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English
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Part 3 of Remnants of the Republic
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2023-06-03
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2024-12-30
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Secrets of the Buried

Summary:

Two years into her apprenticeship, padawan learner Omega and the Mantis Crew are enlisted by long-time friend, Hera Syndulla, to explore an abandoned Kaminoan facility after the initial scouting team goes radio silent.

Omega didn't expect the painful memories of Tantiss to be dragged back to the surface of her mind after suppressing them for so long...

Cal didn't expect to find an unchecked Darkness dwelling within the underbelly of the facility. A Darkness that could very well consume his padawan and the people he loves...

Merrin didn't expect to find the remnants of a hidden Kaminoan project buried under the ice...

[Part 3 of the Remnants Series, but you can skip Part 2]

Notes:

My friends,

Originally titled, "The Syndulla Excursion" I have spent months working on what I hope is a long-awaited continuation of Omega's journey as Cal's padawan (if you have no idea what I'm talking about, go read Remnants of the Republic then come back here), even totally starting over and re-writing much of this, polishing this story.

This, I feel, has had infinitely more love put into it than The Haxion Infiltration, as I have continuously refined this, tried to make it the best story it can be for you. It is not finished, believe it or not, but I believe it is time to start sharing it with all of you.

That said, this story comes in two parts (both featured in this story): Songs of the Unseen, and Songs of the Seen.
Songs of the Unseen was written with major horror-story influences, something I have never dabbled in, but I hope you forgive me for the novice, as we all have to start somewhere. Some parts may be a bit more chilling than the rest, but those chapters will be noted and provide an appropriate warning.

With not much else to say, let's get on with the story, shall we?

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1: The Warmth of the Hearth

Chapter Text

Part I - Songs of Unseen

And I made a rural pen,
And I stain’d the water clear,
And I wrote my happy songs
Every child may joy to hear.

- Introduction , William Blake

 

Lots of things happened in hyperspace. In the hulls, the cargo bays, the cockpits, the bunks, the kitchens. Sometimes things were dramatic and beautiful, like declarations of love, of hate, of friendship, allyship, life-long grudges that only lasted two days, first kisses, last kisses, the 78th kiss, fist-fights, bad nights, good dreams, bad dreams, shared dreams, broken dreams, fulfilled lives... And then, some things were menial and forgotten, lost by the slow passing of time or an immediately proceeding eventful five seconds. Boring things like the thousandth manifest check, procedural ship diagnostics, making a bed, feeding a pet, feeding three pets, smuggling things that shouldn't be pets into the vents before the ship's captain found out, five games of dejarik, accidentally kicking the wall, re-programming the navi-computer, routine maintenance to a mouthy astromech.

Lots of things happened on the Stinger Mantis during hyperspace travel. For this particular motley crew, it was the lull between great battles, of fights and missions and strife. It was the time of relief, of clarity. The calm in the storm that was the Galaxy under the tyrannical rule of the Galactic Empire.

They did the dramatic things, like friendship, petty grudges, good dreams, broken dreams, and kissing. They did the menial things like five games of sabacc, wall-kicking, programming the holotable, making their beds, and tending to the routine maintenance of their companionable explorer droid.

They did the menial and dramatic, and it was all very beautiful when they lived as they did: when any day could be the last.

In the lull of hyperspace, keeping track of the night and day cycles was difficult, and in the lull between missions, there was a relief in knowing that they survived again, and they were together.

So, Greez Dritus– captain, chief, unprofessional gambler– always, always made an effort to make dinner in the lull.

It was one of Cal Kestis’s favorite things; no matter how late or how early they needed to have it, Greez made sure to have everything ready at a time when they all could eat together, not one person having to eat alone after a mission or otherwise.

It was a routine they had gotten comfortable with. Him, Greez, Cere, Merrin, BD-1, and Omega. The six of them, traveling together for two years now, the routine was nice considering everything else around them was so chaotic.

Don’t get Cal wrong, dinner was still chaotic, with their clash of culture, backgrounds, and banter all merging at once, but sitting at the table with everyone together really made the ship feel like a home.

Even though Greez was about three seconds from throwing Cal’s padawan out through the airlock.

“I’m telling you, a dash of my seasoning will really elevate the stew’s flavor!” Omega insisted, attempting to reach for the pantry that held a sachet of her Mandalorian spice mix.

“And I’m telling you , you don’t need to add your Mando shit to every dish!” Greez retaliated, smacking the back of her hand with the spoon he was using to stir the soup.

“I don’t see why not,” she muttered, rubbing her hand and stepping away and taking her seat across the table from Cal.

“I’m with Greez on this one,” he said, “the spices can be a… little much.”

Truthfully, Cal had absolutely no spice tolerance. Every time he ate something with just a pinch of his padawan’s blend, his stomach made him regret it later.

She just stuck her tongue out at him with a good natured smile as Cere and Merrin sat down, Cere placing bowls at the table, ready for serving.

“I’m still waiting for the day we find Dathomirian ingredients in a market somewhere,” Cere said wistfully, sitting down while Greez brought the pot over to the table, dishing up stew.

“I refuse to experiment with any Dathomirian cuisine again!” the Latero proclaimed, pointing the ladle at the older master.

“Just because you didn’t know how to properly cook the meat to negate the venom doesn’t mean you should give up,” Merrin said, almost encouraging, had it not been for the absolutely flat and dry deliverance of her words.

Cal had to hide his snort into his bowl while Greez looked at the Nightsister like she lost her head.

“The only reason I’m still alive after cooking that lizard that you brought onto my ship is because Omega, for some reason, brought a hypno to dinner!”

“I always have my med kit on me,” the padawan in question said before setting her aforementioned kit on the table.

“Besides, Greez, plenty of cultures utilize otherwise toxic ingredients in cooking,” Cere pointed out. “Gungans, for example, sport a poisonous fish as a popular delicacy when it’s prepared right.”

“And, I doubt every ingredient in Dathomirian cuisine is poisonous,” Cal added.

“Most of them are,” Merrin said, unhelpfully.

Greez shook his head. “Nope. Never again. I’d rather eat a bantha steak.”

“What’s wrong with bantha steak?” Omega asked, looking up from where she was blowing on her stew to cool it down.

Greez fixed his expression into a grimace. “Too tough, hard to cook, easy to dry the whole thing out. You’d get as much pleasure eating wood, but otherwise, it makes for excellent jerky when prepared right. Quite the novelty on Tatooine, if I do say so myself!”

The rest of the table went silent as they contemplated his description before they all reached the mutual conclusion to never try bantha steak or ask why Greez had been on Tatooine in the first place.

So, they started eating instead.

This time, thankfully, Greez seemed to knock it out of the park. Cal was used to food not being… good. Scrappers ate quick, and they ate for fuel, not for joy. The innate poverty of the profession, especially under the Empire, left little time for pleasure outside of late nights in the stray cantinas that Cal had been mostly barred from, being so young.

Cal would never turn down a good meal, and was thankful to have a captain so passionate about cooking.

Cere and Omega were much the same, he imagined. His master and padawan constantly appreciative. Cere, in her quiet nature, lived with a certain restraint as a Jedi in war, then being a prisoner of the Empire, immediately bleeding into life on the run. Omega, with her burning thankfulness, born from her subdued upbringing as a lab assistant, then an unsteady year of mercenary work with short pockets, turned into a prisoner of the Empire, eventually ending up a young soldier.

Any meal to them that wasn’t rations or served through a ray shield was something to be thankful for.

Merrin was possibly Greez’s most difficult customer, raised on a cuisine culture entirely different than what he was used to. Most of her meals had to be killed by herself, Malicos, or a Nightbrother hunting party, or had the poison cooked out of it.

Today, she was satisfied, Cal not having to trade meals with her behind Greez’s back.

As for BD-1… well, he didn't eat, but he enjoyed the company, and so, he situated himself under the table, resting, listening to the conversations.

They ate in a comfortable silence until there was a shrill beeping coming from the holotable.

"Sounds like an incoming transmission," Omega said before Greez pushed himself away from his seat and walked over to the holotable. He scanned the monitors for a second before looking back at them, his mouth crooked in something that was not quite a sneer, but definitely not a grin either.

He pressed a button, and immediately, the glowing blue image of a twi’lek woman was projected, standing tall with her arms behind her back.

Omega choked on her soup and started coughing.

"Greez," she greeted, “it’s been a while. I’m looking for Omega, I need her help.” 

"Yeah, yeah, she's over-"

"I'm here!" Omega shouted, skipping the stairs (and subtly) and opting to vault over the small railing by the dining table, jumping off the couch and running over to the holotable so she was within view.

"Hera!" She greeted enthusiastically, ignoring Greez's protests of her getting dirt onto his clean potoli-weave fabric couch cushions and questioning whether or not she was raised in a barn.

"Omega," the twi'lek's tone much was more warm and calm. “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you as well,” the young clone stood up straighter and held her arms behind her back. Cal sarcastically wondered where she got that habit from. “What do you need?”

“Your… expertise. In Kaminoan-operated facilities.”

Almost like a dimming flame, the beaming smile his padawan sported slowly slid off her face until it was overtaken by confusion and… if Cal hadn’t known better, he’d say fear. It was like the joy had been leached out of her body as she swallowed and stood straighter, more serious.

Cal pushed himself away from the table and walked down to stand next to her, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder as he looked up at Hera. “What’s this about?”

Hera seemed to shift from one foot to another as she contemplated her answer.

“Recently, an abandoned facility on Pilal V was discovered in the Lalenii System in the Outer Rim. We combed through Imperial records and discovered that it was initially operational during the Republic, but was decommissioned with haste shortly after it was opened, and then again during the first year of the Empire. However, that is all the information that exists, so we sent a recon scout team with the hope of finding out the purpose of the facility. The initial scout team recovered and identified several pieces of technology that were manufactured on Kamino, which suggests that it was a Kaminoan facility, potentially an off-site cloning facility. However, the scout team went completely dark shortly after their arrival. No transmissions sent or received since. It is entirely possible that, since Pilal V is a tundra planet, that a snowstorm is interrupting communications, but I don’t think that’s the case.”

Cal didn’t like the sound of that, and apparently, neither did his padawan.

“I’m not so sure about this, Hera,” she voiced, subconsciously rubbing the back of her left hand, over what he knew was a long-faded injection scar. “Is one facility really worth this much effort?”

“Normally, no,” Hera agreed, “But, what intel we gathered from the Imperial records have the facility listed as under consideration to be relaunched. What is most troubling is the lack of record for what was done there, and what they plan on doing there. If there is a resurgence in any cloning operations, however, it has been deemed as necessary to know why and maybe put a stop to it before it can continue. That’s why we need you. You’re the only one we have that possesses an… inside knowledge of both Kaminoan procedures and technology, as well as how the Advanced Science Division operates. Possibly the only one who can figure out what they were and will potentially be doing.”

Omega looked down, her brow knitted in deep concentration. "I can guess at what they were doing before it was decommissioned, but only guess. But Kaminoans… the Division… They keep a lot of things secret for a lot of different reasons. Not to mention their penchant for… pushing the boundaries of science."

Cal would almost call that line drilled into her head, or at the very least, well-rehearsed, but she continued.

"The facility could have been used for any number of things,” she concluded.

“I know you can handle yourself,” Hera said confidently, but Cal could tell this reassurance actually had little effect on his padawan, as she looked towards him and Cere as the older mentor had also joined them at the comm table. But he could not make this decision for her, he could not answer for her.

“It’s your call,” he said, “but it’s also your mission. I’ll follow your lead.”

She kept her gaze leveled at him, and he could almost physically see the gears turning in her mind before looking back at Hera.

“Can you transmit the coordinates to the facility? No guarantees, but… maybe I can help in some way.”

Hera beamed before she looked down, typing with one hand on something out-of-frame.

“Sending the coordinates now,” she said, “I owe you, Havoc-6.”

With that, the transmission ended.

Cal didn’t miss the look of nausea that overtook Omega’s expresion, even as she tried to cool it into something more neutral before she let out a breath, shoulders dropping.

He felt the churning of her mind through the Force, an anxiety emanating from her while Greez moved to the cockpit to set a new course.

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” he asked, stepping towards her.

She kept her gaze casted downwards, as if she was refusing to look up at him.

“It’s… it’s not Kamino or Tantiss. But it sounds exactly the same. It’s almost like… I’m going back, in a way.”

Cal, of course, knew about her long time spent in captivity shortly after the Clone Wars concluded.

When they first started meditating together, he allowed her to see his fears and doubts and the ghosts that haunted him. His fear of failing her… his master, dying in front of his eyes. His lingering distrust of the clones, born from a trauma that was slowly healing. The Sith Lord on Nur… And maybe more that he himself was unaware of that she could see as an objective third person. In return for allowing her to see such a vulnerable side of him, she allowed him the same openness.

He saw the Twelfth Brother, in her fear of succumbing to the darkness that surrounded the Inquisitor. He saw her brothers, marching so far ahead that her crying voice fell on deaf ears. He saw Tipoca City, annihilated in rapid bursts of fire. Metal and transparisteel and everything that once comprised her home being torn to shreds and collapsing into the sea, dragging her down with it as salt water filled her lungs.

But worst of all, he saw the face of some scientist with a deceptively comforting voice, speaking false reassurances and confident threats. The wickedness and sadistic pleasure he took in his experiments was the only real emotion to be seen in his eyes.

Cal reached out a hand and placed it on her shoulder again, knowing now was the time to ground her before she spiraled into a series of conflicted thoughts.

“Breath, padawan,” he instructed. “I understand how hard it will be. But you know as well as I do that the only path is forward, and the past serves best as something to glean our lessons from, rather than fear.”

She took a deep, audible inhale before releasing an exhale that pushed her growing blonde locks out of her eyes for a moment.

He could feel the release of her trepidation in the Force, and it felt like a static pulse being pushed into the room, very indicative of the scattered-minded worry that frequently plagued his padawan.

Slowly, her own presence slowed down, and she looked up at him.

“It’s just a recon mission. Intelligence gathering, Potential rescue and recovery,” she reiterated Hera’s words. “It’s not Kamino, it’s not Tantiss. We’ve done it before. I’ll be fine.”

“You’ll be fine,” he echoed, nodding, before they walked back to the dining table.

“It’s been a while since we’ve heard from Hera,” Merrin commented as they sat back down.

“And her homicidal astromech,” Cal muttered, both him and BD-1 shuddering from memory of Chopper.

“I know, not since that whole Haxion Brood debacle,” Omega said, pushing the meat on her plate around. “She seems okay, though. Or, at least, it looks like it.”

Cal thought for a moment. He remembered meeting Hera in the aftermath of the rescue, and his initial impression of her was that she was every bit as reckless as his padawan. Or, at least, her piloting style was… bold, if nothing else. Hera herself, he came to learn, was rather level-headed and exceedingly compassionate. His second impression of her was heavily dependent on his observation of how she interacted with Omega.

He’d rarely seen his padawan act so flustered, the attraction, had been obvious to anyone with eyes , let alone between two people who shared a deep connection via the Force, even if it had faded since.

By the time Hera returned the crew to the Mantis , she had proven herself to be a gracious host, a good ally, and a source of ribbing material for his padawan for the next week. But now, he realized something.

“Hey, how did you two even meet anyways?” he looked at Omega, and at his question, her grin turned slightly crooked.

“When I was 11, my brothers and I were doing mercenary work. Cid had us deliver weapons to her uncle as the Imperial occupation on Ryloth escalated. I gave her a tour of the Marauder while my brothers talked business. Two days later, she commed the ship and asked us to free her parents from Imperial custody after being framed for an attempted assassination. We really bonded during that time.”

Cal… did not know what answer he should have expected from Omega. Why did he assume he was going to get a normal childhood story from her? He didn’t know whether to laugh at how casually she recounted everything, or be concerned about her overall mental well-being. He had no real time to respond as she continued the story.

“Then, shortly after Tantiss, she hired me and my brothers to smuggle her off of Ryloth, and we did! But we got separated from my brothers during the escape, so we hijacked an Imperial shuttle but ended up crashing on some jungle planet in the next system over when we tried to enter hyperspace. We wandered the jungle for a week until we came across an Imperial-occupied settlement, but then we stole the ship that would become the Ghost , flew off the planet, and rendezvoused with my brothers, so everything turned out alright!”

As she concluded her story, her satisfactory grin was equal parts unnerving and hilarious.

He could only nod. A slow, contemplative nod of understanding and bewilderment.

By now, Greez had returned to the table, but even he was distracted from dinner by the sheer… bizarreness of it all.

Eventually, Cal figured he had to say something , but unfortunately, he didn’t know what that something was, even as he already began speaking. “So… that would explain why… you and Hera are so… close?”

Omega gave a half shrug and shoved some of her diced vegetables into her mouth, appetite evidently returning as she chewed in contemplation and waved her spoon as if she was having an entire conversation with them before she eventually swallowed, finally answering. “Blowing up an Imperial refinery together tends to create a bond, I suppose.”

How did his padawan survive long enough to become his padawan?

Did he give Master Tapal this much grief?

Cere, for her part, seemed entirely amused by the continuous revelations of Omega’s eventful childhood. “I would have guessed it was because she was your first crush, or something along those lines,” she said with a light smile, unencumbered by Omega’s words and proceeding with dinner.

It made Cal wonder what sort of adventures she had with Trilla for the old master to remain unphased.

“Oh, she wasn’t,” Omega said, a faint flush rising to her cheeks. “That was my friend, Layana, but I didn’t know at the time, I just thought I really wanted to be her friend. But it wasn’t until I found one of Wrecker’s old holos of Senator Padmé Amidala giving a speech in the Senate that I started to… question some things. I was 15, kind of confused, you know? But I was fairly confident I wasn’t that interested in Late-Galactic Republic Era politics.”

Cere laughed. “That was almost exactly the same for Trilla. In the middle of the Clone Wars, we were assigned a mission on Naboo, and since Senator Amidala had good relations with the Jedi, we were honored with her personal welcome.”

Cal could not even begin to picture Trilla as a flustered padawan, whenever he tried, the image was quickly tarnished with the Sith Lord standing behind her, raising his red bladed lightsaber-

“Avenge us!”

He was startled from the flash of memory by Merrin putting her hand over his, though it was really her next words that startled him totally out of the flashback.

“Cal told me his first crush was a Jedi Knight,” she interjected.

His jaw dropped at the betrayal.

Omega grinned and, oh, he did not like her expression at all.

The last time her teeth looked that sharp, she ended up Force-throwing a piece of toast with jogan fruit jelly at his face.

Cere at least had the decency to hide her budding laughter behind her hand as his face and neck began to heat up.

“Oh?” she asked, maintaining a casual facade, “Which knight?”

He tugged at his collar for a minute, every gaze fixated on him as he looked down at his lap, staring at it with a determination before muttering his answer.

“What was that, kid? I couldn’t hear.” Greez held one hand to his pointed ear for emphasis.

Cal drummed his fingers on his legs before relenting with a heavy sigh.

“Master Obi-Wan Kenobi…”

Cody’s Jedi?” Omega asked immediately, her grin spreading before she threw her head back, howling with laughter before he could even answer.

His ears burned now as he fixed a glare at his padawan. “I was like, 10!” he defended, “Half the temple had a crush on him!”

“Half the Grand Army, more like,” Cere muttered, shaking her head while sipping her drink.

 

Eyes closed… deep breath in, deep breath out…

Summoning, willing the Force to protect and guide her as she looked inwards…

Omega had gotten good at meditating. It was something she did often after meeting Gungi, and again during the time she spent captive on Tantiss. It was an escape then, a mental retreat, a way for her to process the horrors she saw, the anguish she felt on the daily. But it was different now. Since she had discovered her Force-Sensitivity, meditating was… so very different now.

Slowly, she felt herself drift away. The surface underneath her disappearing; the noises of the ship, the feeling of her cot where she rested, it all gave away to the thrum that she had come to understand as her manifestation of the Living Force.

The Force was funny that way, the connection different, subtly so, in those who meditated with it.

Cal told her that when he meditated, he felt he was transported somewhere beyond the greater galaxy, on a cusp of what he theorized was an event horizon. He described it as kneeling on a dark, stone platform that had ancient runes carved into it, secrets contained within himself, waiting to be unlocked as he continued his journey through the Force. The world around the platform was frozen in a permanent state of collapse, rocks floating in the air.

The platform, as he understood it, was the only thing left in this world, and in front of him, in the distance, there was always a pure white light that was the epicenter of the collapse. He knew it was a gateway between the Living Force and the Cosmic Force. This gateway was what contained the knowledge and answers he sought after during his meditation.

He theorized that, when his time came, he would pass through this gateway to become one with the Cosmic Force, which was nothing short of terrifying to Omega, and was almost glad for her own manifestation.

When she meditated, it was like she plucked herself out of time and into somewhere else, giving herself as long as she needed to solve or confront whatever problem arose.

The unfortunate part of this was, ever since her meditation became more than just whispers and memories, the Force was adamant on placing her on the landing platform on the day Tipoca City fell, just on the cusp of the sun setting.

The sky was a perpetual gradient, the greater expanse of it a vibrant cerulean that paled, the closer it got to the horizon until it was a condensed belt of a calming, pinkish-orange. The sun was a lazy glow that made the water a shifting mass of smooth, azure waves shine teal when they rose to catch the sunlight. But it also dotted the water with a glowing glitter of light that felt almost tangible enough to scoop up and hold in her palms, like the light would be unable to run through her fingers, and she could admire it for as long as she wanted to.

Oftentimes, unlike that day , there was no column of black smoke to remind her of what she lost, no wreckage of what was her home now resting on the seafloor.

There was no Marauder on the platform, and that scared her at first, but when she realized that, if there was a ship to board, it wouldn’t take her back to the physical reality, but it was her own gateway, and, when she “became one with the Force”, it would be waiting for her, waiting to take her on one last journey.

There were almost always no reminders of the day Tipoca City fell, other than the sky that was vibrant and big and beautiful in its own sad way, but it was not completely clear. In the opposite direction of the sun, the sky darkened with more than just the creeping threat of night, but also Kamino’s signature rolling dark, gray cumulonimbus clouds that never got closer to the platform, never got further.

She stood on that platform now, no ship to take her away, but for once, there was that column of smoke, rising from the wreckage in the ocean.

She stared at it, not looking back as someone walked behind her.

“It’s… all gone,” she muttered, her tone very much resembling the one from that day.

“Then why are you so scared of it? What could you possibly be afraid of?”

She didn’t have to turn to see who owned the voice. Crosshair’s snide, gravely rasp was familiar and comforting, even if he sounded like he was perpetually taunting her.

“I’m not scared of it.” She turned on her heel and looked at him, but was shocked to see the armor he wore.

When he defected from the Empire, he made a patchwork job of the leftover pieces of modified duraplast armor that their brothers had collected, and he let the top of his hair finally grow back, keeping his sides shaved.

But, as he stood in front of her, a phantom, a manifestation in the Force, he wore his dark, Imperial armor, looking as young as he was when the Empire rose, his head shaved, the skin past his temple freshly wounded, and his Firepuncher slung and balanced on his shoulder.

Under his arm was his helmet, and he leaned his weight onto one foot, staring at her with a scrutinous gaze, as if she was the 11-year-old brat whom he once thought had replaced him.

He plucked a toothpick from his holster before biting down on it, rolling it between his teeth as he considered her words.

“You are scared,” he sneered.

She clenched her fists and resisted the urge to stomp her foot. “I am not scared of it!” she insisted, I’m… I’m scared of going back!”

Crosshair jutted out his chin and fixed a skeptical look at her. “You know as well as I do that it’s not Tantiss ,” he spat out the name like it was a curse.

“No, but-”

“-But what? You were always a liability. This is the one thing you can do, and you’re scared of something impossible.”

The thunder rumbled in the distance, the clouds slowly starting to roll in closer to them on the platform.

“You wouldn’t understand!” she protested.

“Wouldn’t I? We were both there. Together, or so you said. You wouldn’t leave me behind… and… I wouldn’t leave you.”

He looked down, as if resigned to some tiresome fate, and unable to look her in the eyes for it, just as he couldn’t back then. She closed her eyes, tried to block out the memories of him and her, in separate cells, just next to each other, but unable to so much as reach out.

“We’re both more alike than I’ve ever wanted to admit, but you were afraid of that too. Afraid of being like the brother who was left behind. The brother you replaced all those years ago. The brother who was Hemlock’s favorite toy.”

She did not back down. “I would have taken your spot if he’d let me.”

“That may be true, but there was more to me than just Tantiss or the chip. Neither of us liked it on Kamino. Neither of us liked the tests that Nala Se subjected us to.” His voice was little more than a hiss now as they both remembered their lives, so much time spent in a lab, being a subject, a specimen , rather than a person.

Omega shuddered, a cold wind sweeping across the vast ocean, wiping her curls around her face, the storm traveling quicker, slowly taking over the serene sky as Crosshair continued.

“We’re both stubborn, we’re both the youngest of our aliit . We’re the ones who left to pursue a higher destiny, seeking to be part of something that promises to protect the Galaxy. Leaving them before they leave us.”

She felt the first drops of rain on her cheeks, making her flinch before she looked around. The sun was starting to disappear behind a wall of dark gray sky, the ocean waves slowly started to churn with a rage she hadn’t seen in a long time.

She turned back to Crosshair, still unwavering, but unable to hide the slight tremor in her voice when she spoke again. “I-I unlocked my Force-abilities. I had to leave to learn how to control them. Staying would have put you all in more danger!”

“You left because you were afraid of being left behind. You’re not like us. You have one true brother out there, but he doesn’t want anything to do with you.”

You were always my brother, Crosshair. I’m not like Boba Fett, all of you are my brothers!” she insisted.

He gave an amused huff and took the toothpick out of his mouth, flicking it to the ground.

“I told you before. I’m not them.”

His face and form, which had become distorted by the rain and darkness, was lit up by a flash of lightning, and the sight made her gasp and step back.

Gone was his Imperial armor, and instead, he stood before her, more gaunt than he had ever been, his prisoner uniform all but hanging off his emaciated figure. His eyes were so… hollowed, his face sunken in, skin pale and his expression worn with a bone-aching tiredness, as if he was about to collapse with the wind.

“What are you afraid of?” he rasped, voice horse as if he had just been screaming.

The lightning cracked across the sky, blinding Omega once more, and when it disappeared less than a second later, she was no longer standing on the torrented platform.

She looked around, and found herself in a lab. Nala Se’s lab, the one that had been her whole world for the first eleven years of her life. It was dimly lit, like they were in the middle of the night cycle, with only the blue-ish glow of the bacta tanks and the ocean to illuminate just how vast and dark and cold it was.

An even harsher rush of air swept past her, making her wet form shudder with such a ferocity, she almost fell to her knees to curl in on herself.

Crosshair was gone.

She was alone again in this meditative plane, but she wasn’t sure if it was for the better or somehow worse.

The medical capsules in front of her were empty, but it was a threatening kind of empty that served as a reminder to the fact that, at any moment, any clone, any vod that caught Nala Se’s interest could very well end up imprisoned behind the transpiresteel, existing as nothing more than this.

“Being an experiment in a tube,” she whispered to herself as she hugged her arms around herself even tighter.

Then the air shifted behind her, prompting her to whirl around, hand flying to where her holster usually existed, but not while she was meditating, apparently. But it didn’t matter, there was no one there. Only a single, lone tank, protruding from the middle of the room, the shifting bacta creating a single, faint, shimmering glow through the otherwise darkened lab.

Omega did not remember this feature existing in the lab at all. To her acute recollection, every medical capsule existed, uniformly, on a single wall, but this wasn’t the strangest feature about the mysterious tube.

There was a person inside… a woman. Not a clone.

Omega could, very briefly, just make out her long blonde hair, splayed out and free floating through the bacta before the giant transparisteel window that supplied the ocean view shattered open, sweeping her away in the raging currents as it flooded the lab for a second time.

 

Omega’s eyes shot open, and she was only dimly aware of Cal shouting her name as his voice reverberated throughout her ear canals until they made a register in her brain.

She looked around, quickly taking stock of where she was.

Space.

Mantis.

Room.

Cot.

Was meditating, now being shaken like a rag doll by her master via firm grip on her shoulders.

She wanted to assure him that she was fine, but the only noise that escaped her was the rattling exhales of several deep, shaking breaths as she both tried to retain her vision and shake it from her head, like two loth-wolves fighting each other in her mind.

“What’s wrong?” Cal asked quickly, keeping his grip on her while BD-1 scanned her from over his shoulder. “Nightmare? Psychic attack?”

“Psychic attack?” she echoed, horrified. That’s a thing?

He balked, realizing he had just given his padawan a new thing to fear. “Uh…”

“Nevermind,” she brushed off, sitting up.

BD booped out the short list of her symptoms, but not a diagnosis. He wasn’t a medical droid, afterall.

She swallowed and nodded, no use in disputing his observation. “Yeah, just a really… intense meditation session, I guess,” she muttered, “Does feel like an anxiety attack, though.”

“That’s… not good,” Cal said, trying to be delicate. “The lights to the Mantis started flickering, scanners were giving crazy readouts. Greez thought Merrin was trying to hold another Nightsister séance.”

Omega frowned as she started to shift on the cot so her feet were resting on the cold metal ground underneath, attaching her to the ship, to this plane of reality. “That doesn’t sound good,” she eventually agreed.

“What did you see?”

She thought back, resolving to remember as much as she could. The platform, Crosshair, the storm, the lab.

But…there was something else, wasn’t there? Something at the end, but she couldn’t remember. It was fading, quickly, like water between her fingers.

She looked at Cal, her master, his concern– written all over his face, like he was an open book. He had always been so open and genuine with what he felt, from the day they first met.

Omega swallowed, but slowly, she began to tell him everything, every detail she could remember, hoping the holes in her memory were not as important as she feared they were.

Chapter 2: The Bite of Cold

Summary:

The Mantis Crew arrive on Pilal V...

Notes:

My friends,

It seems that, in the interim between posting the first chapter and posting this chapter, I have finished the rough draft of Part I of this work. The refining process is something I look forward to as I continue to indulge my own understanding of this story, an indulgence that I hope will pay off well for you, my dear readers.

I feel it is also worth noting the time jump, if it is not obvious/hasn't been stated yet. Omega is 19 in this story, and has been Cal's padawan for two years now. Time line wise, this takes place BEFORE the events of Jedi: Battle Scars, and thus, contains no spoilers for either the novel or Jedi: Survivor.

With all that said, please, read on!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

No more shall violets linger in the dell,
Or purple orchids variegate the plant,
Till Spring again shall call forth every bell,
And dress with humid hands her wreaths again.

-Written at the Close of Spring , Charlotte Smith

 

Pilal V was a vast expanse of snow and icy wind, the furthest planet from the sun in the system, none of the warmth reaching it. In the atmosphere, it was a great ball of white, stark against the dark of space, the only deviance on the surface being the visibly shifting megastorms that consistently traversed across the surface, raining down ice, snow, and negative temperatures across the land.

The descent into atmo was rough, the high winds slamming against the Mantis , threatening to knock the cruiser out of the sky. Greez was cursing in Lateron and Omega was cussing in Mando’a while they engaged in the landing sequence, descending near the entrance of the facility that stood out from the dark gray sky like shadowy, ominous, spiral effigy.

Even though the general shape of the building looked like it was straight from Kamino, with a wide base that tapered at the top, to Omega, the structure looked less like a facility and more like a monument, dedicated to some distant and powerful ghost lost in the ice. The ghost of what the Kaminoan civilization once was.

She could feel her pulse in her chest upon seeing it outside the viewport. Her stomach churned worse than the storm that was threatening to turn the Mantis into its own monument, ice already freezing on the surface and gears of the ship. She checked the scanners, and was concerned with the multiple system readouts that were already starting to go off.

“Why didn’t the Kaminoans build a secret lab in Cantonica or somewhere nice?” the captain grumbled while Omega quickly adjusted the cabin pressure to compensate for the freezing external temperatures.

“The last thing you need is an excuse to go to Canto Bight,” Cere chided from the comm’s relay, one hand holding the headphone to her ear while she contacted Hera, letting her know that they had arrived at the facility.

“Maybe the Kaminoans just like inhospitable hell-planets where everyone leaves them alone,” Omega muttered bitterly before standing up and walking towards the navigation table, Greez right behind her.

“This place is even worse than Ilum! My ship is already starting to ice over!”

Cal and Merrin came out from the cabins at that moment, dressed in heavier, warmer clothing.

“He’s right,” Omega confirmed, crossing her arms. “However long we’ll be here, I can almost guarantee the Mantis won’t last.”

“Now, hang on a minute-”

“So what do you propose we do?” Cal asked, cutting off Greez.

“We need someone to monitor any atmospheric ambush, in case we accidentally trigger any sensors and alert the Empire to our presence,” Cere said as she walked in. “Greez and I can take the Mantis to Pilal V’s moon and be ready to pick you up if we detect anything.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Cal said with a nod.

Greez huffed, but said nothing as they were finally ready to go.

“We’ll be monitoring comms if you have an emergency,” Cere assured them as they lowered the ramp, a blast of cold air almost making Omega freeze on the spot.

Cal shouldered a bag of supplies as he got ready to step out. “According to Hera’s intel, this place is too cold for anything to thrive on the planet,” he said before giving her a wave.

“Makes Hoth look like paradise,” Omega muttered, donning her helmet and engaging the sensor read-outs.

“Be careful,” Cere called as Cal started to descend down the ramp, Merrin right behind him.

“When are we not careful?” Omega asked, grinning impishly underneath her bucket.

Cere folded her arms “Would you like that list in alphabetical order or most recent?” she remarked, but her stern-ish tone was ruined by her suppressed smile.

Omega gave her a lazy salute before descending down the ramp, BD clinging to the holster slung over her back.

She normally reserved this holster for her energy bow, but with Cal carrying their supplies, she figured she’d give BD-1 a purchase so she could carry him. Despite the anticipation of going into a facility that had been void of life for eight years on a planet with no recorded flora or fauna, she was still armed with her DC-17s. The vision of Crosshair had her slightly more on edge, and the actual base itself had her nerves on a livewire!

Stepping into the storm was immediately disorienting. The winds were so powerful that they pushed against her smaller frame with ease, almost knocking her over and into the knee-deep snow.

The snowflakes that fell were a massive size, unlike anything she had experienced before, the wild winds whipping them into a pure white-out curtain. She was rendered unable to see much more than a few feet in front of her, the dark blue, fur-lined hooded poncho that made up Cal was little more than a silhouette, an oscillating shape that threatened to disappear from her line of sight at any moment. 

As the Mantis slowly ascended behind them, she could hardly hear the sound of the engines over the howl of the wind before it was gone, vanished like a ghost into the fog

Omega kept her gaze forward and tried to follow in Cal’s tracks, his longer legs cutting through the snow with much more ease than her, but it was little good, as the wind seemed adamant to blow the powder back into place before she could get proper footing.

Had she not been wearing her helmet, she would have lost Cal and Merrin before even making it to the facility, but the thermo vision, even distorted from the snow, could still make out their heat signatures.

After a tiring, albeit short, trek, the dark structure loomed ahead of them, the door in sight as they made their way through a snowed-over, yet sleek-looking courtyard.

Omega had almost forgotten how vain the Kaminoans were, and though they had little concept of beauty, they did have a keen eye for neatness. The ground became more slippery as they tread over an iced-over, dark, metal pathway that led to the grand entrance, consisting of two, transparisteel doors.

Cal pushed against them, and Omega was surprised that they opened, but figured the previous scout team must have already done the heavy lifting of breaking in before they disappeared.

She was the last one in, so she closed the door behind her and shook off the snow that had capped her heavy jacket.

BD-1 jumped off her back and she was endeared by the display of him shaking off his head from the snow that had also accumulated on him, then immediately panged by a minor guilt of not stuffing him into her coat to keep him warm.

As she got down onto her knee to make sure his circuits weren’t freezing or water logged, Cal let out a visible huff of air before clasping his gloved hands together, rubbing them vigorously.

The inside was tolerably warmer than the outside, but not by much. Wet from the storm, Omega shivered so much against the still, cold air that it was starting to hurt her muscles and she felt like her bones were now starting to form ice crystals.

“BD, can you find any power source, maybe find a way to heat this place?” Cal asked while Merrin conjured a green fire into her palm, instantly heating up the area around them. Ka’ra, Omega had never been closer to kissing her than in that moment as she and Cal huddled closer to the Nightsister.

BD-1 looked around before turning on his light. The facility, of course, was powerless, casting the great building into a darkness, lit up only by the windows that frequented the outer wall decorum.

“Don’t wander off too far,” Cal warned while the little droid pattered off a small distance away.

Omega messed with the settings on the comm link that was on her wrist, adjusting them to compensate for the atmospheric interruption. Once she figured out the calibration for their frequency, she pressed a finger against the comm integrated into her helmet.

“Havoc-6 to Stinger-2, do you copy?” she asked, looking around before pulling a torch from her holster.

“I read you, Havoc-6,” Cere replied, “We’ve cleared atmo just in time. It looks like a massive blizzard is heading your way.”

She bit back a remark about having just marched through a kriffing blizzard, but restrained herself.

“Understood. We’ve entered the facility. BD is looking for a panel or anything that can help us restore the power,” Omega reported, shining her light around, seeing if she could find any indication of what was around them.

“Copy that. Based on what Spector-1 told us, the previous scout team reported that the facility was running on auxiliary power. Only the priority systems have remained online, though on standby mode” Cere relayed.

Omega hummed, considering this information. “What we need is heat… I don’t know how long we’ll be here, but we are liable to succumb to hypothermia if we’re not careful.”

“Understood. Good luck, team.”

With that, the sound of Omega’s comm crackled out. She lowered her hand from her comm and looked back at Cal and Merrin just as BD-1’s little pattering footsteps on the floor announced his return seconds before he jumped back onto Omega.

“What did you find?” Cal asked.

The little droid whistled and booped, his response making Omega raise a brow.

“Show me, please,” she requested.

BD lifted his head over her shoulder and projected the schematics of the building that he downloaded from the panel he found down the hallway.

The trio studied it, trying to gain a general sense of the overall layout of the facility.

As Omega expected, it was practically a carbon copy of the facility that was on Kamino, which was a good thing, because it meant she already knew where all the interesting things would be, as well as how to look for the really interesting things.

“We should head here first,” she pointed at a large room towards the center. “This is probably where the central control area is. BD-1 and I can restore the heat and other necessary systems there.”

“Thank the Force,” Cal muttered through chattering teeth before pulling out his lightsaber and igniting it, holding it over his head to cast the area in a blue glow, contrasting with the green of Merrin’s fire.

Omega nodded, committing as much of the map to memory before BD stopped projecting it. With that, she turned on her heel and led the way down the hall.

It didn’t take long for Omega to be hit with a sudden wave of deja vu. After only a few turns around the halls, she was struck with the memory of the first time she snuck out from Nala Se’s lab during the night cycle, back when she was still quite young. Wandering the city for the first time unsupervised. She didn’t make it far, ending up lost among the monotony and crying loud enough for a nearby Kaminoan to hear.

She was brought back to Nala Se with haste, the scientist admonishing and punishing her so thoroughly for her stunt, she never attempted to explore at night again.

The basic design for this facility was so near identical to the city, it made Omega confident that, had the lights been on, the only thing she would see would be nauseatingly blinding white hallways, seldom broken up by the black patterns that indicated the pathways that made up her childhood home.

But it was different now. There were no clones wandering around, no Kaminoans either. No signs of life… just like the day it all came crashing down around her, and she almost found herself anticipating a sudden aerial bombardment, but it never came, and that was somehow worse. This whole place was just… worse. The bitter coldness in the air seemed to absorb every sound that didn’t belong to her, which served to amplify every noise she made. It all seemed to reverberate down the hallway and back to her, from the rustling of her clothes as she shifted with each movement, the gasp-like exhales she exerted with each breath, trying to keep her face warm. Worst of all, her footsteps were heavy as she walked with a determination as equally frigid as the facility, the thudding of leather hide soles on tile echoing back and forth until it sounded like there was another person walking just behind her.

Another set of steps, just a few paces behind her, and in her mind, she could see a shadow of a tall, elongated figure walking quicker and quicker, gaining on her until-

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and she whirled around, reaching for her blaster, but her hand stopped at her hip when it was just Cal and Merrin, staring at her with the sort of worry in their expressions that she didn’t like.

BD-1 booped in question, lifting his head so he was in her peripheral while she let out a breath of relief or otherwise, it was hard to say.

“Sorry,” she muttered, turning back around. “Just freaking myself out.”

“It’s okay,” Cal assured her as they started walking. “If we need to leave, we can. No one will blame you.”

“No, we don’t have to do that,” Omega brushed off. “I just… it’s a little overwhelming.”

“I understand,” Cal said, but she could tell that wasn’t all he wanted to say. He bit his lip, hesitating for a moment as he waged an internal war before finally relenting. “How… similar, is it? To Kamino, I mean.”

She let out a small sigh, dropping her torch slightly.

“Damn near identical,” she muttered, inclining her head down. “The layout, the systems. The only thing missing is the hundreds of thousands of clones and the Kaminoans themselves.”

She looked back up at them. “It’s actually kind of… weird. I spent most of my life alone, in a lab, but up here… I keep expecting to run into someone.”

Omega felt his concern in the Force, and was thankful for her helmet obscuring her own expression as she turned away before he could say anything else.

They continued in silence, and the further they got into the facility, the colder it seemed to be, though Omega couldn’t tell if it was the building, or something else.

Either way, she ignored it as they stopped in front of a non-descript door, with only a small plaque in Kaminoan next to it labeling the room’s function.

“Here we are,” she muttered, looking up and down. There was an access panel next to the door, and when she tried to engage it, the system showed she was locked out.

“Looks like security is still engaged… probably part of protocol, in the off chance of looters,” Omega muttered, pressing her hand against the door.

“How do we get in?” Cal asked, curling in on himself and shivering.

“Either you use your lightsaber to cut a hole, or I rewire the circuits to disengage the lock,” Omega listed, crouching down and running one hand along the wall next to the door. “Personally, I think mine is less messy.”

Once she found the seam she was looking for, she took off her helmet, setting it to the side before she pulled out a flathead tool from her holster. She ran her hand along the wall again, and kept it there while pressing the head of the tool against the seam, using the tool as a wedge to dislodge the wall panel. With a satisfied hum, she hooked her fingers underneath and wrenched the rest of the panel off and set it to the side.

“Can you get me some light, BD?” she asked kindly as she put her helmet back on before pulling out a spanner and a wire cutter.

The droid booped before lifting his head over his shoulder, a torch on the side of his head igniting, illuminating the mess of wires.

“Perfect,” she complimented before she got to work. Rewiring a system panel to disengage the electromagnetic locking mechanism was one of the many things Tech taught her, after Echo left to be with Rex. As she pulled out a couple wires, she was pleased to find that the Kaminoans, on this base, went for a more universal standard of manufacturing instead of devising their own security. It saved a lot of time, and soon, she was connecting one more wire, which sent out a minor pulse that had the door sliding open.

“We’re in!” she announced, collecting her tools and standing up.

“Hopefully, it’s that easy to get some heat going,” Cal muttered through chattering teeth.

She led the way in, shining her torch around as BD one jumped from her shoulder, pattering off to start scanning the various equipment, casting an occasional blue glow around the room.

“This is definitely the control room,” Omega reported, looking around the consoles organized around the space, large screens lining each wall.

“We’ll set up camp here while you work on restoring the heat,” Cal said, shrugging his pack off his shoulders.

Omega nodded and made her way to the central computer, taking her bucket off and setting it to the side before putting her torch between her teeth to use both hands to type.

She got the system booted up, which took a second, the screens flickering and glitchy, but once she was in, she quickly analyzed the data readout of the power status.

“Looks like some of the base was operating on an independent grid,” she reported. “Reports indicate that auxiliary power is functional in several locations. I’m rerouting the source to the heat right… now.”

With a dull thud that caused her to jolt, the sound of humming slowly filled the room. Omega’s cheeks were touched with warmth, and her breath was no longer visible.

“Oh, thank the Force,” Cal muttered, shrugging his heavy coat off.

“You are very dramatic,” Merring commented, laying out a bedroll.

“I’m sensitive to the cold,” he said with a defensive raise of his hands.

“I’m going to keep digging, maybe there’s something leftover in the system that wasn’t deleted in the evacuation,” Omega announced, turning back to the smaller screen in front of her.

“What do you think you’ll find?” Cal asked, making her pause.

“I… don’t know,” she muttered, “Could be anything.”

The sound of BD’s little metallic feet tap-tapping rapidly on the ground was her first indication of the approaching droid before he hopped up onto the console beside her.

He bwooped and beeped his report, the various signs he cataloged, recognizing that it was, in fact, a Kaminoan script that was labeling everything, minimal translations in Basic.

“Interesting,” Omega muttered at his findings. Of course, she could read Kaminoan. It was her second language, afterall, teaching herself to read it from Nala Se’s reports.

But, considering the lack of non-Kaminoan presence, it made her more curious as to what this place actually was. What purpose did it serve? What were they researching here?

