, that this was the best place for her. That she could learn to be content here, like Emerie had. Omega simply needed time. Emerie could give her that, at least, and, perhaps, one other thing.

When she finally opened the door and Omega refused to speak to her, Emerie understood. She set the doll on the step with a last, lingering look at the miserable shape on the bed. Be careful, little sister, she thought as she turned to leave. We're going to be okay.

Day 16 is in the books! Check out @kybercrystals94 and @just-here-with-my-thoughts blogs for the rest of the installments in our month of Bad Batch angst!

#star wars the bad batch #clone force 99 #angstpril2024 #day 16 #emotionally distant #fanfiction #the bad batch #emerie karr #tbb omega #mt. tantiss #royce hemlock #commander scorch #tbb spoilers #nala se #littlekyberthoughts #the little moment writes

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kaythefloppa · 8 months

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Oh yay, we have new lions who we’re all definitely going to make prominent characters of in our fanfics. (Starts typing aggressively)

Here’s the link to the video these guys showed up in for anyone wondering.

#The lion king #the lion guard #it’s genuinely euphoric as to how Disney Jr’s acknowleding the Lion Guard even 4 years after it ended #Like not with fourth season or sequel or anything big but with these little things such as a musical video featuring Kion #- and these little lovies #And also the Lion Guard family tree book coming out next month #Now if Disney Jr. would air reruns of the show as a tribute THAT would be another story (wink wink)#I’m too lazy to draw or write so I’ll just post my asspull headcanons about these guys #The one on the far left is Kion’s second cousin on his grandmother’s side (i.e. the granddaughter of one of her nephews we see in a comic)#Bc I’m lazy we’ll just call her Aisha #Also that lioness has whiskers and I’m getting Baliyo flashbacks #The one on the far right is Zuri’s younger brother and in my HC Zuri is Tojo’s daughter #So let’s call this dude Bahari meaning sea blue #The one in the middle I’m going to be very lazy and unoriginal and say that’s Chaka #Who was Simba and Nala’s son in an early draft of Lion King 2 but was cut #Nothing implies that Kion is the last cub these two will have so let’s just say Chaka is Kion’s little brother #- who is 4-5 years younger than him and somewhat secluded from his older siblings’ lives in pursuit of his own adventures [/projection]#Unrelated but I headcanon Kopa to be a literal accident baby born after TLK 2/TLG #so yeah Kion has 2 little bros in my canon #Disney Jr.

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kanerallels · 7 days

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Today for @monthly-challenge's Spring Fling we have day 13: Earth! I wrote another Wingfeather Saga fan fic-- hope you guys like it! It's kind of a follow up to the one I wrote a couple days back, I'll link that here! (I'd also like to put these up on AO3 but I so do not have the motivation and energy for it right now. Perhaps later!)

(TW for mentions of death)

From the earth we come, and to the earth we are returned…

Esben stared straight forward as the priest continued speaking. He knew Artham was standing at his side, but his brother had his arm around their mother as she wept. And in this moment, Esben felt terribly, terribly alone.

His father, Jru Wingfeather, was dead. And he was High King of the Shining Isle.

It hadn’t been expected. Not really. His father had been older, yes, but healthy and hale. Mere days earlier he’d been joking around with the two of them, eyes sparkling with joy.

And then, two days ago, he passed in his sleep, a smile on his face. The doctor guessed that his heart had given out, which Esben still didn’t fully understand. How could one’s heart give out if it was so full of so many things? And his father had loved his family, and Anniera, with all his heart.

Nevertheless, he was gone now. Which meant Esben was the High King, and that was a little terrifying in a way that Esben preferred not to contemplate more than he had to.

Sure, he’d been training his whole life for this. But he was nineteen years old, and felt horribly unprepared and unready, and his heart still ached whenever he thought about taking up the crown his father had worn not even a full week ago.

They were going to have to have a coronation. Esben almost groaned out loud at the thought. He couldn’t imagine pretending to be kingly and majestic in front of a crowd right now. If he tried, he’d probably start to laugh. Or cry, and neither option was particularly appealing.

Artham’s nudge in the ribs startled him out of his thoughts. For a wild moment, he worried he’d voiced his thoughts out loud and his brother was going to scold him. But there was no reprimand in Artham’s gaze as he tilted his head silently at the priest, who’d finished speaking and was watching him expectantly.

Oh, right. He’d almost forgotten his own part in the ceremony. Stepping forward, Esben forced himself to look at it— the grave, the coffin that held his father. The mound of fresh earth next to it loomed darkly as Esben approached.

Reaching out, he took a handful of the earth and dropped it on top of the coffin. “May the Maker receive you with all joy, even as we mourn you here,” he recited, loud enough that the crowd could hear. Hesitating, he stared down at the coffin and added, only loud enough for him to hear, “I’ll try to make you proud, Papa. I’ll be a good king.” I hope.

He stepped back, and everything was suddenly moving faster than he could process. Before Esben knew it, the gaping hole was filled in, leaving a dark patch to mark the grave. Artham stepped forward with a tiny sapling, the roots encased in a ball of dirt. Together, as was the tradition, the two brothers dug a hole in the mound of dirt covering the grave and planted the sapling. As Artham shored it up with dirt, Esben stared at the small tree. Out of death, new life. Somehow, that thought didn’t bring him much comfort yet.

They got to their feet together, Artham’s hand on his shoulder lending Esben a little comfort. In turn, he put his arm around his mother’s shoulder when they moved to stand next to her. She pressed her hand against his, and Esben could see her blinking back tears.

And then the funeral was over, and they were heading into the main hall of Castle Rysen, where food had been set out and they could visit with the guests who came to express their condolences and support.

Esben had expected to hate this part. But as guests stopped by, their words lent him strength. They spoke about his father, telling stories— of the king and the man, stories that were funny and stories that made both brothers and their mother cry. It was a bittersweet way to spend the day, mourning the High King, but celebrating him, too.

“It’s how Jru would have wanted it,” their mother said quietly. “He would have loved this, so many friends together here.” She gazed across the room, at the groups of people talking.

“Sorrow, yet joy,” Artham said. “Loss, yet healing.”

Nala laughed softly. “Exactly.”

It was enough to bring a smile to Esben’s face, but only briefly. As another guest approached his mother, he murmured an excuse and slipped away. He needed a minute to himself, just one.

There was a small door in the right hand wall of the hall that led out to a balcony set in the side of the hill. A set of stairs led down to the green below, but Esben didn’t take them now. He just leaned against the railing and took a long, deep breath. Finally, he had a moment to himself, to think.

The sun was shining, which seemed a little wrong. Most funerals he’d read about had rain. When his aunt died, it was raining. But the sun was shining, the light glimmering on the sea. The breeze streamed through the nearby trees, the hush of leaves reaching his ears even from a distance.

It would have been a nice day for sailing, and Esben almost snorted at the thought. At the fact that he could think about those things when… when he was the High King now.

Every time he thought about it, the idea seemed to weigh a little heavier on his shoulders, and he closed his eyes. Oh, Maker. How am I supposed to do this on my own?

He wasn’t quite sure how long he’d been there when he heard the door behind him open, then close, and soft footsteps sounded. Artham? It didn’t really sound like him, which meant it was probably a guest. Esben straightened up, turning to face— Nia Helmer?

His eyes widened as she said, “I’m sorry to disturb you. I thought you’d probably want some time on your own, but Artham— well, he disagreed. I can leave, if you—”

“No,” Esben said immediately. “Stay. Please?”

The small smile she gave him sent a flash of warmth through him, and she came to stand next to him, hands resting on the railing as she stared out at the view.

Esben, however, wasn’t watching the view anymore. He was watching her— dressed in dark, somber clothing, her dark hair braided and twisted back, not a strand loose.

Artham had been right to send her. Anyone else, he would have been impatient or short with, but Nia… he didn’t think he could bring himself to snap at her. They’d been writing back and forth for three years now, with the odd meeting in person when he came to the Green Hollows with his family.

Every time Esben got a letter, he read it again and again, tucking it into his shirt and carrying it close to his heart. He had one with him even now, although he probably shouldn’t admit that. Nor should he admit that just seeing her again seemed to lift some of the weight from his shoulders, to bring him peace he desperately needed.