She got to typing, looking through the system, starting with the systems the auxiliary power kept online. They would be the things deemed essential enough to continue in the event of an evacuation, so by extension, whatever the Kaminoans deemed essential that the loss of such functions was unfathomable.

“Let’s see…” she muttered, flicking through the list she found. “Water filtration systems kept online… And… listen to this!” She looked over her shoulder. “Bacta circulation is reported to be operational, which means that there was definitely something medical-related was happening here.”

“Bacta circulation?” Cal asked, tilting his head.

“For the tanks,” Omega explained, turning more towards him. “To keep the bacta clean, it has to be regularly circulated and sterilized, usually through an automated system. Since that system was kept running, whatever functional bacta tanks we come across will be ready to use.”

“Can never be too safe,” she heard him mutter as she turned back to the screen. The presence of bacta made her wonder if this was a medical center, but she quickly dismissed the idea. Why would a hospital be somewhere so remote?

She continued looking, finding that, as she suspected, the security locks to the facility were engaged, so she’d have to manually shut down the locks from here if they wanted to get to any rooms that required a security clearance beyond her remote slicing skills.

But what was really interesting was that auxiliary had been allocated to keep several entire rooms functional.

“Jackpot,” she whispered before looking at BD. “Can you plug into the system? I found a list of rooms that were kept online and I want to see if I use the schematics you downloaded to pinpoint their locations.”

He whistled in the affirmative before jumping up onto the console and scomped in.

“This might tingle,” she warned as she continued typing, and when she finished, he chirped, jolting just a bit, but he didn’t unplug, and instead, he projected out the map, several rooms in the facility highlighted.

“Let’s see…” she muttered, studying the list. “This one right here,” she pointed to a highlighted area, “is us, the control room.”

BD booped in question and tilted his head as much as he could without disrupting the map.

“No, I don’t know what those other ones are. No labels, just destinations,” Omega muttered. “Across several of the buildings. Wonder what could be in there?”

“Gives us a starting point,” Cal said, walking over with Merrin. “We can split up and head to these rooms while we search for the scouts.”

“Night cycle is almost starting,” Omega muttered, looking at the time. “The report on the planet’s data said that the temperatures drop even further then. It’ll be too dangerous to separate, one of us could freeze or something, especially with a blizzard on its way.”

“So we’ll start first thing in the morning. I’ll comm Cere and let her know.”

Omega nodded and walked over to the small, makeshift camp with Merrin while Cal walked away a small distance. Really, it consisted of three bedrolls, a heat lamp in the middle, and their rations in a small container off to the side.

It felt familiar, in some way, to her, as she sat down on one of the rolls and reached out for the container of ration bars.

“What are you thinking about?” Merrin asked, sitting down on the roll next to her, facing the clone.

Omega paused for a second before fishing out a bar and tossing it to the Nightsister.

“This is… familiar to me,” she said eventually. “I don’t know if that’s bad.”

“What do you mean?” Merrin asked, unwrapping her food.

Omega grabbed two more out of the container. “Well… the lab I grew in… it was cold, and quiet, like this place. And I didn’t have a real bed, just a cot.” She flicked the wrapper between her fingers, thinking.

“It’s… it’s like… if I close my eyes, I’d have never left. I’d even put a couple credits down and say there could be some secret underground lab with the lead scientist’s karked up pet project buried under the ice.”

She could feel Merrin’s eyes on her, and the reality of what she said slowly settled in like a pit in her. This wasn’t Kamino.

Nala Se’s lab was at the bottom of an ocean.

She breathed once before fully unwrapping the bar, chewing on it, swallowing with difficulty. She’d have an easier time eating sand, at least it would feel lighter.

“I wonder what’s in those rooms,” she tactfully changed subjects. “Maybe Cal’s psychometry can reveal something.”

“Maybe,” Cal agreed, walking over, extending his hand until his ration bar flew into his grip. He sat down on his bedroll, cross-legged. “I’m just hoping we can find the scouts.”

“They probably got lost,” Omega said, “It’s a big facility, easy to get turned around if you don’t know where you’re going.” That was her hope. Her theory, however, was that they froze after the first night. Without the heat, if they weren’t properly prepared, freezing to death in their sleep was a real possibility.

Regardless, she would remain optimistic. Maybe their comms were malfunctioning, and they got lost in the vast facility. Lots of things could have happened.

She balled up the wrapper into her fist and tossed it to the side. Slowly, she took off her armor and holsters, carefully setting it to the side before she slid into her sack, zipping it up until it was at her shoulders.

Lots of things could happen.

 

Sleep didn’t come easy for Omega.

Not because of the cold or the hard surface underneath her bedroll. Those were conditions she could adapt to, conditions she was used to.

No, she had memories, too many memories.

“This is going to hurt,” Emerie warned just before plunging the hypno into the back of her left hand.

Omega winced, sucking in a breath, instinctively trying to jerk her hand away from the pain, but Emerie held her wrist firm.

“Three more seconds,” she said, before counting down, a small window in the pump showing the tube filling with a dark red liquid.

When it was done, Emerie let go and carefully set the syringe down to the side.

Omega looked at the back of her hand, a single pinprick of red being the only indication that something terrible had happened.

She sniffled once, swallowing to suppress anymore before they could escape.

“I know,” Emerie said, her tone sympathetic as she turned back to the younger clone, a small bandage in hand that she promptly began unwrapping, wasting no time. “I know.”

 

Omega shot up from her bedroll, pulling out her blaster from where she kept it tucked at her side, her arm halfway raised into an aim before she realized where she was.

She thought she had woken up from the nightmare, but as Cal shuffled in his bedroll, she realized she was hearing something else.

From the ceiling, a repetitive snap-click resounded throughout the silent room, but… it was muffled.

Omega grabbed her torch and shined it at the ceiling, but saw nothing, though the snap-clicking persisted, moving slightly closer and closer until it suddenly stopped.

“Wha’s that?” Cal’s rough voice came from his bedroll as he sat up, red hair sticking up in the back of his head, looking like feathers, staring at her with narrowed, bleary eyes.

“I don’t know,” Omega answered, listening, but the noise didn’t start again. “Sounds like it’s coming from the vents. Probably some structure issue from being turned off for so long. Shouldn’t be a problem, though.”

Cal only grunted in acknowledgement before unceremoniously slumping over in a heap, probably asleep before his head even touched the ground.

Omega turned off her torch and tucked her blaster back in where it was safe before laying down on her side.

She knew she needed to sleep, but her mind was buzzing now. Too many memories, she just had too many karking memories. She clenched her left hand in a fist as the back of it burned for the first time in a while.

Slowly, she closed her eyes and listened as the snap-clicking noise started again, only for a few seconds, growing slightly louder until it was directly over their heads, then stopping again.

The rest of the night passed in silence.

Notes:

I think a lot of rewriting (i.e., scrapping 95% of the story) had to happen after Season 2 aired, and it's definitely better for it.
I'm incorporating what little knowledge we have of Season 3 into this fic, mostly through what I predict COULD happen and how it relates to Omega's backstory.

Thank you for reading and keep your eyes out for the next chapter... shit's gonna start hitting the fan.

Chapter 3: The Halls in the Dark

Summary:

The trio begins their search through the abandoned facility. Omega has a tough time. Cal is betrayed. Secrets begin to be uncovered...

Notes:

My friends,

I have an... increasing worry that no one is actually reading this, but that's okay. I intend to see this story through.

This chapter is laced with references to what I think Omega's childhood was like, some hints to what I think her time on Tantiss will be like. Along with her (non-existent) dynamic with Cal and Merrin, it's very fun to write, I'm having fun writing them as a trio!

I have completed Survivor and read Battle Scars, and I'm glad I did, because I really did get a deeper sense of Merrin's character, her greater dynamic with people in general, which I feel will be reflected more in this chapter.

I do not have much to say other than, read on!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguish’d, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space,
Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth
Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air

-Darkness , Lord Byron

 

Breakfast was uneventful as breakfast tended to be.

Groggy from a rough night of sleep, the Jedi-Nightsister-Clone trio were subdued in their discussion, thankful to have not frozen in their sleep, but were still cold to the point where Omega thought her toes could be chipped away with a pick.

They ate another round of ration bars and washed it down with a thermos of caf split three ways.

Caf, for Omega, had been a luxury. She didn’t acquire a taste for it until she was 15, recovering from Tantiss on Pabu. The island was the perfect climate for growing the crop, no need to import it, and Lyana had taught her that adding a sweetener to the otherwise bitter liquid elevated the flavor immensely.

Before then, her only exposure to the drink had been in the mess hall on Tantiss, where it was manufactured en masse while also being very watery and almost gray in appearance.

The warmth of the small drink soothed her for now, but she knew if she wasn’t careful, it would make her jittery, anxious, more talkative than usual later.

“We should split up, so we can cover more ground,” Cal said once they finished eating.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Merrin asked. “What if our comms go down?”

“Can’t you track them? Monitor our movements just in case?” he asked, turning to Omega, who was downloading the schematics of the building onto her datapad.

“I already do,” she said with a shrug before looking up at Merrin. “I’ll do check-ins if I notice anything unusual. But, for the most part, as long as your comms’ trackers remain undamaged and the megastorm doesn’t interfere with the scanner, I’ll be able to see you no matter where you are… as long as you're in range.”

She and her brothers had operated on less, survived on less. Omega felt confident enough, drawing on their strength now, but she could tell her reassurances didn’t do much to actually comfort her friend.

Merrin just nodded, and Cal seemed satisfied with that.

“Alright. We rendezvous here at the halfpoint of the day cycle to regroup and compare our findings.”

“Yes, sir,” Omega replied promptly, pulling out her torch.

“Not your commander,” he retorted, the response well-used at this point, so she just grinned as they made their way out of the control room.

“The schematics are showing that there are several labs scattered throughout the facility buildings,” Omega reported, “Most of them are in the central building in the center of this compound. I’ll investigate that one.”

“Sounds good. I’ll comb through this building since we know the scouts were here. Maybe I can pick up any Force echoes they left behind,” Cal volunteered.

“Merrin, you and BD should go to Building 5. The main lab is in that one,” Omega suggested, pulling the connecting cord from the datapad and plugging it into the port on the side of BD’s head. “I’m adding a beacon to the schematics I downloaded onto BD so he’ll be able to guide you.”

“Wait, Merrin and BD?” Cal asked with a lilt of betrayal in his voice as the little droid happily climbed over Cal’s shoulder before hopping onto Merrin’s arm, settling himself onto her back. Omega didn’t miss how the Nightsister failed to suppress her smug smile.

“Yes, it’s the furthest location of interest, she could get lost– No offense,” she added with a look towards Merrin. “Plus, BD’s scomp can help her break into a few things and download any information from the system there. If you find yourself outside a door you can’t open, you have a laser sword that can cut through it.”

She only smiled as her master looked at her, mouth open to protest, but he must have thought better of it, as he said nothing.

“Speaking of which, I’ve restored main power to several of the labs in the facility, so the systems will be online in case there’s any information left over.”

“Understood. See you in a few hours,” Cal said before turning around, walking left of the control center, back the way towards the entrance while Omega and Merrin went right, further into the building, towards a side entrance.

They stayed close to each other as the harsh blizzard threatened to knock them off the pathway, but fortunately, this wasn’t Kamino where falling off the path meant falling into an endless and continuously raging ocean. It just meant falling into about two or three feet of snow and probably being buried in more before you can get back up.

Nothing was said between them when they eventually split up, Omega heading for the central building, while Merrin continued on. The “good lucks” and “I’ll watch your backs” didn’t need to be said.

Omega entered the central building, and she entered it alone.

She took a deep breath and started walking.

This wasn’t Kamino. This wasn’t Tantiss.

No Nala Se, no Hemlock.

She thought back briefly to the tactic Cal taught her, how to release her fear into the Force.

Closing her eyes, she saw herself in her mind’s eye, and imagined her fear as a red mist, sweeping around her like steam from a hot drink, trapped.

Inhaling in a slow, carefully controlled rhythm, she pictured it traveling, condensing into a swirling ball right in front of her chest, growing larger and denser as more and more of her fear was sucked in until it was all concentrated.

Then, she released it. Expelling it from her person, the red mist shot out into the air around her, dissipating and gone from her.

Omega opened her eyes and found it easier to breathe now, her fear not totally gone, but much more manageable. She continued on, switching the visor of her helmet to a night-vision mode, better to see in the dark.

Omega had restored power to several places, yes, but she was careful in avoiding restoring too much as she didn’t want the Empire to be alerted to any unusual power surges or anything else that would indicate a presence in this compound.

Maybe the dark was more comforting as well. The blinding white lights of the facility would have only made her more anxious, like a spotlight was on her; the kind that existed in an operating room or laboratory so the subject could be examined more thoroughly.

Maker, that thought made her nauseous, she really needed to get a grip on herself.

This wasn’t Kamino. It wasn’t Tantiss.

There was no Nala Se, there was no Hemlock.

That became her mantra as she continued on, making her way to the first lab. She had to disengage the security lock to this door as well before she could make her way in, but she made quick work of it and was soon wandering around a small lab.

No growth tanks… just a single examination table, an advanced patient scanner (able to detect much more than a hand-held scanner) and shelves of medical supplies. She ruffled through a few boxes and found them to be mostly empty save for a few bacta patches and a roll of bandages. She added those to her med-kit, no reason to not to…

Finally, she went to the computer and got to work accessing it, but that was a fruitless endeavor, as it was totally wiped, not a file to be seen.

That would have been too easy, but it made this search easier. She left the room and examined the schematics. There was a larger lab, probably the building’s main one. There was bound to be something interesting there .

She started walking, when a snap-click caused her to jump and shine her torch back into the room.

Omega could hear her pulse, loud in her ears, but of course, there was nothing there.

She realized then that it was just the same noise from last night, though distant, coming from the end of the hall she was walking away from.

It was almost eerie, how it echoed off the metallic walls, louder than her own breathing. She almost took a step towards the noise, half of her mind telling her to investigate, but thought better of it.

She really was in her own head if she was getting scared by malfunctioning vents.

It was getting annoying, and she was thankful as the snap-click got more distant until she could barely hear it anymore.

Steeling herself, she continued on, further into the central building.

She pulled out her datapad as she walked, needing something to get her mind off the building, so she found the schematics and began to examine them.

The small lab wasn’t the only one of its type, it seems. Most of the labs in the building seemed to be built for that modification, so whatever they were doing in the central building wasn’t on a massive scale. More than likely, there would be a bunch of independent operations, individual projects. From that conclusion, she doubted this was a cloning facility, so there was some relief there, but also confusion.

If the Kaminoans weren’t cloning… What were they doing?

She tried not to think too much about it. Not until she had evidence of any operation occurring here. It would be too easy for her to get wrapped up in the potential “pet projects” the Kaminoans would engage in without Republic eyes on them.

Omega was one of those projects, if that was any testament to the long-necks, though she doubted she was going to find yet another secret sibling stashed somewhere… Right?

Briefly, she wondered if perhaps this was the facility Emerie was created in, but dismissed the thought. This facility was created during the last year of the war. The timelines did not match up, so there was that comfort.

She pressed a couple keys, honing in on the locators in Merrin and Cal’s comms.

Cal was moving slowly, still on the first floor of his building, probably being thorough, but she wouldn’t put it past him to have more difficulties exploring without BD to guide him and keep track of his location.

Merrin had made it to her building, also on the first floor, but moving quicker, more purposeful. She had a specific destination, she could skip everything else as she pleased.

Omega closed the schematics and continued on. The main lab of the building was on one of the upper levels… which would be interesting to traverse. The lifts were still shut down, and, if her memory and the schematics were correct, there would be no stairwell to provide an alternative route.

The outside surfaces, even on the most temperate locations, would be too slippery and sloped to scale. Not to mention she didn’t have the equipment to bust through the transparisteel windows.

So, Omega was going to have to get “creative”.

She made her way to the closest turbolift. The doors were easy enough to pry open with brute force, no locking mechanism keeping them closed, and when they were locked into place, she stuck her head into the shaft and looked up, shining her torch.

The light didn’t travel all the way up, the beam disappearing somewhere in the darkness, but from what she could tell, there was no lift obstructing her path upwards.

She clipped her torch to her belt and pressed the button on her helmet to signal to her comms.

“This is Havoc-6. Stinger-3, Stinger-4, do you copy?”

“I copy,” Cal’s voice crackled in her earpiece, “Did you find something?”

“Not exactly. The lifts are down, but I need to get to the upper levels. So…”

Cal went silent, but she could practically feel his exasperation.

“Yeah, uh… I’ll comm when I reach the top, but… if I don’t say anything in about… say, 20 minutes? Come look for my corpse.”

“Not funny!” Cal immediately called through the comms, prompting Omega to laugh as she gripped the cord, tugging on it, testing its strength.

“Don’t worry, I can revive you if you die,” Merrin offered.

“That’s especially not funny.” Cal sounded cross now.

“Talk to you soon,” Omega signed-off wistfully once she deemed it safe enough. She pulled herself up, pinched the cord between her feet, and reached for a higher grip, repeating the process over and over as she began her climb.

Her gloves and boots, luckily, provided a decent grip where she wasn't prone to sliding down, saving her some time. Still, though, the constant pulling up of her own entire weight over and over caused some fatigue.

She was panting by the time she made it to the upper levels, her breathing loud in her ears and condensing the inside of her helmet, her face damp and warm. The turbolift doors were closed, so she had to hold herself steady as she held out her hand, reaching out, using the Force to push the doors open.

Now, for the more… tricky part. The cord had little slack, so she couldn't exactly swing to the entry.

Mentally counting down, Omega swung her legs out, using the momentum and a push with the Force to propel herself forward.

Her left foot almost stuck the landing, but not entirely, causing her to slide back over the edge.

Her knee slammed into the ledge, protected by the duraplast armor, but a sharp pain still ricocheted through the bone from the impact, up into her hip as she began to slide backwards.

She yelped as she began to plummet down, sticking her right arm out and just barely catching the edge, her stomach still dropping as she smacked against the wall, but refusing to loosen her grip.

Against her better judgment, she looked down, and saw nothing below, the darkness she had previously ignored suddenly becoming much larger, the shaft disappearing into an endless abyss.

Collecting her breath, she quickly turned her gaze back up, gathering her nerves and reaching with her other arm to grip the edge, and summoning all her strength to pull herself up one last time.

She found purchase against the wall, planting her foot enough to boost herself up, pitching herself over the ledge and onto solid ground before she scrambled as far away from the elevator as possible, turning around and landing on her back against the opposite wall.

Omega sat for a long second, panting, growing hotter and hotter until she took off her helmet, thankful that the air was bitterly cold for once, letting it shock her system into calming down.

Once she had stopped trembling, she swallowed, and raised her small communicator to her lips. "I think I understand Wrecker’s fear of heights now."

"You okay?" Cal asked, the relief in his voice audible, if slightly distorted.

She nodded, even if he couldn't see, validating more to herself that she hadn't fallen, she was on solid ground now.

"Y-yeah. Had a small scare, but I'm good. Have you found anything yet?"

"Nothing," Cal reported. "It's… weird. No signs of anything, like they weren't even here."

Omega groaned and slammed her head back against the wall. "Don't say that, Master, I’m already nervous enough."

“Sorry,” he said. “I’ll get back to searching. Comm if you find anything.”

BD’s short trills filled the comm, and Omega let out a breath, feeling her expression lighten into a faint smile.

“That’s good to know. I was beginning to have my doubts as well,” she agreed.

“What did he say?” Merrin asked.

Dank farrick, Omega forgot Merrin’s understanding of binary was still limited.

“He said he doesn’t think this is a cloning facility. He hasn’t found anything to indicate it, like growth tanks or other instruments for processing DNA.”

“So, what does that mean?” Cal asked.

Omega let out a breath and pushed herself to her feet. “I don’t know. Hopefully, what I find in the central lab will reveal something. Havoc-6 out.”

She lowered her comm and placed her helmet back on her head before pulling out her datapad. With a quick study of the schematics, she set off again.

 

Merrin was not one to scare easy.

On Dathomir, she had, as Cal put it, “no natural predators” to fear.

Or did he call her the apex predator?

Either way, it was a flattering compliment and entirely true. The Nightbrothers were subservient to her status, nydacks were scared of her, and Malicos was a dramatic nuisance she could deal with; he was always so lost in himself, and his motivations were always transparent.

She had nothing to fear growing up surrounded by sisters, but after…

Well, it was still hard to see Cal wield his lightsaber sometimes, cutting down stormtroopers with efficiency, more graceful and less ruthless than the masked cyborg who killed her sisters, but just as deadly. Every fire of Omega’s blasters seemed to echo in her mind, the pitch of the droid’s artillery loud and stabbing into her brain.

But, there were no such things here. In fact, there was nothing here, something Merrin was used to.

She wasn’t used to the precise, sterile, identical hallways, however. Her home had been dynamic and changing, elegant in its harmony with the planet– built from it, never taking or changing more than what was necessary. Vibrant in color, warm and natural.

None of that existed here.

Her home, her childhood, was the opposite of Omega and Cal’s

Her entire being, possibly, was the absolute opposite of Omega and Cal’s

But, then there was some overlap between the three. Intersecting points where they all understood each other.

They hated the Empire. The resentment in the Clone, the indignation in the Jedi, and the disgust in the Nightsister.

There was compassion in the trio, as well. The unwillingness to allow struggle, the compulsion to help when they could. The Galaxy, Merrin knew, was beautiful. Even tainted by the Empire, there was so much of it, so much to learn and understand. She had once told BD-1 she would learn the secrets and whisper them to her sleeping sisters…

Merrin looked back at the droid now, as he booped out a phrase she couldn’t translate, but he sounded curious, so she stopped.

He hopped off her back and padded over to a wall with writing on it, scanning it for a second before he returned, reporting his findings.

“Good job,” she complimented, trying to emulate Cal as much as possible before they continued on.

She was beginning to see the comfort in having BD with her, understanding more why Cal never went anywhere without him. He was very helpful, tapping on her back when she was about to turn the wrong way or to ask permission to scan something so she didn’t wander off without him, and more importantly, she felt less… alone.

That was another intersection between her, Cal, and Omega.

How alone they had been. Merrin had Malicos and the Nightbrothers, someone who used her and people who feared her. Cal had Prauf and the Scrappers, people who he had to hide his true self from. Omega had Nala Se and the “regs”, someone she feared and people who did not like her.

At the core of it all, they were the same story, but they were not the same people.

“How far are we from the main lab?” Merrin asked, inclining her head to the droid.

He lifted his head over her shoulder and projected the map. The main lab was highlighted in a pale orange whereas the rest of the map was blue, distinguishing it from the other rooms.

She traced the hologram with her finger from the yellow marker that indicated their location and hummed.

“Just down the hall,” she realized, looking forward as BD stopped projecting the map.

She quickened her pace, soon coming upon a set of double doors.

“Is this it?” she asked, looking at the sign writing in a weird script that she didn’t understand.

BD jumped from her shoulder and hopped onto a panel nearby, plugging his scomp link in. Seconds later, the doors whooshed open and BD scuttled in, Merrin quick behind him.

She was struck by two things.

One, how much darker this room was than the rest of the building, the only light filtering in from the hall behind her. Even as her palm was ignited with a green flame, it barely did anything, illuminating only the ground at her feet and nothing more.

The second thing that struck her was how the cold seemed much more intense, sweeping past her in a chill that had her whole body shuddering and her teeth chattering.

Slowly, Merrin pulled out her comm and took a step back, out of the room, trying to regain some control of herself. “I’ve made it to the main lab,” she reported. “Omega, did you not restore heat and power to the room?”

There was a second of silence before the clone’s voice crackled from the little device. “Heat is restored, and so is the power. I’ll see if I can figure out the problem. Stand by.”

Merrin exhaled through her nose, preparing herself for the short wait when BD shrieked, his little feet rapidly pattering on the metal floor until he returned to her, stopping at her feet and rapidly whistling, booping, and making a bunch of other noises that she didn’t understand.

“What is it?” she asked, igniting both hands, preparing herself for a fight.

BD trilled and jumped up and down, walking into the room for a few steps before turning to look back at her.

Slowly, stepped forward, moving with caution, on alert as she followed him into the dark, guided by the little blue lights on the back of his head bobbing with movement.

Merrin was familiar with the sensation of knowing a predator was stalking her from behind. The hairs on the back of her neck would rise with the heat of a warning when sharp eyes watched her from behind. The air moving with anticipation, gathering, condensing and becoming thicker with tension until just before the strike.

But she felt none of that now. No heat, no eyes, no air.

She felt no movement in the room, only the darkness that grew more and more intense the further she crept into the room.

The open door became just a dim square behind her, no bigger than her hand by the time BD stopped, the little lights coming to a still, and the darkness felt tangible now, encompassing her in a grip that seized the breath from her lungs and heat from her body.

“What is it?” she whispered, unaware of anything more than a few inches from her face.

BD’s boops were quieter now, like he was whispering as well.

“Found the problem!” Omega’s voice suddenly rang through her comm, startling Merrin, though she would never admit it.

Heart thudding with the jump, she extinguished the flame in one hand and pulled out her comm. “What is wrong with the lights and heat?”

“They’re just turned off. Well, actually, there’s no heating unit in that room connected to the system. Some labs have a grid independent of the main system for more individualized projects, so the temperature controls are probably inside the room, so I can’t fix the problem from here. But, I am restoring the lights right… now!”

On cue, the room lit up, causing Merrin to squint and blink as her vision was suddenly attacked by the intrusion, even though it wasn’t a lot of light, the lab was still dark, but now she could make out her surroundings, casted in tones of cool grays.

“Did that work?” Omega asked.

Merrin didn’t answer.

Instead, she just… stared.

Right in front of her was a tall, glass tube that towered over her, filled with a light blue liquid that glowed from the light above it, bathing her in the color.

Everything seemed connected, as various opaque, smaller tubes and thick cords the size of her wrist ran from the bottom along the floor, plugging into the ground. It was a miracle she hadn’t tripped over any of them in the dark.

But none of this mattered. Merrin didn’t care about the darkness or the cords or Omega repeatedly calling her name through the comm as she neglected to respond.

Instead, she tilted her head and peered up at the man who was floating in the blue liquid inside the glass.

His eyes were softly shut, his limbs lazy, swaying with a gentle buoyancy.

He was stripped to his undergarments, revealing a giant white medical patch over the center of his chest. Merrin briefly wondered what it was covering before she went back to studying his face.

He seemed… familiar, somehow. His skin was tan, his features heavy and squarish, though a mask covered his mouth and nose, distorting the lower half of his face, but he did have one distinguishing mark…

It reminded her of Omega’s various tattoos, but specifically, the one found on the inside of the young clone’s left wrist, was a small “CF-99” in black ink.

She had asked Omega why, once. Why that design? It didn’t seem ceremonial like Merrin’s tattoos.

Her friend had told her that clones liked the ink, as it helped distinguish them from their brothers, gave them a sense of individuality. But Omega had always been different from other clones, so she picked a design that made her feel part of them.

This man, for some reason, had a little tattoo of a “5” on his right temple, and she got the sense that this was, indeed, a very distinguishing mark.

 

Omega tried not to panic when Merrin went radio silent for a solid 83 seconds, and she was just about to make her way to the far building when the Nightsister finally commed her.

“I am okay,” she said, “I just found something.”

Omega frowned.

“What did you find?” Cal asked.

“I… don’t know.”

It wasn’t the response itself that troubled the young clone, but how Merrin responded.

The Nightsister sounded… unsure, hesitant even. Merrin was nothing if not confident, it wasn’t like her to be unsure of anything. Nothing upset her, just angered her, and if she was confused, she rolled with it easily or made it plainly known.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Cal pressed.

“I think Omega should come check this out. I think she may have answers.”

Oh, that was not good.

She signed up for this mission because of her expertise, but that didn’t mean she actually wanted to utilize it.

But what choice did she have now?

With a sigh, she pressed a finger to her comm. “Copy that. I’ll rendezvous at your location soon. I’m just downloading a cache of data I found on the main computer.”

“Understood, see you soon,” Merrin signed off.

Omega continued typing. In one of the labs she was picking through, she had actually found two caches of data with different levels of encryption. Most of the information on the central computer was nonsense about experimental treatments and development reports, a bunch of bureaucratic osik if you asked her.

But finding encrypted data on the central computer? It was almost as sweet as the taste of Mantell mix.

The problem came with the encryption itself. One seemed to be just a few steps above a basic encryption, well within her wheelhouse and she could probably break the key on her way to meet up with Merrin. The other file, however, was infinitely more complex, above her paygrade.

But it wasn’t totally lost.

She was almost done uploading it to her datapad, a few more seconds left to go. She changed the frequency of her comm and glanced upwards, hoping the blizzard wouldn’t disrupt the connection too badly.

“Havoc-6 to Stinger-2, do you copy?”

Static overtook her comm, but Cere’s voice managed to make it through.

“We read you, Havoc-6,” the old master replied, her voice faint, cutting in and out in a stilted pattern. “What do you need?”

“I am sending you a cache of data that needs decrypting. Can you relay this to Havoc-2?”

Another delayed in response before Cere gave an affirmative.

Omega promptly began the data transfer, from the central computer to the Mantis .

She just hoped that no Imps were listening in.

“Transmission received,” Cere responded soon after Omega finished, “I’ll get back to you when Havoc-2 responds.”

“Copy that. Over and out.”

Omega unplugged her datapad and let out a breath. Hopefully, Tech would be able to find what they were looking for, but for now, she had reaped what she could from this room. If the data she found turned out to be more bantha shit, she’d take another run through this building.

She made her way to the elevator, the way down easier than the way up, sliding down the cord until she saw the still-open doors leading to the ground floor.

Walking with more purpose, she was out of the building soon enough and back into the storm.

Maker, she preferred the endless rain and perpetual darkness over this! The metal path had become iced over and by the time she made her way to the furthest building, she had slipped and fallen over the edge of the pathway two times, so she was wet, shivering, and pissed off.

“Damn the Kaminoans!” she hissed, removing her helmet and brushing off the snow and water that capped it and gathered on the visor. “Damn them, damn this planet!”

She resisted the urge to kick a wall, knowing that it would be dumb, but damn if an outburst wasn’t tempting right now, so much was building inside of her, it was starting to hurt her chest.

Omega shuddered, her blacks underneath her armor soaking and chilling on her skin. How could she be so hot with anger and so cold at the same time?

Taking a deep, shaking breath, she tried to ignore it all. It didn’t matter right now. She needed to find Merrin.

She pulled out her datapad and quickly pulled up the location of her friend’s tracker on the schematics. Maybe this would be the thing they were searching for. Maybe this was the thing that would make this whole trip worth it.

She made it to the room Merrin was supposed to be in easily enough. She identified it as she was coming in from the hallway, the dim light shone from the room, offering a reprieve on her eyes.

The lab wasn’t remarkably big, she noted, maybe only the size that Nala Se’s had been, but with none of the cloning pods or the window with an under-oceanic view.

There were several observation tables lined along in a small section, and several work tables opposite to that.

The centerpiece of the room, however, what Merrin stood in front of now with BD on her shoulder, was a single tank in the middle of the room, the blue light of the bacta that filled it illuminating her ghostly complexion, giving her the impression of someone glowing.

Briefly, she thought back to her vision, but realized that the figure in this tank was not the same.

Omega swallowed upon seeing the man float lazily in the bacta, like he was sleeping, if not for the giant patch on his bare chest. Keeping something in? Keeping something closed? She didn’t know.

Slowly, she stepped forward, staring up as she fell into place with Merrin.

“Who is he?” the Nightsister asked quietly, as if she was afraid to wake him.

Omega almost snorted. His face was unmistakable. That hard-set jaw, the squarish features. The face he shared with over a million men. Wolffe, Gregor, Rex, Cody, Echo, Crosshair, Wrecker, Tech, Hunter. They all had that face. This one was only unique in the little “5” tattoo at his temple and maintained goatee on his chin.

His head was shaved almost bald, a light shadow of fuzz remaining, and his features were younger, making her recall the younger troops deployed at the start of the war. 18-years-old, physically, but when they came back, they seemed so much older . The fighting aged them more than the science, and this clone had definitely seen action.

She surmised that he was one of the later generations to be trained and discharged to fight, older than her brothers, but younger than Rex for sure. Maybe he was around Echo’s generation?

“A clone,” she muttered, slowly reaching up, placing her hand on the transparisteel of the tank.

The second she made contact with the cool surface, a wave of calm washed over her, a sense of home flooded her chest, relaxing her, chasing away the turmoil of the mission.

She closed her eyes and reached out.

It was… hard to find him.

He felt like he was very far away as she felt for his presence in the Force, but when she found him, it was there , and it was bright and… it was familiar.

Achingly so.

He felt like a brother she had never known but should have known.

He almost felt like Echo, but Echo’s presence was just a bit calmer. Maybe it was because he was a reg that he invoked such an energy, Rex was the same.

In her mind, she felt the connection form between herself and the clone, a bridge being built, the lab slowly fading to the background.

She began to feel the pain in his chest as if it were her own. The gradual burning in her sternum almost made her gasp, but she did not lose her focus, it was her pain now. She reached out more until she could almost sense what the clone was thinking, words and information flooding into her mind, piece by piece.

A mission.

He was on a mission… Serving an army that was almost extinct…

Nightmares.

Nightmares of brothers turning on brothers turning on fathers and mothers and friends. The galaxy being torn apart because of… because…

Omega felt a sharp pain in her right temple now and the shock of it made her gasp and open her eyes, falling back onto the ground as if she had been knocked over– no, her sternum burning , it was like she had been shot.

She placed a palm over her chest plate trying to will the cool of her metal armor to soothe her skin.

Merrin was at her side in an instant. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Omega quickly brushed off before standing up, shaky to rise, keeping her gaze trained on the clone. He was shot, that she knew, but the pain in her head…

Was that…?

She peered up at him, stepping closer and closer until her breath was condensing in a white fog on the tank’s surface when she saw it. On his right temple, there was a small, white incision scar, stark against his tan skin. Absently, she felt along her own head, where the pain lingered.

...Ninety degrees from the right orbital floor, below the parietal and temporal intersection… ” Tech’s voice echoed in her mind, flashes of Wrecker throwing him across the room, slamming Hunter into a wall by his throat, then running after her, standing over her with a blaster-

“Omega?”

The young clone snapped back to the present before turning to her friend. “I… don’t know how, but… his inhibitor chip was removed. Before the war was over.”

Notes:

Bit of a disclaimer:
Yeah, I KNOW this feels like I ripped off Jedi: Survivor AND Metamorphosis, BUT I swear to ANY GOD that I wrote THOSE ASPECTS WAY BEFORE Jedi: Survivor was even CONFIRMED and then I went, "Screw it! I'm keeping it in!"

Legit, I've been planning to bring Fives back since I was writing the Haxion Infiltration. More on the "how" in the next chapter! I always think he would have the best dynamic with Omega, you know? So, I decided to write it because it's my story and I do what I want! .... While also trying to make it make as much sense as possible because I care!

Anyways, love y'all for reading, thank you for reading, those made it to this point! We are now halfway through Songs of the Unseen, so uh... shit's ramping up, yo.

As always, leave your thoughts, questions, comments, jokes, critiques, etc.! I love any and all feedback!

Chapter 4: The Medic's Lullaby

Summary:

Omega and Merrin figure out what to do with Fives.

Notes:

My friends,

As I said, this chapter may bare striking similarities to Jedi: Survivor, however, I promise that I wrote this chapter MONTHS before the first trailer was even released. I've been planning the opening scene for a very long time, hence why I kept it despite the similarities.
I hope you enjoy this, as there is a potential in Fives and Omega's non-existent dynamic that I wish was explored more.

Granted, I think Omega deserves to meet Merrin in canon, their dynamic would be fun. Sun-Coded Bisexual meets Moon-Coded Pansexual. Cat and Dog dynamic....

Ah, I ramble.
Please, read on!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Time and fevers burn away
Individual beauty from
Thoughtful children, and the grave
Proves the child ephemeral:
But in my arms till break of day
Let the living creature lie,
Mortal, guilty, but to me
The entirely beautiful.

-Lullaby , W. H. Auden

 

Omega quickly went to the data console that rested in front of the bacta tank while Merrin just looked confused.

“An inhibitor chip? You said those were what made the clones turn on the Jedi.”

“They were. The Kaminoans put them in all the clones… except me and one other,” Omega confirmed while she pulled up the patient information. “However, information about the chips didn’t become common knowledge among the clones until after Order 66 was executed, when Rex started building his network of clones escaping from the Empire.”

“Captain Rex?” Merrin asked. “The one who helped us rescue you from Maldin Prime?”

"Exactly." Omega pulled up the files she was looking for and started scanning through them rapidly.

From her peripheral, she could see Merrin stepping even closer to the pod and reaching up, closing her eyes as small green flames danced from her fingertips.

“He is… in pain,” she muttered, BD-1 beeping sadly at her words as she dropped her hand.

“His identification number is listed as CT-5555,” Omega read aloud, going through the basic information first. That designation… it sounded familiar somehow, but she couldn’t place where.

She put that thought to the side as she pulled up the incident report, trying to figure out how a clone ended up in the tank in the first place, nevermind a bacta tank in the middle of an abandoned medical research facility.

“It says here that he was admitted into care… Over eight years ago,” she muttered, reading aloud. “Near the end of the Clone Wars, when this facility was still in Republic service.”

“That patch on his chest,” Merrin pointed out, “It is overlaying his injury, correct?”

Omega quickly read the next section and hummed in confirmation. “Yes. It’s covering a hole caused by a blaster bolt. He was shot in an act of self defense on CC-1010’s part, presumed dead from the injury. This action is validated by the witness testimony of several Coruscant Guard troopers, Jedi General Anakin Skywalker, and CT-… 7567? Rex?

Speak of the devil…

Omega frowned at the identification number of the good captain. Had Rex known this clone? Was this… was this one of his vod , part of his and Echo’s legendary 501st?

Would he have been Echo’s vod as well?

She tried to read further, to see if there was anything else to be found, but there was nothing else of importance, other than the fact that the incident had taken place on Coruscant, which gave her more pause.

Why transfer him all the way to the Outer Rim? Omega had only been on that planet once, but she was confident that bacta tanks and medical treatment existed there at the very least.

She looked around. Secret lab, Kaminoan made and operated… Hidden subject, presumed dead. No one would go looking for them if they weren’t technically missing.

This was starting to feel like a painfully familiar scenario to her.

But this clone wasn’t Tech.

He wasn’t the dozens of brothers subject to his experiments.

This planet wasn’t Tantiss.

“We have to help him,” Merrin said, resolved in this choice, and Omega nodded in her agreement.  She would not leave this soldier here, abandoned, but… she didn’t know what to do. He had clearly been kept in bacta because there was no other choice. She looked back down at the console and moved beyond the basic information, at the doctor’s notes, Emerie’s clinical voice in her mind…

Blaster wound to the upper sternum, 1-inch in diameter. No major organs impacted or otherwise damaged. While the third-degree burns serve to cauterize any potential internal and external bleeding, the internal nerve damage proves to be expectedly severe. Too severe. Bacta can not repair the wounds, and surgery would be too long to be effective. The wound remains fatal.

This planet wasn’t Tantiss… but she found herself wishing Emerie was actually here. Her sister who now used her medical expertise to treat the good people of Pabu, far away from the Empire. She’d be able to give a more accurate prognosis based on the data at hand.

But… Emerie wasn’t here.

Omega wasn’t Emerie. She wasn’t Nala Se. She could match their medical expertise, but she wasn’t them. She was Omega… a Jedi padawan.

What was it that Cere had told her once? It was a passing comment, but it was something she held on to needlessly.

“You would have done well in the Halls of Healing.”

Just a passing comment Cere made when Omega was tending to a wound Cal sustained, when a stormtrooper managed to actually get close enough to land a blow with the business end of his blaster.

The imp didn’t live for long after that action, Merrin made sure of it.

Omega had carefully inquired about the Halls of Healing afterwards, her curiosity piqued, leading to Cere describing the expansive wing of what was the Jedi Temple dedicated solely to medical care, employing the use of droids and Jedi healers and the best equipment in the galaxy.

That led to a whole tangential conversation about what a Jedi healer was, which turned to an entire discussion between her, Cal, and Cere about the theoretical applications of the Force in healing.

“Merrin… do you know any healing spells?” Omega asked suddenly, turning to her friend.

“I do, but they do not come to me as easily as my spells of fatality,” Merrin replied, wry in her tone.

Omega swore under her breath and looked at the trooper. Asking Cal to come heal him with the Force was a useless endeavor. Her master, as powerful as he was, relied heavily on BD’s stims in a fight for a quick fix and rarely ever tended to his own extensive wounds post-battle, needing someone else to do it. Merrin, she knew, was more skilled in her Nightsister aspects of the Force, but if healing wasn’t in her skillset, was it worth the risk?

She recalled her discussion with Cal and Cere. How healers used the Force to mend the wounds. Omega could imagine it– the blaster wound in the clone’s chest. She had felt it, briefly, as if it was her own.

“I’m going to heal him,” she resolved, moving to the console.

“How?” Merrin asked, BD-1 beeping with a slight confusion over her shoulder.

“The Force, mostly,” she replied, starting the disengagement of the tank.

It hissed, loudly, before the shimmering blue liquid started to drain at the bottom.

Omega readied herself at the door, for when the trooper would inevitably fall out. “If the report is correct, he’s going to have seconds to live once the tank releases him. BD, ready a stim.”

Merrin remained silent, and Omega watched as the clone slowly slumped to the ground, and the second the bacta was drained, she opened the tank and stepped in, getting onto her knees and taking the mask off of his face and holding him up against her, his torso propped up on her legs.

“BD!” She held up her hand as BD tossed her a stim, and she immediately stuck it into the clone’s shoulder, buying her just a few more seconds.

Her heart thudding as the adrenaline started flowing, she held her hand over the patch on his chest and closed her eyes.

She willed herself to slow down, willed time to slow down, and she listened.

Listened to the Force, that small, guided intuition in her mind.

She saw them, in her mind’s eye, two clones sitting in a cramped and damp tank, when the room disappeared, slowly fading, growing brighter, until they were on the landing platform on Kamino.

They were two beings of light, though the trooper… his light was fading. So dim– it was almost gone, like the ember in a fire, finally dying out, while Omega herself was as bright as the sun’s beams breaking into dawn over the horizon, the light in her as continuously shifting as the sun reflecting on the waves. Fluttering, but never fading, only moving.

Slowly, she guided this shifting light from herself, through her arm, out from her hand and into the chest of the clone.

His dim light got brighter.

She could see his wound, despite the fact that the bandage remained in place. The charred hole in his sternum, the skin ash and black in a perfect circle.

Like she was watching the injury occur in reverse, the ash of the wound slowly returned to color, the skin regrowing, the hole healing, both inside and out, until it was sealed, the only evidence an injury occurred being a dark ring on his skin.

Omega opened her eyes as the trooper started coughing, snapped out of the meditative state she was in, both of them returning to the cold lab on Pilal V. Her eyes were heavy, all the energy sapped out of her as if she had been awake for days, but it didn't matter. She needed to hold on.

The clone was groaning, his expression pinching, no longer blissfully relaxed.

“Easy, soldier,” she muttered, slowly moving, shifting, scooting them out of the tank, into the open with more room, laying him on his back. She pulled out her medkit, digging through it until she found her small pocket torch. “Merrin, open his eyes, one after the other,” she instructed.

The Nightsister dropped to her knees on the clone’s other side, reaching out as instructed.

She hooked her thumb and forefinger under the clone’s eyelid and brow respectively before holding the lid open while Omega shone the light back and forth, one eye after the other.

“Pupil response is good,” she remarked before turning it off and sticking it back into her kit and gently letting his head drop again.

“CT-5555, can you hear me?”

He grumbled, and Omega strained to hear his words.

“The… the nightmare… is it… is it over?”

She glanced at Merrin before back at the trooper as he opened his eyes, tilting his head in her direction and squinting. His vision must have been coming into focus.

“Do you know where you’re at? What’s your name, soldier?” she asked, trying to mimic Hunter’s tone whenever one of their brothers got knocked out in a fight.

“R-... Rex?” he slurred, staring at her mop of blonde.

He blinked several times, and widened his eyes with a drowsy realization.

“Soldier, do you know where you’re at?” she repeated.

He closed his eyes and pressed a hand to his chest as he slowly moved to sit up on his own, swearing, probably from the lingering or phantom pains that had plagued him for nearly a whole decade. Omega pushed him back down.

“Easy, rest,” she ordered.

He groaned with the movement. “I thought you were… someone else,” he muttered.

“You thought I was Captain Rex of the 501st?” she asked.

He stared at her, shocked. “You know him? Where is he?”

Omega glanced at Merrin, the Nightsister as stoic as ever.

She looked down at the trooper. “That’s a long story, soldier. I’ll catch you up, but first, do you have a name?”

He looked at her before he gave a single, tired chuckle. “Call me Fives.”

 

Omega didn’t know how to mention to Fives that she had basically grown up on stories of his misadventures from Echo and Rex.

She figured she’d let him process the fact that he had been kept in a bacta tank for eight years first before she dropped what would undoubtedly be a major revelation.

He showed all the signs of coming out of a good soak, Omega familiar with it, seeing many brothers demonstrate the same symptoms in the med bays on Kamino. His legs were jelly and his response and reflexes were slow. He was still dazed and slightly slurring his words whenever he spoke. As they made their way back to base, Fives needed to keep his arms looped around hers and Merrin’s shoulders, to walk steady. BD was in front of them, using his light to illuminate the path forward.

“The last thing I remember was being on Coruscant,” he recounted, expression pinched as he tried to focus. Fox was trying to… to talk me down, but…” He sighed and shook his head as they trudged on.

“I understand,” Omega said comfortingly. “A long time has passed.”

“I-I was trying to warn him, warn my captain and the General, a-about…” He stumbled, grunting, almost as if he was trying to jerk himself from their grip, making them pause as he almost fell. He looked down at Omega. “The mission… Th-the war… is it… over?”

Now she sighed and looked away, hard to see his soldier’s gaze. “It is.” The details were long committed to her memory, even if she spent the quiet victory in a lab, alone. “The Republic won, General Obi-Wan Kenobi killed Separatist leader General Grievous on Utapau. The droids were subsequently shut down and decommissioned. The victory was… short lived, however.” She swallowed, not sure if he was even ready to hear this yet. “The clone troopers turned on the Jedi in the execution of Order 66. Almost overnight, the entirety of the Jedi Order was… destroyed. And the Empire rose.”

Fives stumbled again, his legs giving out from under him, only for a second.

Omega felt his quiet anguish in the Force before he hardened his expression, maintaining that soldier’s composure that she had seen in her brothers so often.

“And… what of the clones?” he asked, his voice just short of a choke.

She felt her own anguish claw at her chest, at her throat, but she swallowed it, swallowing the instinctive sob that always threatened to overtake her whenever she thought too long about the fate of her brothers. “Kamino was destroyed. The remaining clones were… forced into retirement and replaced with conscripted , nat-born soldiers.” Phased out without any sort of severance or gratitude for their service, kicked to the curb by the Empire with nothing but the armor they once wore with pride. That was the best case scenario for the clones who were forced out of the army peacefully.

But she had seen the worst case as well…

“We– we’re still here,” she said, looking at him as they continued.

He met her gaze, studying her, but she kept her expression set and locked, unwilling to back down, willing to show him that the mettle of a clone had not wavered in his absence.

Fives hummed, a slight quirk tugging the corner of his lips up, like he was amused. “Designation?”

“CE-O-219. But my name’s Omega.”

Fives scoffed. “Hell of an experiment,” he muttered, prompting Omega to smile for probably the first time since they arrived on planet.

It was then that the snap-clicking noises sounded from the vents, prompting Fives to pause for a second, frowning at the ceiling.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Just the vents,” she dismissed before they continued on, the noise persisting after them for a second before slowly quieting. “After years of neglect, there’s bound to be some minor structural degeneration.”

Fives let out a low whistle. “Impressive words coming from a cadet.”

“I’m not a cadet,” she insisted, trying not to pout. “I’m older than you!”

He laughed. “Nah, no way. You’re… what? 8? 9 years out of the tube? If my old captain was here, he’d call you a shiny.”

“A… shiny?” Merrin repeated, looking over at them.

“It’s old clone slang,” Omega explained. “It means newbie, as in, a clone who has fresh, shiny armor.” She looked at Fives, “My brothers do call me that, but I’m actually 19. I was created without any modifications or mutations such as growth acceleration or obedience.”

She glanced at him, his face weighted into a slight frown. “What kind of… experiment were you?” he asked, his voice careful, gravely.

It reminded her of Hunter.

Omega sighed. “I don’t know. A lot of it was confidential. All I know is that I am one of two completely unmodified clones created from the genetic material of Jango Fett.”

Fives, for what he was worth, remained quiet as he comprehended this knowledge, or lack thereof. He seemed at a loss for words, so he remained silent, saying nothing as they made it back to their camp.

They set him down on one of the bedrolls, the trooper going down with a groan. If she had to guess, his muscles were probably tired from the walk, just from the long lack of use.

“I will inform Cal that we are back here,” Merrin said before walking away, comm in hand.

Omega sat down across from them, pulling out her med-kit. “BD, can you scan him?” she asked before looking at Fives. “He’s an explorer droid, but I modified his scanners so he should be able to give a basic health scan so I can potentially get a preliminary diagnosis.”

Fives just tilted his head up at her as BD ran his blue scanner over him before beeping out the results.

“Were you trained as a medic?” he asked as she took off her vambraces and hide-leather gloves, pulling out a pair of sterile, medical-grade gloves to wear instead.

“Not exactly.” She snapped them on and began digging through her kit. “I was an assistant to Nala Se for most of my formative years.” She left out the additional “training” she received under Hemlock and Emerie, wanting to forget everything she did on Tantiss if only it meant Crosshair would be left alone…

She made to first remove the bandage on his chest, wanting to examine the wound closer, when Fives caught her wrists and held them in a vice.

“You were who’s assistant?” he asked, his voice suddenly dropping to a low growl.

In an instant, Merrin emerged from behind Fives in a flash of green ash, ceremonial knife in hand and held at his throat, but the clone was unyielding.

Omega was just as stubborn, however. She did not move, but she gave a look to Merrin, silently ordering her to stand down, a look her friend was slow to accept.

She turned her attention back to Fives, trying her best to mimic Crosshair’s signature sneer, trying her best to show she was not one to scare easily.

“Nala Se,” she replied, cool, well aware of the… complicated relationship the doctor had with the other clones, saying nothing of her own karking upbringing. “I don’t know what she did to you, but-”

“She killed my brother,” Fives growled, grip tightening, and though she heard the slight crackling from her fragile wrist bones, she did her best to not show the pain and remain calm. “She killed my brother, and then tried to have me killed to cover up the truth behind the inhibitor chips!”

He stared up at her, challenging her, nostrils flared, chest and shoulders rising and falling with deep, shuddering breaths, his clenched jaw twitching. She did not back down, locking eyes with him, those same eyes she found in every brother, only now, it was like staring into the eyes of a wild predator that was backed into a corner, and left with nothing to do but fight.

“I know,” she started, making her voice as non-threatening as possible. “I know Nala Se did… horrible things. Unethical things in the name of science, and I know she knew the truth about the inhibitor chips. I do not condone a single thing she did, nor am I excusing her for what she did, but… I knew about them as well. I was only a child when I learned about them,” she quickly added as she felt a flash of anger shoot out from the trooper. “I didn’t know what they were ultimately created to do until after the Order was given. She told me they were for minor behavioral modification, to curb the Prime’s inherited aggression.”

Fives just continued to stare at her, and for a second, she was afraid he wasn’t going to back down and she would be forced to subdue him, forced to use what she learned on Tantiss until… his expression softened. Just slightly, and his grip on her wrists slackened until he finally let go, limbs dropping to his sides.

“That’s what she told everyone. That’s what she told them, trying to convince them that I was wrong, that they were necessary.”

Omega watched him, the anger leaving him entirely, replaced with a solemn despair. His silent anguish in knowing that he failed his mission, he failed his brothers.

She looked up at Merrin, and in the Nightsister, she saw a similar pain, the ghosts of her sisters forever in her mind, never far from her thoughts.

Omega sighed and slowly inched closer, reaching out towards Fives, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I am not Nala Se. I am a clone, and I am your sister, Fives. We’re not gone. Not yet.”

“It was just yesterday,” he rasped. “Tup died only yesterday for me.”

“I am so sorry,” Omega whispered. She knew what it was like to lose a brother. What it felt like when she thought she lost Tech. Wishing it was her, wishing she was the one who died in the railcar if it meant he would live. But Tech, miraculously, lived. He was alive and safe now. Fives didn’t have that. Almost everyone he knew was gone…

Slowly, she removed the bandage, Fives not moving, not protesting her gentle actions.

“I remember the day I lost my sisters,” Merrin spoke quietly while Omega worked. “I remember waking up, buried in the rubble of my home, my sister’s fingertips only inches away from me.”

BD whistled sadly, nudging his head against Merrin’s ankle.

“I’m sorry you had to experience that,” Five muttered, looking up at her.

The Nightsister’s expression did not change. She just kept her gaze slightly lowered, but Omega could feel the energy, her magick, swirling inside of her, like a thunderstorm forming in her chest.

“I fight to avenge them now. Their memories are not forgotten,” she replied, prompt, resolute in her goals.

Omega tried not to think about her brothers now. The longing she felt for them on a daily. She had no place, no right to claim such agony when they were only a holo-call away. When it was her choice to leave them to pursue the path of a Jedi.

Fives and Merrin didn’t have that luxury. They didn’t have choices.

“You’re clear,” Omega said, removing the gloves, leaning back. Fives’s injury, as she suspected, had completely healed, only a dark ring in the center of his chest serving as evidence that anything had even happened to him.

 

Once Fives had been situated, they gave him some clothes to combat the cold, so now he sat on the bedroll, dressed in some spare medical blacks Omega found in a nearby storage as well as one of Cal’s warmer ponchos

She got back to work decrypting the cache, Merrin sitting close while she rambled on about her discovery.

“Actually I found two of them on one of the lab’s computers,” she explained, “I sent the other to Cere so she could relay it to Tech, because it has a heavier, more complex encryption. This one, however, is within my skill range.”

“What do you think it holds?” Merrin asked, watching Omega’s fingers fly across the datapad.

“Hard to say. Could be names of personnel who were stationed here, detailed logs about the research that was taking place…” She shrugged before looking over at Fives, who was warming himself by the heat lamp while munching on a ration bar while BD regaled him with stories about his adventures with Cal.

She turned back to Merrin, expression more solemn. “Data on the experiments they were conducting…” she spoke in a lower voice before turning back to her work.

“What kind of experiments did they conduct on Kamino?”

The question in itself was innocent in nature, Omega knew this. Just Merrin being curious, wanting to know, wanting to be prepared for whatever they could find.

But, still. Omega felt a shiver run up her arms. “I don’t know,” she answered, “I was kept away from a lot of it. My brothers, though, were one of them. The manipulation of certain genes to produce desirable mutations, super soldiers. I was one of them, but…”

The unmodified clone. That’s what she was. But was that her original purpose? Was she the failsafe for the one they called Alpha? Or was that what she became? Did she even fulfill that purpose, now that she wielded the Force?

She shook her head, clearing her thoughts. “Whatever the case, I already know Kaminoans; the Republic. They experimented with off-world cloning, not related to the creation of the GAR. For instance, have I ever told you about the time my brothers and I came face-to-face with a zillo beast?”

Merrin just peered at her, narrowed eyes, furrowed brow, remaining silent for a second before speaking. “I don’t know what that is.”

Omega just smiled, looking down at her datapad as, with a few more clicks, she broke the encryption. The data, the text, shifting into the legible Kaminoan script right before her eyes.

“Got it,” she said, prompting Merrin to move closer, trying to read over her shoulder.

“What does it say?” she asked, frowning as she was still unable to translate.

Omega quickly scrolled through the data, taking a moment to mentally translate Kaminoan formal into Basic. “It’s a list,” she said, “Of active projects at the time of the facility closing, and the individuals spearheading each one.”

She wasn’t sure how useful the data was, considering the projects were all listed under coded names, and most of the medical personnel on the list, the Kaminoans, would have been either wiped out in their resistance to the Empire after the destruction of Tipoca City, transferred to Tantiss, or suffered some unknown third fate that led to the eradication of the civilization.

But, then again, secret names, secret projects… all the same, from the Republic to the Empire.

She started paying more attention to the names, to see if she recognized any of the personnel from Kamino, or the projects from Tantiss. Maybe there was some overlap that would give her some answers.

Project Dark Spire… Dr. Taani Go

Project C7-83J4… Dr. Lown Hass.

Project Gemini… Dr. Codal Hek.

Project 83…

Omega froze, heart stopping for just a second before it started beating again with a renewed fervor, trying to escape her chest.

The room spun, and the cold within her intensified until she forgot what warmth felt like, as she read that name over and over, trying to make sure she was wrong.

But, the words remained, no matter how much she wanted them to disappear.

Project 83… Dr. Royce Hemlock.

She wanted to throw the device as far away from herself as possible, but her body refused the command from her brain, and instead, her grip tightened on the datapad, her hands shaking as the screen started to flicker.

“Omega,” someone spoke, but she didn’t know who, the blood rushing through her ears drowned everything out as anger-fear-sorrow- something whirled inside of her chest, lights flashing around her, cracks forming along the surface of the screen…

“Omega!” she was knocked onto her back and out of her thoughts by two hands pushing against her shoulders.

BD was right by her, booping in concern– Merrin in front of her, arms outstretched, having been the one to shove her.

“What was that?” Fives asked, looking at her.

Omega took a long, shaking breath before she sat back up, tugging at her collar as the room suddenly grew too hot.

“Omega, what is wrong?” Merrin asked, more urgent, more concerned.

“The-the list,” she started, voice unsteady, her mouth struggling to keep up with all the thoughts in her head flying at a million miles an hour, overwhelming her, unable to stick to just one coherent thing. “I–I recognize… I recognize one of the names.”

“Who?” Fives asked, reaching over and picking up the datapad gingerly, frowning at the flickering screen.

Omega swallowed. She didn’t want to say the name. It was acid in her throat and ash on her tongue, the whole person, the memory of him

She had left him behind, she buried the thoughts of him so far down, never wanting to look at them. Running from them for years, the feeling of blood on her hands, the sterile smell of the laboratories, the look in his wicked blue eyes…

The memory of Dr. Hemlock was suffocating .

Omega couldn’t breathe.

She couldn’t breathe.

She quickly stood up, grabbing her helmet, her holster, her comm, gearing up with shaking hands as if she was going out on a mission.

“I’m getting some air.”

She didn’t answer their startled questions as she started to walk out of the control room– she couldn’t.

She couldn’t speak anymore, the urge to be silent overtaking her need to explain as she donned her helmet, hiding her face right as the tears started gathering in her eyes before she left the room. She took off down one of the halls, she didn’t know which one, she didn’t care. She just needed to get away from it all, not even bothering to light her torch as she disappeared into the darkness, focusing on that insistent snap-click ing noise in the vents that followed her, using it to ground herself, keeping one foot in the present, the other in the past.

Notes:

The plot clumpens!

More of what I think happened to Omega during S3 will be explored further into the story, but without saying too much, I think Omega would have an intense fear of Hemlock and Tantiss, lots of trauma related to it.

Confession time: I hope I got Fives right, all y'all, I've never actually........ seenaCloneWarsepisodewitFivesinit.
Everything I know about him is second-hand.

Just some director's commentary: I did want this to be a horror/horror-inspired because I do admire the use of horror as a reflection of fear, as a personification, and the entirety of Pilal V is serving to reflect Omega's greatest fears. I am someone with a lot of fears, a lot of anxieties, which is what I served as the basis for the emotional gravity of the story.

That said, things really do continue to ramp up in the next chapter, stakes continue to be raised!

Thank you and love y'all for reading! As always, please, leave your questions, comments, jokes, critiques, etc.! I love any and all feedback, and stay tuned for the next chapter!

Chapter 5: The Ecchoing Blue

Summary:

What lurks underneath rises to the surface...

Notes:

My friends,

I don't have much to say here. I hope you are enjoying reading this story as much as I enjoy writing it. There is one more chapter after this of Part I of the story, then we move on to Part II, though, I admit, I don't have that all written yet.

I promise, the Bad Batch will make their appearance in Part II, as we shift from this being a Jedi story to feeling more like a Bad Batch episode.
For now, Tech makes his appearance in this one!

That said, please, read on!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The sun does descend,
And our sports have an end;
Round the laps of their mothers,
Many sisters and brothers,
Like birds in their nest,
Are ready for rest;
And sport no more seen,
On the darkening Green.

-The Ecchoing Green, William Blake

 

Cal kept his lightsaber braced in front of him as he crept down the hall. It was his only source of light; casting the walls in a dim glow, the plasma of the blade illuminating each careful exhale he let out in a blue smoke.

As sure as he was a Jedi, he heard a scream.

So faint, so distant… somewhere deep in the building, leading him further into the darkness.

He wanted to talk to BD-1, to ask the little droid if he heard it too, but he was frustratingly alone.

And he hated it.

He had BD as a near constant companion for three years now, and his absence was nothing short of a physical feeling, a phantom weight on his back.

Cal knew he shouldn’t have been so dependent on the droid, but he couldn’t help it. He could blame this dependency as the reason why he felt so helplessly lost in the main building, no longer having a ready access to a map of all the places he had already been in.

He could also blame the structure itself.

The further and further he went, nothing changed. The long halls repeated itself in the same minimalistic black-and-white design that was muted in the dark, over and over and over…

Unlike his other travels, there were no identifying marks to be found to guide him, like an interesting rock or a particular building. There were only the white walls, identical doors, and… well, there were signs, but they were not written in Aurebesh, but rather, a Kaminoan script. It was as mocking as it was eerie. Signs for him that he couldn’t read, the lines were just lines.

No, they weren’t just lines, he reminded himself. It was the language of the ghosts. These signs weren’t meant for him, but for a people that had been completely wiped out. The only ones who could read it were the survivors, never to see these signs, never to see their language again so long as the Empire had its boot on their necks. These signs were yet another reminder of everything the Empire destroyed, not just Tipoca City, but an entire civilization.

How did Omega live in a place like this for years and not lose her mind? How was she not losing her mind now? “Damn near identical” she had said. How could she, and the rest of the clones survive and navigate such repetition? The same faces everyday, the same hallways, over and over, no deviation, no change for years, no color, just white and black. Even the air was so sterile and so cold, it made every inhale painful and dry on his lungs and throat.

Maybe they could tolerate it because there were so many of them. Maybe it was because they were seldom alone. Maybe because it was all they had known.

What kind of home had that been for them? For his padawan, who had no one.

How could Omega tolerate it today? Walking in what were essentially her own nightmares and still persevere? She was strong, he knew, maybe even stronger than himself.

If it was him, if he had to pick his way through the remnants of the Temple on Coruscant… he wasn’t sure he could bring himself to do it. He wasn’t even sure he could step foot on Coruscant ever again, even if it was safe for him to do so.

His lightsaber dipped a bit as he thought.

He remembered the clones. Their adaptability, their eagerness for a battle.

At first, he thought they enjoyed the fight. They enjoyed the things that scared him, and he thought them so much braver than he.

But what if they just liked the fact that the battlefield was nothing like Kamino?

He took a steadying breath and continued on.

When he heard the scream, he had almost commed the girls, to find out if they had, for some reason, abandoned whatever it was that Merrin found and started looking around this building instead, but he didn’t. Something– the Force, he suspected– told him that this wasn’t either Merrin nor Omega.

Maybe it was one of the scouts, he rationalized to himself, thinking that would be comforting somehow. But if it was a scout, why would they scream? There was supposed to be nothing on this planet, multiple sources had reported so, according to his padawan.

Cal knew that, if he commed either of them, they’d convene on his location.

One word, and Merrin would be at his side in an instant, her allure and fire bringing him two different kinds of warmth to combat the otherwise temperamental cold of the planet.

But he stayed his hand. He didn’t want to distract either of them from their assignments, especially if whatever he heard turned out to be nothing.

So, he persisted, down the halls, until he finally got to a fork, one path leading left, the other leading right.

He looked down both hallways, contemplating his next move when he felt it.

That pull in the Force, tugging on his mind.

For only a second, it felt like his head was stuffed with cotton, the facility tilting and spinning, causing him to sway where he stood, until he directed his focus to the right. The feeling got stronger, a brush of cold air, a whisper, moved behind his ear, then his mind cleared, everything coming into focus.

The pull became a call, an immense desire welling up in his chest, urging him to go forward. He knew then that the scream had been only an echo, drawing him to find it, the Force compelling him to listen.

He took a cautious step forward, then another, his hands shaking as he continued, but he knew that he needed to hear it.

However, something was… wrong, even if he was sure in his path now.

Every step made his heart beat faster, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up, a shiver passing through him, and not just from the lingering cold. The longing he had for BD-1’s companionship multiplied tenfold now, the little droid’s weight on his shoulder was always a reassurance that, no matter what, he wasn’t alone.

Cal tightened his grip on his hilt, readying himself for… he didn’t know what, but he was ready, his nerves as charged as a livewire. He knew he needed to get himself under control lest he strike out of fear rather than necessity.

The whispers got louder now, multiple voices speaking, but they were so quiet, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t make out a single word.

It all came to a head when something entered his field of vision. In the unbreakable monotony of the Kaminoan hallways, there laid a single item out of place. He almost missed it, just a lone, metallic cylinder, resting in the bend where the floor met the wall, out of view, barely catching visibility via a glint on the surface reflecting the blue glow of his blade. He stopped when he saw it, though, out of the corner of his eyes, and the second his vision focused on this lone thing, the whispers got even louder, more incomprehensible.

He didn’t even realize he was reaching for it until his knee physically landed on the cold tile floor, and his own trembling hand entered his field of vision.

He touched the item, and the whispers stopped, and a flash of white overtook his vision.

“This place gives me the creeps,” Jona muttered, bitter and shivering, as she continued walking down the hall, shining the flashlight back and forth, but the scenery remained the same.

“This is only the first building we’ve been in,” Kyrel pointed out from behind her. “We still have a ways to go.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.”

“Look on the bright side,” Kyrel looked down at the scanner, but the environment remained fixed at the baseline readings. “This planet is too cold for anything to live here. Not even a wampa to be seen.”

“Lucky bastards.”

Kyrel laughed, but his voice suddenly stopped mid-chuckle, freezing in place as a sudden clicking noise sounded from above.

Snap-click, snap-click, snap-click!

Jona stopped as well, shining her torch upwards, frowning.

“What the hell is that?” she whispered, both of them seeing nothing but a ventilation grate breaking up the monotony of the ceiling.

Kyrel had no answers, looking down the halls even though the noise was coming from above. First, over Jona’s shoulder, but nothing was there. He turned around, afraid something was coming from behind him, but again, nothing.

The repetitive clicking noise stopped.

Kyrel gave a nervous chuckle as he started to turn back around. “Must be the pipes or someth-”

He stopped when he realized Jona wasn’t there. Not where she was standing, just seconds ago.

Stunned, he was about to call out her name, when he heard it again.

Snap-click… Snap. Click.

Snap.

Snap .

Kyrel looked up, and what he saw made him drop his torch, mouth opening, ready to scream when-

Cal panted, dropping the item, which he realized was Kyrel’s torch. He stood up, keeping his gaze fixed on it, the information in his brain, the knowing filling his head, the fog slowly clearing up.

“This belonged to a scout,” he said, “They were exploring this building, but stopped when they heard that clicking noise. He saw something that horrified him… it was on the ce-”

He stopped when he realized BD still wasn’t at his shoulder, ready to store his observations in his memory banks.

“This is the last time we split up,” he muttered, looking upwards at the ceiling, but only finding that same white tile.

Cal didn’t expect the answers to be there, staring him in the face, but still, he was frustrated when there was nothing.

He frowned, thinking for a second.

That noise, they rationalized it as coming from the vents because of the heat, the old system not used to working after years of abandonment.

But the scouts didn’t have the heat on.

That realization formed a pit in his stomach.

He had to find the girls.

He quickly pulled out his comm. “Merrin, Omega, do you copy?”

He listened, waiting, as much of what came as a response was static, until Merrin’s voice broke through, very faint, coming in and out in bursts.

“It… to hear… Cal…”

He groaned, but pressed on. “Meet me back at the control room. We have to leave.”

More static, a delay, until Merrin spoke again. “Under… stood.”

He sighed out of relief, nodding to himself before he quickly took off back down the hall to where he was sure the lift was.

 

Tech would hardly call his relationship with Phee “domestic” as they rarely engaged in traditional domestic activities.

For all the words he could put together, for all the time and effort he could spend mentally on such a topic, he himself wasn’t… sure how he would categorize their relationship, which was a first. The only thing he knew was that they did not fit the label of what was considered “domestic.”

For one, Phee was not one to settle down and engage in a traditional homemaking role. The closest she got to staying still was spending a few weeks at most on Pabu before jetting off to her next adventure, chasing the thrill of a good find, the satisfaction of returning relics to their rightful cultures.

This said, over the years, since being recovered from Tantiss, Tech found himself assisting her, accompanying her on these expeditions alone, giving them ample time to be just them on her ship, no brothers at his elbows. Of course, he still ran missions with his brothers, but in the lull, when they took breaks on Pabu, he liked going off with Phee to exercise his mind and satisfy his curiosity whenever she described ancient artifacts belonging to lost cultures.

He had, more often than not, suspected that she embellished the details of the artifacts solely just to pique his interest, like a worm burrowing itself into his brain until they both knew he would not be satisfied until he had answers, readily volunteering to assist her in the endeavors. He wouldn’t have it any other way, which could make Phee something of an “enabler” to him in their relationship, if too much knowledge was ever a bad thing.

In their ventures together, he served as her pilot, strategist, slicer, technological expert, while she was the do-er, the driving force. The captain, in a way. Impressing him with her cunning and fighting prowess and independent knowledge of the treasures they searched for.

They were “partners” here. In several senses of the word, the context changing, but the word still remaining. They were equals, no one opinion or role considered superior to the other.

All this to say, these were not examples of what one might find in a traditional, domestic relationship.

The closest they got to fitting into that category was their tendency to share a cot during the night cycle, as well as partake in intimate displays of physical affection.

It was natural to him. He was a clone, afterall. They were very tactile and he was not the exception, even if he was different. While he was adverse to verbal displays of affection, Phee didn’t need to hear them to know what he meant when he joined her on these endeavors, when he allowed himself to be comfortable around her. When he allowed himself to trust her as easily as breathing.

All of this, their adventures and affection, all accumulated into the circumstance that he was in now– sitting in a bed they shared in the middle of the night cycle after Cere contacted him, eliciting his skills for decrypting a cache of data Omega found while on a mission.

Phee was sound asleep next to him, turned away from the glow of his datapad as he typed, well used to his late-night research by now.

As he worked, he felt he had to praise the mind of whomever tried to hide the data. It was taking him longer than usual to break the encryption, but he was confident that he could do it.

What little he had decrypted so far was equal parts fascinating and concerning. They seemed to be medical records from the late Republic era, Kaminoan in nature, based on the primary script it was all written in. It made him wonder what Omega was doing with such data in the first place, but he put that thought to the side for now. If she was in danger, Cere would have told him.

He studied what he had deciphered so far. Logs of listed experimental treatments for common illnesses across the galaxy… occasional tests of some new medical equipment, trying to ascertain its viability in non-specialized cases for more standardized care.

This, however, he knew to be the “face” of the facility. If anyone looked into it a little closer, this is all they would have found and thought nothing more. But Tech knew this to be the mere surface of the operation, based on the amount of data he was still trying to decrypt. There was something deeper to be found, the real reason for the facility to exist.

He hummed as he found what appeared to be… a personal log. Of sorts. It wasn’t written in the same formal tone of Kaminoan as the rest of the cache. What’s more is that it was dated during the first year of the Empire, and there were several similar files with similar dates. It still recounted operations and proceedings that had taken place within the facility, but it was more… personal, in the recounting. Maybe he found the independent musings of one of the doctors involved.

He scrolled through until he found the last dated log. He knew he would have a better understanding if he read the previous ones, but he would skip it for now, reading through them later if he needed them to provide context.

The first few lines were remarking bitterly on the cold of the facility. That checked out with Tech’s research on Pilal V. This scientist had hated the cold, it made his joints hurt, apparently, especially on his left hand.

“The Kaminoans, in their brilliance, seem incapable of designing a superior heating system.”

That had Tech scoff in a light amusement. So this scientist wasn’t Kaminoan, but still writing in their language and script? Interesting.

“It doesn’t matter, I will be off this planet soon, I anticipate. Even if Project 83 doesn’t go according to plan.”

Oh, that was something to cross reference. Any use of the phrase “Project 83” could prove to be interesting.

“The progress on it continues to be… halted, by the participant. Today, Subject 83 tried to break containment. Emerie noted that the creature exhibits the same mannerisms as the nighthunter when it was hungry. Perhaps she was right. It could be worth experimenting with an increase in calorie intake to see if Subject 83 becomes more complacent.”

Tech blinked.

Emerie?

Could it be the same Emerie? The one who was currently quietly serving as Pabu’s residential medic? The one who saved his life? Saved Omega’s? Just a handful of years ago…

He swallowed and he almost missed the shaking of his hands as he continued scrolling.

“It would be interesting if the mutations led to a fluctuation in Subject 83’s metabolism. Something to try and curb the next time should this one fail. I wish I could fix that insistent clicking noise it makes every time it moves, but… that one can’t be helped, no matter how annoying it is. Maybe Subject 55 will prove to be a better specimen. If only I could figure out how to mutate him without him dying the second I take him out of stasis. Emerie is still at a loss for Subject 55, no idea how to save him either. The answer will come to me eventually, it will just take time.

Isn’t that how the saying goes?

All good things come to those who wait.”

Then, it was the line immediately after that.

The sign-off.

That was what made Tech drop the datapad, his arms growing lax.

It clattered loudly to the metal floor of the ship, startling Phee out of a dead sleep, prompting her to bolt up and look at him.

He didn’t hear it.

“I’m this close to tossing that datapad of yours out the airlock!” she murmured, voice riddled with agitation and sleep.

He didn’t hear it.

Did he?

Maybe he did, he just didn’t process it.

His hands were numb now, shaking uncontrollably. His whole body was shaking, and had he not known better, he would have sworn he was having a seizure.

“Brown Eyes?”

It was too much. Too much, too much, too much and he couldn’t keep it inside. A sob escaped him, and he pressed a hand to his mouth, trying to stifle it.

“Tech?”

He curled in on himself.

No.

No, no, no, please no.

“Plan 99.”

“When have we ever followed orders?”

He felt as weightless as he did that day , free falling into the expanse of whatever laid below the rail line.

Pain thundered around his body as he collided with a canopy of conifer trees, the multitude of branches he hit snapping the cord that was attached to the railcar, shattering his goggles. Breaking up his descent enough that when he finally hit the icy river, his fall was just slowed down to the point where the water only shattered several bones rather than kill him outright as it would have had he been traveling at his terminal velocity.

“Tech!”

The sound of his name snapped him out of the memory, probably because he had very little following those events, only when he woke up in a bacta tank, one lone face peering up at him with a morbid curiosity.

Phee had moved to the front of his vision, her hands in his, trying to steady him, trying to ground him, but it didn’t work.

He wanted to say… something to reassure her, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t even open his mouth to begin speaking. The words just died on his tongue.

He wanted to say words, he wanted to spit out words as effortless as any other time, but he couldn’t. For the first time since he was a cadet, he was afraid to speak.

He remembered that meltdown quite well. It was after he failed one of his first training modules, unable to disarm a smoke detonator in time, his trainer had labeled his efforts as “disappointing”. He had been so frustrated with his own failure, unable to comprehend such a thing that he didn’t speak to his brothers for the rest of the day, swimming in his own mental misery.

He was again shocked back to reality as Phee gently placed her hands on his cheeks and tilted his head down until their foreheads were touching.

“Focus on my breathing,” she instructed, voice soft before she closed her eyes, Tech following suit. He listened to her, the deep, repetitive rise and fall of her breath as she took careful inhales and controlled exhales. He followed suit, clenching his fists, forcing himself to slow down and  mimicking her slow, steady pattern until the thrumming in his chest was more manageable, though the shaking in his hands was… persistent.

“What’s wrong?” she asked again.

He set his jaw, hesitating to speak, but knowing he needed to try and find the right words to speak, not knowing how to make her understand. He had to say something, he had to, Omega’s life was on the line, she needed him to speak.

He absorbed another shaking breath, relaxing slightly on the rattled exhale. One word, he knew one word that would spark the appropriate level of urgency while also helping Phee understand how he could fall to pieces like this.

He swallowed, and when he spoke, his voice was strained and cracked between the syllables, almost like he was still choking.

“It's… Hemlock.”

 

Omega didn’t know how long she had been wandering. Her mind was too busy trying to block out memories of Tantiss, but it was like some dam within her broke. The cracks had been forming since she stepped foot on this planet, since Hera called the Mantis, growing larger and larger, weaving together until the structure could no longer contain the torrent raging inside of her. She couldn’t stop the memories as it rolled over her mind in monstrous waves, wiping out everything in its path.

Being his pawn.

Being helpless to what he wanted

The tests he subjected her to, looking for something that he never found.

Tests she willingly subjected herself to, tests she willing assisted Emerie with, at 13-years-old, digging her own grave over and over it if meant she could keep Crosshair and Tech safe—

She pressed herself against a wall and ripped off her helmet. Initially serving to hide her expression, it now suffocated her as she sucked in rapid, incomplete breaths, head spinning from the lack of air, from the memories that wouldn’t stop—

It didn’t make sense.

What was Hemlock doing here? Why couldn’t she ever escape him? Even years after leaving Tantiss, why did he still haunt her as he did?

Snap-click. Snap-click.

Damn those incessant vents. It was grating her already frayed nerves.

She needed to get out of this facility. Immediately.

Snap-click… Snap. Click.

Snap.

Snap

She paused at the slight variation. The noise had been getting closer, almost on top of her, but it stopped now.

She almost argued that her mind wasn’t functional, the exhaustion of the memories was wearing her down, but something in her gut told her that her weariness of the noise was not something to ignore.

Slowly, she pulled out her blaster and torch, balancing the latter on her wrist so the light was shining in the same direction as where she was aiming.

Slowly, she raised her weapon, scanning it up the wall, across the ceiling until she came across an open ventilation grate.

She frowned at the sight, the opening leading right into the ducts. She shined her light into it, but saw nothing, just darkness.

A cold breeze swept at the back of her neck, making the hairs stand up as she turned her blaster down, looking down the hallway, both directions, but seeing nothing. She was breathing quickly, her finger firm on the trigger.

Snap. Snap.

She aimed back up, shining her light into the vent, her stomach dropping as she saw the upper half of a face, staring back at her, only… there were no eyes, just sucken recesses where the sockets should be.

Ignoring the voice in her mind that told her that this should be impossible , she started shooting, but the thing shot out of the vent faster than she could aim, and all she saw were long, extended claws descending upon her before everything went dark.

 

Cal slid into the control room, skidding to a stop, before closing the door behind him.

“We need to leave, now!” he said, turning around.

He paused when he saw a face that he did not recognize… but at the same time, he supposed he did.

A clone who was not his padawan was wearing his warm poncho, eating a ration bar with Merrin, both of them sitting around the heat lamp, looking to be in the middle of pleasant and idle conversation.

“Cal, this is Fives: a clone I found in a bacta tank. Fives, this is Cal: a Jedi I found trespassing on my planet,” Merrin introduced, taking advantage of his stunned silence.

The clone’s mouth dropped. “A Jedi?” he asked, rubbing the side of his head.

“Wha- Who-?” Cal wanted to ask, but shook his head. Priorities. “Uh… no, you know what? It can wait, Where’s Omega?” he asked, scanning the room, but not seeing her as BD-1 pattered over and climbed onto his back.

“She left to get some air,” Fives said, waving his bar around his head for emphasis.

“She had found a list of personnel who were working at this facility at the time of the evacuation,” Merrin said, holding up a datapad before tossing it to Cal.

“I translated it from Kaminoan to Basic,” Fives chimed in helpfully while Cal quickly scanned the list of names.

He caught sight of one, snatching onto it like a hook in his brain.

His mind was flooded with the image of a man with piercing blue eyes, a deceptively comforting voice, a sadistic pleasure he took in his experiments being the only real emotion to be felt.

Dr. Hemlock.

Cal had never met the man in person, only knowing of him through his meditation sessions with Omega, but regardless, this raised more questions.

What had he been doing here?

Nevermind, that doesn’t matter.

“All the more reason to find her and get off this planet, ASAP,” Cal said, dropping the pad.

“What’s wrong?” Merrin asked, springing to her feet as he started to break down the camp.

“I saw an echo of something attacking the scout team. Probably some creature, something that attacked the people running this place, and that’s why it was evacuated so quickly.”

He turned to her, staring at her seriously. “It’s not safe for us to be here anymore. Our mission is complete. Comm Omega, I’ll call Cere.”

Merrin just nodded before grabbing her comm up Cal turned away, putting his own device to his mouth.

Mantis, this is Stinger-3, do you read me?”

Static replied.

“Stinger-2… Cere? Can you hear me?” he asked, but still no reply. He looked over at Merrin, who was also frowning at her device. “The blizzard must have shut comms down completely. I can’t reach the Mantis.”

“Omega’s comm is not static, but she is not replying,” Merrin said, looking at him.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Fives muttered, rubbing his chin and frowning.

“We need to find her,” Cal ordered, leading the way back to the door before hesitating just for a second, turning back to them. "No separating, it's safer that way."

 

The hardest part of any mission for Cere was waiting.

Waiting for any word of if their mission was complete, or if something went horribly wrong and they needed an extraction.

It was a worry that she had always had to deal with, ever since first accepting Trilla as her padawan. There was always some danger to being a Jedi, and, while the masters used to say she took the weight of the responsibility well, there was still that fear. 

She trusted her kids. She knew they were capable of completing the mission, but…

She also knew that, given a bad 10 minutes, there was not an insignificant chance that the facility could be razed to the ground.

Luckily, she had Greez. He was not exactly as “level-headed” as her, but he knew how to pass time, provide a decent enough distraction to get her mind off her kids, in a secret abandoned medical facility created by a species that, apparently, had no hesitancy in participating in unethical experimentation.

“Stand,” Greez said, knocking the old master out of her thoughts just as a headache started to form.

She glanced at the sabacc cards in her hands, before looking at the discard pile. “Stand,” she said, prompting Greez to reach for the set of dice.

One final roll.

“How do you think the kids are doing?” he asked, shaking the dice in his fist eagerly. He released them, and they clattered satisfyingly on the dining table before rolling a mis-match. The Latero pumped a fist and looked at her for her answer.

She mulled it over, in her mind.

Cere trusted her kids, but…

“Well, have you ever heard the joke, a Mandalorian, a Jedi, and a Nightsister walk into a bar?” she started.

“Mm… no. Can’t say I have,” Greez said.

“There’s a very good reason for that, no one lived to tell the tale,” she said, allowing a slight smile to let him know she was joking before leaning back. “They’ll get the job done, but I can’t shake the worry that something bad is going to happen.”

Greez waved her concerns away. “Ah, that’s just your mama bear instincts. The kids are probably fine. Watch, they’ll be calling us any minute now for a pick-up.”

Cere nodded slightly. “You’re probably right,” she relented before turning back to the game. “Draw.”

The corner of Greez’s mouth turned up before he proudly threw five cards down onto the table. “Rhylet!” he declared.

Cere set down her cards. “Fleet.”

“DANK FERRICK!”

She knew if her companion was capable of flipping the bolted-down table, he would have, in that moment. He was only lucky in the fact that they weren’t gambling– this was the fourth hand in a row that Cere had beaten him.

His outbursts were slightly amusing, but before she could chide him on unsportsman-like behavior, the comm alert began to beep.

Greez calmed down instantly as Cere immediately stood up, striding over to the cockpit.

“See? What did I tell ya? There they are now!”

She sat down at the relay, donning the headphones as she pressed a button, checking the frequency.

She frowned. That wasn’t one of her kids.

“It’s Tech,” she said, trying to hide her disappointment before she took the headphones off, patching the clone through to the holotable, immediately walking over as the blue-flickering form of his upper torso shone through.

She could fairly guess the reason for this message, having only given him the task less than a day ago, but instead of being in the sured, confident demeanor she knew of him, he… looked like he hadn’t slept. He held himself stiffly, fingers fidgeting with the hems of his cuffs as he skirted her gaze even more than usual.

“Did you decipher the cache?” Cere asked.

“Yes,” he answered, briefly, which was how she knew something was troubling him.

“But…?” she prompted, waiting for him to continue.

He pursed his lips, seeming to struggle with his words as the repetitive, fidgeting movements of his fingers intensified. “You need to get Omega out of there, right now,” he said, firm, voice as resolute as could be.

“W-why, what’s wrong?” Greez asked, unnerved by the order.

“Where she is, is more dangerous than you could possibly imagine,” Tech took a breath, steadying himself, it seemed. “I found several items in the cache, one of which being a personal log of one of the head scientists stationed there at the time of its operation. Dr. Royce Hemlock.”

He waited, clearly expecting some sort of reaction, but… that name didn’t sound familiar to Cere, and judging by the confusion on Greez’s face, it didn’t ring a bell for him either.

“Who is he?” the Latero asked, scratching the top of his head.

Tech’s expression shifted, becoming… darker, more solemn, but when he spoke, he delivered the information as smooth as any. “He is a very prominent figure in the Imperial Science Division. Omega has more information on him, but…” he faltered, which Cere had never seen him do. “You… you should not press her on the issue, if she hasn’t already shared her history with Hemlock. As I said, you need to get her out of there. With urgency. Please.”

Cere nodded slightly. “If… it’s too dangerous, I’ll have them pull out,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Tech seemed to visibly relax. “Thank you. I will call again to check on her.”

With that, he faded out, leaving Cere with questions.

Had Omega mentioned a “Hemlock” before? No, never, though Tech seemed to allude to the fact that he had been someone prominent in her grand-padawan’s life. That was enough to make Cere pause at the whole mission, but what really sold it for her was how… scared Tech had seemed at the mere idea of Hemlock having once occupied space at the facility Omega was currently in.

“Captain,” she addressed, turning to Greez, “Get the ship ready to take off. We’re picking the kids up early today. I’ll let them know.”

“You got it,” Greez said, hopping up into the pilot’s seat while she situated herself at the comm relay.

She tuned into Cal’s frequency, pressing the headphone against her ear. “Mantis to Stinger-3, do you copy?”

No response, only static.

“Cal, do you hear me?” she asked again, but still received no reply. She sighed and slid the headphones off. “The blizzard is knocking out long-range comms,” she said.

“We’ll call them when we break atmo,” Greez assured her, pressing a few buttons, firing up the Mantis .

Cere nodded, the situation out of her hands when a different beeping started ringing out, this time, from the monitors.

She moved over to Cal’s seat, checking the readouts… and went cold.

“An Imperial light cruiser just entered the system,” she reported.

“Do you think they know?” Greez immediately asked.

“I doubt it, otherwise they wouldn’t be sending just one light freighter to apprehend them,” Cere said, sitting back down on her seat. “No, they probably detected a power surge and are investigating the cause. Either way, we need to get the kids out now before the Imps find out they’re there.”

“That old bird ain’t got nothing on the Mantis !” Greez said as they began to lift off, “We’ll swoop in, pick the kids up, and be gone before they even break atmo!”

Cere settled herself before sliding the headphones on one more time, tuning in to any nearby Imperial channels, resolving to monitor any chatter just in case they were detected. She wished she was as confident as her companion.

Notes:

Not Merrin and Fives vibing together while Cal and Omega are actively living their worst lives.

I would say that the creature and this half of the story is inspired by the Babadook in the sense that it represents something. The Babadook was representative of grief, and in the same vein, Subject 83 is a representation of fear, Omega's fear to be precise. Of the past, of Hemlock (who I believe will become a trauma factory for the Batch)... of her struggle with the Dark...

We conclude Part I in the next chapter, so stay tuned for that!

Love you all for reading, thank you all for reading, and, as always, please leave your questions, comments, jokes, thoughts, critiques! I love any and all feedback!

Chapter 6: The Hapless Soldier's Sigh

Summary:

It's a race to recover Omega, wherever she is...

Notes:

My friends,

I would like to thank you all for reading this far, and thank you especially to all of you who have commented!

I do not have much more to say, other than a humble thank you to the people who keep this site running, such as the volunteers, the writers, and the readers! I hope, wherever this chapter finds you, it finds you well.

With not much else, please! Read on!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

In every cry of every Man,
In every Infants cry of fear,
In every voice: in every ban,
The mind-forg'd manacles I hear 

How the Chimney-sweepers cry
Every blackning Church appalls,
And the hapless Soldiers sigh
Runs in blood down Palace walls

- London , William Blake

 

Snap-click, snap-click, snap-click!

It was like an ice pick chipping at her brain; incessant, repetitive, and stabbing– that noise Omega woke up to. It registered in her mind before anything else, her brain throbbing against her skull so much she wanted to slam it against something to combat the pain.

She kept her eyes squeezed shut, knowing that when she opened them, the intake of visual stimulation would only make it all worse.

But… she needed to know where she was.

So, she slowly opened her eyes, then immediately wished she hadn’t, the pain escalating, actually bringing tears to her eyes. Then, it subsided, as suddenly as she felt it, it started to fade, still agonizing, but now just barely tolerable, allowing her to see.

The room was dark, almost pitch-black before her eyes started to adjust to the dim lighting overhead. The auxiliary lights, some sluggish voice in the back of her equally sluggish mind supplied. She struggled to focus on the shapes in front of her, vision shifting and the headache still distracting, but eventually, she came to the conclusion that she was in a lab.

Vaguely, she could just make out the rectangles of the tables, bolted to the ground, the faint blue glow of several operable bacta tanks creating most of the light.