He looked at her again, at the way she was gazing at the trees and the ocean before them, the sunlight highlighting her skin. Then again, maybe he should tell her.

But not now. Not when he’d just lost his father. A twinge of guilt went through Esben. He shouldn’t even be thinking about this right now.

“I’d guess you’re tired of being asked how you are,” Nia said, breaking through his thoughts.

Letting out a low chuckle, Esben admitted, “I’ve gotten a lot of it, yes.”

“I thought so. So then… what do you need?”

Esben glanced at her, surprised, as she continued, “I can leave you be, or we can talk, or I can just keep you company, or I can get Artham out here. And if you need a hug, I’m here.”

A laugh slipped out, despite himself. “You are… incredible.”

“I’m just doing what anyone would do,” Nia said, turning slightly pink.

“No. You’re incredible. Trust me.”

She smiled. “Well, then, are you going to help me in my incredibleness and tell me what you need?”

“Yes, ma’am. I…” Esben hesitated, then said, “I’d take a hug.”

Without hesitating, before he could think better of his words, Nia pulled him gently into a hug. She was warm and smelled like something sweet, and Esben could feel the strain of the day melting away.

“How am I supposed to do this?” he whispered into her hair.

“Take it one day at a time,” she said quietly. “And remember you’re not alone, Esben. You have people who love you, who will support you. Artham, and your mother, and—”

“And you?” he asked, pulling back a little, his heart stuttering a little as he looked at her. It was something else he shouldn’t have said, maybe. But with Nia in his arms, it felt a little like he could topple the world if he needed to.

She smiled at him like the sun rising over the Shining Isle. “And me,” she told him. “Though… I cannot stay long. I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Esben said, taking her hands. “Just hearing your voice for now is enough. I’ll be here at home for a while after the funeral, but… could I come see you, sometime soon? And your family?”

“Please do,” Nia said, and he knew that she understood exactly what he was thinking.Sorrow, he thought, and yet joy. Finally, he thought he understood it.

#springfling2024 #the wingfeather saga #esben wingfeather #nia wingfeather #artham wingfeather #nala wingfeather #this also is obviously set several years pre series #writing stories is a kind of magic too #not gonna lie i could write a WHOLE lot more about esben and nia #they're just. exactly my kind of ship. i would die for them

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the-whispers-of-death · 2 months

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Memories of Old

*A year ago, The Lions are in their shared barracks* Lieutenant Kohli-Petrov aka "Sarabi": *looks at all of the games before his eyes catch sight of the poker briefcase and he takes it off the shelf* Hey, how about we play poker tonight, boys? Sergeant Green aka "Simba", clearing the table: Yeah, let's play poker! It's been a while. Sergeant Williams aka "Nala": *looks around and sees Kali come back from the bathroom* Hey, Cap! Join us for poker? Kali, chuckling as he sits down with them: Sure, but we all know Sarabi always wins poker. Sarabi, smirking underneath his lioness mask: It's not my fault you all can't hide your tells. *deals out the poker chips* Nala, huffing: You're just too good, Sarabi. Your eyes are too sharp. Simba, shuffling the cards: Hey, maybe Mufasa will beat Sarabi this time. Kali: Oh, no, no. Don't expect me to be able to beat him in poker. I'm not that good. Sarabi: *extends his hand for a handshake* How about we make a deal that whichever of the two of us wins this poker game, then the other has to do their paperwork? Kali, who regularly pushes his paperwork onto his lieutenant: *shakes Sarabi's hand* Deal. Watch me win this one, boys! *The next day* Kali, doing both his paperwork and Sarabi's: I shouldn't have taken that bet.

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated! Asks are open, feel free to pop in and talk or request something! (SFW requests only, please and thank you)

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yukipri · 1 year

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The Prime Override - Chapter 45 is up!

Jango - To Stab or Not to Stab

WOW I updated before midnight today!!!

This one should be much more fun than the previous chapter, i swear. The POV that Jango's looking through helps, I think.

This chapter: Stabber's on the floor.

Absolutely fantastic shot. A lil higher and the kid would have nailed him in the balls.

Stabber pretends his silent wheeze of pain is a laugh. Kriff all, he’d forgotten how those things on max strength can pack a bite when they don’t cause instant unconsciousness. His entire right leg is an awesome mixture of dead numbness and a billion needles stabbing into it all at once. Stabbing isn’t so fun when he’s not the one doing it.

“You disappoint me,” Ashe’s boots tell him, because Stabber can’t really see his face or really, anything but his fancy hoof heels from this angle on the floor. “Display such failure again and I will terminate you myself. There are many who could replace you.” His voice is pure icy cold Kaminoan fury.

> > Read Ch 45 on AO3

#ThePrimeOverride #YukiPri writes #AO3 #Ashe CC-2222 #Stabber CT-9111 #Nala Se #the Clone Wars #Star Wars #TBB #the Bad Batch #TCW

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fritoley · 3 months

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Febuwhump 2024 - Day 2: Solitary Confinement

Fandom: The Bad Batch (Star Wars) Characters: Omega, Nala Se Word Count: 438 Content Warning: None Previous // Next Febuwhump 2024 Masterlist

Summary: Omega awaits the return of Nala Se with nothing but her thoughts. ***

Nala Se’s laboratory couldn’t be colder. Omega tugged the thin blanket even tighter around her shoulders as the crisp, sterile air nipped at her face. The scientist’s thin hand rested on Omega’s shoulder, guiding her through the laboratory to a secluded spot.

“Omega,” Nala Se started. Her voice drawled on, sending more chills down the child’s spine. “You stay here. I will return momentarily.”

“What are you going to do to them?” Omega asked. Nala Se said nothing, instead turning her back and glancing at her datapad.

“The CT-99’s are not your concern, Omega,” Nala Se said. “You will stay here while I assess their… abilities.”

Omega knew better than to argue. Throughout her 6 years of life, She had been alone with nobody to talk to, save the Kaminoans, but they weren’t much fun. It was always test after test, experiment after experiment. When Clone Force 99 was created, Omega had hoped that she would finally have someone to talk to, but this was not the case. Before they could even say her name, they were whisked off to exist among the other clones, leaving her alone once more.

Nala Se strolled out of the laboratory, the paristeel door whooshing closed behind her. Omega stared at the door for a moment, sighing before finding a corner to huddle in. Pulling her knees to her chest, she looked around the room: cloning chambers, consoles, medical equipment; the standard Kaminoan facility. Only this one was deep within Tipoca City, and not many knew about it. This was the chamber where not only Clone Force 99 had been created, but her as well.

Omega exhaled deeply, watching her breath float up. She was bored; nothing interesting ever happened around Kamino. She was hungry; Nala Se had pulled her away from her lunch earlier than expected. And she was cold; such was the price of a medical facility.

It’s not fair, Omega thought. Why must I be locked up in this prison while everyone else gets to explore, to see the galaxy? It’s not fair.

It’s not fair at all.

Anger swirled in her chest, a beast rearing to strike. She wanted to scream, stomp, throw something, but her better judgment stopped her. If Nala Se were to find a mess when she returned, well…

Back to the testing facility I go.

Omega hated this place. She hated the cold, she hated the experiments, she hated watching her brother go through battle simulations, physicals, mental examinations, and for what?

But most of all, she hated being alone. And that was the one thing she couldn’t get away from.

She was alone.

***

Previous // Next Febuwhump 2024 Masterlist Ultimate Masterlist

🫶🏽 Like, Comment, and Reblog! 🫶🏽

#febuwhump #febuwhump 2024 #febuwhumpday2 #the bad batch #tbb #tbb omega #tbb nala se #tbb pre-season 1 #star wars #fanfic #fandom #writing community #creative writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr

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nalascat · 1 month

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crush

javsjxhd anon you've reminded me of this fic and it may be all I think about for the next 197292827 years thank u 🥺‼️

barbie and the rockers fic, Post-The Fan (book) so Delia is here, and future Ken/Derek bc I love them

"I thought I'd have a chance with him too."

Ken barely kept himself from laughing out loud- at the very prospect of the young girl getting with Derek. He kept his mouth shut, though, and managed a small smile. "Oh, really?"