Without thinking, she tried sitting up, but found her body heavy, pain shooting up throughout her joints in protest to the attempted movement, stemming from her wrist, which felt like it was on fire .

She cried out from the burning sensation, not expecting it at all, and fell back into a slump, closing her eyes again and willing her body to soothe itself back into the symbiosis of minimal pain that she had previously been operating in.

She kept her eyes closed and mentally took stock of her position.

It was hot, wherever she was, and humid. The air damp and suffocating to the point where she could feel a bead of sweat dripping down the back of her neck. She was tucked within herself, her back and feet pressed against something smooth, knees bent and drawn up to her chest, a tingling in her muscles telling her she had been in this position for a while.

Slowly, she opened her eyes again to see what was holding her in such a cramped position, but she didn’t immediately detect anything. Not a desk she was propped up against, no walls or other furniture.

Slowly, carefully, she tried to move her leg more outward without jostling the arm that was right next to it, but it didn’t get very far, the sole of her boot firmly planted against an invisible barrier. She blinked several times, trying to process this information, when it started to click. Her foot was pressed into… glass. No. Transparisteel.

She looked upwards, seeing the top of the chamber, opaque and sealed tight, with a thin, dark metallic seam running vertically along the side.

It was… familiar, in a way that memories tended to be familiar and painful, but why?

In a glass chamber, in a lab, underneath a Kaminoan facility…

The heat around her turned cold, shivers raking along her back. Her breathing loud and fast as she realized that she was inside a medical capsule, on the verge of hyperventilating when a noise got her attention.

Snap-click, snap-click!

Click.

Snap.

Omega looked forward and realized she could see movement in the distance. 

The creature.

In the darkness, it had previously been part of the shapes that she couldn’t quite make out, indistinguishable until it moved, the snap-click ing noise filling the lab with every stretch of its thin, elongated arms, every stride of its curled, disjointed legs. It was humanoid, the torso emaciated, but both it and the head structure were appropriately shaped for a human. It was humanoid, but it was not human. Its skin was pale gray as it got caught in the auxiliary lights, the ashy tone making it resemble a moving corpse.

Was this thing human once? Was it… a clone , at one point in its life? Was it like Fives? Captured, turned into Hemlock’s pet project?

Even kept in the dark, Omega was confident no creature such as this had ever been born on Tantiss.

She felt it now, the coldness of the creature. It stabbed her lungs, it clenched her heart, every beat just much more painful in her chest. This whole time, she thought it had been the planet, the temperament of Pilal V. But that wasn’t it. This was… different than just a usual cold. It was mind-numbing, it was fear. It was nothing like she had ever felt before.

It was the Dark.

The creature stopped suddenly, one long finger dragging across the metal ground, its nail creating a long, scratching noise, the joints in its arm repetitively snapping with the movement, before it halted, just for a second then suddenly reared its head, turning in Omega’s direction.

Had she the energy, Omega would have screamed.

The face of the creature caught in the light. The eyes, she knew, were missing. No sockets, just gray skin stretched over the hollows. Underneath the nose, where humans would have lips were replaced with mandibles, so big and grown out that they covered its lower jaw. It was impossible for the creature to close its mouth, leaving it a gaping, panting hole where saliva dribbled out in a steady stream, puddling on the floor where it rested.

Her heart was an erratic thrumming as it started crawling over, remaining on its haunches as its hands caught on the ground.

Snap-click, snap-click, snap-click!

It crawled closer and closer, and Omega thought it was going to come for her, but instead, it stopped in front of the capsule right next to her.

Straining, she turned her head to watch, trying to quiet her breathing, trying to remain as silent as possible so she wouldn’t draw the creature’s attention towards her. A human, a living actual human in the capsule was as uselessly heaped at the bottom as her, barely stirring as the creature reached up, pressing the button to open the hatch.

She would have thought the person dead until the creature grabbed them, its fingers as long as the person’s forearm. The human only whimpered as the creature dragged them halfway out of the pod, holding their arm up, the sleeve pushed down just enough to expose their wrist as it drew their limb up to the gaping hole of their mouth.

Before Omega could realize what was going on, the creature bit into the wrist with its mandibles.

She squeezed her eyes shut as the person screamed, a horrible, blood-curdling scream that pierced her eardrums. Even though she tried to block it out, she could feel… movement. From the person. She could somehow feel the warmth they generated, moving like air next to her, but the longer the screaming prolonged, the more the warmth faded away, leaving the body until they were quiet. Then they were cold.

Omega opened her eyes, and saw the creature drag the person the rest of the way out of the tube, dragging them across the ground before depositing them into a large pile of clothes.

No. Not clothes.

Bodies.

Cold, discarded, and… empty .

Omega had felt life drain from an individual before. Her use of a blaster against stormtroopers made it quick, like lights turning off, but sometimes, she didn’t quite hit the mark, and the soldier would… writhe, on the ground, the light in them slowly growing dimmer and dimmer, like a dying fire, until they were still and dead.

This was the Force, Cal had told her, warned her, consoled her after the first time. When she was new to it all, wondering why it left her cold. Not understanding why it hurt to feel. Every living thing, good, bad, Imperial, human, they all generated the Force, it was all around them, surrounding them.

But Omega was an individual who could feel it. She could feel the Force that was generated by every living being. She could feel it as it left with a dying breath.

She looked at her wrist now, two large puncture marks angry and fresh. Her current weakness… the grogginess, the light-headed feeling… It was not because of some injury.

The creature had fed on her.

It had drained the Living Force from her when it attacked her.

The realization made her sick, her stomach churning, bile burning as something pushed its way up, almost reaching her mouth, but turned to panic halfway up, catching in her throat, leaving her lips in a single sob.

She needed to get out of here.

Forcing herself to calm down, she tried to collect what sense she had about her, taking inventory of the situation.

She was armed. She could feel the weight of her blaster in her holster, pressing against her sides, the knife in her vambrace.

She was armed, but she was trapped, and the thought of even lifting a DC-17 right now made her want to throw up.

She couldn’t fight her way out, not in this state, not when she was already feeling the beginnings of her mind slipping away, seeking the comfort of unconsciousness.

She was armed, what else? The creature didn’t remove her gear. She had her beskar, her guns, her knife, her kit… and her comm.

Her comm, with a locator beacon that she had linked to BD’s holomap. She could signal the others to her location!

Taking a deep breath, she turned her left arm over, the effort sending a shockwave of pain throughout her body, causing her to gasp. Her head pounded with a renewed fervor, her vision going white for a moment, but she had to press through. Gritting her teeth, she lifted her right arm, and pressed a button, turning on the beacon, limbs immediately falling into a deadweight as soon as it was done.

She panted, body growing hot again, sweat forming on her brow as she closed her eyes, the exhaustion and pain finally winning, and she let the world go dark again.

 

Cal was often taught that fear was an easy path to the darkside. Master Tapal often stressed the importance of perseverance in the face of adversity, to acknowledge the fear, but not succumb to it.

If only his master was here now… what would he say if he could see Cal, lost in an abandoned medical facility, looking for the padawan that he had failed?

Omega had needed him. And he wasn’t there.

A few hallways away from the central control room, they had found her helmet and one of her blasters. They gave the blaster to Fives and when Cal had touched the helmet, he had been thrown into an echo that she had left behind. He didn’t see anything, frustratingly, but he had felt something.

Her fear of Hemlock, and of how much this planet had reminded her of Tantiss, everything she had been repressing since Hera called, the fear and anger and exhaustion, all of it coming to a head when she read the doctor’s name off that list. He felt it all, like a hand gripping his throat, the emotions she directed towards herself for still being afraid, even after all these years, despite knowing this wasn't Tantiss. Her desire to leave this place, to keep moving on, to keep putting the past behind her, to never look back.

What kind of master was he, if he didn’t realize how much she was hurting? Why didn’t he see it? Why didn’t he check in with her more? Council her and her fears and guide her as Tapal once guided him? Why didn’t he stop her from agreeing to this mission?

He was knocked out of his spiral when he realized BD was tapping on his shoulder, begging his attention.

“What is it?” he asked, inclining his head towards the droid.

He booped and beeped, and Cal felt his heart stop for just a second.

“What did he say?” Merrin asked.

“Omega just activated her locator beacon,” Cal said as BD extended his head, projecting the blue holomap over his shoulder.

He saw the yellow arrow, indicating their position before BD zoomed out, showing the entire facility, with a single red dot, far beneath it; Omega’s position.

Cal frowned. “BD, are you sure this is right? It shows her off the map…”

“Not just off the map,” Fives said, bending down to examine it. “It’s like she’s… underneath the facility.”

Cal frowned as BD-1 bwooped, sure that he wasn’t malfunctioning. What was it Omega said? When they first arrived here?

“It’s… it’s like… if I close my eyes, I’d have never left. I’d put a couple credits down and say there could even be some secret underground lab with the lead scientist’s karked up pet project buried under the ice.”

“There might be some… uncharted parts of the lab, parts not mentioned in the basic schematics BD downloaded,” he muttered, rubbing his chin in thought.

“Kaminoans keep a lot of secrets. I wouldn’t put those old long-necks to have a lab or two hidden around the place,” Fives glowered, fist tightening on the blaster.

“That’s my point. They did have one on Kamino; a secret underground lab beneath the city,” Cal said, “Omega grew up in one. What if that’s where she’s at now? We just… need to find a way to get there.”

“Here,” Merrin pointed at the map, “This building has a turbolift right here, but it does not seem to go up so far. Only one floor.”

“That’s it,” Fives said, “Kaminoans were fond of their restricted areas, but luckily for you, cadets were fond of breaking into them. Let’s go.”

With that, Fives took the lead, rushing down the dark halls as if he knew this facility like the back of his hand.

“Damn near identical.”

Maybe he did.

Cal didn’t see the halls anymore as they ran, the darkness, the repetition, it didn’t matter. Not when he knew what was out there now.

Everything faded into the background, turning into white noise in his head, as he was sure in his heart of only one thing.

Omega needed him.

Eventually, they came up to a set of closed turbolift doors. Cal tried to use the Force to open them, but they wouldn’t budge.

“They won’t open from this side,” he said, turning to the others.

“You mean they won’t open for you ,” Merrin said before bringing her hand up, the ichor already dripping from her fingers in a wisp. The same ichor surrounded the turbolift doors before they started to bend, crumbling in on themselves before Merrin pushed her hand forward, the doors flying, into the darkness of the elevator shaft with several loud, echoing clangs, screeches, and crashes , the final thuds of the durasteel distant as it finally reached the ground.

Cal and Fives looked down the shaft before back at Merrin, who looked satisfied with the outcome before she called the lift down.

Wordlessly, Cal stepped forward, eyeing the turbolift, hoping it was operational enough as he stepped in, relieved when it held.

Fives and Merrin followed him, and BD-1 jumped off his shoulder to scomp into the access terminal. With a short buzz and spark from the droid, the lift slowly started to descend.

 

“Come closer, little one. I won’t hurt you…”

“CE-O-219 is a valuable asset. Her purpose must remain a secret.”

“She is my medical assistant. One with a curious mind that causes her to wander.”

“You don’t have to worry. You are never going back to Kamino.”

“We’re sisters, Omega.”

"You can serve a higher purpose on Tantiss than what Nala Se ever imagined for you on Kamino. You just have to open your mind to the possibilities."

“Au’rora…”

Omega woke up with a jolt, startled out of her sleep.

At first, she thought it was the memories, the dreams that had startled her awake, until she realized that there was a quiet noise coming from outside the medical capsule. The soft beeping of the hatch being disengaged.

Omega looked up, and saw the creature, crouched just outside the capsule, one long hand braced against the transparisteel, the other carefully typing on the keypad, frequently missing the buttons it couldn’t see, tapping against the chamber more often than not.

Up close, she could see more detail in the thing. What she thought were claws were just three elongated fingers, the nails outgrown and jagged. But the creature had a human hand. A square-ish palm, with three abnormal fingers, but two normal sized, the pinky and ring finger.

It was human, once.

Not anymore, not after the Kaminoans were done with it.

Not after Hemlock was done with it.

Its breath condensed on the glassy surface as it finally managed to press the release button, the door swinging open with a hiss of released air.

The cool of the lab flooded into the capsule, making Omega shiver as the air hit the sweat that had drenched her like an ice bath.

She was still so weak from earlier, wanting to move, but having none of the strength to lift her body as the creature reached in, three disjointed fingers clasping onto her arm with a snap-crack-snap of its tendons and ligaments with each movement.

It lifted her by her arm, which was twisted uncomfortably as she was pulled halfway out of the pod, the rest of her body dangling uselessly as she didn’t even have the strength to lift her head, let alone struggle against it.

She could only stare at the ground, skull throbbing harshly with the sudden movement. She felt the warm breath on her wrist as her glove was lifted just enough to reveal the skin.

She swallowed, and closed her eyes, waiting, the anticipation beating against her heart and she thought it would break from her chest long before the creature could finish her.

Then it started.

First, it was the bite; the mandibles puncturing her skin caused her to cry out, but that initial pain gave way to the slow-building burning that began to emanate from the wound. Searing itself across her veins, traveling down her arm.

Everything started to slow down. Her own pulse under her skin, beating against her veins, feeling it in her wrist, her fingertips.

The fire invaded her, burning her up from the inside out, sweat dripping from her forehead and running down her nose, building more and more until it all encompassed her, consuming her…

As suddenly as she was burning, the coin flipped, and the unbearable heat slowly started to become a bitter chill.

It started in her fingers, the cold. The extremities quickly growing numb. Then it was her legs, which were weighed down like lead, but now colder than they had ever been, even more so than being out in the storm. It traveled up, seizing at her, catching in her lungs like it was trying to take her breath with it. Her world was tilting back and forth in time to the pounding of her skull, her vision swimming with darkness at the corners.

Her whole body was cold now, the only heat coming from her wrist, but even that was slowly fading, more and more as the darkness slowly started to encroach, everything fading, the lab, the facility, the planet. Names, faces, people she loved and hated, and the memories of everything else that happened in between.

Everything in her mind, everything that she was, slowly fading into the black…

And then Omega came crashing down.

Head slamming against the cold floor as the creature dropped her, the pain was fresh and jarring and she could see movement, somewhere in front of her. Blue lights, green lights, reds and blacks moving in front of her, the shapes abstract and blurry and quick. There were noises too, but who could understand noises when her head was filled with a static buzz that slowly became louder and louder as everything became fuzzier, just spots in her vision, until finally, she let the darkness claim her, and was so much more blissful for it.

 

When Cal saw some thing feeding on his padawan the second he stepped off the elevator, he wasted no time.

He ignited his lightsaber while using the Force to lunge forward, and slashed upwards, striking the thing across its leg.

The creature shrieked, a horrible noise that almost sounded like a human screaming, but with a beastly vocalization, before it dropped Omega, turning towards Cal and throwing its long arm out in a powerful swipe that slammed into him, throwing him backwards and to the ground.

He groaned, having hit his head on the hard durasteel floor, but the creature’s attention was away from Omega, that was good. However, now it was over him, hot drool pooling onto the ground next to his face as it leaned over him while he was still recovering.

Before it could do anything, however, its limbs became ensnared in bright green strands, Merrin’s magickal ichor striking up from the ground and restraining the creature long enough for Fives to fire off several shots with his blaster.

Cal ignited his saber again and threw his arm outwards while he rolled back from underneath it, cutting off the creature’s arm as he moved.

It howled in pain, the noise like knives to Cal’s ears, before it collapsed to the ground, writhing in place.

As much reluctance as he had to kill such a pathetic thing, he knew it would be more dangerous to let the creature live, the danger of it recovering and killing others that may come here too great.

So, drawing himself up, drawing strength and praying to the Force for mercy whether it be for him or the creature, it didn’t matter anymore. He held his blade down before swiftly plunging it into the creature’s torso, where its sternum poked out from the stretched, gray skin. It jerked in reaction before slumping in a dead heap as he pulled his lightsaber back out. Quick, merciful, no need to drag it out.

Cal extinguished his blade and looked around.

The room they were in was dark and wide open. Glass chambers lined the walls, but on the floor, there were people. Dead, discarded, piled on top of each other.

He felt a cold emanating through his body at the sight of it. Some were human, most were Kaminoan, wearing official uniforms bearing the Republic or the Empire's insignia. Most of them were fully decomposed, skeletons in perfectly preserved clothing. A handful, however, were fresh, mouth agape and eyes closed, like they were only sleeping with the dead…

He closed his eyes, reaching out to the Force to keep himself composed as the feeling of death emanated from all around him, seizing his lungs and constricting his heart more than any other panic attack ever did.

He needed to be here. He needed to be present.

“Omega,” he said, opening his eyes and dashing across the room, sliding onto his knees to where she had also been discarded.

Her body was halfway inside one of the glass chambers, and she did not stir as he turned her over, gathering her closer, holding her against him.

“Is… is she…?” Merrin started, afraid to finish the question. Afraid of another sister being lost.

Cal closed his eyes, reaching out, blocking the cold of the room, the Darkness that had settled around them like a suffocating black fog. Somewhere, underneath it all, he could sense it. Her light. Dim, it was, but it was there, the relief almost breaking him, but he held it together.

“She’s alive,” he said.

Fives let out an audible breath, his shoulders relaxing before he and Merrin came closer.

“What’s wrong with her?” the clone asked as Cal passed her to him. They began to make their way back to the turbolift.

He hung back a step as Merrin waved her hand just above Omega’s head, her finger tips glowing with a green wisp.

“It is… strange,” she muttered after a second. “It is like her essence has been drained.”

“It was that creature,” Cal said. “It looked like it was… feeding on her.”

“Draining her blood?” Fives asked, looking down at his sister.

“No. Her Force energy.”

Click-click-snap-click.

Cal stopped, just outside the lift as BD gave a shrill whistle in alarm.

Quickly, he turned around, drawing his blade just as the creature locked its elongated hand around his ankle.

He shouted in alarm as it pulled with an inhuman strength, dragging him down to the ground before it started to pull him towards it.

“I thought you stabbed that thing!” Fives shouted, jumping back, shielding Omega as Merrin jumped forward, pulling out her knife.

“He didn’t stab it enough!” she shouted back, dropping into a slide next to Cal and embedding the blade into the creature’s arm.

It reared back, bringing the limb close to itself while Cal and Merrin quickly jumped back to their feet.

“Get Omega to a bacta tank,” Cal said, igniting his lightsaber. “We’ll deal with this!”

“Yes, sir!” Fives replied promptly before taking the last stride into the turbolift, closing the doors behind him.

Merrin ignited her hands with a green fire while Cal braced his blade in front of him.

“How do we kill it?” she asked, both of them watching as it slammed its disjointed arm onto the ground like it was trying to smack the pain out of itself, further dislodging the limb out of place.

“I don’t know,” Cal admitted. “It feels pain, but it pushes past it. No matter how much we injure it, it’ll keep going until it can’t.”

“Let’s make this quick, then. Aim for the head.”

Cal had taken on his fair share of megafauna over his adventures. The most prominent in his mind being the albino wyyyschokk and the chirodactyl.

This felt like something else.

The creatures he encountered, while full of rage and beastly territoriality, could be felt, their energy radiating in the Force.

This thing, whatever it was, was the opposite. It was a cold vortex, drawing everything in and giving nothing back but a cold that was harsher than the blizzard outside.

It… it almost felt like… the Sith.

Merrin moved forward, Cal right behind her.

The creature swiped towards her, but at the last second, she jumped to the side, giving Cal an opening to slash the thing on its side, prompting it to double over and screech from the pain.

Merrin shoved her hand forward, a blast of ichor making it stumble back to Cal, right as he thrusted his blade forward, right into its head.

Immediately, the room felt… lighter.

The air in his lungs dissipating, the cold that made his joints hurt disappearing.

He extinguished his blade one last time as the creature fell over once more.

“Is it final, this time?” Merrin asked, even as she was already putting her knife away.

Cal let out a breath, nodding. “It is.”

“Then let us go.” The Nightsister casted a look at the creature. “Let it rest in peace now.”

Wordlessly, they went to the lift, a different silence than when they arrived. Going down was filled with anticipation and dread, not wanting to know what they were going to see, but knowing they had to confront the thing regardless.

Now, there was a slight relief. The oppressive hold of the facility was lessened. The only thing they had to worry about now was Omega.

Cal raised his comm to his mouth as the lift released them back to the surface. “BD, do you have Omega’s location?”

The droid booped and raised his head over Cal’s shoulder, projecting the map in front of them.

Omega’s signal was pinging from the same floor as them, only a few hallways down from them.

“Must be a med bay or something,” Cal speculated out loud as they started making their way over.

“Fives would know the nearest one from the lift, if this place truly is identical to Kamino,” Merrin said, her agreement noticed even if it went unsaid.

Sure enough, they found Fives inside the room, staring up at a lone bacta tank with his arms folded over his chest.

Omega was already submerged, her armor removed and piled on the ground, leaving her in just her blacks.

“I… don’t know if I did this right,” the clone admitted. He shuffled his feet for a second before turning his gaze downwards. “I've only seen someone be put in bacta, I-I never done it myself. My brother, Kix–"

“This is good,” Cal said, patting the clone on the back of his shoulder, consoling him. Truthfully, he didn't know. Omega was the medic.

Looking up at his padawan, he felt something in his throat tighten. She looked more eased than she had been since they landed. Her expression relaxed underneath the mask over her face. Not a single burden to weigh her down… But what was the cost of such peace?

Reaching up, he pressed his hand against the tank, closing his eyes before he reached out.

Though it was still distant, he could feel her presence in the Force, and it glowed just slightly brighter than it had been when they were underneath the facility, and he waited for her to reach back out, as she normally did, but…

He sighed and dropped his hand and turned towards the others. She was too far gone for now. “She’s already healing. Probably going to need to spend a day or two in there,” he guessed.

“What… was that thing?” Fives asked, looking at Cal, his expression set into something heavy. The way his brow furrowed, the way his nose scrunched up slightly… not only did it remind him of his own troops when getting a debriefing from Master Tapal… it was also painfully reminiscent of Omega when she was thinking hard.

“I don’t know,” He answered honestly. “But whatever it was, it was Dark.”

“It was once human,” Merrin said, “But no longer.”

“Was,” Fives echoed with a huff, looking down at his feet.

“Some kind of experiment, I think. Created by the scientists here.”

Fives dropped his arms and stepped back a bit from the tank. “I heard… rumors. Of Kaminoans, experimenting with mutations. I thought they were just horror stories the older clones told the younger ones to keep them in line.”

“They weren’t stories,” Cal said, looking at Omega. If she was any proof of the fact, and said nothing about the rest of her squad…

“I mean, I knew about the growth acceleration. I even knew a clone who’s acceleration went wrong. Damn good brother...” Fives’s tone turned wistful at the end.

“Was he part of Clone Force 99?” Merrin asked.

The clone raised a brow as he looked at her. “Clone Force-... what?”

“It’s Omega’s squad,” Cal explained. “Her brothers. She always explained it as…” he thought back. He could hear her recite it, word for word. “A group of enhanced clones with desirable mutations. Immune to the effects of the inhibitor chips.”

Fives snorted. “Sounds like another fairytale.”

“I thought so too, until I met them,” Cal said, honestly. Force above, he remembered that day, down to the moment. Being scared of coming face-to-face with them, wondering if they’d open fire when they realized he was a Jedi. “They’re… good. Hunter, Tech, Wrecker, Crosshair, and Echo.”

Fives stilled. "Wait. Did you say E-?"

“CAL! Cal, do you read me?” the Jedi's comm suddenly came to life with Cere’s voice crackling through it.

He frowned, looking at the other two, Fives haplessly gaping before he grabbed the device. “Cere, I read you.”

“Thank the Force you're alright! I’ve been trying to reach you, but the storm knocked out long-range communications. You need to get out of there now! The Mantis is breaking into atmo as we speak to extract you.”

He looked at Omega. They couldn’t take her out of the tank, not now. Who knows if she would be able to heal on her own?

“We can’t do that Cere. We’re gonna need a day or two longer,” he reported.

“Cal, the Empire is on its way! A light cruiser has entered the system and it’s heading for the facility!”

Fives swore and stepped back, pacing back and forth while Cal ran his hand through his hair, tension seizing his shoulders.

“Cere, Omega got injured. She’s in a bacta tank, we can’t take her out,” he protested.

As if she could hear the clone, Cere muttered the exact same swear. “Is there any way to bring the tank with us?” she asked.

“No, it’s hooked into the building’s system,” Fives spat out, running his hands over his face.

“Maybe we can take her to a hospital?” Merrin suggested.

“I don’t know one that wouldn’t turn her into the Empire, if she'd even make the trip,” Cal muttered, looking down. They couldn’t just leave her here either. But they couldn’t take her with them. Slowly, he resolved himself, the solution obvious. “I’ll surrender and stay with her.”

“What?”

“Cal, no–”

“Don’t you dare–!”

“If I bargain a surrender to the Empire, there'll be a better chance to spare her life, and she won’t be alone,” Cal reasoned, cutting off their protests.

“They’ll already spare her because of her DNA, but who knows what they’ll do to you. We can’t lose both of you!” Cere argued back over the comms.

“We can’t leave her here! I won't leave her to deal with the Empire alone!" He shouted.

“You’re right,” Fives said, drawing his shoulders back. “I’ll stay.”

Stunned, Cal turned to the clone, who was standing tall, fists clenched and… stubborn. So damn stubborn, like the clones he served with, stubborn like his padawan…

“I won’t abandon her–” Cal started, but Fives cut him off now.

“Sir, with all due respect, we can’t let you get captured. You’re more valuable than me, and, if I know my Jedi, you’ll be able to get us back.” He placed a hand on his chest. “I swear on my brothers that I will protect her with my life. She won’t be going through this alone. You won't abandon your padawan? Well, I won't abandon my sister.”

Cal looked at the clone before he looked at the tank. He wanted to stay, but… he knew Fives and Cere were right. As a Jedi, his fate would be uncertain in the Empire, whether they would execute him immediately or otherwise…

He didn’t want to leave, but something in the Force reassured him. It told him it was the right choice.

He pressed a button on his comm. “Cere, Merrin and I will meet you outside for immediate evacuation.”

“I understand,” his master’s solemn voice spoke quietly.

Merrin looked up at Fives. “If you return without her, I will feed you to a rancor.”

He gave an exhausted half-smile in response, probably thinking the Nightsister was joking.

“May the Force be with you,” Cal said, looking between them. “Both of you.”

“Thank you, Commander,” Fives said with a respectful nod of his head.

It was then that Merrin stepped up to the tank, staring up at Omega with an unreadable expression. Even if she tried to appear relaxed, Cal could see how hard she was struggling to maintain her composure. The way her brow creased slightly, her lips stretching into a thin line. Slowly, she closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the glass.

Cal heard her mutter something indistinct, under her breath, in her native language. Cal didn't know Dathomirian, only a few phrases that she taught him, spoke to him from time to time, terms of endearment, familial terms, potion ingredients, common phrases.

He did not understand most of what she said to Omega, but he understood the words "sister" and "goodbye".

He said nothing as she pulled back, and turned to him. Without saying anything to each other, they began gathering Omega’s armor and weapons that Fives had removed before he put her in the tank. Making sure they had everything, wanting none of it to be confiscated by the Empire. She had spent so long accumulating it all, modifying it to her liking…

Once they were sure they had everything, Cal and Merrin started to make for the exit, but Cal… paused at the door.

He turned back, and saw Fives watching him, that expression so familiar in the Jedi’s mind. Something he’d seen a hundred times in many men, but he could never name it. When they locked eyes, the clone stood with his back straight and raised his arm in the old GAR salute.

Cal swallowed and looked back at Omega.

So blissfully unaware of what was going on… what would it be like for her when she woke up? Where would she be when she woke up? Who would be there to greet her?

He had to comfort himself with the fact that he wasn’t leaving her alone.

She wasn’t being left behind.

He just hoped she knew that. He would never abandon her.

He was going to come back for her.

“Cal,” Merrin called, just ahead of him, snapping him out of his thoughts.

He felt a sharpness prick at his eyes, as he tore them away from his padawan. He looked at Merrin, his vision rapidly blurring from the tears that he couldn’t control, couldn’t wipe away with his arms full. She just watched him before she turned on her heel, taking off down the hall.

Swallowing, Cal adjusted his grip, holding the chest plate and vambraces tight in his arms before he took off after the Nightsister, both of them running down the halls of the facility, racing to make it out before the light cruiser could detect them.

He wasn't leaving his padawan behind.

They will be back for her.

 


 

In the vastness of the galaxy, rarely was there a planet as harsh as Pilal V. According to the Imperial records, the planet was uninhabitable, but that didn’t stop the Kaminoans, in their damned hubris, from building a whole research facility there.

Admiral Gideon had to hand it to them. Their facility was operational. Had been operational. Their pride and intellect were their constant companions, leading them to ruin over and over until their civilization was no more than a handful of those who still remained valuable, scattered throughout the galaxy. It was accurate to say that their usefulness as a society had dwindled, and their creations and achievements would outlive them.

As the admiral stared out the viewport of the command deck, watching one squad of snowtroopers trudge back to the light cruiser from the facility, he found himself not envying a single one of those men.

He heard the steady sound of boots on the polished floor approach, but he declined to look away from the total white-out that was the blizzard outside.

“Sir,” his deck officer addressed him, “Alpha Team is on the return from the facility, having completed their part of the investigation."

"I can see that, officer," Gideon commented, not taking his gaze away from Alpha Team as they got closer, one trooper falling over as a particularly violent gust of wind swept through the area, even making the cruiser groan in protest to the weather.

"My apologies, sir. But, also, Bravo Team has reported in as well. They found two suspects alive and inside the facility. They've barricaded themselves in a medical bay. There is no sign of the ship they arrived on, however. I suspect they were possibly abandoned by their crew. One of them has opened negotiations with Bravo Team with… conditions to their surrender."

“Have you been able to ascertain their identities?” Gideon asked, inclining his head towards the officer slightly.

“Yes, sir. One of them identified as himself as CT-5555…”

A clone? That piqued his interest. “And the other?”

“Well, that is tied in with CT-5555's negotiations. He claims his companion was injured and can not be removed from their tank unless we have another one on standby. He has agreed to surrender peacefully as long as his companion is brought in alive and receives medical care."

"Cut the power and tell Bravo Team to stand by. The Empire does not negotiate. Even if they have rations for a few days, the cold will kill them before then."

"Sir… the companion was identified as CE-O-219. Would you still like to proceed with waiting them out?"

Gideon went silent, slowly turning around until he stared at his deck officer. He knew CE-O-219 was important, but he was completely clueless, Gideon knew, of the full significance of such a find. Only some idea whom they had just discovered.

“No. Agree to the negotiations. Detain CT-5555, and prep the medical bay for CE-O-219. Make sure she receives our top care once aboard. She can not be further harmed or injured, is that understood?”

The officer nodded, rattled by his sudden change in tone, and made to turn around, ready to deliver the orders when Gideon stopped him.

“Officer,” he said, prompting them to turn around.

“Yes, sir?” they asked, their apprehension almost palatable.

“Once we enter hyperspace… Contact Dr. Royce Hemlock on my personal channel and ensure that the line is secure. I don't want anyone but him to know about our… newly acquired asset. Is this understood?"

The officer just nodded once. "Yes, sir."

Notes:

*First notes of Imperial March plays ominously*

...
Anyways,
so concludes Songs of the Unseen! Worry not, for, while this is the finale of Part I, this is not the end of the fic! Part II will continue in Chapter 7, so stay tuned! I got some things planned and, believe me folks, the pain gets worse from here.
Some familiar faces making their reappearance, and some new faces (not OC's) also making their debut, as the tone shifts from a Jedi story to a Bad Batch story....

As always, please, leave your questions, comments, thoughts, jokes, critiques! I love any and all feedback!

Chapter 7: The Familiarity of Family

Summary:

The Mantis Crew enlist the help of a few familiar allies...

Notes:

My friends,

Welcome to Part II of the story!
I admit, this part is not fully written, so the updates do have the potential to slow down, but I will try to be as quick as possible, but I promise, I will not sacrifice quality in the name of a fictitious deadline that does not even exist to fanworks. Everything happens in its own time.

That said, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and without much else to say, please, read on!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Part II - Songs of Seen

In Breughel's Icarus, for instance: how everything turns away
Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may
Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry,
But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone
As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green
Water, and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen
Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky,
Had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on.

-Musée des Beaux Arts , W. H. Auden

Lots of things happened in hyperspace. In the hulls, the cargo bays, the cockpits, the bunks, the kitchens. Lots of things generated lots of noise not inherent to the ship’s rumbling engines. Goodbyes, for one, tended to be very loud and very quiet, the words whispered or shouted or unspoken… and they were always so very sad.

Shock was a very loud thing. Grief could be as well. Silent suffering was the loudest a person could be without ever having to say a word. The words never physically spoken were always like screams from the brain… and the tragedy was, perhaps these were the words that needed to be said, the words that needed to be heard.

The Stinger Mantis had never been so loud before.

Every thought Cal Kestis had wasn’t so much as a scream, but a cry, from somewhere deep inside his perpetually aching chest, even if he had not shed a tear since leaving Pilal V.

The Mantis was so loud, because he could hear every noise his padawan wasn’t there to make.

No sound of a spanner wrench as Omega fiddled with one of her devices or the ship. No singing her Mandalorian songs under her breath as she beat him to BD-1’s routine maintenance. No arguing with Greez over the specs of the ship, no thoughtful questioning of Cere’s knowledge and opinions on Jedi philosophy, no animated listening as Merrin described her home.

It was amazing, that last one.

Even when she didn’t say a word, she wasn’t silent. Her energy was a constant thrum in the Force, never static, always moving, always excited…

With how loud the quiet was, when there finally was a noise, it startled him out of his thoughts.

Two soft knocks on the door to the engine room, where he was currently residing, modifying his lightsaber with a custom grip he cobbled together from a few scraps he smuggled out of that Force-forsaken facility.

He turned around just as the door slid open, revealing Cere at the entrance.

His master looked… tired. More than usual, her eyes were weighted with a quiet grief that he hadn’t seen since leaving Nur.

“Greez says we’ll be dropping out of hyperspace soon,” she said, tone even.

It wasn’t a stretch to say that she was holding up the best out of all of them.

“Okay. Thank you,” Cal replied politely before turning back to the work bench.

“Cal…”

“I’ll clean this up before we land,” he said, not turning back around. There were so many stray pieces of emitters, pomells… he really needed to work on being more organized. “I know Greez doesn’t like it when I leave stuff lying around.”

“That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

He didn’t reply and instead, reassembled his lightsaber, igniting the blade and testing the weight in his hand. Light, loose– good for his acrobatic style, it would allow him to move quickly–

“Cal.”

He winced, closing his eyes, the sudden sharp turn in her voice another pang in his chest.

He clipped the hilt to his belt and finally turned around. “I know what you’re going to say–”

“But I’m still going to say it,” she continued, crossing the short room and walking over to him.

He fought the urge to brush away her hand as she reached up, gently holding onto his shoulder.

He didn’t deserve the grounding motion, he didn’t deserve the comfort it brought.

He couldn’t bring himself to look at her, keeping his own gaze down as she looked up at him, her wide eyes scanning his face, searching him, reading everything he felt at that moment as easily as if it was actually written on his forehead, until, finally, she spoke.

“Breathe.”

Slowly, Cal controlled the inhale he took through his nose and the exhale he released from his mouth, Cere mimicking the action.

His shoulders dropped, tension slowly ebbing from his muscles as they repeated the action twice more.

“I know what it feels like. When you know your padawan is hurting because the choices you made took hers away–”

“She’s not Trilla,” Cal began to brush off, but Cere held firm.

“No, and you’re not me. You haven’t failed your padawan and we are going to get her back. There is still hope, Cal.”

She always said the right thing, but… the right thing was hard to hear sometimes too. Cere knew exactly what was going through his mind, of course she knew.

Cere had Trilla… and Cal had Omega.

He just hoped that his leaving her was the right choice.

Before Cal could actually respond to Cere, to tell her that he was afraid that he too, had betrayed his padawan, Greez’s voice rang out from the other side of the ship.

“Coming up on the coordinates!”

Cere dropped her hand and stepped away, but the look in her eyes told Cal that they weren’t done with whatever conversation they were about to have.

Wordlessly, he followed her out of the engine room, making their way to the cockpit.

Merrin was already at her spot, sitting on the couch next to the navi table, which startled him slightly. She had isolated herself in her room (the one she shared with Omega) since Pilal V. Now, she was out here, sharpening her knife and Cal almost pitied the poor imp that was going to find themselves on the business end of that blade.

Cere took her spot at the comm relay while Cal slid into the co-pilot’s seat, rubbing BD’s head as his droid hovered over the controls.

Poor BD… he hadn’t given so much as one little whistle since they left Pilal V.

Greez wasn’t much better, their captain unusually solemn as they exited hyperspace.

Right in their viewport, against the darkness of space, was a large, oceanic planet littered with small islands just barely breaking the ocean’s surface.

Cal frowned, leaning forward, trying to get a better view as they began to descend. “Where are we?” he asked as the black sky slowly turned into a light, friendly blue.

“Don’t know, but these are the coordinates Tech sent…” Greez muttered, guiding the ship down to the biggest island, a spiral that stuck out from the sea, all coming to a head at the peak where a stone-carved courtyard hosted a tree with winding branches in the center, a large structure overwatching the entire area.

The Havoc Marauder , a ship straight out of the Clone Wars, was already docked on one side of the courtyard.

Slowly, they touched down next to the shuttle, and from the viewport, Cal could already see their welcome party.

All five members of Clone Force 99 stood near their ship watching the Mantis, along with two other people that he didn’t recognize.

“Time to get it over with,” he muttered, lifting himself out of his seat, BD-1 hopping onto his back as he rose, leading the way off the Mantis .

This was the part he had been dreading the most.

Facing Hunter… the man who’s daughter he swore to defend with his life…

Stepping onto the boarding ramp, he was immediately hit with a gust of warm air and the scent of the island, some aromatic combination of the salt in the ocean, the plants cooking in the sun.

Other people, citizens of the island meandered about the courtyard, casting glances towards the Mantis crew as they stepped off the ship, but none of it felt hostile.

Quite the opposite, actually.

The planet, the place, the people… it all hummed with a peace that Cal hadn’t felt in a long time. It was an elevating feeling, it was all Light and no Empire… and almost mocking towards the turmoil that churned inside of him had it not been so calming.

“What is this place?” Merrin asked, looking around with a dour expression as the others approached.

“Welcome to Pabu,” one woman, a pirate if Cal had ever seen one, with a cheeky grin and tied back hair said, sweeping her arm outwards, gesturing towards the courtyard, eyeing the Mantis crew each in turn before a spark ignited in her eye upon seeing their captain.

“Greez Dritus! Long time, no see."

Greez made a noise from the back of his throat and jumped back immediately. “Phee?” he all but yelped, shuffling a bit behind Merrin and Cal, almost like he was trying to hide from the pirate.

“You know her?” Cere asked, turning to the Latero as he peeked his head around the Nightsister and Jedi.

“Well, you see…”

“Let me guess, the story involves you, a cantina, five rounds of Sabacc and a loss of around five-hundred credits that you swore you were good for?” Cal asked, tone dry.

“You must be the Jedi Omega speaks so highly about,” Phee turned to Cal while Greez haplessly waved an arm in a wordless excuse. “Phee Genoa. Pleased to meet your acquaintance.” 

Cal returned the sentiment with a nod. “Cal Kestis. This is BD-1,” he gestured to the droid on his shoulder. “And this is Merrin and Cere.”

He looked at the clones now, unable to avoid it any longer and… he wished he hadn’t.

Crosshair, Echo, Wrecker, Tech, Hunter… their presence in the Force was the only pain to be felt on this island, a pain that struck him in the heart, amplifying the pressure he had been feeling there tenfold. He didn’t know how they were still standing, the combined weight of it almost making him collapse as he rubbed his sternum, trying in vain to ease the tightness that had seized his lungs, his throat. Despite it all, their expressions remained identically stoic and determined, the anguish they felt well-hidden by years of practice.

Cal locked eyes with Hunter and… he couldn’t hold it back anymore.

The exhaustion and guilt and the mental image of Omega floating in the tank as he ran out of the room clawed its way up from his stomach and punctured his lungs, a sob choking him as it made its way through his throat.

He turned away, keeping his gaze fixed on the stone ground, trying to hide his own shattering composure.

He couldn’t look at Hunter, he couldn’t look at any of her brothers.

How could he? He didn’t just fail his padawan.

He broke his promise to her family.

Cal didn’t look as he heard heavy boots cross the stone, Hunter's imposing presence stopping just in front of him.

He braced himself for the questions, for the shouting and the anger–

But then Hunter placed a hand on his shoulder, gently gripping, but holding firm. "I… know that you did what you thought was best for her." The clone spoke low, his gravelly tone all comfort.

Cal let himself be pulled forward into the hug, the embrace warm and protective, as if Hunter was trying to shield him from all the bad and dark in the galaxy.

"We'll get her back, kid. I promise, we'll get her back."

 

Pabu, apparently, was the Bad Batch’s home, whenever they weren’t running missions for Rex or sabotaging the Empire.

And it was so strange to Cal. To know that Omega had had this sanctuary for so long, hidden, never telling anyone on the crew. To know that she could have left the fight at any time…

The Mantis crew looked upon the vibrant, warm-painted structures with a fond shock as they were led through the winding paths of Upper Pabu, every person they passed welcoming them kindly, greeting the Batch with familiarity.

“Over the years, we’ve expanded down to Lower Pabu,” the mayor’s daughter, Lyana, was explaining. “It was destroyed after a massive sea surge a couple years ago, but… the people here are resilient. So, we rebuilt it, and if it wasn’t for these guys… for Omega… I probably wouldn’t be here today.” The light smile that had been omnipresent on the young girl’s face faltered slightly.

“Hey, any chance of another one?” Greez asked, warily casting his gaze towards the ocean.

“There is nothing to worry about,” Tech spoke up, turning towards them. “After the destruction, I personally modified the early detection sensors with a more advanced system. There is an almost-zero percent chance of another one occurring at the moment, adjusting for a 0.03% margin of error in the unlikely probability that every single sensor somehow malfunctioned despite my multiple failsafes ensuring that I would be notified if even one did.”

“As he said, there’s nothing to worry about,” Phee reiterated, linking her arm around Tech’s, something soft in her gaze as she looked up at the clone.

“Phee was the one who brought us here, a year after the Empire rose,” Hunter said, walking in front of the group. “She was the one to suggest we… take up residence.”

He faltered a bit, voice becoming a bit tight, and Cal did not miss how he inclined his head towards Crosshair and Tech for half a second before fixing his gaze firmly ahead. “And we were ready to do so, but…”

“Tantiss,” Cal muttered, completing the old sergeant’s sentence, and immediately regretting it.

All five brothers, Lyana, and Phee turned to him, stopping in the middle of the path.

The Jedi looked down with a small sigh, not able to stand any of the questioning gazes they sent his way. “Omega told me… showed me some of her memories, through our meditation,” he explained, quietly, “Bits and pieces. I never pressed, figuring she’d tell me if or when she was ready.”

A flash of pain struck through them all, but Crosshair, who until now, had been more collected, scowled with a ferocity that Cal had never seen before.

It made sense.

Cal knew that he was the one who had been forced to watch sometimes.

“Right,” Hunter muttered, turning back around, continuing down the path.

“Where are we going?” Cere asked, tactfully, as they suddenly turned down from the main path, to a more narrow street that wound between several homes.

“To see Emerie, Pabu’s residential medic,” the sergeant’s tone turned slightly warmer, almost light and friendly, and Cal sensed his anticipation for the visit.

They came upon a stoop and he knocked on the wooden door, painted a faded green, a sign made of an identical material nailed into the wall next to it with the words, “Dr. Emerie Karr” engraved into it.

“How is a medic going to help us get Omega back?” Merrin asked impatiently.

“Omega didn’t tell you about her?” Echo asked, turning towards the Mantis crew with a raised brow.

“About… Emerie?” Cal asked, frowning. He heard some scuffling from behind the door, locks being shifted. “No. Why would she? She never even mentioned Pabu.”

“Because Emerie is our sister,” Tech supplied, as if it was obvious.

Cal didn’t have time to react beyond a jaw drop, because at that moment, the door swung open, and he was suddenly face to face with an older version of his padawan.

Emerie Karr stared at the Batch, at Lyana and Phee, expression soft until she slid her gaze over to the Mantis crew.

She eyed each and one of them in turn before fixing her gaze on Cal.

“Are you the ones who were poking around Pilal V with my sister?” she asked. Her tone was clinical and serious, none of the emotive rise and fall of Omega’s, but the heavy Mandalorian accent was there.

Cal felt a poke in his back as Greez shoved him and Merrin forward, causing them to stumble to the front.

“That’s these two, ma’am! They’re the ones you’re looking for!”

Before either Emerie could say anything or Merrin could kill Greez, a familiar droid hovered forward from over the medic’s shoulder.

“Greetings! It is I, AZI-3452118-”

“AZI?” Cal repeated, raising an eyebrow. He was here too?

“Oh. Cal Kestis! It is a pleasure to see you again!” the droid said with a joyous tone and spin of his torso.

“AZI is Emerie’s assistant when he’s not helping Rex’s operations,” Hunter said, folding his arms over his chest.

She must have sensed the growing impatience, for the medic stepped to the side then, opening her door wider, prompting the party to shuffle up the stairs and into the home.

Cal tried not to stare as he passed her, but…

Of course Cal knew she was a clone, knew that meant little deviation in appearances other than the obvious. But it was eerie to be so painfully reminded of it, like a smack across the face. He could see the resemblance between her and her brothers, but there was just enough difference in all their physical appearances that it was easy to forget that they were clones. But then seeing her face practically stamp-pressed onto another’s was… it was like being on a Venator over Bracca all over again.

Despite this, he could see how different Emerie was, feel the difference in the Force.

On the surface, there were the physical differences. The first being the age, Omega just barely peeking into adulthood, a youthful exuberance in her eyes. Then it was her grown-out, curled blonde locks. It contrasted to Emerie, who was clearly older, her straight brown hair cut just below her jaw sporting graying streaks, creases forming above her brow, under her eyes.

What’s more is that, as long as he had known Omega, she had been intensely expressive. She was dynamic, always moving, messing with one thing or another, never stopping, her face easy to read, her heart and her opinions worn on her sleeve.

Emerie’s expression had not changed at all save for only miniscule movements, the most dramatic being maybe a slight lift of an eyebrow. Overall, she clearly held herself with a sense of professionalism, even in the presence of her brothers. Her face was a mask of neutrality and intense seriousness. Her presence in the Force was infinitely calmer, more quiet, although… he could sense her mind move with the same elevated processing speed as his padawan. The thoughts never resting, but she showed not a single one of the millions of things he could feel her thinking.

It was a night and day difference, honestly, but…

He could almost swear it was the same eyes staring back at him as he entered, picking him apart as he walked past, questions forming with each new piece she examined.

They were led to a large room with several chairs, couches, and small tables, an electric hearth in the middle, kettle resting on top of it, basking the area in both a sweet aroma, as well as a warmth not dissimilar to the feeling of being enveloped in a thick blanket. After spending a day on Pilal V, the warmth was more than welcome for Cal and Merrin, who sat together on a single couch. The room was so very cozy, and everyone settled in easily while AZI poured the tea into a collection of small cups that rested on a nearby tray and began passing them around.

It was all so very cozy, but so very clean.

“Usually, this room is reserved to people waiting for their loved ones while I treat them,” Emerie explained, taking her own mug and sitting down in a nook at the window. “But, there haven't been any incidents or illnesses lately, so it's just us here.”

“You operate out of your home?” Greez asked, his short legs dangling from his chair.

“More or less,” she said, turning to the Lateron. “I do have a room converted into a small, but fully functional medical bay. However, I mostly go door-to-door as the majority of cases I see on Pabu are minor.”

“Omega is a medic as well,” Merrin stated “Did she learn from you?”

Emerie looked at the Nightsister, both of their expressions unreadable before she turned to Hunter.

“Where is my sister?” she asked, “You said this was the crew she was traveling with, and that they had trouble on Pilal V, but she’s not with them.”

Hunter looked over at Cal, prompting the whole room towards him.

The Jedi swallowed at the attention, but held firm. If Emerie was family, she deserved to know the truth.

"We were investigating the facility as a favor to Hera Syndulla," he started, "A recovery mission, as the team of scouts that were previously sent went missing several rotations earlier. Hera was hoping Omega’s knowledge of Kaminoan tech and the Advanced Science Division could help."

At the mention of the Division, Emerie seemed to grow stiffer, holding herself straighter, mask of composure waning slightly.

But she just gave a nod of understanding, prompting Cal to continue.

“What we found there…” he shook his head, at a loss for words. How did he even begin to describe the creature? “I don’t know. It was… Dark. In the Force. It fed on Force energy, draining them. It… it almost killed Omega, but we stopped it, just in time, but… it was… bad. If… if we hadn’t gotten there when we did, I–I…”

Merrin placed her hand over his, stopping him before the spiral started, bringing him back to the present, out of that lab, out of the cold.

He looked at her, appreciative, before he took a breath and continued.

“The Empire came… before it would have been safe to take her out of the tank. We couldn’t risk moving her, the damage the creature did–” Cal stopped himself, not even sure how to explain that moment. Leaving her there, in the dark… What choice did they have? Was it the right one?

“You must be referring to Subject 83,” Emerie mused, looking down at her cup. “He was always… temperamental, and the mutations only added to his aggression.”

The room turned towards her.

“You were one of the scientists stationed there?” Cere asked.

“I was,” Emerie turned away from them, looking out the window, her expression becoming distant. She looked out to the views of the island, but Cal knew she didn’t see a single ray of sunshine, the vast infinite of the ocean. “It was where I was assigned before… The doctor and I were transferred to Tantiss, after Subject 83 broke containment, forcing an emergency evacuation when it slaughtered much of the personnel.”

Slowly, she returned to the present and focused her gaze on Cal and his crew. “She’s talked about you. All of you. In nothing but good terms.”

He shifted in his seat. “You know she’s Force-Sensitive?”

Emerie cleared her throat. “The doctor and I had our suspicions of her potential, after analyzing a blood sample taken right after her arrival on Tantiss, showing an abnormally high M-count. But it wasn’t until after she left with you that the theory was… confirmed.”

Echo turned towards Tech.

“You said she was a pure genetic replication!” he pointed out. “After she was kidnapped by Cad Bane!”

Tech only adjusted his goggles, an uneased frown on his face. “I said I analyzed her genetic profile. Which means I read the information provided via the files I– ahem, borrowed from Kamino. I merely restated what Nala Se notated in the official records pertaining to Omega. Seeing as we did not actually have a DNA extrapolator on the Marauder , I assumed it was obvious.”

“The explanation is simple,” Emerie cut in, “Nala Se forged the information on Omega’s profile.”

“Wait, wait, let’s take it back a bit. M-count?” Hunter asked, confusion all over his face.

Cal and Cere groaned in unison, the latter taking a long sip of tea before she decided to explain.

“It’s a… belief that midi-chlorians, small microscopic organisms, tend to congregate in larger groups inside Force-sensitives,” she began, sounding tired already. “Certain types of blood tests have been developed in an attempt to detect the number of them present in an individual in order to ascertain the potential of Force-Sensitivity. However, these tests were considered imperfect and/or controversial among the Jedi as the Force is not a science."

“Well, it is hard to argue with results,” Emerie muttered while sipping from her mug.

"So, you're saying Hemlock knew Omega was Force-Sensitive all along?" Hunter asked before Cere could refute or throw the medic out the window.

"Not exactly. He knew Omega had the potential to be Force-Sensitive, but as she never demonstrated any signs of such abilities, he wrote off the M-count as an abnormality. A result of Nala Se's failed attempt in making Force-Sensitive clones."

"Wait, wait, wait!" Greez held up two arms in a halting motion. "I'm confused. Who is this Hemlock guy? You mentioned him before, I get that he’s some important scientist or whatever, but… who is he?”

Cal lowered his mug as the clones shifted, skirting glances at each other until, finally, Tech cleared his throat, adjusting his goggles.

"Dr. Royce Hemlock is the chief scientist of the Imperial Advanced Science Division. Several years ago, their main base of operations was on Mount Tantiss, a clandestine facility where he had full reign to conduct his experiments on the increasing number of defiant clones. Myself and Crosshair included."

"In shorter words, he's a massive prick," Crosshair spat, lip curled into a snarl that he focused at his mug.

"Indeed. In regards to… his… relationship with Omega, she spent over two years in captivity on Tantiss, as a means of controlling Nala Se. I can… understand why she never revealed this information to you. It was a particularly… harrowing experience f–for her," Tech faltered at the end, actually looking compromised, something Cal had never seen from the unflinching clone.

"It was Hell," Crosshair added, looking up at them. "Whenever Nala Se failed to meet Hemlock’s standards– the Empire's standards– or whenever the long-neck became too defiant… Hemlock made an example out of Omega.”

A flash of pain and horror shot through the room, Cal's own heart stopping for just a second as he thought about the meditations he had with his padawan.

In his mind’s eye, he could see Hemlock, from her perspective, the modified probe droid hovering over his shoulder, the light smile on the doctor’s face as his fixed his glove, his blue eyes alight with anticipation and something that almost looked like joy at the prospect of the inevitable pain, the hurt that was about to be inflicted due to something that was entirely out of her control–

Cal was startled at the sound of his own mug hitting the hard floor, the shatter of porcelain echoing with the same pitch as the raw, unrestrained screaming inside his head.

“Cal, are you–?”

“I need to use the refresher,” he mumbled, cutting Cere off before she could finish the question and stumbled out of the room as quickly as he could.

He needed to not be around people right now. He needed to not feel their grief, their anguish, their frustration. It was all burning within his mind, clouding his thoughts.

He found the refresher, just down the hall and to the left, a small room with only the necessities. He splashed the cold water into his face, rubbing it into his skin, willing the cool to shock him out of his own mind; the water to ground him to reality.

He took several deep breaths and closed his eyes. Focusing on the beads of water collecting on his brow, running down his cheeks, dripping from his jaw.

Centering himself, gathering all his emotions, letting them condense into his chest before he gave one more long exhale, released it all with the breath, and feeling lighter for it.

He took three more long, drawn out inhales and carefully controlled exhales, calming himself down.

Omega needed him now, she needed him to be in control.

Opening his eyes, he stared at himself in the mirror, and… well, it was no wonder everyone was so concerned about him.

He looked like shit.

Dark circles gathered under his eyes, his long-ish hair was disheveled (and not in the fun way, like when Merrin ran her hands through it), stubble growing in uneven patches along his jaw.

Overall, it was easy to tell he was in dire need of a nap and a trim.

He shook his head. He can nap when his padawan is safe.

Not if.

When.

Slowly, he exhaled and stood up straight before he made his way out of the refresher.

When he closed the door behind him, he felt… something that made him pause.

He knew what it was. That compulsion in the Force that had his feet moving before he could even think about it. Guiding him further into the home until he came into a darkened room. Judging by the desk and holo-books stacked neatly on several shelves, this was Emerie’s office.

The curtains were drawn, and everything was very neat, indicative of what an organized person the medic was.

So very different from Omega, who lived in what she affectionately called, “organized chaos” in which she knew where everything was at any given time, but that didn’t mean she was neat about it.

It was something Greez and Cere had reprimanded her for many times.

Considering this, it seemed there was only one thing out of place.

Discarded haphazardly on top of the desk was a single pair of goggles.

Glancing down the hall, Cal made sure there was no one watching before he slowly inched his way into the office, closing the door behind him before he made his way over to the desk.

Those whispers that seemed to carry on the wind, brushing the back of his neck, making the hair on his arms stand on end, getting louder with each step closer, but never discernible, talking over themselves.

He studied the glasses carefully as he reached out.

He knew about Tech’s broken goggles, Omega had kept them and kept them carefully preserved in their shattered state, not allowing a single person to touch them, not even letting BD scan them.

Every so often, Cal felt the compulsion to touch them when he passed her room, but knew better than to do so, knowing the echo that came with it would be intense, something Omega kept him guarded from, even during their meditation.

These ones were different, however. The lenses were comprised of square-ish frames, red in color, and there was a single, large crack across the surface, originating from the top left corner of the lens.

Before he realized it, his fingers grazed the top.

A flash of white overtook his vision.

 

She stood in a dark hallway, hands clasped in front of herself as she stared at Omega, the young girl crouched over a fallen clone in stolen commando armor, a fresh blaster bolt emanating smoke from the chest plate.

Just in front of her was Hemlock, the doctor himself flanked by two stormtroopers, blasters poised and aimed right at the young girl.

"Thank you for getting her this far, Captain Cage, but we'll take it from here," Hemlock said to the fallen clone, who grunted in response, indicating that he was not dead. Still ready to fight until he was… 

Omega looked at Emerie then, the betrayal in her crestfallen expression sending a pang of guilt in her chest, but she held firm. She would see that it was supposed to be this way soon.

"Stun her, prep her for transport then load her onto my shuttle," Hemlock instructed.

Emerie looked at the trooper closest to her as they switched the settings on their blasters.

Finger on the trigger, seconds away from squeezing, she took her chance.

Jumping forward, she grabbed the blaster and yanked it away, the shot missing Onega and instead hitting the other trooper, sending him tumbling to the ground.

Emerie wrestled with the stormtrooper for a second before he managed to wrench the blaster out of her grip.

A resounding crack filled the hallway as the trooper struck out, slamming the butt end of their weapon into her head, shattering the lenses she wore, sending her tumbling to the ground, blinded by pain, a thunderous drumming throbbing against her skull, feeling something sticky dripping down from his temple.

"I must say, I am... disappointed in you, Emerie," Hemlock spoke somewhere above her. His smooth voice was distant. "But it's no matter. Omega will succeed where you failed."

Emerie looked up as the trooper aimed the blaster at her, literally staring down the barrel.

"I'll make sure of it."

 

Cal opened his eyes with a gasp, the glasses clenched firmly in his hand.

“Did you find what you were looking for?”

He spun around, free hand flying to his lightsaber on instinct, but when he saw it was Emerie, standing in the doorway of her own office, he slowly relaxed.

“I, uh… I–I’m sorry for–”

She held up a hand, stopping whatever excuse he could come up with.

“Omega mentioned something about your psychometry once or twice, the ability itself as astounding to me in theory as it was for her to witness.”

Cal shifted where he stood, looking down at the glasses before back at Emerie. “You were testing me?”

“Forgive me, but… I wanted to see it for myself,” she said, but she did not sound very apologetic. Almost… smug, actually, as if she was silently celebrating her harmless manipulation. It was so entirely reminiscent of Omega…

He set the glasses down on the desk behind him, looking away from her. “You worked for the Empire?”

A shot of panic shot out from her through the Force, but when he turned back to face her, she remained as calm as ever.

“I did,” she confirmed, brief, definitely not wasting words.

“You worked for Hemlock.”

“I did.”

“Why?”

At this, she sighed, casting her gaze down, away from his eyes as she turned around, closing the door behind her.

“Omega speaks highly of you, Cal Kestis. It’s because of her that I was able to… relocate to Pabu, to have a fresh start. Using my talents and intellect to help people.”

Cal remained silent, watching her as she walked across the office, towards the windows, slowly drawing the curtains open, letting the light filter in.

“My identification number is CE-9802, of Experimental Unit 98. The predecessor to Unit 99, whom you know as the Bad Batch. My… brothers.”

“CE,” Cal repeated, quickly thinking of Omega's explanation of clone designations. “Not a clone trooper. An experiment?”

Emerie hummed in confirmation before turning back to him. “If I strike you as astonishingly similar to Tech, there is a reason why. Before Unit 99, there was Unit 98, enhanced clones, our genes manipulated similarly.”

Cal frowned as he mulled the words over. He hadn’t even considered the resemblance between her and Tech, too caught up with how much she looked like Omega, but now that she said it, the resemblance was… equally uncanny, actually, but that only created more questions.

Were there more enhanced clones? Did Omega have more hidden siblings? Siblings she didn’t tell him about?

“As I said, my batch was the predecessors… the… trial run, to see if the enhancements could be done and if the subjects could survive such mutations. The main difference between my batch and theirs was how much more effective they were, smashing every benchmark, progressing quicker, rendering my batch… obsolete.”

Emerie spoke clinically, emotion removed from her explanation until the end, when just the smallest hint of sorrow crept into her voice, her expression becoming slightly faint until she quickly snapped back, looking at Cal.

“The entirety of Experimental Unit 98 was decommissioned before the end of our fifth cycle… except for me. I was slated for decommissioning as well, until… Hemlock… visited the Tipoca City facility on Kamino.” She swallowed, struggling to say the name, Cal wanted to tell her to stop, that she didn’t need to explain herself to them, but for some reason, he didn’t. He didn’t interrupt her as she gathered another shaking breath, collecting herself again.

“He and Mistress Nala Se had been long-time acquaintances before then, so she trusted him enough to show him a glimpse of her work with genetic manipulation resulting in desired, enhanced mutations. She showed him us; Unit 98, as she was not allowed to reveal Unit 99 quite yet. He was… captivated by my potential, and upon learning about my slated termination, he suggested that I could still be useful as his assistant. That decommissioning me would be a waste of a mind, as I could match him, provide input and… and remain more loyal to him than anyone he’d get from the academy.”

Cal didn’t miss the way her fingers lightly brushed the right side of her head, where many other clones he had met since meeting the Batch had small incision scars, hers was covered by her hair.

‘Inhibitor chip’ Omega’s voice rang out in his mind.

“So, his assistant I became, reassigned to his care, and was the first clone taken off Kamino, five years out of the tube, while the rest of my batch was left behind to…”

Emerie took a breath, not finishing that sentence. “Omega was there… from the time I was created to the time I left, but she was so young when it all happened, I doubt she remembers… but I never forgot her.”

As hard as it was, Cal didn’t look away as she turned to him, clearly scanning him for his reaction. Whether she expected horror or pity or sympathy, he didn’t know, as he could only feel what was natural. He felt all three; the shuddering horror of an entire unit of clones being decommissioned for something outside their control, the suffering pity knowing that she was the lone survivor for people she would have called siblings, and sympathy, knowing what it was like to be the last one who remained.

“I’m… sorry,” he muttered, “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

She tilted her head, and again, he got that feeling, that she was mentally picking him apart. Testing his tone against his words. His sincerity, his mettle.

“What did you see when you touched those glasses?” she asked.

He looked at the briefly forgotten lenses, the crack streaking across red.

“I saw you, attempting to wrestle a blaster from a stormtrooper,” he said, “but they overpowered you. They were going to shoot you, Hemlock was going to send Omega away on a shuttle.”

To his shock, Emerie actually smiled, just so very faintly, as she nodded once. “Yes… the day we escaped Tantiss together. Before the stormtrooper could shoot me, Omega grabbed the blaster from the one I managed to stun, and stunned both the trooper and Hemlock before I could be executed. We escaped on that shuttle with Captain Cage, during an orchestrated riot. Many clones escaped Tantiss that day, Tech and Crosshair included.”

Cal sighed. “She still doesn’t talk about it. Tantiss, I mean, or Hemlock. I only see glimpses of her memories, her fears, when we meditate together, and those alone are… enough. I don’t want to imagine what else there is that she hasn’t let me see.”

Emerie traced a finger over the frames, whatever smile she had long gone. “Omega… wasn’t just subjected to physical torture because of Nala Se’s failings… No, that wasn’t enough for the doctor.” Something bitter overlaid her tone before she looked at Cal. “That Kaminoan always had a… softer spot for my sister. As a means of keeping an eye on her, Nala Se requested her as her assistant… which made the doctor curious. He made Omega my assistant instead, and… monitored her. Her prowess in a lab, her experience with clones. Being raised by Nala Se, she was… brilliant, and her heightened insight and ability to learn was… unmatched. He knew she had the potential to surpass me, knew that I aged quicker, wouldn’t be able to continue the work he did. But Omega would. The mental torture came when he sought to… replace her brothers, replace Hunter, in her mind, as he wanted her to… take his place, one day.”

Cal frowned, trying to make sense of Emerie’s brief recountings, and when he did, he felt a bile rise in his throat, a pit forming in his churning stomach.

He shook his head, thoughts flying around his mind, but he needed to get them under control before he did something he would regret, like throw up in the middle of Emerie’s office.

The medic went silent as he wrestled with himself, neither of them speaking as he tried to come to grips with all the information, everything she had told him, what she said about herself, and what she didn’t say about Omega.

The heat of the island was suffocating him. Shoving itself into his throat, making him sweat under his collar. He needed to get out of here. He needed to get off his island, off this planet. He needed to go find Omega–

“Cal.” Emerie grabbed his hands and fixed a hard look at him. “Slow down. Ground yourself. What are three things you can see?”

Cal looked around. “Desk, books, window,” he quickly listed.

She nodded. “Good. What are three things you can hear?”

“Uh… You, speaking and, uh… birds, outside… and…” he craned to listen, beyond the room, stopping for a second. “I can hear Tech, talking.”

“And what are three things you can feel?”

He swallowed, paying more attention to himself. “The breeze from the window. My clothes. Your hands.”

“Good job,” she said before letting go. “Take a deep breath.”

He did as instructed, once again, breathing in deeply through his nose, and exhaling through his mouth, just like he did with Cere earlier.

“How do you feel?” she asked.

He shifted from foot to foot. “Better… you’re… good, at that.”

“A lot of the residents here had iatrophobia when I first arrived,” she explained, “the fear of medics, doctors, healers. I had to learn several anxiety-relieving exercises to help calm some of them down before I could begin my work.”

Now she sounded more like Omega…

“How come she never mentioned you?" He asked, suddenly, but the question had been burning in his mind. "I’ve been her master for two years, and I’ve never–”

“That was at my request,” Emerie replied simply. “My… relationship with Hemlock made me privy to many Imperial secrets of the highest importance. The Emperor’s ambitions… Other high-ranking Imperials who had an investment in the doctor’s projects. You are not the only one the Empire wants dead at best or recaptured at worst, but whereas you actively engage with them, you are more liable to be captured for information. It was a… contingency on my part. Omega would die before betraying her family… but I couldn’t say the same for you.”

As much as Cal wanted to protest, that was… entirely fair.

“Your secret is safe with me,” he assured her, regardless, “And… we will get Omega back.”

Emerie’s composure did not waver, but she did give him a respectful nod, which Cal took to be her form of a grand gesture.

“I believe you.”

Notes:

I have said this before, and you can quote me on it, but I think Emerie has the potential to be the most interesting and/or funniest character in the Star Wars franchise (of course, we know Merrin is the funniest character, but that's not the point). Her potential dynamic with Omega has me frothing and conspiracy theory boarding.
I honestly have no idea if the Tantiss plotline of Season 3 is going to look even REMOTELY like this, but it's what I WANT it to look like.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, stay tuned for the next one, where we find out what happened/what will happen to Omega and Fives!

As always, I love you all for reading, and please don't forget to leave your questions, comments, thoughts, jokes, critiques, etc.! I love any and all feedback!!

Chapter 8: The Mechanisms of the Machine

Summary:

Omega wakes up.

Notes:

My friends,

I got a bit of writer's block for a week, so I thought it better to take a break rather than force the words out of me until it came back. Now, I am actively working on this as well as two other stories, so my attention is a bit divided amongst whichever story speaks to me.

I hope you enjoy this chapter, because... well, oh boy. It's just that meme of Reva saying, "I hope you like pain" going on in my head.

With that said, read on!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

You don't like the prison I built you?
Yeah, you wanna know what the funny thing is?
You keep on talkin' to me like a stranger
But we've been together since you were a kid

-Intro III , NF

 

Everything was dark.

Even squinting, CE-O-219 could barely make out the environment beyond the faint, blueish reflection of her own face that stared back at her. Regardless, she knew exactly where she was: a lab.

Where else would she be? She was a Kaminoan cloning experiment. Unmodified. Kept protected for her valuable genetic material for military-commissioned soldiers.

Breathe in… breathe out…

All she could do in a bacta tank was float and breathe and watch and wait .

But this was wrong… the bacta… she could feel it, she could feel it on her skin, through her medical blacks, pressing against every inch of her, slowing her movements, moving her limbs for her because her body was like lead.

The sensation was too warm. She felt like she was being swallowed and digested in the belly of some great beast as the bacta encompassed her, drowning her, pressing against her chest, constricting her movement, suffocating her.

She couldn’t breathe. She breathed too quickly. She couldn’t breathe and breathe too quickly at the same time. She wanted to slam her fist against the transparisteel to signal for attention, but she couldn’t move her arms, couldn’t lift them through the gelatinous matter.

But even if she could, she knew that no one would hear her.

No one was listening.

She was always alone in Nala Se’s lab.

CE-O-219 closed her eyes, trying to regain control of herself.

Why hadn’t she been administered a sedative? Something, anything to numb the sensation? Nala Se knew that anxiety brought on from bacta treatment prolonged the healing process.

All she could do was try to ignore it, try to suppress the sensation of the bacta feeling like it was trying to worm its way into her skin and fill her lungs from the inside out. All it took was a slip of the mask and she would drown in it.

She opened her eyes again and was shocked to find a face staring back at her from the dark.

A little girl stood at the base of the tank, so close that her nose was in danger of smearing the glassy surface.

Strange…

What was a little girl doing in the lab?

She didn’t belong there, but she wore Kaminoan clothes and a diadem rested on her forehead, made of a silver cord, pinning her neatly brushed-back blonde locks down and out of her wide, brown eyes. What’s more is that, the diadem, centered on her forehead, just above her brow, was a pendant that CE-O-219 recognized as the crest of Nala Se.

Slowly, the girl reached out and placed a hand on the palm of the glass, as high as she could, still watching the clone.

Despite the soreness of her muscles, the older girl slowly reached back, moving her hand through the gel-liquid hybrid and placing her palm over the girl’s.

CE-O-219 watched the little girl with an equal amount of curiosity until suddenly, she stepped back, arm still extended, but no longer pressing against the tank. She retreated further into the dark lab, looking to the side, at someone or something outside the clone's field of vision before turning the opposite direction and scampering away.

She looked… afraid.

CE-O-219 wanted to help the little girl, but was useless, stuck in the tank. She wanted to leave it until another, much taller figure stepped into her vision.

Nala Se?

The Kaminoan scientist slowly walked forward, long neck slightly inclined down to take in the sight of the clone.

She blinked, and her caretaker was replaced with a new person that she also did not recognize.

A human woman, dressed in tan robes, was on the other side of the tank. Her hair was long, straight, and so pale that it almost shined white through the blue of the bacta. She stood with a neat posture, holding her hands in front of her in a pensively clasped manner as she watched CE-O-219 with a neutral expression.

Something about her invoked a sense of calm in the clone, despite the confusion that lingered.

She spoke, then, her mouth moving, and, even though she shouldn’t have, CE-O-219 could hear her through the tank, the strange woman’s voice like a melody to her ears, though it was hard to distinguish what she was saying, the words sounding as though it was reverberating from down a tunnel, echoing off miles and miles of stone walls until it eventually reached her.

“Au’rora.”

 

Omega’s eyes shot open as the bright blue liquid bubbled around her, draining down the bottom of the tank.

How did she end up here?

She barely had time to think on such a thing when the door to the bacta tank disengaged, sending her tumbling out of the chamber and onto the ground, landing on her knees, but not having the strength to lift her arms to catch herself before she fell the rest of the way, shoulder slamming into the hard ground.

She grunted on the impact, trying not to be pissed that no one caught her, but she’d rib her friends for it later.

Reaching up, her hand was shaking as she pulled the mask off her face and slowly pushed herself off the ground, looking up.

Immediately, she was face to face with a squad of stormtroopers, all of them with blasters primed and aimed right at her, a Imperial naval officer standing in front of them.

“CE-O-219,” he addressed, “Welcome back.”

Omega stared at her before shifting her gaze, looking at every individual stormtrooper until they all became a singular, elongated white blur with black spots. She laid back down, letting the blissful fatigue of the bacta reclaim her consciousness.

 

When Omega resurfaced, the first thing she was aware of was the comfortable feeling of a set of strong fingers gently carding through her hair, starting from her temple and lifting just past her ear. Over and over, slow, careful and comforting.

The second thing she became aware of was how her cheek was pressed against something warm, a scratchy fabric, ticking against her skin, making her instinctively reach to brush against it, but her arm didn't listen to her brain, remaining limp in front of her face. Whatever she was resting on was firm, but not unyielding, definitely not a pillow.

The third thing she was aware of was the soft sound of singing, drifting down from somewhere above her, reaching her ear that wasn’t pressed against the warm thing.

It was a man singing, a light melodic voice that she knew well, quiet in volume, the tone just above a hum.

She recognized the song, its rhythm steady and beat-like, with the words strung together, some notes held just slightly longer before immediately switching back to the quicker pace.

“Jorso'ran kando a tome…”

The song, the fingers in her hair, the warmth… it all came together in her mind when she took a deep inhale, breathing in the unmistakable scent of a vod. No, a buir.

“‘Untah?” she croaked, throat dry and unused. How long had she been out?

Slowly, she shifted to lay on her back, ready to look up into the face of her buir, as he comforted her, his tactics never changing since she was a kid.

Only… it wasn’t Hunter.

She was greeted by the tired, faint smile of a clone… but it wasn’t Hunter.

“Heya, kiddo,” Fives greeted, “Have a nice nap?”

She declined to answer, feeling… well-rested, but confused.

She felt warm, independent of Fives, which meant she wasn’t on Pilal V, and the last thing she remembered was that creature… draining…

Slowly, she pushed herself up with a grunt, lifting her head from Fives's lap, mind still boggled and slow with the fog that only came from a good soak in a bacta tank.

“Where are–?” Omega looked around, the question dying on her lips when she saw the tell-tale red glow of a ray shield that was specially crafted for Imperial prison units. 

“Oh…" she said, blankly, before her mind caught up with the situation. Then, she spat out the word that felt most appropriate to utter when one finds themselves in such a situation. "Osik!

She clutched her head, willing for the fog to disappear faster, but her wants and ambitions were meaningless to the side effects of whatever had happened to her. She had been in a filled bacta tank, right? Or was that just part of the weird vision she had?

“What happened?” She turned to Fives. “Is Cal okay? Is Merrin? Do you know if the others were captured?”

“Easy, soldier,” he said, holding up his hands in a placating gesture to stop any more questions before she could overwhelm him. “They escaped. You were attacked by that creature, and we couldn't take you out of the tank, so I volunteered to stay behind with you.”

Omega tried to climb to her feet, but barely made it up before she fell back onto the bench, white lights and an airy feeling dancing around her head. It was a small cell, only room for the bench she and Fives were sitting on and not much else. “Where are we?”

“A ship, a light cruiser,” he said, “You were in the tank for a couple days before they dragged you in here. I… don’t know where they’re taking us.”

“Osik!” Omega hissed again.

This was bad. This was very bad. They didn’t get Cal, so there was that, but…

She turned back to him.

“Fives, this is very important. Have you overheard anything? Have you heard them mention the Inquisitors?”

He shook his head. “They haven’t talked to me much. Don’t seem that interested, which is… weird. I expected an interrogation.”

Omega looked around. Any vents, any panels she could access… “They’re not going to look twice at you while I’m here,” she muttered before pressing a hand to her forehead. Maker, a headache was already starting to form.

“I’ll try not to be offended,” Fives jested, but Omega could sense the weariness from him. The confusion.

Right… he had been 2 seconds away from dying for the last eight years. He didn’t know anything about the Empire… He didn't know what she really was…

Before she could say anything else, she felt a movement, at the edge of her mind, prompting her to look up.

“Someone’s coming,” she muttered.

Fives sat up straighter as the ray shield was lowered.

Before either of them could get any grand ideas, a purge trooper armed with an electro-staff walked in, two stormtroopers flanking him.

“On your feet,” he said, sharply.

With not much choice, they complied, Omega gripping Fives’s arm to steady herself as she rose, legs still jelly, but steadier than they had been a minute ago.

The two stormtroopers walked forward, cuffing them so their arms were bound in front of them before they were unceremoniously shoved out of the cell, the Purge Trooper in front. Stepping into the hall, Omega counted six other troopers in formation, waiting for them, blasters ready, but not aimed.

Fives huffed as they began walking down the hall, four stormtroopers in front, four in back.

“All this for two clones?” he remarked.

Omega kept her gaze down. “No. All this for one Jedi.”

Fives gave out a bark of a laugh, but then he turned to her and saw that she was not joking.

The shock was enough to make him pause in the middle of the hall, which prompted the trooper behind him to shove his blaster into his back.

“Keep moving!” he snapped.

Fives quickly fell back into step next to Omega, the gears visibly turning in his head.

“But… that’s impossible,” he muttered. “Clones can’t use the Force.”

“Apparently, they can,” she said, glancing around, trying to see if there was any indication as to where they were, but there was nothing. A light cruiser, Fives said. Not a small ship, based on the slightly wider variation of the halls, almost like a mobile base.

“Quiet, scum!” The purge trooper in front called, just barely tilting his head back to them.

They passed over a bridge, and just below them was a free fall, directly into space, the blue of hyperspace streaking under their feet.

A lateral entryway for jumptroopers…

Arquitens-class command cruiser, a voice (that sounded like Tech’s) in her mind supplied. A multi-purpose ship capable of acting as support in battle, providing communications, as well as dispacting patrols. 

Whoever was in charge of this ship would be a prominent figure. Especially if they had purge troopers in their guard.

Unless there was an Inquisitor aboard…

They were taken to a small lift, but there was not room for 11 people, so they paused at the entrance.

“Him first,” the purge trooper said, gesturing to Fives.

Two stormtroopers grabbed the clone’s arms and dragged him in, a commander with an orange pauldron following them in.

“If you try anything, the Jedi will suffer for it,” he hissed, Fives only sneering in response before the door closed.

Omega watched the indicator above the lift show its descent, down further into the ship, stopping for a second before it started to climb back up.

The purge trooper grabbed her arm in a crushing grip that she had half a mind to yank free from, but she knew compliance would be the key to survival for now. Especially with Five and her separated.

The doors opened, and she was marched in, two stormtroopers following them in.

Omega remained silent as the lift traveled down, but a stormtrooper turned his head towards her. “You should have died with the rest of your kind, traitor.”

She didn’t reply. Didn’t he have it wrong?

The lift deposited them on the last level of the ship. Fives and the troopers surrounding him were waiting for them, and they continued their march.

Omega had expected them to be taken to the bridge or an interrogation chamber of sorts, to meet the Imp in charge, but this confused her. The bridge wouldn’t be at the bottom level, this area would be largely reserved for cargo and the conjoined hangar.

Were they being transported? That would be fine, then Omega would be settled at one destination, one place for her brothers to find her, one more Imperial compound for them to storm…

They marched through the cargo area and eventually came across the hangar.

Several troopers were marching through, patrols, mostly, pilots on standby, glancing at the small escort as they made their way through.

Omega eyed the docked TIE fighters. If she could cause a large enough distraction, her and Fives could hijack one of those.

Before she could think too much of it, she snapped her attention forward as they came across a formation comprised of about two squads, standing at attention behind a man in a dark uniform. An Imperial Security Bureau uniform…

Well, Omega was wanted by ISB for her many “crimes” committed against the Empire. Was he handing her over to the Inquisitors?

The man had a smirk on his face as they approached.

“Ah, CE-O-219!” he addressed, holding his hands out. “So good to finally meet you!”

“My name is Omega, ” she corrected, the party just stopping a few feet from the Imp.

“My apologies,” he said, though she doubted he meant it. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Admiral Gideon, commander of this ship.”

Omega said nothing, letting Gideon do the talking. He seemed to enjoy it.

“Let me start by assuring you that I have not yet alerted the Inquisitorious of your presence here. I would prefer to keep Vader’s attack dogs out of my business, as I feel you have something I want.”

She frowned. Imperials who were this transparent were rarely good news. The illusion of charm and allyship, it was a dance she was well-versed in, the master of that sort of manipulation holding her captive for literal years.

“What could I have that you want?” she asked.

Gideon only smiled. “All in due time.”

Omega glanced at Fives, trying to get a read on what he was thinking, but he was as stoic as a soldier could be, nothing to be read from his face other than his contempt for the Empire.

“If you’re thinking about escaping, don’t,” Gideon continued, snapping her attention back to him. “The TIE fighters are accessible only by code, and even if you managed to hijack one, you would need to disengage the tractor beam to make it far enough to escape the range of the turrets. So, unless the first step in your plan is to storm the bridge with just you and CT-5555, I’m afraid that such a venture would be a wasted effort.”

“You underestimate the powers of the Force,” she said ominously, trying to emulate Merrin’s manner of intimidation.

“Perhaps, but I have worked with clones before,” Gideon said, unperturbed. “I know what your kind are capable of. I know the success rate that Clone Force 99 once boasted. But I can assure you now, however competent you think you are, it is not enough for my fully staffed cruiser.”

Before Omega could say anything in response, a deck officer, the one who was waiting for her outside the bacta, approached Gideon, a datapad in hand.

“Sir, we are coming up on the coordinates,” he reported.

“Good,” Gideon said before turning back to Omega. “I almost forgot to mention, I invited a colleague of mine to join us. I hope you don’t mind, but he is someone you are familiar with.”

Oh, Omega didn’t like the sound of that.

She shifted a bit on her feet as the ship fell out of hyperspace. She wasn’t “familiar” with a ton of Imps, but she knew a lot of them were interested in her for several reasons. No Inquisitors, no Vader… that ruled out a majority of the ones she knew of.

She looked up as a shuttle slowly steered into the hangar, like a great monster emerging from the depths of space. No hull markings, nothing remarkable to make it stand out from every other Imperial shuttle, but whether it was because the occupant was being discreet or just an ordinary officer, Omega didn’t know.

She glanced around, trying to gauge the reaction of the imps, to see if that could give her any clue as to who the shuttle belonged to.

Gideon, however, was a blank page, standing with his hands clasped behind his back, a light, almost-smile on his face as he watched the shuttle descend. But Omega recognized the glint in his eyes. That arrogance, the perceived victory over a lesser. It bode nothing well for her or Fives.

The shuttle landed just a short distance from the welcoming party, releasing an excess of exhaust as the boarding ramp slowly lowered, creating a slight, distorting fog around the area.

It cleared up as two members of the Red Guard led the way down, their crimson duraplast armor distinguishing their elite rank and purpose. Just a step below the Emperor’s personal guard.

She locked eyes with one of them through the visor of their helmet and instantly regretted it, a wave of something cold washing over her, a shiver running down her spine as they took their positions, standing at the bottom of the ramp, alert and facing the hangar.

Omega looked up as a third individual stepped onto the ramp, and… the room tilted.

Her head spinning, dizzy and disorienting as if she wasn’t even inside her own body as she almost fell over, just barely managing to catch herself before she collapsed.

Fives glanced at her with concern, his stoic composure breaking just for a second as he so clearly wanted to reach out to her, but restrained himself as she subtly shook her head at him when everything came back into focus.

She fought to control herself, to hide every emotion that threatened to escape her chest, slamming against it in time with her wildly beating heart.

She swallowed the fear, she swallowed the anger that leapt up in her throat as Dr. Royce Hemlock stepped into the hangar.

He had… aged, just slightly in the handful of years that had gone by. His once pitch black hair had hints of gray streaking among the neat, brushed-back locks. The creases on his forehead had only gotten deeper, indicating a long period of frustrations.

He had aged… but he had not changed.

He massaged his left, gloved hand as he examined his surroundings, making a show of it until eventually, finally… finally, he locked eyes with Omega, his calculating, piercing blue meeting her determinedly set brown.

He smiled as he looked at her, keeping his hands clasped in front of him as he made his way over, and it was like she was back on Ord Mantell, staring him down for the first time as he lied and Hunter and Wrecker being in the center of a whole squad’s worth of blasters the only thing keeping her from releasing her bow–

“Omega,” he addressed, his voice calm, pleasant, and straight from her nightmares. “It’s been a… long time since we’ve seen each other.”

He stopped just a few feet from her, pausing as if he expected her to say something or maybe even attack him, but she just remained silent and still, not giving him the satisfaction, but refusing to break eye contact first, mustering up the harshest glare she could, something Crosshair-worthy for sure.

After a few seconds, he only gave a single, small amused hum before he turned to the other clone. “Subject Fifty-oh, my apologies. It’s Fives , isn’t it? Well, I never thought I’d see you out of the bacta tank.”

Hemlock spoke, his voice soft and calm, as if he sounded genuinely glad for their encounter, but Fives remained unimpressed.

“Am I supposed to know who you are?” He asked, staring down the doctor with his own scowl.

“I suppose not, but it could be worth saying, I did try to find a way to save your life. Tell me, how did you manage to survive?”

Fives said nothing, but he unwittingly flicked his gaze to Omega, prompting Hemlock to turn back to her.

“Fascinating. I always knew you’d follow in my footsteps.”

Omega stepped forward, about to launch herself at him, not much of a plan in mind other than to use her fists somehow, but then the two closest stormtroopers grabbed her arms, holding her back as the purge trooper jabbed the end of his staff into her back, a burning seizing at her muscles, a yell wretched from her throat as everything contracted.

Then he pulled back, leaving her to fall to her knees in front of Hemlock, panting and twitching as small spasms coursed through her in irregular intervals.

He said nothing as he watched the display, staring at her for a long second before he turned around and made his way over to Gideon.

“Admiral,” he addressed, and she squeezed her eyes shut, wishing him away, wishing he would just disappear before he continued speaking. “When you told me you found something interesting while investigating Pilal V… this isn’t what I expected.”

“Ah, yes,” Gideon said, the twitch of his mustache the only indication of the glee that emanated from him like arsenic in the Force. “I contacted you right as soon as we discovered CE-O-219, sir.”

Hemlock looked over at Omega, who was still on the ground, a slight lift in his eyebrow before he turned back to Gideon. “Please… address her and her brother by their names,” he said, polite, but with an underlying sharpness as if he was personally offended on their behalf.

Gideon only dropped his pleasant composure for a split second before he drew himself taller. “Yes, of course, sir. My apologies.”

“Well, I imagine we have much to discuss, but if you don’t mind, I would like to get started as soon as possible.”

“Yes, Doctor. The lab has been prepped exactly to your specifications. My men will escort you and your assistant.”

Omega looked back at the shuttle, having completely missed the fourth man who stepped off shortly after Hemlock, and it wasn’t hard to see why.

He was a wry thing, making himself as small as possible, his head held down and fidgeting hands clasped in front of him.

None of the confidence that fueled the sured steps of her sister…

“Thank you, Admiral,” Hemlock said before turning around and started walking away, the nervous assistant quickly jogging to catch up, the Red Guard flanking him.

Omega was hoisted to her feet as he moved past and shoved forward, indicating for her to follow, Fives at her side, four stormtroopers at their backs.

She glared at the ground as they left the hangar, leaving Gideon behind, back through the ship.

She knew she should have been paying attention, memorizing the route from the hangar to wherever she was being taken to now, but she couldn’t look up.

She couldn’t look at Hemlock.

What would her brothers say if they could see her now?

They stopped outside the lift, Hemlock gesturing to his two Red Troopers. Immediately, they moved back, grabbing Omega by her arms and pulling her towards the lift.

“Dr. Pershing, you can take the next one,” he said, sparing a look at his hapless assistant, who only nodded in response before he turned towards Fives. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’d like a private chat with young Omega here. I know you clones are rather… protective over your siblings.”

“Harm her, and you’re a dead man,” Fives glowered, muscles straining against the binders, and if Omega hadn’t known better, she’d say he was five seconds away from breaking them apart.

Hemlock only smiled in response, stepping onto the lift. “No harm will come to Omega while I’m here,” he assured the trooper before the doors closed.

As they ascended, Omega became all too aware of how small the space was. How close Hemlock was. How his presence filled the space like a noxious gas in the air, suffocating her, making her increasingly aware of how loud her heart was in the silence of the lift.

She closed her eyes, and began to breathe out, using the techniques Cal taught her to release her fear into the Force.

“Exhale, and when you do, imagine the fear leaving you through your breath.”

She wasn’t the same kid she was when she arrived on Tantiss. She wasn’t even the same kid she was when she left Tantiss.

It wasn’t just the Force that had changed her since then, or her sabbatical to Concord Dawn shortly after being rescued from Tantiss.

It was the things she did since then. The places she’d seen, the people that she’d met and held on to after all this time. Her brothers, Cal, Merrin, Emerie, Lyana, Haas As’tor… they all were a part of her in some way, changing her at each and every turn.

She could picture their faces now; could feel them holding her up, as if they were connected despite the distance and uncertainty that surrounded her.

“Through the Force, all things are connected, Padawan.”

“I imagine you’re curious as to why I’m here,” Hemlock spoke suddenly, snapping her out of her thoughts.

She opened her eyes, staring at the back of his head as he had not even turned to face her. Maybe it was because he knew that if she saw his face, she’d try to punch his teeth out.

“I’ve been told I’m curious about a lot of things,” she replied, her voice calm.

“Well, let me start by making my intentions clear.” He inclined his head towards her, looking at her from over his shoulder. “I have no interest in whatever you were doing on Pilal V, or your association with Cal Kestis, for that matter. What I want is your knowledge.”

She frowned at this. Knowledge? Of what? What could she know that he already didn’t?

“I would also like your cooperation in my studies here, as well,” he continued, “Dr. Pershing is brilliant… but he’s no Emerie. And, if my memory of our time together on Tantiss is any indicator, he’s not you either. He just recently graduated top of his class from the Imperial Science Academy on Coruscant, but you, Omega… you already have the practical experience he lacks. You were raised by Nala Se in her own laboratory. You can help me in a way he can’t.”

She swallowed, hands curling up into fists. After everything he had done to her, to her brothers, he was asking her to help him?

“If I refuse?” she spat, testing the water, testing him, like he tested her so many times before.