"It was silly, I know..." She pouted, kicking out her legs. "But he's been nice to me and he's cute-! I mean- uh-" She paused for a moment, embarrassed. Ken found himself smiling at her silly crush, even though the back of his mind was telling him that that was exactly what he was like. "Can you teach me guitar?"

"That's a change of subject," Ken voiced, choosing to ignore the 'cute' comment. He could tease her about it later, judging by the request to teach her guitar. He thought over the idea, considering if it would be possible. "Are you sure you want to now? I know you and Barbie were talking about it and your violin-"

"Yeah!" She butted in, "I've decided to not stop playing violin, I think my mom would get me for that. Though, like Barbie said, I don't want to give up on learning guitar either."

"And you're asking me?"

#nala writes #barbie #barbie rockers #barbie and the rockers #ask game #anon #nala answers #ken/derek #they need a ship name so i can tag it raaaagggg

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armulyn · 1 year

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Wisdom to the Wise

The Wingfeather family’s possession of a collection of First Books is not exactly a secret, though few are the commoners who can claim knowledge of it.

They traditionally belong to the Throne Warden, and are kept in his keeping, and the scholars know that. One of the Throne Warden’s traditional titles after all is Keeper of Wisdom, whatever that means, and while most citizens of Anniera think it more metaphorical than literal, there are others who can correct them.

There are five of them, ranging from as thick and heavy as a small boulder to what is little more than a pamphlet the size of his hand. Very few in Anniera or beyond know that, save perhaps the most dedicated and lucky of scholars.

Finally, there are a grand total of sixteen pages among the lot that he can read.

Though about seven people alive currently know that, Esben feels he knows it the best, flipping through aged pages with boredom and growing frustration. The strangely shaped, handwritten letters taunt him with their loops and bold strokes, some written hastily, slanted and sloppy, and others firmly, whether in triumph or emphasis no one will ever know. Whoever has put pen to the ancient paper has done so in a language none now speak— or, more’s the pity, read.

He has never been as dedicated to reading as Artham, or as relentless in pursuit of knowledge, but Esben has also never liked being told he can’t know something, and so he glares at the pages as if they can be cowed into divulging their secrets.

“Well?” he says aloud, “What am I supposed to learn from a collection of shapes?”

He isn’t talking to anyone in particular, save perhaps his subconscious, but nonetheless a voice answers from behind him.

“Perhaps I could be of more aid if I knew what you are doing?”

Esben jumps, nearly knocking the ancient tome right off the end of the ancient desk— an impressive feat, as it’s the boulder book— before a hand shoots forward and rescues it.

“Why didn’t you knock?” he demands breathlessly of his brother, brushing himself off and pretending he hadn’t nearly gotten a heart attack. Artham looks at him as if he’s being exceptionally stupid, which is neither fair nor warranted in Esben’s opinion.

“I don’t usually knock when I expect a room to be empty,” he says, then glances around, “...Especially when it’s my room. So! Besides endangering priceless, helpless, and perfectly innocent books, what are you trying to do?”

“This book.” Artham returns the boulder book safely to his desk, but Esben gestures instead to the one beside it. It is of average size and weight for a book, but its ancient leather binding and yellowed pages mark it apart from the many volumes that can be found in Rysen’s library.

“...What about the book?”

“I don’t know! They’re all equally incomprehensible but it’s that one that annoys me the most. I don’t know why, but it won’t leave me alone.”

Artham picks up the book in question, handling the tome with far more care and expertise than Esben had bothered with. He flips idly through the pages, and Esben doesn’t have to crane his neck to know what his brother sees. Unidentifiable letter after unidentifiable letter.

“This is considered to be one of the oldest of them,” Artham says, “If indeed the ages vary. Aunt Illia told me it’s said to give ‘wisdom to the wise.’”

“How can a book be said to give people wisdom when nobody can read it?”

“No idea, that’s just what Aunt Illia told me. I don’t think she knew what it means either. It’s pretty clear that it only gives people wisdom who already have it, though, so you might be out of luck on that end.”

“You’re hilarious.”

Artham grins at him, but then returns his attention to the infuriating book at hand. He flips to the first page, upon which is a single line of text across the paper. What it says, only the wind and stars know, Esben thinks irritably.

“Well, maybe we’ll never know what’s in it. It’s not like you need to know everything about everything in order to live, Esben.”

Like most things out of Artham’s mouth, it sounds smart and also vaguely profound. Not for the first time in his life, Esben laments his brother’s hobby as a poet.

“Philosophy is all well and good, but a linguist would honestly be more helpful here.”

“I know plenty of languages, I’ll have you know. Hollish, for example, and Shreven, and—”

“I don’t suppose this one happens to be among them?”

Artham squints closer at the text, then shrugs, “I know plenty of languages that people actually speak.”

“Well, that’s no good.”

Artham rolls his eyes at Esben, an extremely undignified action that little enhances his brother’s reputation as a dashing Throne Warden. The vaguely dirt-stained clothing and windblown hair don’t help either— he must have been outside.

“Well, I’m not certain how to help you on this front, little brother,” Artham says, “but you’re doing little good glaring a pile of pages into submission. Nia was looking for you a few minutes ago though, in the front garden.”

Esben rises from the chair eagerly, glad to leave the circling uselessness of staring in incomprehension at dusty pages. All the same, he pauses at the door, a strange feeling of failure sweeping over him. There’s something in that book, he knows it. And he means to find out what.

“...Now that I think about it, isn’t that the book that’s used for the kings’ annals, too?” Artham asks, following him out. Esben nods glumly.

“Aye, and those at least are in Common. I’ve been through those same sixteen pages sixteen times but whatever I’m looking for isn’t there. That book may or may not have wisdom but either way it’s doing a terrible job at imparting it.”

“Maybe if I hit you over the head with it—”

“Please don’t.”

#the wingfeather saga #my writing #esben wingfeather #artham wingfeather #wingfeather spoilers #there are about a half-dozen potential continuations to this sitting in my docs #but this is the only intact one so here it is #may or may not be continued who knows #wip #wisdom to the wise #they're both a lot of fun to write #timeline what timeline?#i literally have no idea when this is supposed to take place #so illia & jru & nala are basically schrodinger's family right now #nia and esben may or may not be married

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jgvfhl · 1 year

Text

The Number Lads Go Snooping

Here we are folks... Sevenset is tasked with keeping Fives entertained while Tup is examined after the tragic and mysterious execution of General Tiplar on Ringo Vinda. Unfortunately for them, and Echo's blood pressure, Sevenset and Fives have strange ideas of what constitutes entertainment. BEHOLD, THE ORDERS ARC BEGINS!!

Words: not quite 8K (longest chapter to date oop) Warnings: Canon typical suspense with canon atypical swearing :) Link to Master List of Chapters on Tumblr Link to the full story on Ao3 Happy reading!

CrispyDomino: hey sevenset, need a favor

RedBoiiiii: o7 reporting for orders

CrispyDomino: Fives is bringing one of our boys to Kamino for a med eval

RedBoiiiii: yikes that’s not fun

CrispyDomino: Yeah, you mind making sure he’s not worrying himself sick over the kid?

RedBoiiiii: I will do my best! When are they arriving?

CrispyDomino: Should get there in a few hours

RedBoiiiii: You got it, buddy! I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything too stupid

DEATH: That’s not particularly promising

RedBoiiiii: oh COME ON

d0nut man: lkdjafkd

Double Trouble: oh my gods XD

CrispyDomino: Don’t worry, Sevens, I have faith in you

RedBoiiiii: THANK you echo

Leafs: We really can’t go ten seconds without something huh?

RedBoiiiii: THE COMMANDER STARTED IT

CrispyDomino: Anyway, thanks Sevens, means a lot

CrispyDomino: I’m on campaign, but feel free to send updates if you want

-scene break-

Sevenset had gotten a message from Fives as soon as he’d touched down, it had appeared. He’d grumbled a little at his batchmate’s mothering, but he’d conceded it wouldn’t be a bad idea to get out of his own head while his friend was in medical. But, first Fives had to be assessed as well, so Sevenset had been left to his own devices for a bit, waiting for Fives to comm him after he was cleared.

He had chosen to use this time to be, as most people called it, a menace. He called it practicing his environmental awareness and stealth skills, although no one else seemed too keen to agree with him. After successfully pranking Colt on the Venator after their last mission, he’d doubled-down on finding some way to get at Alpha-17. A death sentence? Possibly.

But he would be legendary if he pulled it off.

It did leave him with the slight problem of finding where the grumpy captain spent most of his time. He was a very private man, and most of the time he wasn’t in his rooms anyway (which would be great news once Sevenset found them). His search had brought him almost back around to the main medical wing of Kamino. No, not the medical wing for the tubies, or the medical wing for the scientists, or the other medical wing for surgery and … whatever else they did over there. This was mainly for soldiers who came in with injuries too mysterious or serious to treat on the field, so it was undoubtedly where Fives and his friend were now.

His plan so far was based solely on lying, and hoping someone was fooled into giving him Alpha’s room number, or at least which wing he lived in. So far, however, he’d only encountered clone officers who knew better than to talk to him outside of necessity, Kaminoans who really didn’t know what to do with him half the time he approached them, and some of the nattie trainers. He didn’t feel like talking to many of them. They were fine, for the most part, but… eh. Not his thing.

An alarm went off, harsh against his ears without his bucket. He flinched, looking around and waiting for an announcement.

“Security breach. All nonessential personnel report to a safe room for lockdown.”

The round door at the end of the hallway slid open suddenly, making him pivot in that direction. The hall flooded with red emergency lighting. A pantoran woman strode out, followed by the sounds of hustle and bustle a bit too bustling for normal medical procedure.

“This place is about to be locked down,” she told him. “Better get a move on, ARC.”

He fell into step beside her as she walked, seeing no point in sticking around if that was indeed the case. He glanced over her person, trying to remember if he’d seen her around for long. He definitely recognized parts of her armor. She was one of the few Mandos left on Kamino, her armor mostly a deep blue, with pink and yellow clouds rolling along the bottom of her chestplate. Her pink hair was cropped close to her head on the sides and flopped over loosely on top. She was only about as tall as his shoulder, probably approaching forty years old, but this woman had two gold jaig eyes tattooed on her forehead.

There was no messing with her.

“Why?” he asked.

“Undisclosed. Someone’s up to no good in the medical wing.”

The alarm continued to blare.

Sevenset glanced behind him at the closed door. Fives hadn’t contacted him yet… did that mean he was in lockdown without his armor? They had to remove their kit for med evals, so maybe with the security, he hadn’t been able to get his comm back yet. That had to be it. Fives was ARC. He hadn’t survived this long by doing rash things like… whatever this trooper was doing.

“What’s your name, ma’am?” he asked, choosing to collect whatever information he could about this Mando.

She glanced over at him. “Maral Tumun.”

He nodded. “I’m Sevenset. I’ve seen you around once or twice.”

“I would hope so. I’ve been training you lot for ages. I trained some of the command batches up from tykes.”

Oh, had she now? That was worth poking into a little bit. “Which batches?”

Before she had an opportunity to answer, his comm went off. He glanced at the frequency and frowned. He didn’t recognize it. It wasn’t anyone in his squadron, or any of the Numbers. Weird.

“Sorry, I gotta take this,” he mumbled, answering the voice transmission. “This is ARC seven seven seven seven.”

“Hey, Sevens, it’s Fives. Listen–I uh… I might’ve done something.”

Oh no.

He hastily muted the comm, but didn't disconnect it, staring at Trainer Tumun, whose gold eyes had locked on him as soon as she'd heard Fives' name. "Wrong number?" he tried.

Her brow rose. "You often get wrong numbers who know your name?"

"Uh, yeah, all the time. Pretty common name among the newer batches, actually," he rambled on.

"Let me hear him," she said.

"Why? No. Ma'am."

“If you don’t, I am still under obligation to report any incidents related to what that trooper has done in medical to my superiors,” she said. “And I believe you would prefer this knowledge remain out of the Kaminoans’ hands for as long as possible, yes?”

He blinked at her. She was… helping? Was she helping? Obviously, whatever Fives had done, he wanted to know as much as he could before making decisions on how to help. She did have reasonable authority to march him down to one of the commanders or one of the doctors and make him sing, and he did not want to do that.

“You won’t get him in trouble?”

She crossed her arms, her beskar clinking. “Any more trouble, you mean?”

“Yeah…”

She shook her head. “Not yet. I know well enough to hear him out.”

Okay. It was as good as he was gonna get. He unmuted the comm.

“Heyyy…. Fives, sorry about that–”

“What the hell was that?” his friend demanded. “What happened?”

“I ran into a trainer, okay?” he shot back, trying to keep his voice down. “I–she heard you, I had to explain some things–”

“Who? What? I thought you were gonna help, Sevens!”

That hurt. He put a hand on his hip even though Fives couldn’t see him. “I’m trying, okay? This is the first time someone’s commed me after putting a whole wing of medical into lockdown, Fives! That was you, right?”

Trainer Tumun stepped closer. “What happened, trooper?”

“It’s–-there’s—something’s wrong with Tup. Yeah, Nala se was gonna cover up all the data, she switched the cases and everything.”

Sevenset exchanged a quizzical glance with the trainer. “This is the guy you were escorting here?”

“Yeah, yeah, he—kark, I dunno, mate, he got all kinds of messed up on Ringo Vinda.” Fives didn’t sound like himself. Far too agitated to be the collected, quick-witted soldier Sevenset knew. “He… he killed a Jedi, Sevens. And the Kaminoans aren’t doing enough to figure out why. All they want to do is kill him and take him apart afterwards.”

Sevenset sucked in a sharp breath, instinctively glancing up and around for witnesses. Without warning, Trainer Tumun grabbed his arm and pulled them both into a storage room toward the end of the corridor. It was dark, except for the white light from his comm, giving both their faces an eerie glow.

“Explain,” she ordered once they were both inside. At least the alarm was quieter here.

“He lost it! He was—he was—agitated, he was violent, he wasn’t responding to his name at all. He tried takin’ a swipe at General Skywalker too! Tied down to a gurney.”

“So what are you doing, Fives?” Sevenset wanted to know. “Why don’t you have your armor?”

“Armor? Armor—no, no, no, no, armor was too recognizable. Grabbed a plain set. He’ll be fine, barely a concussion—”

“You stole armor?”

“Well, no one’s giving it away, are they?” Fives replied sharply. “I may have… I kind of convinced a droid to perform a medical procedure on Tup, and when Nala Se found out, she freaked out. Said they had to do more extensive testing, still says it might be a virus, or a–a parasite—”

“Extensive testing?” Sevenset asked, his brows furrowing. Initial testing was usually pretty thorough. Why the need to go extensive? “Not the hyper testing, I hope. That will kill him.”

“But I found something!” Fives said. “I found something in his brain with the scan I did, right? But Nala Se said it was nothing, said the machine was calibrated wrong.”

Trainer Tumun tilted her head. “Those machines are never calibrated wrong.”

“Exactly! There was something in his head—maybe not just him, maybe there’s more—”

Sevenset held up a hand. “Okay, hold up, where are you?”

There was a heavy pause. Then, quietly, “Storage room, near the genetics wing.”

Another pause landed. “How? Why?” Sevenset demanded.

“I’m in disguise, aren’t I? They were gonna kriffin’ wipe me, Sevens! Now are you gonna help make sure Tup’s okay, or not?”

Sevenset sucked in a sharp breath almost without thinking. Reconditioning was more of a rumor than anything concrete on Kamino. Hearing his friend say it out loud like that…. Kark. This was worse than he’d thought.

“Yeah, and how am I supposed to keep Tup safe and you out of harm’s way at the same time, huh?”

“I’ll look after Tup,” Trainer Tumun said, cutting into their conversation suddenly.

“What?”

“I am Trainer Maral Tumun,” she said for Fives’ sake. “I don’t trust these Kaminoans when they’re this excited to dispose of a soldier. If they are so keen to find you, then they are keen to cover up what’s happening to Tup. I will find out, and I will make sure he gets to a doctor who knows the value of sentient life.”