The lift doors opened, and he strolled out, hands clasped behind him as he finally turned around, facing her. He was unbothered, perpetually so, but still… she could see the light crease of his brow, the sharpness in his eyes that never meant anything good.

“Regardless, I will get what I want from you, eventually,” he said, “But it would be… more painful, on your part. And slower on mine.”

He turned around and started walking, the red troopers grabbing her arms and pulling her out of the lift, following him.

“I want to give you a chance to contribute to what could be the scientific achievement of a lifetime,” he continued.

Omega scoffed, having heard that line over and over again throughout her childhood. Nala Se was always chasing that goal, but at what cost? The “achievement” always changed, there was always some new breakthrough to be made, boundaries to be further pushed.

“Which is what?” she asked, glancing around the hall. No personnel to be found, just stormtroopers lining the walls. She wouldn’t put it past Hemlock to have this entire level cleared of all officers except the ones that would make sure she couldn’t escape.

Hemlock glanced back at her. “Cloning Force-Sensitivity, of course.”

Something… cold struck out at her, making her legs go numb. She stopped walking, only to be shoved forward but the red guard, their frustration growing with her resistance, but she didn’t care. There was some buzzing in her ear, the implications of what he said fogging her mind.

Cloning Force-Sensitivity… the one thing the Kaminoans had never been able to do… in the hands of the Empire.

Before she could protest, before she could tell him she would never help him, he continued talking, uncaring of how she began to fight the Red Guard on every step that brought them closer to the lab promised on this level.

“Rest assured, as soon as I have what I need from you, I’ll let you and Fives go. I will not try to find you anymore, and you can go back to whatever inconsequential operation you were running with Cal Kestis… and our paths will never have to cross again.”

“I don’t believe you!” she snapped with all the same ferocity she had that day. “And, even if I did, I would never help you! I can’t help you! What you want is impossible!”

“You're incorrect,” he snapped, turning to her, the sharp tone in his voice shocking her into stillness. He seemed surprised himself, as he took a second, recognizing his own lapse in composure before he straightened up, taking a breath, calming himself down.

“Somewhere in your genetic structure is the secret to cloning Force-Sensitives," he began, his voice controlled before he turned back around. "A secret I will unlock, but I promise, it will go quicker if you help me. Help me, and I’ll help you.”

“You have nothing I need!” she hissed.

He chuckled as they came to a stop in front of a large door. He looked at her for a second before he began to walk towards her.

“But I do.” He placed his hands on her shoulders, holding firm, but not aggressive. Still, she couldn't help the wriggling feeling in her stomach, a sensation that only multiplied tenfold when she saw that knowing glint in his eyes. “How long has it been since we’ve seen each other? Four years? Five? You’ve certainly done some growing up since then… how it must pain you.”

“The passage of time is inevitable,” she hissed with as much conviction as she could muster, even if her heart was still thrumming as wildly as a caged bird in her chest.

“But time passes quicker for your siblings,” he said, “How does it feel to know that… their lives are so short? That they’ll only be half of yours?”

Like an explosion, the Red Guard was thrown off of her.

Hemlock was knocked back and off his feet, slamming into the door with a grunt of pain.

The cuffs fell from her wrists and she extended her arm, Force-pulling the blaster of one of the fallen troopers towards her, but before she could do more than raise it in an armed position, over half a dozen stormtroopers surrounded her, blasters primed and aimed right at her.

“Drop your weapon!” one of them shouted.

Omega stared, half a mind telling her to test them, to see if they could handle what abilities the Force granted her, but… a more rational voice, Echo’s voice told her to stand down, to live to fight another day. She didn’t have her beskar, she didn’t have a lightsaber…

Slowly, she lowered her blaster and dropped it, kicking it back to the Red Guard she stole it from before raising her hands at head-level, surrendering.

Three troopers slowly approached, blasters still raised. “On your knees!” they barked, following her movements as she slowly got down.

They closed the distance, two troopers shoving her down to the ground, face pressed harshly against the durasteel ground as the third cuffed her wrists behind her back before they hoisted her back to her feet.

Hemlock was already up, brushing off his coat.

If he was ruffled by the event, he didn’t show it.

“My apologies,” he said, looking at her. “Perhaps I… upset you. What I mean to say is that… the tragedy of their accelerated aging… it isn’t irreversible. I have access to Nala Se’s research on the mutation. Help me with my project, and in return, we can work on a cure for it. Your brothers can have a longer life. You can have more time with them. Isn’t that something you want?”

“Not this way,” she hissed each syllable.

The sound of boots marching against the floor suddenly echoed across the hall, turning the party’s attention as Fives, Pershing, and four stormtroopers turned the corner, heading their way.

Hemlock looked back at Omega. “Perhaps… Fives will be more forthcoming on the matter.”

Omega’s heart leapt from her chest to her throat as he turned, taking two steps towards the approachers.

“Wait.”

He stopped, slowly turning back, an eyebrow raised expectantly.

Omega clenched her fists behind her back and gritted her teeth before she turned her head down, staring firmly at the floor as her resolve… crumbled? Strengthened? She wasn’t sure which one it was anymore, but she knew one thing.

She couldn’t… she couldn’t let him hurt any more of her brothers. Not ever again.

“Can you… really stop the accelerated aging?” she asked, voice quiet, unable to speak louder, as if her body was rejecting the mental input, unwilling to cooperate with her, with Hemlock. She didn’t want to do this.

She didn't want to do this… but if it meant Fives would be safe, what choice did she have? If it meant she could have more time–

The satisfaction that emanated from Hemlock made the bile in her throat burn, as if the words she said were a physical thing, that merely speaking them could make her throw up from the regret and shame alone.

She didn’t want to do this.

She kept her gaze fixed on the floor as his boots entered her vision.

With his bare hand, he reached out, hooking his thumb under her jaw before slowly tilting her head back up, forcing her to look him in the eyes.

“Get your filthy hands off of her!” Fives shouted, the sounds of scuffling immediately following. Omega winced and closed her eyes as a dull thud resounded through the hall, followed by a brief gasp of pain. She took a shaky breath and opened her eyes again, but didn’t try to turn her head, didn’t try to find Fives, because she knew if she did, whatever facade she was maintaining now would immediately crumble.

Hemlock, of course, ignored whatever was being done to the trooper, keeping his gaze concentrated on her.

“With your help… we can figure it out. Together.”

Omega twisted her face into a snarl before she wretched herself from his grip, the phantom feeling of his fingers burning on her skin.

Hemlock stepped back and addressed the guards. “Take Fives to a cell under triple guard. Allow no one to see him without my expressed permission.”

Omega didn’t watch them take Fives away, only felt his confusion about the whole ordeal through the Force as she reached out to him, knowing he couldn’t reach back. But he felt warm and familiar and the only safe thing here, and he was leaving and she didn’t even know if she would be allowed to see him.

She forced herself to breathe when she wanted to cry instead. Controlling her expression, clenching her jaw in an effort to stop the tears before they could form.

She, of course, failed. The dam breaking when Fives called her name before he disappeared from view, his voice pitched and quick and so full of desperation, like he wanted to be the one to protect her.

The tears were hot on her cheeks, the salt of them stinging her eyes, but she couldn’t wipe them away.

She could only breathe through it, every inhale rattling in her throat as she tried to regain some sort of control over herself before Hemlock could see exactly how much her heart was breaking.

But he knew.

He always knew.

“I’ll give you a moment to compose yourself,” he said, voice quiet and sympathetic, like he was concerned but she knew better. “A uniform has been provided for you. When you're ready, we may begin.”

With that, he turned on his heel, walking into the lab, Pershing quickly brushing past her with only a half-glance to spare in her direction as he followed, the door closing behind him.

And Omega was left in the hall, with the comfort of over a half dozen stormtroopers to witness her breaking.

Notes:

What? Did you expect Omega to have a GOOD TIME while being captured by the Empire? I almost feel bad, I am really putting her through the ringer in this book. Oof.
It's not my fault! Hemlock is an intensely interesting character to write, especially against Omega. That's where the fuel for this story comes from, their hero-villain dynamic, so you can expect more of that, coming up!

Speak of which, I have to be honest, any chapters after this are incomplete. I know where I want to go with this story, but this is where the game gets delayed, my friends, so expect the updates to slow down! My apologies! But, I do also have a playlist for this story too, I might link it here, we'll see.

With that said, thank you and love you all for reading! Pleas leave your questions, comments, thoughts, critiques, jokes, etc.! I love any and all feedback!

Chapter 9: The Pain of Waiting

Summary:

A plan is formed...

Notes:

My friends,

I live!
Sorry I've been like, dead for a few months, but between everything, everything is just... it's hard to find time to write.

I've had half of this chapter typed for a few months, but then I finally pushed out the last half of it yesterday(??) with some refining before work today!

This chapter has like, three different POVs, I think I've made it easy to follow. We get more into the Mantis Crew/Batcher side of things here.

I've gotten a lot of sweet comments over the last few weeks especially that really fueled my motivation, and it is with your kind words in mind that kept me going. So, without much more to say, please, read on!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

And watching, with eternal lids apart,

Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,

The moving waters at their priestlike task

Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,

Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask

Of snow upon the mountains and the moors—

- Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art, John Keats

 



The darkness in the galaxy had grown over the years, shrouding many things in Cal’s mind, but the one bright spot had always been the people he cared about.

When he tuned into the Force, when he reached out to them, he could be safely reminded of the goodness that had not yet been snuffed out by the Empire.

Greez, his high-strung, strain of energy, perpetually filled with anxiety, worried for the many things around him: the integrity of his ship, the safety of the people in it, the quality of the dishes he served. It was… nice, to feel his kind of compassion for the things he held dear.

Cere was calmer, like a cool pond, reminding him of the fountains in the garden of the Jedi Temple. Steady, relaxing. The knowledge emanated from her like ripples across a calm surface, subtle, and not not as obvious as the roaring wave of the ocean, but still just as certain.

Merrin was like if fire was cool, the Force and energy inside of her moving like the flickering licks of the flames she wielded. She was passionate, plain and simple.

Omega was warm, in the way the sunlight on a nice day was warm. She was just… comforting. Even now, knowing she was billions of miles away, as he reached out into the darkness, he felt her… and he was better for it.

She was okay.

Cal, comforted by that fact, centered and narrowed his focus, focusing on his more immediate surroundings.

Energy moved on Pabu like the oceans that surrounded the island. In waves, short and long; rising and falling, constantly churning, but never still, never chaotic. It was a calming movement, the dynamic ebb and flow soothing to Cal’s mind when he tuned into it.

He was kneeling on the veranda of Emerie’s home, the outdoor furniture pushed to the side so he could meditate comfortably.

They had been on Pabu for a day, trying to cobble together some semblance of a plan, and while Cal would usually be a part of it, he knew the turmoil inside of him was still affecting his thinking. So, he meditated, trying to place these fears somewhere safe, not hiding or running from them, but acknowledging them and their place in his world right now.

Thinking out his fears had… actually been helpful, in putting things into perspective, rather than allowing the emotion to overrule his rationale. 

He took a breath, savoring the flow of the Force on Pabu. It was rejuvenating to feel peace . No-one keeping their heads down here, no fear or resentment festering en masse.

It helped him understand why Omega had never mentioned this place before. She must have been afraid of the Empire finding it one day, corrupting it, like they had done so often before, to so many places. She was trying to protect it.

Just as Cal was coming out of his meditation, grounding himself back into the waning afternoon, he felt a presence tug on his mind.

He opened his eyes and looked up.

Lyana, the mayor’s daughter, was standing in front of him, her head tilted as she seemed to be observing him.

“Uh… hi,” he said before clearing his throat. “Can– can I… help you?”

She smiled, but took a step back. “No. I was just watching you. You were meditating, right?”

He quickly rose to his feet. “I was.”

“To help clear your mind, right? That’s what Omega used to meditate for.”

He made a so-so gesture with his hand. “It’s… one of the reasons. I do have a lot on my mind, but meditating helps me center myself, connect deeper with the Force. It calms me down.”

Lyana nodded once before jumping to the next question. “What does the Force feel like?”

Amazing. She already reminded him of his padawan.

He walked to the edge of the veranda and leaned against the small stone wall, contemplating how he could answer. How could he explain it to a Force-null?

Looking out to the island, where the wine-dark ocean was churning, the sun settling itself behind it against a vast orange sky. “It… depends,” he started, “The Force, here on Pabu, feels like the ocean. Shifting, but… content. Calming to listen to.”

Lyana walked over until she was leaning against the wall next to him, mimicking his stance. She was silent for a second, until she spoke again, her voice quieter.

“It’s hard to imagine something so calming can be so scary.”

Cal knew she was talking about the ocean, but… he couldn’t help but think of the Force in that sense as well.

A power, a gift, a weapon, a curse.

Something that was a part of him, no matter how much he may have wanted it gone once. Hunted because he could feel it. It was an innate part of him, whether he wanted it to be or not. How easy it was to get lost in such a thing. How easy it was to fall to the temptations of the Darkness…

“Omega did save my life, once, from the ocean,” Lyana continued.

“During the… sea surge, right?” He asked, looking at her as she nodded in confirmation.

“We were only 12… and it was her first day on Pabu. Hell of an introduction, huh?” She nudged his arm with a slight, short laugh, but there was no real humor behind it. “We took a boat out to watch the sunset, when the water started to recede, pulling us straight into some rocks, wrecking my boat. We were so far out, and the only thing we could do was run. I kept stumbling, tripping, and the water was coming back, the biggest wave I had ever seen before. Probably over a hundred feet tall and heading right for us. I didn’t think we’d make it, I thought it would all slam down on us and we’d never be seen again. I’d never hug my dad again…” Her voice grew quiet, distant, and she was silent for a second as she stared out to the ocean before she took a quick breath and looked up at him. “But Omega… she never lost herself to the panic. She kept me going, long enough for Hunter to come rescue us in the Marauder.

“That’s why I say that, if it wasn’t for Omega… I probably wouldn’t be here today.”

Cal gave the mayor’s daughter something of a faint smile. “Yeah, my padawan is a bit heroic that way.”

Too heroic at times, he left unsaid, but… well, who was he to judge? Like Master, like Padawan…

“I’ll say…” Lyana muttered absent-mindedly before her eyes widened, and a flush overtook her cheeks. “I-I mean, yeah, it’s what she was trained to be, right?”

Briefly, Cal flashed back to what Omega had told him just a few days ago (had it only been a few days? Since this all started? It felt so much longer…).

Lyana Hazard. Omega’s first crush.

Had Cal been in better spirits, he would have found a lot more humor in the situation.

“Right…” he agreed slowly, before he turned back towards the ocean. The sun was almost halfway below the horizon now. The sky was getting darker by the second.

“So… are you really a Jedi?” Lyana asked, thoughtful and innocent in her tone.

Cal laughed a bit. “I really am a Jedi,” he confirmed.

“I’ve just never met one. And when Omega described you, she made you seem… sagely.”

“Ah, no. That’s Cere,” Cal said, “I’m just doing my best, helping people where I can.”

Lyana gave a thoughtful nod and leaned forward a bit. “I just thought you’d be… not so… young.”

Cal snorted. “Did Omega really make me seem that old?”

“It’s not that,” she quickly said, “It’s just… you’re like, my age, but you’re fighting an entire Empire! And I’m… here. On Pabu.”

“Not every fight needs to be a battle,” Cal said, “You and your father, giving these people a safe haven from the Empire… that’s a fight in of itself. You don’t know what peace can mean to someone who’s life is war.”

“I just… I wish I could do more, like Omega,” Lyana muttered, looking down.

“You do plenty, for people like Omega,” Cal assured her, smiling when Lyana’s expression turned confused. “We all need tethers to ground ourselves, and reasons to keep fighting.”

A sense of understanding emanated from her as she slowly nodded. “Now you sound like a real Jedi,” she said, almost as if it was a compliment. Maybe it was.

Either way, he laughed and looked out to the island as the lights of the village turned on. A magnificent sight, it reminded him of fireflies. Even in the dark, the people didn’t hide. They just… shone. As lively as they were in the day, they shone.

It was then that he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Not like when he felt an echo whisper to him, that sensation a quick breeze, but rather, this felt more like the brush of a pair of cold lips, pressing against a sensitive spot on his skin.

He knew who was seeking him out seconds before she actually stepped on the veranda.

“Cal.”

Both he and Lyana turned around as Merrin walked out, something purposeful in her stride.

“What’s up?” he asked as she approached.

“Emerie may have figured out how to find Omega.”

This made him straighten up and, without any other words exchanged, the three of them went back into the home.

The talking went silent as soon as they entered the waiting room, where everyone was gathered.

Cal looked around, and did a double take when he realized that there was an extra face he didn’t yet recognize. A large man dressed in the comfort-style clothing that was indicative of his status as a resident of the island.

“Cal, this is the mayor of Pabu, Shep Hazard,” Phee introduced, having noticed Cal’s lingering glance.

Shep looked at Cal, his expression heavy with the subject matter of the meeting, but upon seeing the Jedi, his expression turned as light and warm as the island breeze. “Welcome,” he said, standing up, shaking with an eagerness when Cal grasped his outstretched hand. “Hunter told me… what you are. But don’t worry, you and your secret are safe here.”

Cal nodded appreciatively. “Thank you.” He looked at Emerie. “Merrin said you figured out how to find Omega?”

The medic gave a solemn nod. “It won’t be easy, but I think if I can access an Imperial data terminal, I should be able to dig through the prisoner records and find out where they took her after Pilal V.”

“Great,” Cal said, looking around. “What are we waiting for?”

Emerie let out a breath. “The terminal will be within an Imperial facility–”

“BD-1 and I have broken into dozens of those, it won’t be a problem,” Cal quickly said. Getting in was always the easy part. Getting out, however…

Well, he hadn’t died yet. What was one more base? He could protect Emerie easily, and there wasn’t a console his droid couldn’t slice through.

“There is one other thing,” Tech spoke up, looking up from his datapad, “The terminals that Emerie are referring to operate with facial biometric scanning.”

“In other words, you can’t slice into the system with a scomp link,” Cere translated.

BD-1 gave a sad boop, his antenna lowering. Cal rubbed the droid’s head affectionately. “Then how do we access the terminal?”

“I just said it. Facial biometric scanning,” Tech repeated, raising a brow.

“It has to scan your face,” Emerie clarified, “To make sure you aren’t registered in the Imperial Security Bureau’s criminal records. I don’t need assistance infiltrating an Imperial base and retrieving the data once the terminal is unlocked, I grew up in them, I know how to act and what to look for.”

“The problem is, if that thing scans Emerie, it’ll recognize her and lock her out of the system at best, or alert the entire base at worst,” Echo explained. “We need someone else to go in with her who won’t trip the system.”

“What about one of them?” Wrecker gestured to the Mantis crew.

“Even if Cal was not the most wanted man in the Galaxy, he can not enter a base without tripping no less than six alarms before he could even reach the terminal,” Merrin remarked, folding her arms across her chest.

As much as Cal wanted to be offended or refute her, he couldn’t.

“Add to the fact that the majority of the Imperial security forces is made up of humans, Greez and Merrin would attract too much attention, even in officer’s garb,” Cere pointed out. “I can sneak in with Emerie and provide support, but I can’t use the terminal either. They registered me when I was captured by the Inquisitors.”

“None of you can do it?” Greez asked, looking at the Batch.

“Hate to break it to you, Greez, but none of us exactly have “unique” faces,” Echo pointed out, much to the chagrin of the Latero.

“Phee?” Merrin looked at the pirate.

She folded her arms over her chest. “Let’s just say, the first time the Empire took Omega, all bets were off with me.”

A quiet fell over them, at an impasse. None of the clones could do it, and none of Cal’s crew could either. There was no one left… until a single voice spoke up.

“I can do it.”

Cal was confident he misheard the speaker, but sure enough, when everyone else stared at Lyana, he knew that she had, in fact, volunteered to break into an Imperial base.

Before anyone could give it a serious thought, Hunter spoke.

“Absolutely not,” he shot down immediately.

“Why not?” Lyana immediately shot back.

“It’s too dangerous for a civilian, let alone a kid. I won’t bring you into this fight.”

“But it’s Omega. I’m already in this fight!”

Hunter folded his arms over his chest. “She would never forgive herself if she knew you put yourself in danger for her sake.”

Lyana did not back down, apparently as every bit as stubborn as the clone. “But she always puts herself in danger to help other people! I want to help her!

Hunter shook his head, unswayed. “You can help her by staying here.”

“But I’m the only one here who isn’t actively wanted by the Imps. You need me to do this.”

Hunter gaped at the argument, and Cal was… impressed. She was so much like Omega, his padawan’s influence over the mayor’s daughter was clear.

The sergeant’s composure did not waver, even as he was rendered effectively speechless, but still, Cal could see the gears turning in his head, the war taking place in his mind. The problem was, he was a soldier who knew the logistics of the scenario, the mission in front of him. There was no way that he couldn’t come to the conclusion that Lyana was right. On the other hand, he was also a father. Where emotion overruled logic… he had to ask himself… was he willing to pull another kid into their fight? Even if it was for his daughter’s sake?

But because it was for Omega’s sake that both paths crossed, just for a single juncture. The logic and the emotion.

The mind knowing there was no other option and his heart wanting his daughter back safe and sound, no matter the cost.

It was at this intersection that Hunter stood for a very long second, undoubtedly feeling the eyes of every person in the room watching him, afraid to say anything for or against, until finally, he let out a very long and very heavy sigh before he slowly, reluctantly, inclined his heads towards Shep, looking at the mayor from the corner of his eyes, unable to face him fully.

“Do you… trust me?” the sergeant asked. It was one father to another. A silent begging, but whether it was to say yes or no, it was unclear. ‘Tell me yes, help me get my daughter back’ could just have easily been ‘Say no, so no more innocent kids can get dragged into this monster of a galaxy.’

Shep gripped Hunter’s shoulder with a set look comprised entirely of paternal ferocity. “You are the only one I trust enough to let her do this.”

Hunter let out another heavy sigh and nodded once before he looked back at Lyana. “Fine. You can go. But you listen to my orders. Any toe out of line, and you’re out. Understand?”

She nodded once firmly, barely suppressing the smile that was fighting its way onto her face.

“She won’t be alone,” Cere spoke up, placing a gentle hand on Lyana’s shoulder. “She’ll have a Jedi with her if things go wrong.”

“Right then,” Hunter placed his hands on his hips and looked at Emerie. “Do you know where we can find one of these terminals?”

Emerie made a gesture, like she was reaching for something near her eyes, then stopped, realizing, before clearing her throat. “Assuming it’s still in operation, there is a terminal on Crais Minor.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Wrecker asked, ready to run all the way to the Marauder.

“How about an actual plan?” Tech pointed out. “We need to figure out how to actually get them both in and out of the facility without alerting anyone to their intentions. That includes schematics, uniforms, and codes.”

“Leave those to me, Brown Eyes,” Phee said with a confident smile. “I know a guy.”

 

The flight to Crais Minor was a tense one.

Emerie almost felt bad for Lyana, who had never been off-planet before. Now, her first journey through hyperspace would be filled with the solemn dread that inherently came just before covert operations; the desperation of the mission at hand colliding with the anxiety of the task before them.

True to Phee’s promise, she had gotten them a way into the base: a stolen Imperial shuttle with a signature key that Tech immediately scrambled so it wouldn’t be registered as stolen.

Emerie sat on one side of the passenger area, facing Lyana and Cere, while Tech was in the cockpit. The three of them were dressed in stolen ISB officer uniforms, the starch material both familiar and not, to Emerie. The texture of the shirt, how it scratched at her skin and remained stiff at the creases and collar reminded her of her old ASD uniform. It trapped the heat just at her neck, but she resisted the urge to tug at it, to feel any sort of levity, knowing a seasoned officer would have grown used to it, or pretended to, at least, for the sake of maintaining an air of professionalism.

She held herself with a high head and an air of disinterest, slipping back into the mannerisms that were beholden to her as Hemlock’s assistant. That sterile composure she was expected to adapt to from an early age. The seriousness she had to exude to demonstrate both in the labs and out.

Cere seemed to adapt as well, not quite holding herself with the same upright rigidness, as she was gently coaching Lyana, who was messing with her own uniform, tugging on the sleeves and messing with the shirt and pants, trying to seek any sort of comfort in the confines of the Empire’s standard.

“Remember, your backstory is that you are a recent graduate from the Officer’s Academy, and this is your first real assignment. Don’t do anything to draw attention to yourself. The key to an undercover mission is to act like you belong, that there is no reason for you to not be there. The second those Imps sense you don’t, they’ll sniff you out.”

“Got it,” Lyana said with a firm nod and a slight smile.

That won’t do , Emerie thought, before she spoke up.

“You’ll need to fade into the background behind Cere and I,” she spoke up. “That will be your job as a junior agent. Don’t speak unless spoken to by a superior, and when you do, answer clearly and concisely. Don’t be smart about your answer either.”

Lyana and Emerie had a good relationship. They shared more than Omega in common.

The mayor and his daughter welcomed the medic with open arms when she wanted to start her life all over after Tantiss. It was Lyana who suggested Emerie become Pabu’s residential medic when all the clone wanted to do was hide herself away in the house they had given her, and pray Hemlock would never find her again. Giving her a purpose in helping people just like her, who came to the island for a fresh start, to forget the horrors that drove them there in the first place. Helped her feel part of her own family after spending so long betraying them, over and over and over…

Lyana and Emerie had a good relationship. So it hurt the older woman now to see the slightest hint of fear creep into her expression.

“She’s right,” Cere said, placing a comforting hand on the young girl’s shoulder. “The Empire quashes any semblance of individuality. If you want to have any hope of blending in, we’ll have to do the same. Emerie knows what to do, just follow her lead.”

Lyana nodded again, growing quiet.

“We are dropping out of hyperspace,” Tech announced.

Emerie took a breath as the shuttle slowed with a lurch, and mentally recited the facts of the base to herself to give her mind something to focus on as they descended into the atmosphere.

Crais Minor was a moon, on the colder side of its orbital path, made up mostly of rocky terrain in which the dark steel military base protruded from. The moon was rich in antalelectruim – a natural ore that tended to disrupt the electric currents of most machines and droids. However, the base was built with this detail in mind, and had a series of magnetic repulsors to negate the effects of the mineral, offering a pocket in which a base could operate in as well as a safe path to the landing zone as long as you stayed within the perimeter of the repulsors.

Tech guided the shuttle through this path, Emerie having the navigational chart of this base memorized since she was seven years out of the tube.

She could hear him now, replying to flight control, sending his clearance codes that Phee had procured for them. They were listed as a personnel transport, cylinder codes containing convincing forgeries of the identities and ranks they were assuming. So long as no one seriously investigated their presence, all would be fine.

Considering the fact that they weren’t hounded by TIE fighters by the time they touched down into the designated landing pad, Emerie assumed that the codes had worked.

“Do you remember where the terminal is?” Cere asked as Emerie stood up.

“I do,” she replied, straightening her hat and rolling her shoulders.

Two floors down, go right at the first fork, to the fourth door on the left that led to the officer’s commissary. The terminal itself would be situated in the west corner, and all they had to do was get through entry security, access the turbolift that would only take them to the floor if they had another clearance code verifying they had authorization to be on that level for today (as the clearance updated every rotation), walk past about three patrol units, and get through another locked door to the actual commissary that could only be opened by those with officer ranking.

“I will remain out of sight, but this pilot’s uniform should, at least, make it seem as if I belong here if I am questioned,” Tech volunteered, waving at them from the cockpit.

“Remember, if things go sideways, the others are in the Mantis at the edge of the system, ready to come and extract us if we need the backup,” Cere said, more to Lyana than anyone else, the young girl listening with wide-eyed attention.

“Understood,” Tech said with a nod before they started to make their way to the slowly descending boarding ramp.

The sign of their white ISB uniforms immediately turned a couple of bucketed heads, but the hangar officers did better at hiding their discernment.

Once they stepped into the hangar, one of the officers walked over to them, puffing out his chest, holding his arms behind his back as he jutted out his chin.

“Lieutenant Folley,” he identified himself. “What brings the Bureau to Crais Minor, Captain…?”

“Se,” Emerie gave him, similarly folding her arms behind her back, standing straight, the posture as easy breathing. “Captain Arla Se. The Imperial Security Bureau has received intel that there is insurgent activity within this sector,” she explained. “We have been sent here to conduct an inspection to make sure the system is functional, should the insurgents decide to target this base. It should not take long. Please, resume your duty as usual, as that’s what we are primarily observing for today. Any attempt to hide your lax in maintaining security now will be futile, hence the reason for it being a surprise.”

She didn’t miss the slight bob of the lieutenant’s throat, but other than that, he hid his fear well.

“I can assure you, ma’am, that we don’t cut corners on this base, especially when it concerns security.”

Emerie did not give any change to her expression, only keeping her gaze level with him. “We shall see, won’t we?”

Lieutenant Folley only gave a slight, controlled smile. “Let me know if there is anything I can assist you with, Captain.”

“Understood.” With that, she nodded to Cere and Lyana, indicating for them to follow her to the lift doors.

Being Hemlock’s assistant, being ISB… it was all the same, wasn’t it? Take command, don’t speak without knowing what you’re talking about, assert your authority as the acting voice of a power much higher than yourself…

“So far so good,” Cere muttered once the turbolift doors closed behind them and began to descend.

“That was the easy part,” Emerie replied, keeping her posture straight. Don’t wane, not even for a second.

“Where do we go from here?” Lyana asked.

“To the officer’s commissary. That’s where the terminal will be, but there will be a security checkpoint just before it,” Emerie spoke, quick, before the lift doors opened.

She took the lead again, keeping her gaze forward and cool as they walked through the halls.

The way the troopers and officers stood at attention the second they sighted her… it was like she never left. Never left her station, her status. When a word from her was as good as a word from Hemlock himself.

When she didn’t fear the power of her own hands; nor the knowledge in her mind…

They came to the security checkpoint where a bored ensign was stationed, not even looking up from his datapad as they approached.

“Name, please?” he asked.

Emerie gave a huff. “We don’t have time for this, ensign.

It was the emphasis on his rank that prompted the officer to slowly incline his head upwards, a skeptical eyebrow raised before he noted the pips on her badge, indicating her “rank”. He sucked in a breath before straightening up.

“My apologies, ma’am, but… it is protocol.”

She gave a slow, accepting nod. “Very good.”

“Ma’am?” the officer asked, obviously confused, but desperately trying not to give any indication that he questioned her station.

“That was what you call a test, ensign, one you just passed,” Emerie spoke, quick, clear, and with confidence, slipping back into her “I’ve no time nor need to explain this to you” voice that she would often implement to whatever underlings Hemlock deemed below his station and instead, turned them over to her so she could deal with them. The expectation that they were to understand her every word, because it was coming from an authority even higher than herself. “No one is allowed to bypass this door without first receiving your clearance. No matter their rank or how they flaunt it. Is that understood?”

The officer relaxed just slightly before nodding, firm. “Yes, ma’am. Now, your name, please.”

Emerie held her hands behind her back. “That would be Captain Arla Se, as well as Sub Lieutenant Merrin Dritus and Junior Agent Juno Maven.” She indicated to Cere and Lyana respectively.

The officer typed in the information, and Emerie did not miss how he paled slightly, hesitating for just a moment before he looked back up at her. “I’m… sorry, but it appears you’re not in the system for access authorization.”

Emerie let out an impatient sigh before glancing over her shoulder. “Something that will have to be noted in the inspection report,” she muttered to Cere, her voice just loud enough for the ensign to hear before she turned back to him. “We have an entire galaxy to maintain. There is no time for officers being stalled because of a delay in the system. Let us in and get your list updated.”

The officer swallowed. “R-right away, ma’am. My apologies.” With that, he stepped to the side and waved them through, the door sliding open at his command.

“Thank you,” she said before leading the way in, not breaking her neat stride, trusting Cere and Lyana to follow suit.

“Impressive,” Cere muttered, when the door closed behind them with a loud, echoing thud.

Emerie could hear the Jedi’s smirk in her tone.

“Thank you,” She returned, much lighter than how she addressed the ensign fighting down her own smile.

She quickly cooled her expression back into the stoic, serious officer she knew she had to be as the lift doors opened, and they continued walking, down the halls, to the commissary.

There weren’t too many officers lingering around, none higher ranking than her at the moment, at least. She spotted the terminal immediately, tucked into the corner of the space. She looked at Lyana and Cere before gesturing for them to follow her before she led the way.

 

Hunter remembered the time when he was not the kind of man to be comfortable with sitting still. When he was not so eager to fight as much as he was just glad to be doing what he and his brothers were created to do: battle clankers, humiliate the separatist dogs, and prove the reputation they fought for .

But then… the war ended. And Omega happened, and… after that, he just wanted to rest . Find something safe for his family, away from the war. Pabu was the perfect solution, and it was just right there… The safety was as tangible as the taste of salt water on his tongue, the sun on his face, the breeze in his hair… Everything he wanted was within arm’s reach.

Until Omega was ripped from him, abducted right before his eyes by a sadistic demagolka whose face still haunted his dreams, still making him paranoid to the point where he would randomly stop whatever he was doing to go check Omega’s room to see that she was still there, panic when he realized she wasn’t, then relax when he remembered she had left, willingly left with Cal Kestis.

And now, here he was again. A man who was not comfortable with sitting still, because every second here meant another second that he was doing nothing to find her.

The thought of her, again captured, again subjected to whatever sadistic experiments the Empire had in mind for her…

He gripped the hilt of his vibroknife tightly, taking a break from the anxious spinning he had previously been doing. He resisted the urge to plunge it into the holotable next to him, knowing that Greez would have made him pay out the ass for a replacement. Either way, he knew it was dangerous to be so far gone in his own thoughts when he should have been engaged to go at the drop of a hat, but he couldn’t help it.

He should have been there for her.

Why wasn’t he ever there when she needed him?

He was snapped out of his thoughts by a shattering noise followed by a quiet stream of muttered curses.

He looked up to see Echo, standing just a few feet from him. A bunch of shards in front of him, caf pooling around his feet.

“Hey! That mug was part of a matching set!” Greeze shouted, the noise prompting him to emerge from the cockpit.

“I’ll clean it up,” Echo grumbled, not even looking towards the Latero.

Hunter studied the former ARC.

Ever since Cal and Merrin had recounted their mission on Pilal V, Echo had been… more withdrawn.

Hunter wasn’t stupid. He knew why, and it wasn’t just the usual stress that came with Omega being in peril.

Fives was alive.

Fives was alive, after all these years that Echo spent thinking his brother was…

Hunter spared a look towards Tech, who was working on a modification for BD-1 updating the droid’s database with newly uncovered Imperial knowledge that would be useful for the many missions he ran with Cal.

He tried to avoid thinking about the time where he thought his brother had been lost, the image of him disappearing into the cloud bank would haunt the sergeant for as long as he lived.

But Tech was alive.

Tech was alive.

Fives was alive, and now, it seemed, in the very position Tech had been in when he was lost.

It must have been some sort of sick kind of deja vu for Echo.

Hunter sucked in a heavy breath, and when the clone in question had finished cleaning up the mug he had dropped, the sergeant got up from his seat and wordlessly grabbed the man’s shoulder.

“Hey, what the–?” Echo stopped as Hunter half-guided, half-shoved him out of the common area, towards the barracks, all the way into the cramped little engine room in the back of the ship, closing the door behind the two of them.

“What the hell, Hunter?” Echo snapped as Hunter folded his arms over his chest, staring at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Something’s bothering you,” was all he said.

Echo snorted. “Astute observation,” he muttered, something bitter and spitting in his tone.

“Can it, Tech, ” Hunter shot back before letting out a sigh. “Look, I know that you’ve got more on your mind than Omega. If you… wanna talk about it, now is the time, ‘cause you and I both know that if you keep shit like this in, you’re more liable to make mistakes, which we can’t afford right now.”

Echo stared for a long second, working his jaw for a long time before finally relenting with a drop of his head, shoulders drooping as he now refused to look Hunter in the eye. “I know it’s… irrational, but… I blame myself. I feel like I should have looked for him, o-or something. Just knowing that he was also kept frozen in a tube for lab experiments…” Hunter didn’t miss how Echo clenched his fist. “And, one of the worst parts of it is… that it was Republic sanctioned. Not Imperial. Not Separatist. The Republic we all fought for did that to my brother, thinking no one would miss him, no one would want to find him…”

Hunter didn’t say anything, knowing it was better to let Echo talk it out right now, get everything he needed off his chest.

“And, it’s just like him, to stay behind to protect Omega after knowing her for all of three seconds,” Echo added.

Hunter felt the smallest of smiles lighten the heavy expression that had weighed on his face for days now. “Yeah she… she does have that effect on clones, doesn’t she?” he asked, tone almost light and as equally tired as the laugh Echo gave in that moment.

“Yeah, that’s true, isn’t it?” he agreed before he ran his hand down his face, shaking his head.

Hunter reached out, gripping Echo’s shoulder again, but this time, with a reassurance. “We’ll find them. Both of them. Not just Omega. We’re not resting until Fives is home too. Got it?”

Echo nodded. “Thanks, Sarge. I think I… needed to hear that.”

Hunter nodded back before patting his shoulder, about to turn away when Echo spoke up again.

“Just think, wherever Omega is, we know she and Fives are giving hell to whatever Imperial asshole is stuck with them.”

Hunter let himself huff out a slight chuckle. “Ain’t that the truth?”

If there was one thing Hunter was sure of, his ad’ika had what Tech called “a remarkable ability to be a handful” wherever and whenever she wanted to be, and that was before she had the Force.

Hunter took a semi-morbid comfort in imagining the pure, indignant chaos she may have been causing at that moment.

He just hoped that, whatever she did… when they found her, she would be in one piece.

He and Echo left the engine room shortly after that, only to find Cal bent at the comm relay in the front of the ship, talking into the mic for a quick second before setting it down, looking up.

“That was Tech. They’re on their way to the rendezvous point. They found Omega.”

Hunter pushed his way forward, past the others. “Where is she?”

Cal stood up straight as Greez fired up the ship, lifting the Mantis into the air. “She’s last logged on an Imperial light cruiser that’s bound for Ojun for fueling.”

“They’re probably transporting her and Fives to an Imperial prison facility for holding until Hemlock gets there,” Echo suggested.

Hunter clenched his fists at the mention of that demagolka. “We have to get there before he does.”

“There is one more problem,” Cal added, looking faint, obviously trying to reconcile the report Emerie had relayed to him. “There is an Inquisitor also inbound for Ojun… on the orders of Darth Vader.”

Notes:

*Empire March Intensifies*

A bit rushed? Maybe? But, Echo acknowledges Fives's existence here, so I have that going for me! Ha!

I've said it before, I'll say it again, there's so much potential in Emerie. If she's redeemed, she absolutely would clown on the Empire, that's my stance. She's a clone, for god's sake! She's got trickery and bullshittery in her DNA!

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, this story is really a labor of love, and I wish it didn't feel more laborious than love sometimes. I got some good bones for the next chapter already going, and, yeah, we're going back to Omega, and, yeah, it's just putting her in the blender, which is what I know you all came here for, haha!
Hopefully, I can get it out quicker this time (no promises), we're going back to Omega!

(P.S., I totally have a playlist for this fic, if anyone's interested...)

Thank you and love you all for reading, and, as always, please, leave your questions, comments, thoughts, critiques, jokes, etc.! I love any and all feedback!

Chapter 10: The Isolation of the Self

Summary:

Omega copes with her new routine.

Notes:

My friends,

Happy finals week! Blessed yule! Ignore my sobbing!
I got this one typed up, somehow, and I have no memory of proof-reading it, but I might have at one point. I'm going radio silence after this for a week again because, yeah, finals. I have an essay and a big exam coming up, plus the holidays.

Anyways, we're back on that Omega angst, which is what I know you're here for! Also, a hint of what I call "Omega lore" i.e., what she did after Tantiss... and some other things.

Thanks to all y'all who keep commenting, even on Remnants of the Republic, like... you have made my heart happy! This one's for you!

With not much else to say, please, read on!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

I gotta thank you for this anger that I carry around

Wish I could take a match and burn this whole room to the ground

Matter of fact, I think I'ma burn this room right now

Somehow, this memory, for some reason, just won't burn down

You used to put me in the corner, so you could see the fear in my eyes

Then took me downstairs and beat me till I screamed and I cried

Congratulations, you'll always have a room in my mind

But I'ma keep the door shut and lock the lyrics inside

- Mansion , NF

 

 

For a single flash of a moment, Omega didn’t see herself when she looked in the mirror.

She saw Dr. Emerie Karr.

Not her sister, but rather, the person she was when they first met, when Emerie was only Hemlock’s accomplice.

Not just from wearing the same uniform, but also the weight on her face, the lack of anything behind the eyes, it was the same as Emerie, when she was detaching herself from the world just enough to make the reality of her actions bearable. Omega could see that same detachment, to the point where she was almost convinced it wasn’t herself in the mirror, that it was Emerie, from all those years ago, staring back with that clinical stoicness, that calculating gaze.

Now, thinking about it, she realized that she wasn’t much younger than Emerie physically was when they’d first met… only another year or two, and she’d be there. The perfect carbon copy, save for the mess of blonde that was pinned behind her head. Not untamed or unruly, but a light imitation of the curls given to her by the Prime. The distinguishing marker, reminding her that she was Omega.

Smoothing out her uniform, she took a breath and stepped out of the refresher, out of her room.

Omega, more or less, had free range of the same level the lab resided on, to wander around as she pleased when not working or sleeping… or, as much free range one can have when their movements were monitored at every second. From the stormtroopers posted in every hall, to the two purge troopers who constantly flanked her from room to room, stopping only at the doors.

To any outsider, it would look like they were flanking her for her protection. If only that was the case. If only they weren’t there, ready to put her down at any given second.

Everywhere she went, she could feel their eyes on her back, especially now, as they made their way to the turbolift. The only other section of the ship Omega had been allowed to access was the dining suite, reserved for the highest ranking officials on board, but even then, all sectors were cordoned off whenever she arrived, save for the hallway leading to the room. She never saw any officers or other ship personnel who’s mission wasn’t to subdue her with force if she so much as moved her arm too quickly.

She slid her access card across the terminal, waiting for it to beep as the door slid open before she stepped inside, the two purge following her before taking their positions at the doorway.

She never could get used to a meal with Hemlock. It was too clean, laden with that Imperial sterile environment. Not like eating with her brothers, where the meal would be filled with bumping elbows, sloshing drink, and rowdy laughter. Wrecker shoving something into someone’s face. Even dinner on the Mantis was cozy. Crowded and diverse, everyone having something different to say, Merrin ribbing Greez, Greez ribbing Cal, Cere wondering if she was truly the only grown-up on the ship.

She missed it, even more so as she took her spot at the table, across from Hemlock and Admiral Gideon… the two worst people to have a meal with, she was finding.

For one, they were both rather talkative, not completely interrogative, but more along the lines entirely annoying. Gideon, for one, had some weird fascination with Mandalorians, and would often take this time to ask her for details about the culture, or demonstrate his own knowledge in an obnoxious way.

“There is something to be said about Mandalorian culture, I think,” he started today’s conversation.

Omega said nothing, not even looking up from her plate.

“Particularly, their usage of beskar as their armor. It is beskar, yes?”

She grumbled some noise of confirmation before taking a loud, obnoxious, slurping drink of her water as he continued talking.

“Yes,” he repeated, “When I first heard of it, how it was near impenetrable, even to the versatile blade of a lightsaber, I thought it impossible… until I saw it in action with my own eyes. It’s amazing, how even the armor itself is a weapon.”

“It’s not.” Omega muttered under her breath, but Gideon heard it anyways.

"I'm sorry?" he asked, actually giving her his attention.

She felt her her expression turn into something hard and glaring. “It’s not the beskar that’s a weapon, it’s the Mandalorian," she replied, firm.

Gideon stared at her.

Hemlock stared at her.

She looked between the two of them before fixing her jaw shut, working it as she turned her gaze back down.

“Well, that certainly sounds Mandalorian to me,” Gideon finally spoke, unfettered by her small outburst. “Which is interesting. I sequestered for my own set of armor from a Mandalorian acquaintance of mine, but to my shock, I was denied. Because I am not Mandalorian, were his reasons. But, to my knowledge, you are not one either, yet you have a set, given to you by Hashii As’tor.”

Omega couldn’t help but grip her fork tighter. “Ni Mando’ade,” she all but spat. “I was adopted into As’tor’s clan when I journeyed to Concord Dawn after Tant–”

She stopped, the word catching in her throat. She could feel Hemlock’s blue eyes piercing the side of her skull. She took a breath and looked back down. “When I was 16,” she spoke, voice more controlled. “More than a clone’s claim to the heritage by virtue of the lessons Jango Fett and the Cuy’val Dar. I was legally adopted, recognized by the gai bal manda.”

“My… apologies,” Gideon offered, though she doubted the sincerity behind it.

She went back to being silent, stabbing her fork into her food, hoping Gideon noticed how easy it was for her to do so.

“But, as I was saying, the beskar, the people. Mandalorians certainly know their war, much like the clones.”

“What choice did they have?” Omega muttered under her breath.