There was another long pause as they both took in the information. Finally, Fives said, “Thank you, ma’am.”

“How are you gonna do that?” Sevenset asked. So he was a little skeptical. He had reason to be.

She smiled. “I am of Clan Ves. We do not disappoint.”

“Yeah, that’s great, I was talking more logistics?” he said. “Where are there doctors to treat him? How is he getting off Kamino? How are you even getting him off the medical table?”

Trainer Tumun sniffed, lifting her chin. “I know a guy.”

“It’s not Commander Nero, is it?” Fives asked with much sarcasm.

She looked down at the comm, shifting her stance slightly. “I do not have to answer that.”

“Nero?” Sevenset repeated. “Wait, he’s Commander Sixes’ batcher, right?” He recalled her remark about training command batches. “Holy kark, you trained those grumpy bastards, didn’t you?”

Once again, she lifted her chin and shuffled her feet slightly. “They were my best.”

“They’re kriffing sociopaths, ma’am,” Fives blurted.

“No, they are not, I had them tested.”

Comforting. But not important right now. “Okay, okay, fine,” he said. “You’ll find Tup and use Commander Nero’s infinite source of strings to pull to get him off-world. Fives, I’m gonna find you and make sure you don’t do anything stupid by yourself.”

Trainer Tumun gave him a look. “Not the usual phrasing of that expression.”

“Story of my life, ma’am,” he told her.

“Sounds good. My locator should still be on, Sevenset should be able to track me with that. I’m heading to the Genetic Records Hall.”

He sighed, rubbing his head. “Copy that, I’ll find you.”

“Stay outside until I come out. And thanks… again…”

The comm disconnected, leaving them in almost total darkness. Almost, because of the tiny dots of light on their vambrace controls.

“Okay.”

She nodded. Probably. “Let’s go.”

He followed her out into the hall, selecting the frequency Fives had used to comm him and tracking the corresponding locator signal. He turned this way and that a couple times, never the best at directionality.

“Okay, Genetic Records Hall,” he said. “No clue where that is.”

“I know it,” Tumun nodded. “I’ll need access to a different part of the medical wing, so I’ll send you the coordinates while we walk.” Without leaving room for debate, she turned and began walking, leaving him to catch up at a slight jog.

This was a bad situation, obviously. Sevenset wasn’t that tone-deaf not to realize that. But he also knew the value in taking the opportunities presented to him, and right now, he had direct access to a woman who had known Commander Sixes since he had been able to walk. There was no way in any of the nine hells he was letting this chance pass by without using it to find out something.

“So… Chaos Batch, huh?” he said by way of introduction. “You uh… you made ‘em like that?”

“I trained them,” she replied. “They were already like that.”

He gave a low whistle. “Okay, so Commander Nero has always been two degrees away from being a serial killer?”

“Well, he did try to kill a Kaminoan when he was five standard.”

He gaped at her. “He did what? And he’s alive?”

“That’s when he was transferred to the Chaos Batch,” she answered easily. “And also when he was tested for sociopathy. He just has a very rigid view of right and wrong, and a penchant for finding the simplest solution to his problems. But his emotional depth is perfectly normal.”

Sevenset could only nod. So the weird vibes he’d gotten from Commander Nero were well deserved. Granted, he’d never felt actively threatened by the man. He just had understood that if Nero had wanted it, Sevenset would have been dead faster than he could say his own name.

“Uh…huh,” he answered. “And Commander Sixes… has he always been that prickly? Grumpy, as some would say.”

She shook her head. “No, Bacara’s the one they call Grumpy. Sixes was… well. Geonosis One changed a lot of your older brothers. He’s a sweetheart to his core.”

A what? A sweetheart? The guy in all-black armor whose callsign was Death was a sweetheart? Sevenset’s mind reeled.

“Not that he’d ever admit it,” Tumun continued as they turned the corner to the neighboring corridor. “They’re all stubborn as hell, but they had determination and ingenuity like I’d never seen in a squad of cadets before. Bacara once stayed up all night putting together what he called a ‘flawless battle strategy’ for the four of them, and it was. He took into account each of their strengths and weaknesses, and they absolutely demolished the squad they were facing the next day.”

“No kidding,” he said. Small wonder the Marines were some of the most efficient soldiers in the GAR. With a commander like that… well.

“But they also invented Knife Monopoly while drunk for the first time,” she mused, a fond smile on her face. “And Sixes and Nero once shot each other during a concocted ‘duel,’ and they both have scars from it.” She shook her head. “Even genetic manipulation can’t stop teenagers from being teenagers.”

Sevenset was honestly approaching speechlessness. All that came out in reply to those world-shattering revelations was, “Oh.” His mind felt like a speeder without altitude stabilizers.

“We’re here,” Tumun said, stopping near an arched door back into the medical wing. She raised her vambrace, tapping a message. “These are the coordinates to the Genetics Hall. It’s near the incubation wings. I’ll go find Tup.”

“Got it,” he nodded, his brain struggling a little to recover from the previous conversation.

“What is Tup’s designation?” she asked.

“Uh…” He commed Fives.

“Are you here?”

“Starting there now. What’s Tup’s designation?”

“CT fifty-three eighty-five.”

Tumun nodded. “I’ll go find him. I promise,” she added, pressing a closed fist across her chest. A Mandalorian salute.

He nodded back, then took off at a jog toward where he knew the incubators were. He didn’t know what kind of time frame Fives was on, but he had to assume it wasn’t a long one. He offered passing excuses and thank yous as he dodged around doctors and troopers in the hallways, but honestly, Colt had made him run enough laps through the city that even if someone asked him what he was doing, he’d just say tell them that. No one would even blink.

Ten minutes. It took him almost ten minutes to get there. Something closer to seven, probably, but still. It felt too long. When the door was in sight, he opened his comm again.

“Fives, I’m near the main doors, what’s your status?”

“This shit just gets worse and worse, I’m telling you–” he replied angrily.

The door opened, making Sevenset look up hopefully. But no. Kaminoans were filing out of the room. Quietly, seemingly unbothered, but… no. Too quickly. Too orderly.

“Buddy, they know you’re in there,” he said, keeping his voice down.

“Yeah, I see it.”

Well. Sevenset was nothing if not recklessly impulsive at his core. “I’m coming with you,” he said, disconnecting the comm before Fives could argue, then darting towards the door.

The Kaminoans didn’t stop him. They moved out of his way, if anything. As he passed the threshold, he heard more hurried footsteps approaching from the opposite corridor from which he’d come.

“Time go, pal!” he called, now out-right sprinting to Fives. Force, he looked weird in shiny armor.

“You’re a kriffing moron, Sevens!” he shouted, following an AZ medical droid towards… oh, an emergency hatch in the ceiling. Smart.

“Yeah, tell me something I don’t know,” he shot back.

“There!” someone shouted behind them. Then stun rings began blazing past them as they ran.

Maker’s sake, they really wanted this guy! Sevenset would have been impressed, if he weren’t running away from them too. He practically flung himself up the yellow rungs of the ladder behind Fives, pulling himself into the emergency hatch after him and stepping back so the AZ could weld it shut.

Then he turned to Fives.

“Okay, so you’re in a stupendous amount of shit.”

“You didn’t have to follow me!” he shot back.

“Too bad! You’re my friend, and I have reckless tendencies,” he replied, tossing his hands in the air.

“I do not meant to interrupt,” said the droid, holding up one of its metal fingers, “but we have research to finish.”

“Finish?” Fives repeated, looking at it. “You didn’t get everything you needed?”

“Hey, I’ve an idea,” Sevenset cut in. “How about we walk and talk, yeah? Where the hell are you going?”

“What information do you still need, AZ?” Fives asked the droid.

“Well,” the droid began, sounding, as many droids did, way too calm for the amount of pressure riding on the current situation, “we know it is an organic chip, created and implanted into clone Tup’s brain.”

Sevenset put his hands on his hips and looked at Fives.

“We found a thing in Tup’s brain, it’s not from the original genetic material from Prime, so someone had to put it there,” he supplied.

“What I am not sure of,” AZ went on, turning his body around and rummaging in his storage compartment, “is at what stage of development the chip is implanted, and its purpose.”

“And we don’t know if it’s in my brain too,” Fives added, which made Sevenset’s gaze snap back to him.

“Excuse me?” Fives had reason to believe that whatever made Tup execute a Jedi General was also in his head?

The droid spoke up, now holding a glass slide containing something suspiciously flesh-colored. “Your scans did not indicate—”

“Neither did Tup’s, until we looked deeper,” Fives insisted. “If they missed it in Tup, they can miss it in me. We have to check.”

A horrible thought came unbidden to Sevenset’s mind. If this thing was in Fives and Tup… then it could be in his head too, right?

“And if it is?” he heard himself ask.

His friend looked at him.

“If it is in your head too?”

“Then he takes it out,” Fives said firmly, tilting his bucket towards AZ.

The droid rose in the air slightly, his visual receptors shining a bit brighter in shock. “That is a dangerous surgery. When I removed clone Tup’s chip, his overall health greatly worsened.”

“I’ll risk it.”

“Hey–wait, what?” Sevenset held up his hands. “‘Greatly worsened?’ What does that mean?”

“He’s still alive,” Fives said, then turned back to AZ. “Are you gonna help, or not?”

“We will need to return to a medical facility,” the droid said, drifting slightly towards Sevenset, intending to pass him.

“Fives, mate,” he said, stepping in front of the droid. “This is a lot. Are you sure you’re—”

Fives stepped over the round hole in the floor where the hatch was. “Tup is one of my best friends. He’s hurting because someone put this thing in his head. Maybe they put this thing into all of our heads. Now, the Kaminoans know something they’re not willing to let me find out.”

“And that might be a good thing,” Sevenset argued. “Listen, I’m not one to trust the long-necks, but we’re not scientists, Fives.”

“This thing made Tup kill a Jedi!” his friend exclaimed. “You want that? You wanna wake up one day a prisoner in your own head, watching your body hunt down General Ti and shoot her?”

“Don’t do that,” he told him, his voice dropping to a dark pitch.

“It’s the truth,” Fives told him. “I need to know how far this goes. You should too.”

Truthfully, Sevenset was curious. Inherently so, some would say. But he wasn’t an idiot, like the others would also say. What Fives was doing was dangerous. A medical procedure like brain surgery wasn’t without risk, even when performed by a droid designed like AZ. But something nagged at the back of his mind, like a child very softly tugging at a parent’s clothing for attention. He couldn’t ignore it forever.

The truth was, Fives wasn’t an idiot either. Hell, he was one of the most caring brothers he’d met, and that included himself.

He sighed, rubbing his face roughly. “Gods, Echo’s gonna kill me for helping you.”

“Yeah.” His friend’s voice sounded hollow at the mention of his batchmate. Probably not the kindest thing Sevenset could have brought up. “AZ, lead the way,” he said.

The droid whirred as he rose higher up the ladder, and Sevenset let Fives follow him before bringing up the rear. They climbed about three levels before the droid cut left. They followed doggedly, turning a few times before dropping back down two more levels. Finally, AZ paused, hovering over a hatch.

“Is this it?” Fives asked, squatting down.

The droid appeared to nod. “Yes. This is a hatch to the D-wing of the medical building. As of now, I can detect no noise on the other side of this hatch.”

Fives hesitated briefly, then took a breath, handing off his stolen blaster to Sevenset so he could hop down to open the hatch. He twisted the yellow wheel slowly, trying to minimize the noise. When it was finally open, he let it down as slowly as he could, and Sevenset reached out to grab the back of his utility belt to steady him as he leaned down.

“All clear,” he reported. He sat back up, then lowered himself down.

AZ followed him, and Sevenset tossed down the blaster so he could have his hands free to follow them. AZ let them into one of the medical examination rooms. It all went so smoothly, Sevenset found himself momentarily baffled. Wouldn’t the Kamino Guard have troopers posted at every emergency tunnel entrance in the whole medical wing? Weird.

“Okay, let’s get this over with,” Fives said, removing his helmet and setting both it and his blaster on a tray beside the bed. Bed was a generous term. Table was better. He lifted himself onto it.

“And you’re sure this is the thing to do?” he asked again. He already knew the answer, he just couldn’t help it.

“It’s just gonna be a scan and maybe some surgery.”

“Yeah, it’s the maybe I’m worried about, Fives,” he said, watching AZ pull up the scanning machine and begin to program it.

“Knowing what I know now about these chips,” the droid said, poking buttons on the touchscreen, “I do not need to scan at the atomic level. Due to the inorganic compounds present in these chips, a molecular examination should suffice.”

“Is that good?” Sevenset asked as Fives lay down.

“A molecular scan does not put as much strain on the subject.”

He nodded vaguely. So it was good.

AZ brought the ring-shaped scanner around to position it around Fives’ head. “Please remain still and do not speak during the examination,” he said, sounding routine. “Close your eyes and keep them closed until told to open them.”

Fives did as instructed, and Sevenset stood at the foot of the table to watch. AZ tapped a button to begin the examination, and the ring-shaped machine whirred into action, a slow green-ish blue light beginning to travel around the inner circumference.

The exam was probably pretty short, considering the number of actions AZ completed during the time, but the seconds felt like they were moving like drying mud to Sevenset. The droid hovered next to a screen on the side of the room, where a diagram or image of Fives’ brain was slowly developing. After what was probably a minute or so, a red dot appeared on the screen.

AZ hummed a short note of… what, surprise? Acknowledgement? Droids… so hard to parse. Then he flew back over to the scanning device and tapped a few buttons to power it down. When the interior light had fully faded out, he moved the device away.

“You may open your eyes,” he said cheerfully.

Fives blinked his eyes open slowly, looking groggy all of a sudden. Sevenset moved to his side.

“You alright, mate?” he asked, holding out a hand.

“Bit of a headache,” Fives admitted. “But it’s fading.” He took his hand and hauled himself up into a sitting position. Sevenset eyed him carefully. “What’s the word, AZ?”

“By ‘the word,’ I assume you mean the results of the scan?”

“Yes.”

“They are identical to clone Tup,” the droid chirped, moving to the side so Fives and Sevenset could see the screen. “The same tumor appears in the same location in your brain.”

“Sithspit,” Fives hissed, rubbing his head. “Can you take it out?”

“Of course.”

“Then do it,” he said, resuming his previous position on the table.

As AZ began preparing, Sevenset’s comm went off, so he stepped away to answer it. It was Trainer Tumun.

“I have Tup secure,” she reported. “Someone is in transit to collect him and get him to safety.”

He looked up to Fives, who had turned his head to listen. “Hear that?”

Fives nodded, a brief wave of relief washing over his features before he settled back to let AZ begin.

Sevenset turned away. He was fine with blood, but he had no desire to see the inside of Fives’ skull. “Thank you, ma’am. We know the one-eighteenth can be trusted with this.”

There was a pause, since Tumun hadn’t known of their affiliations with Nero’s battalion. But, time was waning, and she must have thought better than to waste any by starting down that winding path. “If I can, I’ll let you know when they have him secure.”

“Much appreciated, ma’am.”

“Hopefully, the ruckus I caused can help you and Fives get the information you need.”

He nodded. “Absolutely. We’re working on it.”

“I wish you the best. Good hunting, ARCs.”

The comm disconnected. He could still hear AZ working, so he kept his attention firmly on the set of window controls below the oval window separating this room from the next. Currently, it was opaque, but the buttons underneath could turn it transparent or translucent if so desired. He was impressed by his own ability to not mess with them.

Mainly because his mind was too busy reeling over the information he’d learned in such a short time.

Somehow, both Fives and Tup had little semi-organic chips in their brains that had been implanted by… someone, who knew whom that had been, and that was uncomfortable enough. But Tup’s had looked… sick. He’d lost his mind, almost as literally as a sentient being could, and that alone sent chills down his spine. If more clones had these chips… then way more of them than just Tup were capable of outright murdering Jedi.

Or anyone.

“The operation is complete.”

He jolted. How much time had passed? He hadn’t checked the time before. Shit. How long had they stayed in one place? That was dangerous. Fives was waking up. AZ held a second glass compartment, examining the contents.