“What was that?” Hemlock was the one who asked this time, his tone more amused this time and she did not miss the slight knowing glint in his eye, knowing he was antagonizing her as a light smile crossed his features.

She stared at him, looking him right in the eye, playing into his game, but not backing down either. “What choice did my brothers have other than to fight in a war for a Republic they’d never even seen, then an Empire that they’d never heard of? If they didn’t comply, they’d be dishonorably discharged at best, or turned over to you at worst.”

Hemlock’s expression did not change. He only looked down at his left hand, flexing his gloved fingers a bit. “The clone’s fates were… unfortunate, but necessary in the name of scientific advancement.”

The glass of water shattered, prompting Hemlock, and Gideon to jolt alike.

Omega just stared forward as the two purge troopers immediately raised their blasters, the sounds of them being primed filling the silence.

“Don’t worry,” she muttered, sarcastically, letting in a mocking of Hemlock’s inflection into her tone. “A Jedi never strikes out of anger, especially to an unarmed opponent.”

Wouldn’t it be so easy to take out the two guards? She could have, it would be simple.

But Fives…

She pushed out her chair. “I’ll be in the lab,” she muttered before heading to the exit.

She could sense the edge that the purge troopers were on as she approached, the two of them stiff, coiled like snakes, hands on their blasters and ready to spring forward and strike if she gave them even the barest hint of a reason.

She didn’t, only scanning her card to let herself out before stepping back into the hall, away from Gideon and Hemlock, at least for the time being.

The guards flanked her as she made her way back to the lift, all the way to the ship’s main lab, apparently retrofitted to Hemlock’s specifications.

Most of the specialization came from the instruments designed for genetic research, and she recognized the tech, too. It was all– at the very least– based on Kaminoan models from nearly a decade previous, upgraded over time, but the fundamentals remained. It was almost like being back in Nala Se’s lab, but without Nala Se.

Omega had no idea if that was better or worse, shuddering as she remembered their last encounter on Maldin Prime.

Nala Se wasn’t in this lab, but, as she walked in, she was not shocked to find Dr. Pershing was already engrossed in his work.

The wry and rather delicate man was, if nothing else, dedicated to whatever he was researching, and entirely cold to Omega.

He only looked up as she walked in, his expression doing little to hide a scowl before he looked back down, resuming whatever it was he was doing before. Analyzing the structure of her own DNA, if she was not mistaken. A sample taken from yesterday, Omega rubbed the back of her hand, over the injection site, remembering the extraction process all too well.

She did not address him as she walked by him, only moving to the decontamination area, scrubbing her hands thoroughly, before she donned a pair of sanitized gloves and moving to her work area.

For the entire time of her captivity, Hemlock had been intensely studying her genetic structure, same as on Tantiss.

She had little idea what he was searching for, what his goal was, but she had several working theories, and all of them had something to do with her uncovered Force abilities.

That was his project. As far as she was concerned, he could do what he wanted with her blood, as long as he left her and Fives alone.

Her project was researching the gene modification that accelerated the growth in clones, more specifically, how to reverse it, and how to reverse it without causing some kind of catastrophic reaction as a by-product of the tampering.

“How was first meal?” Pershing asked, suddenly, catching her off-guard as she was just getting set up.

She looked over at him. He was staring at a datapad, not looking up at her, only halfway facing her, his expression unreadable.

Omega looked down at her work. “Flatcakes were fine, the company was bantha shit,” she said, plain in her delivery, as casual as she could be.

Pershing scoffed. “I figured dining with one of the brightest minds in the galaxy would be more fulfilling.”

She looked back at the wry man. Yes, he was looking at the screen, but he was not reading a single word from it, was he?

Was he… jealous of her?

For a position she didn’t even ask for, didn’t even want?

Her plate was so full of bad things, this was a crumb in comparison to her other troubles. It shocked her, so much so, that she couldn’t help but blankly reply, “Excuse me?” as she realized that this was the source of his animosity towards her. Not because she was, effectively, a fugitive of the Empire and actively training as a Jedi… but because he was jealous of all things!

She almost wanted to laugh, honestly, the whole thing absurd.

Pershing looked at her, finally. “I just don’t get how you could be so… dismissive of the position you’re in. You’re literally the apprentice of Dr. Royce Hemlock , one of the leading minds of cloning and virology!”

The words took a moment to hit her, and when they did, she couldn't help but roll her eyes as she realized where his jealousy was stemming from and was physically incapable of holding back the biting sarcasm in her voice as she replied, “Oh, yeah. I sure am lucky that I’m being forced to work with the man who tortured my brothers and treated me like a lab rat for three years.”

This, at least, made Pershing pause.

Omega looked back down at her work. “Take it from someone who’s known Hemlock for a long time, being his… assistant… it isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

Pershing was silent for a long second, and she could feel the thoughts racing in his head, his shifting confliction as he tried to reconcile her blunt recounting with his idealship. He opened his mouth, about to speak, when the door opened, and in came Hemlock himself, a relaxed expression on his face as he looked between his two assistants.

Whatever Pershing was going to say died then and there, and he quickly hurried back to his work while Omega watched Hemlock for a long second before looking away as well.

“Getting along, finally?” He asked.

Omega said nothing, and he just gave a small chuckle, walking over to them. She would not be surprised if her revile for the man was palpable, even to the most Force-null on the ship…

“How is the growth reduction coming along?” He asked, walking over to her, studying her findings on the screen before her.

She bit the inside of her cheek. “Not well. I can’t figure out how to stabilize the reversal of the mutation.”

He gave a slight hum. “That was my issue as well. The modification was a simple adjustment, but it seems the inverse is not the case…”

“I’m working on isolating the variables now,” she pulled up a helix of her DNA versus a standard clone’s. “There are several variations in my genetic structure versus a standard clone, and that’s to say nothing about whatever mutations we’d potentially find in Experimental Unit 99 that would present an entirely new arena of challenges.”

“Nothing I’m sure you won’t be able to overcome,” Hemlock said, the praise making the barely eaten breakfast in Omega’s stomach churn.

“How complex can reversing the genetic variable be?” Pershing spoke up, prompting Hemlock and Omega to look up at him.

“I’m sorry?” Hemlock spoke.

Omega gripped the datapad tighter out of an instinct born when she was 13.

His voice was calm, but there was a… a certain ice to it, a dip in the tone that created an edge to his words, an edge she recognized too well.

Pershing straightened up, seemingly realizing his mistake in questioning the doctor. He cleared his throat. “I-I mean… if it’s a simple modification, wouldn’t it be easy to compare it to the Prime’s DNA to reverse engineer the process?”

Hemlock only stared for a long second before looking down at his glove, adjusting it. “Tell me, Dr. Pershing… what do you know of Omega’s genetic profile?”

Pershing flicked a glance at her before looking back at Hemlock. “CE-O-217 is an unmodified replication of the Mandalorian Jango Fett–”

“You’re incorrect,” Hemlock cut him off quickly. “That is the file Mistress Nala Se falsified upon Omega’s creation. Had you read the updated file I created, you would know that, while Omega was mostly unmodified, Nala Se experimented with supplementing parts of Omega’s DNA with genes taken from the donor, Juna Nulos in order to replicate the donor’s Force-Sensitivity.

Omega stared at Hemlock.

Her DNA was… what?

She was about to open her mouth to question him, but he continued his lecture to Pershing, not noticing her shock.

“So, you can see, Omega’s enhancement comes from this experimentation, hence, we do not have any samples of the Prime’s unmodified DNA to compare it to. Is this understood, Dr. Pershing?”

The skittish man nodded quickly. “Yes, Doctor. My mistake.”

“Good. That said, where are we with isolating the strains of Donor B’s DNA?” Hemlock walked over to the other man, examining his work now while Omega was left to stare at the screen in her hands.

She had pulled up the profile of her own genetic structure, comparing it to Fives’ for her own purposes.

All this time, she thought she had been unmodified… That was what Hunter had told her, so long ago, wasn’t it? That she was “special” because of her genetic structure.

Juna Nulos…

She had never heard that name before, but it sounded… familiar, at the same time.

She looked up at the bacta tank next to her. It was empty, only the healing substance cycling through the system. For a flash of a moment, in her mind, she saw a woman, suspended within the tank, but in a blink, she was gone.

Omega continued staring, not sure what was going on anymore, what was real and what wasn’t, so lost in her own thoughts that she barely registered the voice calling her name.

“-mega. Omega!”

She snapped at attention, turning to where Hemlock was watching her, an eyebrow raised expectantly.

“Is everything… alright?” he asked, almost like he was actually concerned.

She bit the inside of her cheek, quickly gathering herself. “Perfectly fine,” she muttered, and she knew, not a single person in that lab believed it.

 

The rest of Omega’s day passed as all her days did now.

Hours of lab work, with little success in either figuring out the aging mutation, or figuring out the Force mutation.

This was followed by a late-meal as awkward and terrible as first-meal, this time, Gideon discussing Tarre Vizsla, who was apparently the last Jedi-Mandalorain since Omega blah blah blah, she didn’t want to talk Mando culture with him. He was always so focused on the wrong things. The power, the strength, the weapons. He never figured out the culture, the community. The real minutiae, the substance of the resol’nare. Why her people fought so much in the first place: because they wanted to protect what they loved.

Then another hour or so of lab work, then it was night-cycle on the cruiser.

Night cycle was the only peace Omega could get since she had been captured.

Her room was, she believed, an officer’s quarters, not so cramped, but not luxuriously large either.

There was a conjoining refresher, a bed with a warm blanket and single pillow on it, and a storage container for clothes at the base of it. There was also a desk and a small shelf with a handful of medical texts above it, and a datapad that could do little more than record her observations and notes that was turned over to an actual officer every morning when she left for first meal.

It was a decent room, but once she was inside, she was not allowed out until the day cycle began.

Sometimes she did work upon her return to her room, mostly on trying to figure out what anomalies contained the growth acceleration mutation, but for the most part, she took the time to meditate.

It grounded her. Kept her connected to the Force. It made her feel less alone, and allowed her to process her thoughts and emotions of the day.

It was how she found herself tonight, sitting on the bed, legs folded, posture relaxed, eyes closed.

She reached out, feeling around her, and soon, the constant thrum of the cruiser’s engine faded away, changing into the rhythmic beat of the Galaxy’s heart, the Force, ebbing and flowing and shifting like the waves of the ocean around her, constantly churning…

She reached out.

Far into this oceanic beat, far away from the ship, she reached out and felt… light.

Cal.

Yes, her Master’s presence. Connected, they were, by some invisible thread that could withstand the churning and the Darkness, like a tether in a storm, keeping them fixed to each other.

‘Omega.’

She could hear his voice, even if he wasn’t there, she could hear him, and the pure relief she felt from that fact alone had a sob welling up in her chest, pouring from her lips before she could help herself.

Everything she had been holding back in the presence of Hemlock, Gideon, Pershing, the guards… she released it then, pouring it all out into the Force, out of her, letting herself finally feel it. It was hard, so very hard, to keep hiding behind a mask of disinterest or disdain. She was just so tired and angry. With Hemlock, with her situation, with… with herself…

She didn’t want to be here. She never wanted to be here. She wanted to go home. To the Marauder, to the Mantis, it didn’t matter. Both were filled with people who cared about her, people she loved in return. She missed them all so much. She just wanted to be with them, to see them again.

Omega opened her eyes and wiped the tears off her cheeks, quickly trying to reign herself back in, taking deep, controlled breaths until she had finally calmed down (somewhat).

Taking one last ground breath, she closed her eyes, exhaling slowly before reaching out once more.

She felt Cal again, his presence like rain on a sunny day. Familiar, yet… incredible for her to behold. Rain, for her, had always been accompanied by dark clouds, dark skies, an environmental violence that shouldn't be taken for granted. But rain on a sunny day? It was like her childhood constant in an entirely new light. Cal, the person, was like a brother to her in this sense. But Master Kestis, the Jedi, was just… almost a different person.

But he wasn’t, was he? Cal was a Jedi, and he was her brother.

He just seemed so normal, it was easy to forget the amazing things he was capable of until he was doing them.

She reached back out to him, and was suddenly bombarded by flashes of images in her mind.

Waves crashing on a rocky shore. Lights igniting as the dark of the sky chased the sun away to the straight horizon. The face of a friend, looking out into the distance…

“Lyana,” she whispered.

Pabu. Cal was on Pabu with Lyana.

The images began to shift. Instead of the island, she saw a pau’an in Inquisitor garb, kneeling deeply. Then everything went dark, and she heard the ignition of a lightsaber blade behind her, and she felt someone advancing behind her, walking up to her with a heavy, stalking gate, like a beast cornering prey, and then her back was burning and she cried out, falling forward, landing on her stomach on her bed, as if she had been falling a far distance.

It took Omega a second to remember where she was. Panting, she felt clammy now as a cold sweat damped her skin, making her shudder against the cool air.

What… was that?

 

Omega had not forgotten her vision when she woke up.

It was on her mind as she got ready, tying her hair back, changing into her ASD uniform.

It was on her mind as she ate first-meal, barely able to listen to what Gideon was going on about.

She was, thankfully, able to put it in on the backburner of her mind as she worked.

Analyzing her own genetic structure was her task at hand, at Hemlock’s insistence. Right now, she was comparing three different holos of it. One taken upon her decantation, one taken when she was given an exam on Tantiss, and one from when she boarded this ship.

She had an abnormally high M-count since she was born, but she had not demonstrated any Force abilities until two years ago.

There wasn’t a scientific explanation for that, but she supposed the Force was not a science. That’s what Cal and Cere had often told her. The Force could not be so explained, it just… was.

Maybe… maybe that was the problem.

“Something on your mind?”

Omega looked away from the images she was studying and looked at Hemlock.

She… didn’t want to tell him. She didn’t want to cooperate with him, but… at the same time… Fives’ safety and the amount of freedom she had here was conditional to her cooperation.

She opened her mouth to speak when the sound of the lab doors opening came from behind her, prompting her to turn around.

Admiral Gideon walked in, and looked directly at Hemlock.

“We have a problem.”

His expression and tone was passive enough, nothing urgent conveyed within it. But the unease emanating from him in the Force told a different story.

Hemlock looked at her for a second before he made his way over to the Admiral.

Omega watched as Gideon began speaking in hushed, hurried tones, occasionally glancing at her from over Hemlock’s shoulder before he turned his attention back to the doctor.

Omega slowly turned away, looking down at her datapad, though she did not read a word from it.

She didn’t need the Force to know what they were discussing about her, though she had no idea why. She had been the perfect assistant. The model prisoner.

Were her efforts for nothing?

Well, she wasn’t going down without a fight.

Omega kept her head down, kept herself unassuming as the talking stopped. She listened as they slowly approached her.

“Is everything alright, Doctor?” she asked, keeping her tone even.

“There’s been a change of plans, Omega,” Hemlock replied. “Unfortunately, while I still require your assistance, it seems that… an Inquisitor is on his way to take you to the Emperor. I will do my best to convince him that the best place for you is at my side, but until then…”

She heard the powering up of the blasters, the proximity of the noises telling her where the purge troopers were.

“I’m sorry.”

She ducked under the first stunning bolt, turning around, grabbing Gideon’s arm as she did, pulling, dragging him in front of her as the second bolt was shot, hitting the admiral instead. She shoved him into Hemlock before she pushed outwards with both hands, throwing the purge troopers back with the Force.

One went colliding into a table, knocking his head into the surface, out cold, while the second got his barings, landing on his feet and quickly aiming again. She vaulted over the console she was working at, Force-pulling the fallen trooper’s blaster towards her as she did so, catching it before taking cover as several stun shots rang out.

“What are you doing?” Pershing hissed, cowering just across from her.

“Escaping!” she replied before standing up, aiming her blaster and shooting the purge trooper in the chest before he could shoot her.

With that, she turned back, aiming the blaster at Pershing and stunning him before she started to head for the exit, stunning Hemlock on her way out.

First order of business, find Fives. He’d be on the detention level.

Second order of business, get to the escape pods. Maybe steal a TIE fighter.

Why not? She’s done more on more outlandish plans. She was a Bad Batcher after all.

She was hoping to do this when they landed, but, well, things were in motion, she knew. Things bigger than her. She had to act now.

She shot the nearest storm troopers guarding her, having the element of surprise on her side as she suddenly burst into the hallway.

There were, she estimated, a dozen more troopers on this level, and they would all be expecting her to take the more direct route to the lift. No, that wouldn’t do. She’d have to pick them off, make their numbers go down before she even thought of getting down to Fives, who would be under an even heavier guard.

Instead of going left, directly to the lift, Omega took off, going right, just as the alarms started blaring. She’d have to double back to this point to get back to the lift, but it was fine. She had the schematics of this class of ships memorized since she was 12.

She tucked herself into a hollow right as she heard the thundering of the boots of a squad running towards her. She watched them pass, six of them, rushing past her, heading for the lab, and once the sound faded away, she continued on. How would she pick them off? She needed to get them separated…

They might split into smaller groups, units of two, to cover more ground…

Right, she could handle that.

She took off, going further into the hall and ducked into a storage room, closing the door behind her.

If the imps remained predictable and their patrol tactics hadn’t changed, she predicted that they were going to situate into a “forward loop” patrol of six units, two to a unit, if they didn’t call for immediate backup.

If they did call for backup, well… Omega’d rather not think about that right now.

She got herself situated behind a crate, propping her arms upon the surface and aiming at the door. The second she’d fire her weapon, the noise would alert the others. She’d need to make her shots count– the less time she spent on a trooper, the better.

Eventually, she heard the dull, muffled thundering of many boots jogging in formation along the hard ground, the sound getting louder and louder until it stopped, just long enough for a modulated voice to say, “we’ll check this room” before continuing.

She placed her finger on the trigger and exhaled, right as the door slid open.

She fired off two shots in quick succession, nailing both troopers in under three seconds. Once they were down, she rushed over, hurriedly picking through their gear until she found what she was looking for.

Omega could already hear the boots coming back as she took off, running back the way she came.

“HEY!” a shout came from behind her, immediately followed by the sound of several stun blasts ringing down the halls.

She pressed the button on the electro-detonator and threw it over her shoulder.

There was the brief, realizing utterance of “Grenade!” quickly  followed by the sound of their stunned screaming as the detonator released the stun charge.

Omega couldn’t help but laugh as she continued her run to the lifts. After so long of having to bite her tongue, it felt good to finally be able to dish it back.

A few more stun bolts followed her, none of them hitting their mark, but she took the moment to send her own, much more lethal cover fire back, nailing two, making them scatter before she turned down a corner.

She took a second to catch her breath and realized with a jolt that she was carrying a purge trooper’s blaster.

Modified specifically for…

Well, if it was good enough for her and Cal, it was good enough for the other Imps.

She found the charge relay and activated it, counting two beats before she jumped from behind the corner, right as the rest of the troopers were catching up to her. She nailed the closest one point-blank in the chest, sending him flying back, taking out two others as he collided into them with a dull groan.

Omega stepped back, dodging as the next stormtrooper swept his gun out, aiming to slam it into her head before she did a high kick out, her own boot colliding into his stomach, making him stumble back before she shot him point blank as well.

She looked around at the mess of fallen soldiers for a second before exhaling couching down, liberating a code cylinder from one of them, and continuing her trek back to the lift.

There was no way for her to know how many imps would be waiting for her when she got down to the detention level…

One thing at a time. One Imp at a time.

She took a deep breath when she got to the lift, leaning against the wall. She could do this. She had the Force… and a blaster. Fives was an ARC trooper, still in his prime. Once he was free, there was no one that could stop them.

The ship lurched, the suddenness of the action catching her off guard, almost making her fall forward. The ship had slowed down, she realized. The cruiser dropping out of hyperspace… What had Hemlock said? That an Inquisitor was coming for her? One of those would be difficult to deal with alone, let alone with whatever resources they had brought with them to keep her subdued.

How much of a headstart did she have?

She braced herself as the lift door opened to the detention level, raising her blaster and slowly stepping out.

No one.

No one was waiting for her, not even a guard standing at their post.

This unnerved her. She expected at least two squadrons to be waiting, but…

There was a creeping feeling behind her as she crept further down the fall, like someone was watching her as she tried to keep her steps as silent as possible. There was no way this wasn’t a trap, but what else could she do but walk into it? If there was a chance she could get to Fives before… She had to get to him.

Omega kept herself ready, but every corner she turned revealed another empty hall. The sound of her boots on the floor, despite her best efforts, echoed off the walls, making it the only noise to be heard on the whole level. As she got further in, that creepy feeling intensified, solidifying into a tangible feeling, as a cold brush against her skin, making the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

For a moment, it was like she was back on Pilal V, with Subject 83 stalking her through the vents. But there was no snap-clicking to be heard. Just her, and the mission.

Finally, she got to Fives’ cell, but…

No guard here either? This was definitely a trap…

She plugged the code cylinder into the terminal and kept her blaster braced as the door slid open.

There was Fives, sitting on the bench against the far wall, braced for whomever he had expected to enter, but when he saw it was Omega, and Omega alone with a blaster, he relaxed, though he looked confused.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Escaping, you want in?” she asked, holding up the blaster.

A proud smirk formed on his face for a second as he stood up, and took a single step towards her, but then froze, expression quickly wiped into one of horror.

She was confused, when she heard the sound of a lightsaber, igniting, and was about to turn around when an exploding pain erupted from her back.

“OMEGA!” Fives shouted, somewhere… somewhere near her, she didn’t know where, she couldn’t see him.

All she could focus on, all she could see was the bright red light of the lightsaber blade protruding from her middle.

She started to feel cold, again. As cold as when Subject 83 was feeding on her Force energy, any sense or concept of warmth quickly being forgotten as it was drained from her, all except for that burning of the plasma blade still inside of her.

Then it retracted, and she was just left with only the cold as she fell first to her knees, and then forward, onto the ground.

All she could think about was the pain.

Not Fives. Not Escaping.

Just the searing pain in her muscles, her skin.

 Her vision was going dark, and she knew that was bad, but she couldn’t do anything. She couldn’t move, her limbs felt too heavy. She couldn’t speak, she didn’t know how. She couldn’t remember how to call out to anyone as the void started to swallow her whole. She could only lie there, as she was consumed by the dark, consumed by the nothing.

Notes:

"REYES! Stop stabbing my beloveds!" you might say.

Lol, no <3 :D (She's not dead it's fine.)

But, uh.... it's... it's not going to get easier for Omega in the next chapter (it's actually probably going to get worse). I can't help it, she's my favorite! It makes me want to put her in a blender, lol! But, yeah, we ARE reaching the climax next chapter! I don't have it typed up yet, so I don't know when I'll get it out, but, in due time.

In the meantime, I also created a
spotify playlist for this fic! Check it out if you want! It's got some songs that inspired some scenes as well as some ambience orchestra!

Thank you all for reading, love you all for reading, and, please! Leave your questions, comments, thoughts, jokes, critiques! I love any and all feedback!

Chapter 11: The Daring of a Rescue

Notes:

My friends,

I AM ALIVE!!

I am also SO SORRY!! I've been busy you wouldn't believe, new full time job, school, adulting thingies.
Speaking of adulty thingies, there is what I like to call a "non-explicit fade-to-black" in this chapter between Cal and Merrin. It's like, super prose-y and easy to miss, but I'll make sure it's tagged accordingly.

Also, I would have posted this two hours ago, but then the new episodes dropped, and I was like.... "The readers can wait."

So... how about Point of No Return? (Also, I CALLED IT with Emerie's backstory! Slam DUNK! Victory! HAHAHA!!)

So, uh, please, read on!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings,
Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The long and level sands stretch far away.

- Ozymandias , Percy Bysshe Shelly

 

Everything came in at a blur when Omega opened her eyes.

The red lights, bright dots in her vision. Structures, features of the room around her shifting, never solidifying.

Her head was killing her, she felt like the world around her was spinning in a hurricane and she was just barely holding on, trying not to get swept up in it.

But there was something… in her back– on her back? Something that was burning , painful.

“Don’t fight it,” a voice spoke, from above her. The voice repeated the phrase– no, not repeating. It was… echoing.

She blinked and… there was someone, in front of her, their form shifting but they weren't moving.

She closed her eyes, trying to focus before she opened her eyes again, and things came into view.

In front of her was Hemlock, standing just a few feet away.

She initially jerked her arms, trying to… she wasn’t sure. Get away from him, maybe, but she couldn’t. Her wrists were strapped down to a metallic slab. Not just her wrists, her ankles, her middle, holding firm, kept her from falling forward as the table she was tied to was at an almost 90 degree angle.

“Just relax,” Hemlock said, his voice a coaxing and quiet calm. “You don’t want to reopen the wound.”

She glared at him, clenching her fists.

“Luckily, the Grand Inquisitor intercepted you before you and Fives could escape. Initially, he was upset, but once he evaluated the situation, he, like me, was… impressed.”

She watched as he shifted his glove at the base, almost like he was massaging his wrist…

“Where is the Inquisitor?” she asked, flicking her eyes around the room.

No one but her and the doctor.

“He’s outside,” Hemlock answered, turning away from her. “Whether or not he comes in depends on you.”

Omega closed her eyes, trying to collect her thoughts, but her head was sluggish and uncooperative, it was working slower than normal.

Inquisitor. Grand Inquisitor. The title… they sent the highest ranking of the Inquisitorious after her…

She shifted on the table subconsciously and winced as even that small movement upset the tender wound in her side.

It could be opened… it wasn’t healed all the way…

“You didn’t finish the healing process…” she muttered, the realization slow. “Why?”

It was well within the doctor’s capabilities, the treatment was simple, she knew.

“The Grand Inquisitor demanded it as a punishment,” he answered. “Enough to keep you alive, but also, to inhibit any further escape attempts.”

She watched him as he kept his back turned towards her. Something was… different. He kept his left hand firmly behind him, not using it to assist in whatever he was preparing, but more than that, his hand was balled into a tight fist, and, even through the leather material, she could see how hard pressed it was, like he was holding something back.

She closed her eyes, reaching out, towards Hemlock, something she didn’t like to do.

His presence in the Force was unmistakable. Where he stood came… well, she thought it was a lash of an icy, cold wind, but really, it was more apt to describe it as an absence of heat. Like a vortex, anything light and good that came into proximity of the doctor was pulled in and morphed, the warmth gone and destroyed, the light flickering out like a dying candle, the goodness suffocated as it was stamped out by something else, something that was just terrible.

But… within the dark cloud that was Hemlock, there was… something else. There was pain. A stabbing, sharp pain that Omega felt as her own the more she focused on it, the sensation shooting up from the bones of her left hand, lighting the muscles on fire, enough to make tears prick at the corner of her eyes.

By the time Hemlock was done and turning around back toward her, she was staring at him. He looked visibly unsettled by her calm composure, but quickly gathered himself. He opened his mouth, probably to address her sudden serene, but she beat him to it.

“What’s wrong with your hand?” she asked.

His open jaw became slack for a moment, but as he processed the question, he snapped it shut. “I don’t know what you’re–”

“I worked with you for three years,” she cut him off again. “And not once have I ever seen you take your glove off…” She looked him in the eyes. “You’re in pain.”

Hemlock worked his jaw for a long second before he turned away again, as if he could somehow avoid her gaze this way.

“I had… forgotten how… perceptive you were,” he said, voice suddenly low, a hint of mirth lifting it, but only slightly. It reminded her of back on Tantiss, it was the tone he spoke in when he wanted something out of her, but knew she wouldn’t compromise easily. When he was most impressed with her, when he was calculating how much he was willing to give in order to allow himself to take.

He took another long second before she eventually heard the rustling of fabric as he turned back to her, facing her again as he slowly slid off the leather glove.

Instead of the pale fleshy tone that she was expecting, the skin was… gangrenous. Rotten black and gray with patches of infected green— she was surprised he still had a hand and wondered why he hadn’t had a prosthetic replacement.

“It’s worse than it looks,” he said after she had a chance to have a good long look, his voice more pronounced, more factual as he slipped back into his professional cadance.

He flexed his fingers, and she saw how his expression tightened at the miniscule movements. “It’s only gotten worse over the years. As I’ve taught you before, actions have consequences.”

He looked at her, his expression… frighteningly blank. “It is fatal. I’ve been treating myself with a formula injection that I devised, but…” He started to slide the glove back on. “I can only delay the inevitable. I can not stop or heal it.”

He flexed his fingers as the glove was refitted. “So you can see why I took a… shine to you, all those years ago. I’ve been dying since before the day we met. And I need something I made to continue beyond me. I need someone to take my place, who can carry on my work. I need you, Omega.”

She could only stare at him, stunned and horrified, as what he was saying processed in her mind. Not the part about him dying, she could have been doing cartwheels on Mustafar and kissing gundarks with tongue with that kind of news.

She started shaking her head as he approached. “No… No…” was all she could say.

“You’ve been fighting against the Empire for more than half your life, Omega, and you haven’t even made a scratch. Why not join them? Your mind is brilliant, and under my guidance, it can be unparalleled. You and I can do very great things. We can push the boundaries of science. We can make the Galaxy a better place.”

She swallowed bile and closed her eyes as he stopped, just at her side, leaning in.

“I can protect you from the Inquisitors. You can keep Cal’s location a secret. You can keep your brothers safe. The Inquisitors act on Lord Vader’s will. But I act on the Emperor’s.”

She just kept shaking her head, trying to block him out.

She could feel Hemlock stare at her for a long second before he let out a heavy sigh, stepping away.

“Then I can not help you.”

She watched as he left her field of vision, stepping somewhere behind her as she heard the sound of the door open.

Immediately, she felt a rush of cold air that sent goosebumps up her arm as a heavier set of footfalls resounded behind her. Heavy boots, carefully paced, thudding until the pau’un from her vision stood before her.

Inquisitor garb, she knew, and a circular blade at his hip. His eyes were yellow, and he walked with a certain regalness that was befitting to an Imp of importance.

“Grand Inquisitor,” she hissed.

“Very good, CE-O-219.” He was complimentary, but she could hear the condescending sneer in his tone regardless. “You’ve been very good at eluding the Empire since your… escape from Tantiss.”

Omega said nothing. She only kept her gaze fixed forward as the Grand Inquisitor circled her chair.

“Of course, there was a minor hiccup in which the Twelfth Brother somehow managed, but… well, we both know you escaped Maldin Prime with the help of Cal Kestis. Your… master, correct?”

Omega still kept her mouth firmly shut. Even snark was dangerous.To say a lie would reveal what wasn’t true, in doing so, it would reveal part of the truth.

“It’s interesting,” the Inquisitor continued, despite her silence, stopping in front of her. “That a Jedi would train a clone. Was it not your brothers that struck down his master before his eyes? Was it not your brothers that exterminated the Jedi Order?”

Omega fixed a glare at him.

“They didn’t have a choice,” she snapped.

“Oh, but your brothers did, didn’t they? Clone Force 99 did not fulfill Order 66, which is why you get a pass, isn’t it?”

“I know what you’re trying to do,” Omega spat. “I will never tell you anything.”

The Grand Inquisitor just smiled, casual as could be. “How many padawans do you think have told me that? How many Masters do you think have said those exact words, strapped down just like you are? What makes you different from the other Jedi I have broken?”

“I have people looking for me right now. They’ve never let me down before. They won’t let me down now.”

The Inquisitor took a step towards her, and she fought the urge to press herself back into the table, wanting to create as much effort between them as possible, an effort she knew would be pointless.

He held up his hand, palm facing her, as he closed his eyes.

Omega clenched her fists as she felt it.

The Force, slamming into her forehead like a drill bit.

She gritted her teeth, trying with everything inside her to resist his effort in probing into her mind.

She slammed her head back against the table as she squeezed her eyes shut.

She had done this before. She had done this before. She didn’t break the Twelfth Brother, she would break for the Grand Inquisitor.

But why did it feel worse?

Not just worse, but… stronger.

She couldn’t keep him out, no matter how hard she tried, and suddenly, it felt like a pair of metal claws had hooked into her brain, latching on, a hot, stabbing pain digging into her brain.

‘Get out…’ she thought, ‘Get out of my head!’

Where is Cal Kestis? a voice replied.

She could feel herself writhing in the chair, straining and struggling against the bonds. She tried to force herself to think about anything, literally anything else than the answer to that question.

Hunter, Tech, Wrecker, Crosshair, Echo. Hunter, Tech, Wrecker, Crosshair, Echo.

Hunter, Tech, Wrecker, Crosshair, Echo.

Don’t think… don’t think!

When it all stopped, sudden and without warning, it felt like she came crashing down and back into her body, falling slack into her bonds, head hanging forward, no strength to hold herself up any longer.

“You’re more resistant to a mind probe than I initially thought,” the Grand Inquisitorspoke from somewhere above her. “No matter. Persistence leads the path, as I’m sure your master has said.”

She felt his gloved hand grip her jaw, painfully digging into the muscle and flesh as he tilted her head up, forcing her to look at him.

“Let’s try something else, shall we?”

She yanked her head out of his grip, looking away, as he took a step back and raised his arm again.

Knowing what was coming, she squeezed her eyes shut and began to build up her mental barriers.

Don’t let him in, don’t let him in…

She felt the Inquisitor push against the wall she built, trying to gain access to her mind, but she held firm. Hold him back. She could hold him back as long as she needed to. Cal or her brothers would come for her.

‘What makes you so sure?’ a voice inside her asked.

‘They always have,’ she replied, trying to quash that doubt. It wasn’t hers. There was no way she doubted her brothers or her master.

How long did it take for them to rescue you from Tantiss? Almost three years? What makes you think you can hold out for that long again?

Omega grunted, feeling herself lose some footing against the Grand Inquisitor.

‘They’ll come for me. I don’t care how long it takes, they’ll come!’

By the time they find you… it will be too late.

Omega moved to slam her head back into the table, but before the back of her head could hit the metal, she was falling backwards. Full body, pitched into the darkness, stomach lurching, body tensing, as she was falling, falling somewhere, she couldn’t tell, even when she opened her eyes, the world had become a black abyss.

This… is your future.

She landed on something hard, the impact painful, sharp pricks racing up her nerves, but… nothing broken. Just hurting.

Grunting, Omega braced her arms against the featureless ground and pushed herself up to her feet. She took in her surroundings, which wasn’t hard, there was nothing to take in. She couldn’t see anything but herself.

Nonetheless… she couldn’t help but get the sense she was not alone…

“Hello?” she called, instinctively reaching for her holster, but then remembered that, frustratingly, she had not had access to a gun for a while…

Well, her Master always said the Force would be her greatest weapon… or was it her ally? Either way, it was all she had now.

Slowly, she crept forward, but hadn’t even taken two steps when the lights turned on.

Well, sort of.

She was in a lab, but with how dark it was, the lights looked like they were on the night cycle. Still, she could make out the room.

It looked like the small lab they found Fives in, complete with the bacta tank in the middle. The transparisteel was frosted over, but she could still make out the silhouette of someone within the tank.

Omega looked around, making sure no one else was in the lab before she crept forward towards the tank. When she got close enough, she reached up, wiping the condensation off the glassy surface, revealing their face.

She screamed.

She screamed and backed away as quick as she could, but that didn’t change what she saw, what she was still seeing.

That didn’t change the fact that she saw herself in the tank.

It didn’t make sense. She wasn’t in the tank, she was outside of it! But why did she see herself in it? She saw herself, standing still on the other side of the class. Her eyes were closed, but the expression on her face was serene, like she was sleeping, peaceful, oblivious. Snowy, crystalline patterns dusted her skin, flakes of white caught in her hair.

It didn’t make sense. She wasn’t… she was outside that tank. She was warm, and free, and awake and moving.

Wasn’t she?

Everything disappeared then, and she was falling again, but this time, when she hit the ground, her eyes snapped open, and she was back, strapped to the table, the Grand Inquisitor in front of her grinning a horribly sharp-toothed grin.

Omega didn't realize she was crying until she felt the tears prick at her eyes before– against her will– they broke free, traveling hotly down her cheeks, one after another, dripping from her chin.

She turned away from him, not able to look him in the eye as a sob hiccuped from her chest. She wanted to disappear right then. She wanted to be anywhere so that no one could see her cry. She knew better than to show weakness in front of the enemy, but… seeing what she did, seeing herself…

“So this is what CE-O-219 is afraid of,” the Grand Inquisitor taunted lowly. “Being forgotten. Being left behind… Becoming an experiment in a tube.”

She clenched her hands into fists. “Stop,” she whispered.

“Your brothers will never find you. They will perish long before you will, whether it be from the might of the Empire, or their astronomically low life-spans, it doesn't matter.”

“Don't!”

“The same with your master. Cal Kestis will move on from the failure you've become, like Cere Junda did with Trilla. But the Empire won't kill you. No, you will outlive them all as Hemlock’s pet.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to drown him out.

Hunter, Tech, Wrecker, Crosshair, Echo…

“But you could be so much more. Join the Inquisitorious, and you will never be helpless again. You can keep working on fixing their accelerated aging. You can keep them safe.”

“I don't believe you!” She hissed.

“Your new family would never abandon you. You would truly be their sister.”

Omega finally looked at the Grand Inquisitor, fixing her harshest glare she could muster. “Cal would never abandon me. Not just because he's my master… but because he's my friend.”

The Grand Inquisitor only stared at her for a long second before letting out a relenting sigh.

“Perhaps some more… quality time with Hemlock will change your mind.”

She kept her hardened expression fixed even as the table began to tilt backwards from her slightly inclined position. The gears made a dull whir- ing noise until the table was completely horizontal, and they locked into place with a hissing noise. She stared at the ceiling even as Hemlock entered her field of vision again.

“It's… remarkable,” he started, his soft voice a comforting murmur. “You look so much like Crosshair when he first came to Tantiss.”

She said nothing.

She portrayed nothing even as she heard the distinctive warbled thrumming of a probe droid.

“Normally, I'd equip these with a… concoction of my own design. But, I'd rather keep your blood free of any potential contaminants.”

She heard the crackle of sparks flying between the prongs that jutted out from the droid’s arm, a brief noise. A warning, really, of what was to come.

“Let's make this simple. The Grand Inquisitor would like to know where Cal Kestis is.”

Nar sheb, skanah, ” she hissed with as much contempt as she could muster.

Hemlock only stared at her before letting out a small huff of laughter, as if her cursing entertained him. “I’d figure you’d say something like that. Let’s see if we can jog your memory.”

Omega could almost swear that her heart was beating in time to the humming of the droid as it hovered closer and closer, prongs inches away from her neck. Centimeters away, closer and closer, the electricity crackling right before it closed the distance.

And then she saw white.

 

Cal shot up, gasping for breath.

His whole body was sore, and he could still hear the ringing of Omega’s screams in his ear–

“Cal! Cal, breathe!”

He didn’t realize Merrin was calling his name until she wrapped her arms around him from behind, almost restraining him. He clenched his fists as he did what he was told.

He breathed.

Shaky, controlled inhales as he realized it was… it was just…

No.

No, it wasn’t just a dream.

“It’s Omega,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “She– uh…uh, the-the Inquisitor, he–”

Stars above, he couldn’t even say it out loud.

He could only nurse the wounds that weren't his, the burning fading into the same level of obscurity as his dream, where he could recall none of the finer details, but the sensation still lingered, dulled more and more by the second.

But Merrin understood this. She understood the reluctance, she understood his pain.

He squeezed his eyes shut as she pressed her dark lips against the back of his neck, causing him to involuntarily shiver from the sensation.

“We will get her back,” she muttered, voice quiet and soft. “We will not stop until she is back.”

He wanted to believe her. He wanted to believe her so badly. But what if they were too late?

He didn’t voice this fear, afraid that this, too, would be made more real if he said it out loud.

Instead, he just gave her a quiet “yeah” and shifted, turning in her arms.

In turn, she trailed her hands up his arms, fingernails raking along his skin until she was lacing her fingers into his hair, twisting and tightening her grip just gentle enough to be pleasant, but firm enough to be almost commanding. She guided him down until their lips met, the sensation pleasant and grounding, but still somehow making him feel like he was in the middle of a typhoon.

He gently grabbed her by her waist and pulled her closer, into his lap.

He needed to not think right now. He needed to focus on anything but what he had seen. He just wanted to get the image of his padawan strapped down to a table with her most hated person standing over her.

Merrin was a good distraction, but…

When she had fallen back asleep, both of them spent, her head was laying on his chest, rising and falling with his breath.

Merrin was a good distraction, but it was still on his mind.

Cal looked down at the Nightsister. Her ear was pressed over his heart, and he would feel it beating against the weight of her. The fine hairs on her head tickled his bare skin. He lightly trailed his fingers up and down her back, tracing the tattoos there, the repetitive motion soothing him and occasionally making her shiver.

He let out a sigh and looked up at the ceiling of the ship.

Despite the sweat, despite the tiredness of his body and inability to catch his breath… he was still wide awake, and he knew he would remain that way until the beginning of the day cycle crept in, bringing him back to sleep, a short slumber that would bring no relief.

It felt like no time had passed at all when his eyes shot open suddenly, Merrin shifting above him.

She kissed him quick and slid off of him, off the bed, getting ready for the day.

He rubbed his face before following suit, and soon enough, they were walking into the galley of the ship.

Everyone else was up and ready, which made sense. They were set to drop out of hyper-space soon.

“Eat up, kids,” Greez said, sliding two plates across the table towards Cal and Merrin.

Cal looked at the plate of flatcakes before looking at Greez.

“Build up your strength,” the Latero explained, waving him off.

Cal just sucked in a breath and took the plate before he sat down. The flatcakes themselves weren’t bad, but with the churning in Cal’s stomach, the nightmare fresh on his mind, they might as well have been made of ash and he wouldn’t have noticed the difference.

He didn’t know how close they were to their destination. He only knew that the only thing between him and his padawan was an entire Imperial facility, and an Inquisitor.

He liked those odds, especially when he knew he wasn’t going to be alone.

BD-1 hopped onto the table next to his plate and gave a small, inquisitive bwoop?

Cal gave a small smile and rubbed his head. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

There was a beeping from the cockpit, the noise prompting Greez to scurry over, hopping into the chair. “Better hurry up and eat, kiddos! We’re coming up on the Ojun System!”

At this, Cal looked towards the others.

The expression on Merrin’s face had turned into her usual stare of neutrality, the kind where he couldn’t tell what she was thinking, save for the piercing glint that caught in her eyes. This glint, he recognized, as a fierce eagerness. Ready, she was, to tear into the stormtroopers who had kidnapped her sister.

Cere, however, looked neither determined nor resigned. Her expression was hardened as well, but with a much more serene lightness that signaled to Cal that she was resolved. She was ready.

When she looked at Cal, their eyes locking, he knew that, with the Force with them, this was right.

What they were doing was right, and Omega would be safe and back on the Mantis by the end of the day.

“Dropping out of lightspeed! Come grab some seat!” Greez called from the front.

As Cal stood up, walking over to the cockpit, taking his seat next to Greez right as the bright blue lights stilled into the darkness of space, he resolved himself.

No matter what, no matter how they found her… Omega will come home.

 

“Enough.”

Hemlock watched as the probe droid hovered a few inches back. Omega, slumped further into the table at the reprieve. Her eyes were unfocused. Her chest rose and fell with great height as she panted, hard pressed to catch a full breath between the screaming.

“Why did you stop?” the Grand Inquisitor snapped from behind him.

The doctor did not take his eyes off the clone. “There’s only so many volts of electricity the human body can endure before it starts to give out,” he reminded, pointedly. If there was any doubt to his words, a mere glance to the young girl would have given it away. Omega’s eyes were dark and sunken, her skin glistening with a sheen of sweat. The lack of sleep and consistency of pain was clearly getting to her. “She has not given anything up in three days. Now, correct me if I’m wrong, Grand Inquisitor, but I have stated that I need her alive to fulfill the Emperor’s goals, have I not?”

“The Emperor would also like the location of Cal Kestis. She can not continue like this for much longer,” The Grand Inquisitor replied, tone clipped, before turning to the stormtrooper operating the droid. “Continue.”

Hemlock said nothing, only watching as Omega, in a brief moment of lucidity, stiffened up, fists clenching, limbs straining against the restraints as the probe droid hovered back into position, sparks flying between the prongs before plunging forward.

Her screams filled the lab once again, drawing out the sound of the door opening behind them.

It wasn’t until Admiral Gideon entered his peripheral did Hemlock turn around, the Grand Inquisitor following suit.

“Anything yet?” he asked.

“CE-O-219’s resolve has proven stronger than I initially thought,” The Grand Inquisitor answered. “But I believe that we will have our answers soon enough.”

“Interesting,” Gideon said, jutting out his chin before looking at Hemlock, “I would have thought a man of your talents capable of extracting vital information much more efficiently.”

Hemlock turned his back to the admiral, flexing his left hand as he stared at the girl.

“Omega has always been a particularly defiant subject,” he started, “I attribute it to her volatile upbringing at the hands of Experimental Unit 99. Even on Tantiss, she was difficult to reign in without the… correct incentive. Now it seems that she has grown even more stubborn in our time apart. Even with threats to Fives’s wellbeing, she still has yet to yield any desired results.”

He could feel their eyes on him as the droid operator halted the probe, retracting it again.

Omega was crying.