“Well?” he asked, walking over to put hands on Fives to remind himself he was okay.

“This is new,” AZ said. “The chip removed from clone trooper Tup was severely degraded in function and structure, but this one is entirely healthy.”

Fives groaned quietly, his hand rising to his head, only to bump into the metal device still implanted there. His hair had been shorn around it, making for a rather unsightly haircut. Maybe he could pass it off as a fade if he shaved the other side to match?

“Okay, so… Tup was an accident?” he said. “He didn’t mean it. He was sick.”

“That is the most likely scenario,” AZ replied, his body rotating around so he could place Fives’ chip in his storage compartment with Tup’s.

“What are the chances this thing’s in my head too?” Sevenset dared to ask.

“Given you are from the same generation of clones,” the droid said, tapping his fingers together with something resembling nervousness, “the chances are not exactly… low.”

He’d already suspected as much. Judging by the look on Fives’ face, he felt the same. Nice of him to not share it until Sevenset was ready. Alright, well, if he was ever going to have brain surgery, having it on his own terms seemed like a great time for it.

Holding out a hand to Fives again, he helped him off the table, giving a look that asked if he was alright, and receiving a nod in return. “Might as well mark brain surgery off my bucket list,” he said, hoisting himself onto the table.

“You haven’t been scanned,” Fives said, gesturing to the machine. “You don’t know if you even have this thing.”

Sevenset rolled his eyes, desperate to cover up the anxiety rising in his system. “Yeah, I think we all kinda know it’s gonna be there. Better to just save myself the headache, right? We’ve been here too long as it is.”

Fives couldn’t argue with the last point. The longer they stayed in one place, the more likely it was someone would find them. They needed to move, and if this got it done faster, then so be it. His friend looked a little helpless for a split second before nodding and stepping back.

“Are you sure?” AZ asked. “Without a scan, I will have to estimate where the cells are located—”

“And you’re a smart droid,” Sevenset cut in, lying back on the table. “You’ll do fine. It’s probably exactly where Fives’ was. We are clones, after all, right?”

After a second or two of processing, the droid nodded. “Very well.” He flew over to a barely visible cabinet underneath the display screens at the back wall, and retrieved what supplies he would need. Normally, they would have been laid out, but he’d used them on Fives already. He held up a large syringe which Sevenset was not thrilled about. “This will not hurt—”

“Yes, it will,” Fives cut him off.

“It will only hurt a bit,” the droid corrected, and Sevenset braced himself.

It did hurt. Quite a bit, actually, like injecting fire under the skin of his neck. But, after only a few seconds, the pain had faded, and the rest of the world faded out as well.

-scene break-

He woke up to his comm blinking at him, telling him a new message had arrived. As he had suspected, AZ held a sample identical to the one that had come out of Fives' head. Holy Force. Once AZ gave him the all-clear, he opened his comm, scanning it quickly as he and Fives readied themselves for whatever came next. There wasn't time to process what had just happened.

“Where are we going next?” he asked,his eyes fixed on the thing AZ had taken out of his head. Gross. It made his skin crawl like an itchy sweater he couldn’t take off.

“The incubation rooms,” AZ answered, flying over to the door. “We must find out how many clones have these implanted chips, and when they are implanted into your cell structure.”

Sevenset nodded. “Alright. Let’s visit some tubies.” He paused to open his comm. “Uh… I take it we’re keeping our activities unknown to your batcher?” he asked.

“Please,” Fives said, looking terribly guilty.

He started typing a reply as they hurried out of the room.

CrispyDomino: Rex says he’s on his way back, how’s Fives?

RedBoiiiii: peachy!

CrispyDomino: oh good

CrispyDomino: do you know how Tup’s doing?

RedBoiiiii: uhh more tests?

d0nut man: aw that’s too bad :(

d0nut man: might it have anything to do with the 118th’s unplanned visit to Kamino right now?

CrispyDomino: What.

RedBoiiii: I’m sure it’s nothing Zero

Double Trouble: guys he just used capitalization correctly…

RedBoiiii: dosido i do no t need this right now

DEATH: And where is Fives in this conversation?

RedBoiiiii: he doesnt have his comm

RedBoiiiii: they had to clear him had to get his kit off

CrispyDomino: Do you know he’s okay?

RedBoiiiii: like i said, peachy

d0nut man: uh yeah, i wasn’t joking about an unplanned stop in the Kamino system.

d0nut man: what are we doing here

DEATH: I have a terrible feeling about this

DressedtotheNines: Please don’t say that, every time Kenobi says that, bad stuff happens

Leafs: Wait, Echo left Sevenset in charge of Fives?

CrispyDomino: Yes

Loopy: wait why

CrispyDomino: Bc I assume he got to ARC trooper SOMEHOW

RedBoiiiii: look hes’ fine!!! I’m still with him!!

DEATH: Nero’s hiding something. The 118th is definitely going to Kamino for crimes.

CrispyDomino: CRIMES???

d0nut man: oooohh yay I hope it’s kidnapping :)

d0nut man: that’s my favorite crime

d0nut man: been in a high crimes and misdemeanors kinda mood lately

Leafs: I have so many questions I do not want answers for.

CrispyDomino: Okay okay, since I’m about to go into another firefight

CrispyDomino: I am choosing to believe the crimes and my batcher are unrelated.

RedBoiiiii: good choice

Double Trouble: they are so related

Loopy: yeah, definitely

Submarine: Hey… probably a bad time to ask, but is anyone else going on leave soon?

d0nut man: well we were suPPOSED TO

Loopy: not official leave, just stopping by 000 for a restock n stuff, but yeah

Leafs: I do have leave soon, yes

DressedtotheNines: Yeah, we’re here already, set for a couple weeks

DEATH: Get some noodles. I’m sure Mira and Saleha will be overjoyed to see you.

RedBoiiiii: aw that’s actually sweet!

DEATH: They haven’t met you yet, don’t get your hopes up.

RedBoiiiii: :/

RedBoiiiii: Hey sir

RedBoiiiii: Is it true you and cmdr bacara invented Knife Monopoly when drunk the first time?

Double Trouble: THEY DID WHAT NOW???

Submarine: Oh is that why so many Novas play that game?

Leafs: Wait it’s an actual game?? With knives??

Loopy: it better have knives, i’ll be disappointed if it doesn’t

CrispyDomino: Sevenset you are supposed to be watching my brother

CrispyDomino: not tempting Death himself

DressedtotheNines: I … I’m not sure what to think

d0nut man: I think Seven’s about to vanish under mysterious circumstances

Submarine: Yes, it does involve knives. I’ve never played though.

DEATH: Echo, I have it on good authority that the kid you sent to Kamino is in good hands

CrispyDomino: WHOSE AUTHORITY

DEATH: My old trainer

RedBoiiiii: she didn’t mention anything else…?

DEATH: She told me everything.

DEATH: But for now, all these laser brains need to know is it is being handled.

CrispyDomino: There’s an EVERYTHING???

RedBoiiiii: an Everything that is fine, yes!

-scene break-

All of them.

Every single clone.

Sevenset looked from the glowing green lights on the display screen to the tower of growth tubes before them.

All of them had these things in their heads, waiting for activation. Activation for what? AZ hadn’t been able to figure out what these bioengineered things could be used for. The only data point they had was Tup, and he had been whisked off somewhere by Trainer Tumun. Hopefully.

“So that means…” Fives said, pulling off his helmet, “we’re all part of this. Whatever reason these things exist, it… it affects all of us.”

“It would appear so, yes.” Even AZ looked as surprised as he could.

The sudden sound of a door hissing as it slid open made them all spin around, Fives automatically raising his blaster.

Kark.

It was Nala Se, one of the head doctors on Kamino, and a distinctly unpleasant person. She approached with raised hands.

“Stay where you are,” Fives told her sharply. Sevenset wanted to edge closer to him, just in case he did something really stupid, but he didn’t move.

“Why are you doing this?” the doctor asked.

“Take a guess,” he shot back before Fives could. “You thought you could cover up putting bioengineered hardware into our brains, and no one would notice? No one would get curious?”

The doctor ignored or otherwise dismissed the blatant threat Fives posed, and continued to approach them with her hands visible. “Curious about what?” she asked peaceably.

Sevenset moved to the side, revealing the display screen and gesturing at it. “This?” he demanded. Fives flanked the doctor and corralled her towards the screen. “What is it?”

“That is a structural inhibitor chip,” she explained, her voice never changing. It always freaked him out that Kaminoans had little to no inflection. Like somehow, their scientific findings had placed them above emotions. “It is supposed to prevent you from being aggressive,” she went on, looking over her shoulder at Fives, who still had a blaster on her. “Like your source, Jango Fett.”

Sevenset laughed. Dry and cynical. “Less aggressive?” he said. “I’m sorry, have you met some of the Alphas? And who thinks of putting an inhibitor on aggression in soldiers, eh?”

“Jedi Master Sypho Dias instructed us to introduce these structures during the growth cycle,” Nala Se replied evenly.

Fives blinked, casting a glance at Sevenset. “The Jedi did this?”

“No way.” Sevenset shook his head. “If the Jedi wanted this done—if they were the ones to blueprint this thing—then why did General Ti have no idea about it? She’s been here for ages.”

Nala Se’s enormous eyes narrowed. “I do not pretend to know the workings of the Jedi.”

“The Jedi wouldn’t do this,” he repeated, pointing to the tower of tubies next to them.

“It is not uncommon to put inhibitors in clones.”

AZ had spun his body around and dug out Tup’s chip. “I have analyzed clone Tup’s inhibitor chip. Apparently, it has failed.”

“Until this point,” Nala Se said, glaring at Fives, “there has never been a problem.”

“Well, I specialize in making my own problems,” Sevenset told her, taking a step toward her.

“And you’ve got a big one right now,” Fives growled, nudging the nose of his blaster into the small of the doctor’s back for emphasis.

Sevenset saw the door open this time, allowing General Ti and a few Kamino Guards into the room. Fives darted around Nala Se, keeping her between them and the new threats.

“Don’t move!” one of the guards ordered as they ran.

They came to a stop upon realizing the doctor was between them and their targets. General Ti ignited her lightsaber. “Drop your weapon,” she demanded.

“Did you know about this?” Fives replied, jerking his head to indicate the display screen. “The inhibitor chips the Jedi ordered them to put in our brains?”

She surveyed them, calculating. “I have no recollection of any one of my Order informing me of such things. Do you have evidence?”

AZ whirred forward, still holding Tup’s chip. “Right here,” he said. “This is the chip taken from clone trooper Tup. As you can see, it appears blackened and rotten. This sickness caused the malfunction.”

“But what caused the sickness?” the Jedi wanted to know.

“We don’t know,” Sevenset admitted.

“It doesn’t matter!” Fives argued. “What matters is it happened. And it could happen again. More clones could turn against their Jedi, or their brothers. The entire Republic Army could be compromised if someone figured out a way to activate these chips on purpose!”

That was something Sevenset had not considered yet. It hadn’t occurred to him that these chips might have a purpose outside of… well, they didn’t know yet. What if there was a manual activation? Or a secret code?

“There is no proof of any of this!” Nala Se interjected, finally showing some of the frustration she must have been feeling for a while. “This is an isolated incident. Besides, when you removed Tup’s chip, his health deteriorated immensely.”

Rude.

“We’re fine, aren’t we?” Fives said, raising an eyebrow at her.

“What does that matter?”

“We removed our chips as well,” Sevenset said, pointing to the bandage over the incision on his skull.

AZ held up the chips. “Here they are, very healthy.”

“Then you are both threats and should be considered dangerous,” Nala Se said sharply. “Master Jedi, they should be terminated immediately.”

“I am not a piece of kriffing hardware!” Fives exclaimed, and Sevenset had to agree with him on his anger.

“We’re ARC troopers,” he added. “We’ve laid our lives on the line for the Republic countless times, and you want to terminate us because we found out about your chips?”

“Because you have removed your chips,” Nala Se hissed at him. “And technically, you are both property of the Kaminoan government.”

Sevenset blinked, honestly shocked. He knew the Kaminoans weren’t to be trusted, nor did they place any real value in a trooper’s life, but to hear it like that? To actually be labeled property? He’d have gotten no better on Nal Hutta. Or Zyggeria! Were these chips… they couldn’t be slave chips, could they?

“Correction.” General Ti’s strong voice cut through his spiraling thoughts. She extinguished her blade and lowered the hilt to her side. “Technically, they are ‘property’ of the Republic.”

“They are a danger to themselves and to others,” Nala Se argued, her small head swaying on her long neck as she struggled to remain civilized. “They must be terminated.”

“Oh, for Maker’s sake,” Sevenset spat. “Just say killed. It’s what you mean, right? You wanna kill us? Don’t hide behind words as long as your neck.”

“I believe,” said General Ti, cutting off the doctor’s reply, “their fates are for me to decide.” She lifted her chin. “Fives, you are coming with me to Coruscant. Sevenset will accompany him. You will tell your story to the Chancellor.”

The Chancellor? He was going to see the Chancellor himself? Not an aide, not Mas Amedda, but the actual, real-live Chancellor, who got his robe unravelled by Commander Thire that one time?

Nala Se finally moved, harshly pushing away the blaster Fives had been holding half-heartedly at her chest. “Master Jedi—”

“Sounds great, when do we leave?” Sevenset interrupted, hurrying to get ahead of her.

He could feel Nala Se’s enormous grey eyes boring into the back of his head.

“The chancellor wanted all the data on Tup, correct?” General Ti continued, a confident light in her eyes as she typed something into her comm unit. “We’re sending the data, Tup’s tumor, and the two other samples, and Fives and Sevenset will go with them.”

The Kaminoan doctor drew herself up to her full, impressive height. “Then I am going with them.”

Oh, please no. Sevenset had exactly zero desire to spend several hours in hyperspace with her anywhere near him. He saw Fives felt similarly, and he turned his gaze to the general, hoping to communicate just how much he didn’t want this to happen.

But her hands must have been tied. She narrowed her eyes slightly, but agreed. “As you wish, Doctor.”

The door opened yet again, admitting a small team of Kamino Guards bearing two stretchers between them. Sevenset watched Fives sit down on one before doing the same on the other.

“Thank you, General,” Fives said as the Jedi began to turn away. “For believing us.”

“It’s not a matter of belief, Fives,” she told him, her face impassible. “It is simply the right thing to do.”

…Jedi.

In watching her leave, Sevenset was caught off guard by one of the guards approaching him with a syringe in his hand. He instantly shied away from it, holding a hand up. “Whoa, hold on. What is that?” He looked over to Fives, seeing him rub his neck as another guard walked away from him.

“A weak sedative.”

“I don’t want a sedative,” he said. “I don’t care if it’s weaker than a day-old porg.”

“It’s preventative.”

“Against?” he asked, a little flummoxed. “What, you think I’m gonna jump up and escape? Escape where?”

“It’s not my call,” the guard replied, sounding a little apologetic.

He glanced up at Nala Se, whose back was to him as she followed the general out of the room. Probably standard procedure. Probably. He still didn’t want it.

“Don’t give it to me, or I will jump up and do something about it,” he said, then lay back on the stretcher. “Now get going.”

The guard looked confused, standing there without purpose. But eventually, the guard manning the stretcher just shook his head and turned him toward the doors. Good. His method of wasting people’s time until they gave him what he wanted was still effective. Now… on to Coruscant.

What will happen on Coruscant?? What will the chancellor do?? Will Nala Se finally hit her head on a doorframe?? All that and MORE next month ;) Unless I can't help myself and I post it for the Number Lads 1 year anniversary this month In addition: Maral Tumun is another OC by my friend 23-bears and me. I drew her during OC-tober last year, here.

@23-bears @theultimatesandwich @mercurydancer @persimminwrites @beskarmermaid @darth-void @rndmpeep

#i write things sometimes #star wars fanfic #the clone wars #tcw fanfic #clone trooper ocs #star wars ocs #pantoran oc #mandalorian oc #arc trooper sevenset #arc trooper fives #clone trooper tup #nala se #shaak ti #kaminoans #number lads #numbers gang

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