Not a sniveling whimper, not a pathetic whine. Not a single undignified utterance came from her lips, but she was crying all the same. Silent in her pain, the tears flowing freely from the corners of her eyes, running down her face, disappearing in her hair.

Her chest shuddered with each rattling gasp of an exhale; the only other indication of her distress as she stared, fixated, on the ceiling, though Hemlock doubted she was processing much of it.

Gideon stepped forward at that moment, past the doctor and the inquisitor, his dark cape trailing behind him as he held his arms behind his back.

“I must applaud your strength, Omega. Truly, you are a pride to your Mandalorian heritage.”

She said nothing. She gave no indication that she even heard the admiral, but he nevertheless continued.

“While you insist on your silence, I regret to inform you that it is futile. If a rescue was coming, don’t you think your Master would have found you by now?”

Slowly, Omega shifted her head as far as the bonds would allow until she could look Gideon in the eyes.

“Cal would never abandon me,” she hissed, her throat probably too raw to speak much louder, “Not just because he’s my Master… but because he’s my friend. He will find me.”

Hemlock could see the corner of Gideon’s mustache twitch as he looked at the young clone in what seemed to be amusement.

“Do you really think you can hold off until he gets here?” he challenged, “You and I both know that you can not continue on like this, that your body or your mind will give out sooner rather than later. It’s only a matter of time.”

With that, he stepped back, looking at the drone operator, and nodding.

Without much fanfare, the trooper returned the nod before pressing a button, the probe droid descending one more time.

Hemlock barely heard the sound of the lab door opening behind him over the screaming, so similarly, he did not turn around until the officer entered his field of vision.

“Sorry to interrupt, sirs, but we have a situation,” she started, holding her hands behind her back, appearing calm, but the doctor didn’t miss the slight hesitancy in her voice; news she was reluctant to give.

“What sort of situation?” the Grand Inquisitor asked, jutting his chin out, peering down at the officer.

“Perhaps it’s best we hear this outside, without the…distractions,” Gideon said before the officer could have a chance to speak, his gaze flickering to Omega for just a second. With that, he led the way outside, the silence an adjustment once the door closed behind Hemlock.

“We have a security breach,” the officer started before presenting them with the datapad she was holding behind her back. “There have been reports of intruders on the base.”

The Grand Inquisitor took the device from her, surveying it for a long second before, to Hemlock’s surprise, his expression curled into that of a grin before he handed the datapad over to the doctor.

He watched as the screen replayed footage from one of the hallways of the facility. Five distinct figures moved, efficiently, through the narrow corridor with ease, taking out every trooper as they went without a break in their stride.

Hemlock could recognize the first four without issue.

He was so very familiar with Clone Force 99. How they moved, how they fought, their capabilities.

The other thing he recognized was within the fifth figure. Cloaked, their face shrouded from the camera, but identifiable completely by their lightsaber.

The Jedi led the Bad Batch, deflecting the blaster fire from the Imperial soldiers with ease while the clones returned cover-fire; a scene reminiscent from the Clone Wars.

“Looks like the Master has come for his Padawan afterall,” the Grand Inquisitor muttered when Hemlock looked up before he turned to the officer.

“Reinforce security outside the ship. Cal Kestis must not be allowed to reach the clone.”

“Yes sir,” The officer nodded before promptly turning around, walking away before the Inquisitor turned to Hemlock.

“Have the padawan loaded onto my ship under triple guard. Once I have captured her master, I will be taking both of them with me to Mustafar so that Lord Vader may procure the answers you have failed to yield.”

With that, he turned on his heel and followed the path of the officer, several of his purge troopers following suit, leaving only two of the red troopers to guard the lab.

Gideon huffed, watching the Inquisitor’s retreating back before turning to Hemlock. “You think he would be able to see the innovations your project with the clone would yield,” he muttered, “But I wouldn’t worry. The Emperor will see that your agenda is much more advantageous to the Empire than his zealot expedition.”

“Thank you, Admiral,” Hemlock said, nodding his head, “I’ll be sure to tell the Emperor that you understand his vision.”

At this, Gideon smiled in the way a charmed senator would. “I hope what you have gained from our ventures tie you over until the clone is yours again.”

Then he left, retreating in the same manner as the Inquisitor.

Hemlock, similarly, watched him leave before he looked down at the datapad. Clone Force 99… Hunter, Tech, Wrecker, Crosshair, fighting as though time had not touched them…

He flexed the fingers of his left hand before he turned his gaze upwards, at the door to the lab.

Something… was off, he knew.

He had dealt with these clones before, and studied them well.

There was something off, in his mind.

But he couldn’t quite figure out what.

 

The sound of blaster bolts whizzing past his head, the heat of a gun in his hands.

His breath, loud in his helmet, the condensation damp against his face.

It was all so familiar to Hunter, the story of his life, the very thing he had been created for.

“PUSH UP!” he shouted over the noise of battle.

Stormtroopers shooting at them, them shooting at stormtroopers, boots on the hard floors, alarms blaring throughout the base.

A lightsaber led the charge, the blue blade dancing back and forth, equal parts keeping them shielded from enemy fire in the narrow-ish hallway of the Imperial base, cutting down swarths of troopers, guiding them closer and closer to their goal.

Hunter himself pulled up the rear, watching their backs, making sure no man fell or was left behind.

One stormtrooper tried to charge after them, only to be met with the former sergeant’s accurate marks to their bucket and chest.

He kept backing up, all the way until they reached their destination; the turbolift, lowering his blasters only when the doors were sealed and they were traveling down to the base’s detention level.

He took several deep breaths, the sudden quiet almost as bad as the sounds of battle.

“The guards will be waiting for us,” Crosshair muttered, cutting through their silence, his gaze focused up, at the little display screen that indicated what level they were currently at, watching the number go down.

“Keep a narrow formation,” Hunter ordered, brisk. “Sword and shield.”

Rarely had he ever executed this maneuver, rarely ever serving with a Jedi in the Clone Wars.

He imagined, from time to time, how it would feel if Omega was the shield, the one with the lightsaber, leading the charge like the Jedi generals had. How would that be for Hunter? To see his ad’ika leading their squad? He had no doubts that his heart would be bursting with pride, barely able to contain the sight, but at the same time…

The lift shuddered to a halt then, too soon to be stopping. Hunter looked at Tech, about to question if he had done something when they started to rise, the floor number increasing.

“That can’t be good,” Wrecker muttered, renewing his grip on his blaster.

Tech quickly plugged his datapad into the terminal’s controls, his eyes rapidly sweeping back and forth over the data before he let out a concerning hum.

“Talk to me, Tech,” Hunter said, bracing himself against the rising motion.

“It appears that someone else has overridden the turbolift’s controls, and we are on an ascent to the 25th level. I am, unfortunately, locked out,” Tech reported, looking back at them.

“What’s on the 25th level?” Wrecker asked.

“Based on the schematics, this lift is taking us right into the main hangar, primarily used for unloading the abnormally high amount of freight ships that pass through here due to the fact that this facility doubles as a distribution and handling center for military cargo. Considering its optimal position amongst Imperial trade routes, this does not surprise me.”

“The main hangar?” Hunter echoed.

“Open ground,” Crosshair muttered. “They’re planning to surround us or pick us off.”

“Be ready.”

Hunter renewed his stance, ready to fire in any direction as the lift started to slow down.

Above them, the ceiling started to open, and, as they emerged from the ground, they were greeted by the sight of no less than two platoons of stormtroopers on all sides. This, along with the squad of purge troopers that flanked an inquisitor who watched their arrival expectantly… well, it did not bode well for their situation.

Hunter immediately aimed for the Inquisitor as the Pau’un stepped forward.

“Clone Force 99,” he greeted. “I’ve heard so much about you from your… little sister.”

Hunter had to fight the growl that clawed its way from his chest.

“It was a valiant effort, and you made quite a mess on your way up, but I’m afraid it ends here. Lay down your weapons or forfeit your life.”

“Hand over the kid, or walk out of here with a normal-sized forehead,” Crosshair called.

The Inquisitor did not seem phased by the threat. Why would he, when he had no less than a hundred Imps ready to fire on his command, ready to take out four aging clones and a lone Jedi.

“No need for such threats, CT-9904,” he addressed, tone light. “Surrender now, and you can see your sister again. You, Cal Kestis, can be reunited with your Padawan.”

The air grew tenser as he addressed the Jedi, Hunter could feel it. The permeation of countless eyes staring in a sick anticipation, and none of them belonging to a friendly face. Countless hands, ready at the drop of a pin to end their lives.

His heart was loud in his chest, beating against his armor as, slowly, the Jedi raised a dark hand and lowered the hood that obscured their face.

The slow slacking of the inquisitor's sharp grin into one look of aghast horror was something Hunter would savor for the rest of his life.

“Thank you, but I’m afraid my padawan is busy elsewhere. A reunion will have to wait.” Cere docked her lightsaber at her side as she stared down the Inquisitor, and Hunter could hear the smug grin tugging at her lips.

He braced himself then, as a chorus of blaster fire resounded from the guns that surrounded them, ricocheting in echoes off the durasteel walls, making it sound like there was so much more than there actually was. He braced himself, waiting for the fiery sensation of hundreds of bolts nailing his body to be the last thing he ever felt, but… that feeling did not come.

Instead, they froze, suspended in mid air as if an invisible bubble had formed around the clones.

When he realized he was not dead, Hunter turned towards Cere and realized that she must have been the one to accomplish such an impossible feat. She was holding both arms out to her sides, eyes closed, a strained expression on her face. Slowly, she brought her arms inwards, palms still facing out until they were in front of her chest. Opening her eyes, she threw her arms back outwards, pushing.

He felt a gust of wind brush through the breaks in his armor, but to the stormtroopers that surrounded them, the effects were more drastic.

The bolts they had fired, previously caught in whatever Force bubble that had surrounded them, were returned, shooting back towards the very soldiers who had discharged them, many troopers falling to the barrage, while others were thrown back by the simple force of Cere’s actions.

“Secure the hangar!” she shouted, turning back to the clones. “I’ll deal with the Inquisitor!”

She didn’t wait for them before rushing forward, engaging the Inquisitor who had ignited his own lightsaber in response.

Hunter tore his focus from the rapid clash of red and blue, instead, turning to his brothers.

“Crosshair, make your way to the rafts and cover us from above. Wrecker, Tech, and I will do a systematic sweep to clear out the rest of the Imps to secure the hangar.”

With that, they broke into action, rushing forward, taking on the hangar, moving to fortify their position against the oncoming army.

 

The one thing Cal would never grow used to was traveling via Nightsister magick.

It gave a great lurch in his core, making him feel like he was free-falling through a dark abyss. Not only that, but it was cold. Not a simple chill, but a bitter cold that bit into his skin, almost like the air was biting at him.

Overall, the whole thing felt like plunging into a lake on Ilum, but without the volcanic geysers to warm the water.

And when it felt like he couldn’t stand the sensation anymore, his feet were slamming into the ground without warning, catching him off-guard, and he would have fallen had Merrin not caught his arm and steadied him.

Echo didn’t fare much better, it seems, falling over as well, barely catching himself on a cargo crate.

“Remind me to never travel by Nightsister again,” he grunted, holding a hand against his helmet.

“Fine. You can take the long way next time,” Merrin retorted, dry in tone.

“BD, can you pull up the schematics Tech gave you?” Cal asked, crouched down so the stormtroopers in the hangar wouldn’t see them.

The little droid gave an affirmative bwoop before projecting the little blue holo-map of the light cruiser they had snuck onto. A little yellow indicator showed their position in the hangar, hidden among the crates of supplies they had ended up behind.

“Fives’s prisoner number has him located here,” Echo pointed with his scomp to a room on the detention level of the ship. “And according to Tech, the lab will be on this level,” he pointed to a different floor, one above them.

Cal gave a nod as BD removed the map. “We need to hurry. They won’t be able to keep the hangar locked down forever. Omega and I will meet you there. I’ll comm when we’re on our way.”

“Don’t come back without her,” Merrin said. Her words and tone were threatening, but Cal knew what she meant.

“I won’t,” he promised.

She nodded once before leaning in, pecking his lips for just a quick second before turning away, her and Echo traveling further down into the hangar, while Cal went in a different direction, heading for the nearby maintenance shafts.

“Every ship has ‘em. Scrapper’s honor,” he muttered to BD-1 before he used the Force to rip the grate open.

The droid gave him an amused whistle as he slid inside the narrow entrance with practiced ease, disappearing further into the ship.

 

The jump to the detention was easier for Echo to process, from what Merrin could tell.

He still stumbled, catching himself on the wall this time, still groaning while holding his scomp link to his helmet.

“Still don’t like traveling by Nightsister?” Merrin asked.

He didn’t say anything, only shaking his head before straightening up.

“Let us move, then,” she said, leading the way down the hall. Fives should be down this hall.

Echo said nothing more, falling into step with her easily. Merrin understood his sudden stoicism. If given the chance to see just one of her sisters again, she would not waste words or time either.

They went down the cell block without much interruption. Most of the forces were on their way to the facility’s hangar or guarding Omega. No one cared about Fives.

No, that wasn’t true. Two people cared, and they were going to get him out of this horrid place.

When they got to the cell with his number on it, Echo scomped in, his gaze, though hidden behind his helmet, was intense, Merrin knew. Focused, the anticipation forming a tension in his shoulders.

The lock disengaged, and the duo quickly slid in once the door opened.

“Fives?” Merrin hissed, eyes adjusting to the low light of the cell.

Across from her, a figure shifted, having been on their back, laying across the metal bench fixture, now propping themselves up into a sitting position, turning towards them.

Merrin ignited a green fire in her palm, holding it up so she could see.

Sure enough, it was the clone they were looking for, squinting at the sudden light until he realized who it was.

“Merrin?” he asked, clearly stunned, but quickly catching up to what her presence here meant. He shifted his gaze past her shoulder and jutted out his chin. “Who’s this?”

Merrin said nothing as her partner stepped forward.

“I’ll try not to be insulted,” he retorted, even-toned, but Merrin did not miss the strain in his voice, how tight it had become.

He removed his helmet and gave the other clone as close to a smile as he could muster.

Fives tentatively stepped forward as well, his expression slowly easing from a scrutinous frown to a slack-jawed disbelief.

He reached a trembling hand forward, gently pressing it against his brother’s cheek, as if afraid that, when the distance was closed, the other would disappear.

But his brother did not disappear, only staying put now, allowing Fives to realize who was standing before him.

“Echo?” he asked, his voice just barely more than a whisper.

The older clone just nodded before pulling Fives into a deep embrace, the latter laughing, returning the gesture in full.

“Look at you!” he cried when he pulled away, both hands cupping Echo’s face. “You got old!”

Echo scoffed and shoved his brother. “You lost your hair,” he retorted.

“Your’s is going gray.”

“I guess that means I’m the older brother now,” Echo smirked.

“Heh, you’re just jealous because I’m still the handsome one. Right, Merrin?”

The Nightsister in question merely rolled her eyes before poking her head out of the cell, making sure the coast was clear. “If I were to pick a clone, it would be Omega.”

“Fair enough,” Fives muttered before following her out after taking the blaster that Echo offered him.

“We have Fives,” he reported into his comm. “We’re proceeding to the hangar to provide backup.”

“Copy that,” Hunter’s voice crackled through the device, though it was difficult to hear him through the sound of blaster fire in the background. “Greez, how are you looking for an extraction?”

The noise that came from Greez’s comm was overwhelming. Multiple sirens rang out from the Mantis, warnings and system failures, the whole thing insistent and annoying.

“HORRIBLE!” Greez shouted, making Echo and Merrin flinch from the volume, “I got more TIE fighters on my tail than a bantha has bloodflies!”

“Is there any way you can shake them?” Echo asked.

“If I could, I would have done it by now!” Greez’s pure exasperation towards the question was nothing short than obvious.

Echo looked at Merrin and Fives. “We have to do something. Tech’s in the hangar and there’s no way he’d get to the Marauder in time to give him cover for our escape, not even with your Nightsister magic.”

“Why don’t we steal one of the Empire’s ships?” Fives suggested. “I was in the hangar. I know a fighter when I see it. All we have to do is hijack one and get them off your guy.”

“I… guess it could work,” Echo considered, “But TIE fighters are two-seaters, and they’ll more than definitely be locked down. One of us will need to sneak onto this cruiser’s common bridge to deploy it.”

“I can do it,” Merin volunteered. “It will be simple, and once you two help Greez, I can rendezvous with the others in the hangar.”

“The command bridge may be heavily guarded. You sure you can take it by yourself?” Fives asked.

Merely merely smiled, the sight making the two clones step away from her on instinct. “I can handle myself,” she assured them.

Echo nodded before raising a hand to his comm. “Hang tight, Greez, we’ll give you some backup soon.”

“I better not get shot down while waiting!” The latero replied.

With that, they broke off again, this time, Merrin using her “Nightsister magic” to transport herself up to the top level of the ship while Fives and Echo snuck back to the hangar.

Once outside the large door that separated her from the command bridge, she pulled out her knife, stalking forward as she sent a blast of her magick to the control panel, shortening it out, making it open without her having to break her stride.

Just as the officers inside realized what was happening, she threw her knife into the chest of the nearest one, discorporating, crossing the distance, and re-emerging as they were still collapsing into the seat behind them, removing the knife and disappearing again.

She appeared behind an officer who had reacted the quickest, pressing a button to the ship’s comms.

“Requesting back up in the- augh!”

He didn’t get to finish that sentence.

Merrin grabbed him by the back of his hair, yanking his head back before slamming it forward into the controls, knocking him unconscious before he could send out a proper alert.

She let go of him, disappearing as two officers began firing their blasters at her, and reappeared between them. Using her magick to transform her knife, elongating it into a staff, she twirled it at her side, building momentum before she ducked down, sweeping out, knocking one of the officer’s legs from underneath them before moving back up, knocking he other’s blaster out of their hands with the dull end before slashing them across their chest with the bladed end.

She twirled her staff, slamming it down, sharp end first, into the stomach of the first officer before they could get up, removing, their body stilling with a grim finality.

It was then that she heard a whirring behind her, the sound of a blaster behind primed, and she cursed herself for being so careless.

“Do not discorporate, Merrin,” the voice behind her calmly spoke.

She stiffened up, the prospect of an Imp knowing who she was vastly sickening.

“Yes, I know all about you, and what you can do,” the voice continued, “That’s why I have on me a communication device that, with the press of a button, will not only alert the Inquisitor, but two red troopers and a squad of purge troopers to Omega’s location. They will be alerted to Kestis’s plan before my body hits the floor, and that is not a complication you can afford, now is it?”

Slowly, Merrin sheathed her knife and raised her hands to head level before turning around, trying to make her actions as non-threatening as possible.

Standing with a blaster aimed at her forehead with one hand, and a cylinder comm device with a thumb hovering over the trigger in his other, was a dark man. His uniform was different from the officers he had just killed. While his was just as evenly pressed and flatteringly tailored; over the dark material, he wore a set of black plastoid armor which had an elegant cape attached to it. This, along with the pips on his chest declaring his rank, all spoke to Merrin, telling her she was in the presence of a very high-ranking Imperial.

Normally, she did not think much of high-ranking Imps. It had been both her understanding and experience that the more decorated men in the Empire did not earn their accolades through actions like honor and valor. Rather, it was more common the case that an Imp with power obtained it by already being in a beneficial situation that allowed them effortless favor. Fat with the spoils it brought and none of the wisdom that came from labor, these men, once getting a taste of what control over others felt like, often over-indulged themselves on that high, gluttons for making other individuals feel beneath them, and all they had to do was what they were told.

Content and ignorant, those sorts of officers were always delightfully easy to take down because, when faced with what actual effort looked like, they had no idea how to actually work to maintain their gotten goods, relying on intimidation to secure it.

But then… every once in a while, there was an Imp in power because they had truly earned it… and those sorts were worse. Projected into power by skill and propelled forward because of their effort and ruthless lust for command, the ones who earned their rank knew how to hold onto it, knew what to do when encountering a problem that would jeopardize their standing. They could not be so easily toppled.

Merrin knew, just by looking at the confidence this man held himself with, that he had earned his rank.

“Let me make this simple,” he started. “I am Admiral Gideon. I know that, right now, two clones are on the verge of hijacking one of my TIE fighters to assist your friend, Greez Dritus. I know that the Jedi fugitive Cal Kestis is currently making his way to his apprentice, CE-O-219. However, I also know that, if you wanted to, you could kill me without much effort, so I have a proposition. In exchange for my life, not only will I allow you to dispatch the TIE fighter and give you my communication device, but I will also reveal to you the last known location of a Nightsister survivor.”

It was as if the temperature in the room dropped. Merrin knew, as the familiar itching in her palms demanded her attention, demanded she turn it into fire. But she resisted, refusing to show this Imp his words had any effect on her.

“Why should I trust you to tell me the truth?” she asked, tone even, but clipped, letting him know her patience regarding her sisters was not something to toy with.

“You can not,” he answered simply. “If it is any consolation, this is not information I would otherwise barter if my life was on the line.”

Merrin considered this.

She knew men like this Admiral Gideon. She had been manipulated by one for nearly half her life. Malicious had lied to her for years, grooming her for his own advantages, for his own agenda. She suspected that this Admiral was lying to her as well, but…

If there was a chance… to see her sisters, just one of them, one more time… would it be so wrong for her to take it?

“Very well,” she relented, “I will leave you your life, for now, but… if our paths cross again, I will not hesitate to show you what the wrath of Dathomir truly looks like.”

The corner of the Admiral’s lips twitched, as if her threat had impressed him.

“As I have no doubt you are capable of following through,” he replied before lowering his blaster, this thumb leaving the trigger of the communication device as he set it down, kicking it over to her. “The planet you’ll want to search is Arcana. Once a stronghold for your Nightsister ancestors, it has since become a graveyard of ruins. A perfect place for hiding, if you ask me.”

Arcana.

Merrin committed the name to memory as she bent down to retrieve the communication device.

She heard the clicking of a blaster, which was all the warning she needed, dodging to the side, rolling behind a console as a bolt soared past where her head had been a second ago.

She rolled onto her hands and knees, pulling out her knife before she stood to her feet, jumping to the side, throwing her knife and discorporating before his next round of blaster fire could hit her.

The knife hit the blaster out of the Admiral’s hands, falling to the side, but Merrin reappeared, grabbing it before it hit the ground and disappeared again, reappearing right before Gideon, plunging the blade into his shoulder, just beyond the break of his armor.

He cried out, crumpling against the control panels behind him, Merrin following his movements, keeping the knife buried.

“I could have killed you,” she said, casually, ignoring his pathetic gasps and groans. “But I did not. Always remember that me missing your heart was intentional.”

With that, she finally pulled her knife out, the Admiral making a strangled, gurgling grunt as he sank against the control panel behind him, no longer supported by her hold.

She flicked the blood off of her blade, making a mental note to clean it later as she grabbed the Admiral by his good shoulder and threw him to the ground, out of her way.

“The command bridge is clear,” she spoke into her comm as she started reading through the controls. “Are you in position?”

“We are,” Echo replied. “Deploy TIE fighter 110901.”

Merrin quickly started typing, disengaging the locks as she engaged the take-off sequence.

“Here we go!” Echo’s voice crackled through her comm, almost drowned out by the roar of a TIE’s engines. From the viewport, she could see a TIE shoot out from the ship, flying out of the facility’s hangar.

Almost immediately there was an alarm coming from the hangar before a voice resounded through the console’s speaker.

“Command Bridge, there is an unauthorized take-off of a TIE fighter!”

Merrin cleared her throat before pressing the respond button. “The fighter had been cleared for take off. They are… running a test on that unit’s hyperdrive.”

The individual on the other end of the line was silent for a second before speaking again. “Hyperdrive? Who is this? What’s your identification code?”

Merrin stared at the controls for a long second before unsheathing her knife again, plunging it into the circuits, digging until the sparks died down and smoke started rising from underneath the panel.

“What a terrible conversation,” she muttered as she pulled her knife out, turning around, quickly making her way out of the command bridge.

Notes:

I don't care, I'm only retconning SOME of my stuff, I've been planning this story for months!

I've been trying to write this chapter, but it wasn't until I had a breakthrough YESTERDAY that I pushed through the last several bits and now my hand is kinda cramping and seizing up! Hope you all like it!

Thank you all and love you all for reading! Please, leave your questions, comments, jokes, thoughts, critiques, etc.! I love any and all feedback!

Chapter 12: The Tears of a Reunion

Summary:

The siege of the Ojun Base continues...

Notes:

My friends,

I have finally pushed through the block I have been facing from this chapter for the last 'mumble mumble' months... Yeah, I'm publishing this around 2:30 am local time, so uh... yeah. Listen, I never meant to leave you all for so long, I just literally have a full time job and bills to pay. I got to adult and that takes up way more spoons. Also, I came up with like, 7 more fanfic ideas since then.

I retconned some stuff because the last time I posted on this, it was April and the Bad Batch was still airing, so I modified some stuff to kinda fit more with cannon/the ending. That does become more evident in the next chapter! I'm surprised how much I got right, tho, and how much can still fit with cannon! Yay!

I have no idea how coherent this author's note is, like I said, it's 2:30am, I just got off of work 2.5 hours ago. Maybe I should wait until morning, but insomnia says no.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Go froth arrayed in panoply divine;

That angel pureness which admits no stain;

Go, bid proud Man his boasted rule resign

And kiss the gold sceptre of thy reign.

- The Rights of Women , Anna Letitia Barbauld



“Whoo! This thing has some kick to it!” Fives yelled over the roaring of the TIE’s engines.

Echo glanced back towards his brother, who sat in the cockpit while he himself manned the guns, picking off the other TIEs that flanked Greez.

“You’re telling me! I can hardly keep up with you!” he called back before returning his attention to the targeting system. He could hardly keep up with Fives’s erratic maneuvering, he was missing more shots than when Tech would fly them through a dogfight.

“If you two clowns want to get these Imps off my hide today, that would be great!” Greez’s voice crackled over their comms.

“We’re working on it!” Echo replied, but his declaration was also rendered moot when the fighter was rocked by a series of enemy fire, barely deflected by the fighter’s shields.

Gritting his teeth, he focused on the targets before him, lining up the shot, and when the first TIE was in his sights, he pressed down and watched as it was destroyed in a hail of green blaster fire.

Fives laughed. “Just like the simulations!”

“You’re crazy if you think this is anything like what those long-necks put us through!”

His brother’s reply was cut off by another rain of enemy fire.

They had at least three TIEs on their tail, two on the Mantis. Their shields wouldn’t hold up forever…

Echo focused on one fighter. Compensating for Fives’s defensive maneuvering, waiting, then pressing down on the guns again.

He managed to clip the wing of the enemy fighter, and watched as it careened to the side, directly into the flight path of another TIE, the impact resulting in a flaming ball of twin wreckage that hurled to the ground. The next one went down similarly.

“Get us in front of Greez!” Echo called back to Fives.

“On it!”

He felt the inertia acting on his body as his brother pressed forward on the steering yoke, pushing their fighter to go faster, catching up to the luxury yacht until they were flying above it.

“Keep on his flank, I’m going to try to pick them off!”

“Look at you, giving orders! You sound like Rex!”

Echo suppressed his grin as he focused on his fire. Even after all these years, their banter came as easily as it always had… maybe less had changed between them than he initially feared.

 

From time to time, Cal wondered if he would have been this good at sneaking around if he had been a conventional Jedi; if the Order hadn’t fallen.

He couldn’t help it, climbing up three floors in a maze of maintenance shafts was second nature to him at this point, and it left him plenty of time to think, and think he did. He considered the fact that he was really good at sneaking around Imperial bases, crawling through the vents and avoiding patrols, getting out when he accidentally set off alarms.

He doubted Tapal would have been as efficient in stealth, his master had a towering figure that was more effective for strength than stealth or acrobatics.

Though, maybe if the Order hadn’t fallen, the events that facilitated his acclimation of superb sneaking skills wouldn't have transpired. Maybe he would have been a good Shadow, or if he had never even been born a Jedi, maybe he’d have made a decent enough outlaw, and still become good at sneaking around Imperial bases.

These were the thoughts that occupied his mind when he was only a floor away from where Omega should have been kept, and, so far, he hadn’t run into any Imperial patrols, setting a new personal best for the longest he’d gone undetected.

The quiet wouldn’t last, he knew. There was no doubt that his padawan would have been under heavy guard, and when he found her, reinforcements would be called in.

That was fine, he could deal with reinforcements, and, if anything, he’d call in his own. Merrin always loved taking down Imps.

Finally, he made it to the end of the maze, and slowly, he lifted the grate up and poked his head through.

Nothing.

“All clear, buddy,” he whispered to BD-1 as he crawled out, closing the grate behind him.

BD whooped his relief quietly as Cal looked down both directions of the hall.

“Can you show me the map?” He asked when he was sure no one was going to bump into them, and BD complied immediately, lifting his head over Cal’s shoulder and projecting the blue holo.

Cal studied their position carefully and considered the easiest path to the lab. “It looks like there’s a lift just down the hall,” he muttered, pointing. “We might walk right into them, but it’s our best shot.”

BD retracted the map and settled himself as Cal carefully made his way down the hall, but before he could turn the corner, he heard the approaching footfalls indicative of Imperial duraplast boots.

Quickly, he pressed himself against the nearest wall and listened as the patrol got closer…

“I can’t believe the Grand Inquisitor trusts me to escort the prisoner! My reputation must be spreading,” a modulated voice boasted, the echo reverberating across the walls.

“Don’t flatter yourself, trooper. You just happened to be standing there when I needed a grunt,” a much darker, more warped voice replied.

Cal frowned and lifted his head to see the patrol as it started to pass.

Four stormtroopers… but two red troopers. Omega once told him they were some of the most elite members of the Imperial army.

This said, they didn’t matter to Cal. What mattered to him was that they were escorting a gurney between them, an all too familiar person strapped down to it.

His padawan.

Cal would later be ashamed to say that he didn’t think before rushing forward– he just did it.

He dispatched the four stormtroopers with ease, and, while the red troopers put up more of a fight, by the time Cal was extinguishing his blade, he was surrounded by smoking shells made of duraplast armor and panting from the effort to keep the skirmish short.

He wasn’t aware that BD-1 had left his side until the little droid was gently nudging Omega’s arm with his leg, perched upon the edge of the gurney.

Collecting himself, he quickly joined the two and worked on undoing the binds around her wrists and ankles, the locks disengaging with a satisfying hiss and click.

He looked at his padawan then, examining her, afraid of what the Empire had done.

Her face was paler than usual, but relaxed, not indicating any subconscious pain, which was good. But he was afraid it would not be the same when she woke up, but he needed her awake now.

“BD, stim, please,” he said, holding out his hand as the droid immediately dispensed a small canister for Cal to catch.

He took a breath before injecting it into her arm, the green liquid quickly dispersing upon contact.

It wasn’t even a few seconds before Omega shifted on the table, brow furrowing, muscles tensing.

BD nudged her hand with his head, and she responded by raising a shaking arm and rubbing his head, a sluggish reflex.

Cal swallowed as she slowly opened her eyes and looked around.

He didn’t know if her vision was blurry or not, but it took her a second to look at him, and… she smiled.

Despite everything, she could still smile.

“Cal.”

Her voice was hardly more than a whisper, but it still filled him with immense relief. “It’s alright,” he quickly assured her. “I’m here, we’re getting out of here.”

She sucked in a deep breath before nodding, slowly moving to sit up.

BD looked up at her and booped with concern.

“Like I got run over by a bantha, but I’ll live,” she replied, voice slightly stronger as she rubbed the back of her neck.

“Can you stand?” Cal asked, but he didn’t wait for her to answer, immediately grabbing her wrist and pulling her up the rest of the way, holding her against him with her arm over his shoulders and his other hand around her waist.

“How will we defend ourselves if someone attacks us?” she asked, looking down the halls as BD climbed onto her back.

Cal thought for a minute before unclipping his lightsaber from his hilt and handed it to her before he resumed his hold. “I trust you.”

She nodded in response and together, they began to make their way through the facility.

 

All around Cere, there was chaos. People running, blaster fire and yelling. The noise and the sights, it would have been overwhelming to even the most hardened of veterans.

But Cere wasn’t just a veteran, she was a master Jedi. She let herself be distracted by none of it as she dueled the Inquisitor before her, matching him blow-for-blow, blocking, parrying, dodging, giving and gaining ground.

They were the eye of the storm; the Empire could have been falling around them and neither of them were aware of it.

She couldn’t let herself be distracted, for if she got swept up into the chaos around them, it would no doubt be the end of her.

The Grand Inquisitor bore down on her with ferocity. He was a ruthless opponent, but a cunning one as well. He was an expert with his dual blades, commanding his weapon with expert ease, an extension of his will. He forced her to meet his strike, their blades locking together.

“What did you seek to accomplish today?” he taunted, “Even if Kestis manages to rescue his padawan, it will be for nothing.”

Cere ignored his words, instead using the Force to push him back, push herself away from him, putting space between them.

While he was still gaining his footing, she lunged forward, thrusting her lightsaber forward, towards his middle, but her strike was met with a parry and a counter that had her stumbling back.

“You can not rebuild the Order with only three Jedi. You will die as unceremoniously as the other 10,000.”

He was trying to bait her, she knew. Trying to unstable her with his emotive words, but it wouldn’t work.

She quickly blocked his next series of blows as he attacked her with spinning blades, giving up ground again. He pushed her back, further and further until she was almost against a large wall of crates. Before she could duck to the left or right, he clenched his fist, and more crates flew across the hangar, blocking her path of escape, leaving her nowhere else to go.

“You Jedi are so predictable,” he sneered, docking his blade at his side, “Your compassion will always be your undoing. There is simply no hope for your lost cause.”

Cere held her blade in front of her and tried to think.

What would her Master say?

It was getting harder to stay focused on the man before it. It was like the sounds of the battle were growing louder, a dull noise in her ears that amplified with each passing second.

It was then that she realized it was getting louder, but it wasn’t just the sounds of the battle. It was…

She allowed herself a smile and extinguished her blade, the action giving the Grand Inquisitor pause.

“Hope will always survive in those who continue to fight.”

With that, she jumped, using the Force to propel herself upwards and into a flip right as a TIE came crashing through the hangar, barrelling through the crates she had just been pinned by.

She didn’t see the Inquisitor get swept away with the wreckage, but when she landed back on her feet, the area now clear, he was no longer in sight, and the TIE had skidded to a stop, a wing on fire, but mostly intact.

She got ready to dispatch whomever was piloting the thing as the exit hatch was kicked open, but when Echo and Fives hopped down, laughing as they made their way over to her, she relaxed.

“Greez is about to touchdown. Waiting on your orders, General,” Echo said dutifully as they approached.

“We need to help the others keep the hangar clean. Cal is en-route with Omega,” she instructed.

“Sir, yes sir!” Both replied before taking off, running to join the battle, Cere right behind them.

 

The trip back to the Mantis was not easy, not when Omega was more or less dependent on Cal to keep her going.

With one hand holding onto her wrist, keeping her arm around his shoulders while his left arm was wrapped firmly around her waist, careful not to aggravate or touch any potential wounds, it was up to her to keep them protected. Even so, she held his lightsaber tightly, ready for anything.

Omega’s whole body felt sore and tense. She had no idea how long she had been here, and she was not sure she remembered everything that was done to her. She wasn’t sure she wanted to remember any of it.

She could sense the anticipation rolling off of Cal, his presence in the Force more… well, ‘erratic’ wasn’t quite the right way to describe it. Her master had always been a calming presence, a soothing, grounding feeling she could cling to in times of the storm. But now, he seemed like he was the storm, something powerful gathering within him, threatening to break free with a mighty roar. A boundless strength, inside of him, but also a certain danger. It raised the arms on her hair as they made it off of Gideon’s ship and into the facility, trekking through the halls to the primary hangar, closer to freedom.

It had become quiet, not a wayward stormtrooper in their path, which made Omega nervous. Surely, all of them couldn’t have been diverted to her brothers, could they?

It was too good to be true, too good of luck to have at times like these.

They were, perhaps, half-way to the hangar when she heard a blaster click from behind them, warning her just in time for her to push herself off of Cal, sending him and BD-1 to the ground while she turned around, igniting his saber and blocking the bolt before it could connect with her, sending it back to their would-be assailant.

It nailed Dr. Hemlock in his shoulder, and he fell back, dropping the blaster and only grunting in pain.

On instinct, Omega quickly used the Force to pull the blaster away from him and to her outstretched hand, leveling it at the doctor. But now, with her standing above him, she realized their predicament.

He was unarmed and alone. The element of surprise was no longer on his side, and he had no more tricks up his sleeve. For the first time in their long history together, Omega held all the cards, but she knew it was all by his design, why else would he be without his usual guard? Why would he himself pathetically attempt to dispatch two Jedi when so many who were more trained had all failed to do so?

He wanted her to kill him.

Her finger hovered over the trigger when Cal called her name. It was a soft call, but raspy with a sort of strangled desperation. Her name was a plea from his lips, and she wanted so very badly to ignore it, especially when the doctor bowed his head to her.

“Go ahead,” Hemlock murmured, shifting to his knees, nursing his gloved hand. “Do it.”

It would have been a clean shot. One shot, and he would never come after her again. He would be dead. He should be dead, he should have never survived Tantiss…

“Omega, don’t!”

Her hand was shaking. Why was it shaking? They didn’t shake on Ord Mantell, all those years ago, when he was about to rip her brothers away from her. They didn’t shake in the training room, when she watched him gleefully bask in the carnage of the clone prisoners while she was helpless to stop it.

‘Because he’s unarmed,’ a little voice inside of her spoke. ‘A Jedi never strikes out of anger. Never strikes the unarmed.’

She swallowed and leveled her gaze down at the pathetic creature before her.

“Do you remember Eva?” She asked.

She saw his shoulders stiffen before he looked up at her.

“Or Sami? Jax? Byrn? Do you remember any of the children that were in the Vault with me?”

He opened his mouth, as if to speak, but no words came out, so she continued.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t know their names. You only saw them as specimen. But they weren’t specimen, they were children. I was a child. Emerie was a child. We were only children when you took us from our homes.”

Omega slowly lowered her blaster. “I’m not a child anymore, Doctor.”

Before he could inquire what she was talking about, she took a couple steps forward, before dropping to her knees down in front of him, setting the blaster down at her side before taking his gloved hand, pulling it out towards herself.

Closing her eyes, she reached out.

It wasn’t hard to feel Hemlock through the Force, his presence was unmistakable to her. It emitted from him like a pained scream, guiding her easily until she could see him and herself as they were; connected. She saw his hand, in her mind, without the glove. The gangrenous and disease-riddled flesh, the cause of such agony, of such darkness. She guided the Force within herself to extend through her hands, enveloping his own, and willed it to heal.

She pictured the gray and green skin returning to normal, flushing with color, whatever illness that emanated from vanishing.

When the pain was gone, she opened her eyes and let go of his hand, rising to her feet before taking a step back.

Hemlock stared at her with a rare look of disbelief before he looked down at his hand, slowly removing the glove. He let out an audible gasp as it no longer looked rotting, but… normal.

He flexed his fingers, studying the movements with quickening breath as he did not wince from the actions.

He looked back up at her. “Why?” He asked, “After everything I’ve done to you?”

Omega stared down at him and clicked the safety off of the blaster she had picked back up.

“A Jedi never strikes out of anger… But a Mandalorian? A Mandalorian never forgets.”

She leveled it at him again. “Actions have consequences, afterall.”

In the two seconds it took for him to process her words, she fired, the stun shot illuminating his eyes until the force of it knocked him back, soundly unconscious.

She took a shuddering breath and dropped the blaster, hands shaking too much to hold it properly as a gentle grip found itself on her shoulder, prompting her to turn around and face her Master.

He nodded approvingly before he moved her arm around him, supporting her again as they continued their trek back to the hangar.

She didn’t look back at Hemlock as they turned the corner. She just hoped that, whatever the Empire did to him for his failure, it would ensure that they would never cross paths ever again.

 

“We’re almost there!” Cal said, trying to quicken his pace when the sounds of fighting got closer.

His padawan didn’t respond more than a hum of acknowledgement. She was fading fast, and he didn’t know why. Dimly, he was aware of how she sucked in a sharp breath with every other step, arms straining under his grip. She must have had an injury that he couldn’t see, something that was making it hard for her to keep going.

But they had to keep going.

“We’re entering the hangar,” he spoke into his comm just as the door whooshed open before them.

Whatever reply anyone was going to give to him was immediately drowned out by blaster fire and chaos.

Before him, there were swarths of troopers running around, and between them, he could pick out the figures of the clones, Cere, and Merrin, doing everything they could to keep the imps pushed back. They were outnumbered, outpowered, but not outskilled.

On the far end of the hangar was the Mantis, waiting, the ramp lowering.

“Come on!”

He was all but dragging Omega now, her head hanging forward as they traversed into the battle.

Over the sounds of imps yelling and boots running and bolts flying past them, Cal could hear his own heart, beating loudly in his ears. A rhythmic thump that he focused on, refusing to get overwhelmed, refusing to let his guard down even though they were so close.

They were in the heart of the battle, but no one paid them any mind. No stray bolts were going to drop them where they stood. The Force guided them, the Force protected them. They were one with the Force and the Force was with them.

They were almost to their friends, almost out of enemy lines when he heard a distinctive clinking, on the ground, prompting him to look down at his feet.

There was a metal ball, just a few inches from his toes, a light on it flashing, and by the time his mind clicked with what it meant, he barely had time to shield Omega.

The heat of the explosion never came, the pain of it didn’t either.

When he realized he was still standing, he opened  his eyes that he didn’t know he had closed and looked back.

Merrin stood before them, a shield of green fire blocking them from the blow, her magick more powerful than any of the Empire’s toys.

She didn’t say anything to Cal as she placed a hand on his shoulder and the world went dark around them, his feet being swept out from underneath him, and it felt like he was falling until they landed on solid ground.

He swayed where he stood, instinctively holding onto his padawan tighter until he realized Merrin had taken them to the room she shared with Omega.

It was almost silent, the sounds of the battle now muffled by the thick hull of the ship.

Slowly, he laid her down on her cot and fell down to his knees next to it, pressing his forehead into the sheets, holding onto Omega’s hand as he sobbed.

He wasn’t aware of the clattering of boots growing closer or the sound of the Mantis taking off and jumping into hyperspace. The pressing questions they asked him were just a buzz in his ears that he ignored.

It wasn’t until a gentle hand placed itself on his shoulder that he came crashing back down to reality.

He looked up at Cere, who did not look at him with judgement or disgust for his failures and display. She only wore an expression of understanding.

He allowed her to pull him away, Tech quickly swooping in his place, doing more for Omega than the Jedi could.

His master guided him out of the room and out into the small hall where four more clones were crowded around, their anxiety enough to fuel the ship all the way to Pabu.

He was numb even as she was gently moving him to sit down on the couch just outside the cockpit.

“She’s okay,” Cere finally spoke. “She’s going to be okay.”

Notes:

My friends,

We only have one chapter left before the conclusion of Secrets of the Buried. I hope it doesn't take nearly as long to publish it since I have it outlined, but I don't know what I have the spoons for anymore. Maybe I'll get to my heist fic that stars Donald Glover's Lando Calrissian and Rebel!Era Omega.

Anyways, thank you all who have stuck with this fic! Love y'all for reading, and as always, leave your thoughts, questions, comments, jokes, critiques, etc.! I love any and all feedback!

Chapter 13: The Quiet of Home

Summary:

Omega is home...

Notes:

My friends,

This has been a very drawn out journey, and for that, I apologize.

I remember when I started publishing this, how long and short ago it seems. I want to thank you all for staying with me for this journey, and thank you again for all the love and support I've received while writing!

Now, please, read on!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Thus Nature spoke— the work was done—

How soon my Lucy’s race was run!

She died, and left to me

This heath, this calm, and quiet scene;

This memory of what has been,

And never more will be.

 

-Three years she grew, William Wordsworth

 

 

Engulfed in darkness, feeling nothing, being aware of nothing, was a blissful reprieve for Omega.

She wasn’t being hurt. No one she cared about was in danger. She was free to float somewhere in the mindscape of subconsciousness.

It was restful… until it all started to change.

The darkness that had previously cradled her disappeared, morphing into a scene of many shapes and colors, blurred at first, but slowly becoming clearer and clearer until it was obvious that she was now standing in the middle of a ruined Imperial hangar.

Units of stormtroopers were scrambling around, recovering cargo and putting out fires, tending to their dead and injured, reporting their findings. So much movement around her… it was disorienting.

She looked around, ignored by everyone around her until she saw a sight that made the chaos fade into the background.

In front of her was Hemlock, dropping to his knees, hand grabbing at his throat, pathetically wheezing as he struggled to inhale. His neat hair was falling into his face as he barely managed to catch himself on his arm to keep from outright collapsing, but even then, he started to slowly careen to the side…

“That’s enough, Lord Vader,” a dry, restrained voice suddenly spoke up from behind her.

The next second, Hemlock went from gasping to audibly inhaling, gulping in as much air as he could before coughing, spittle flying onto the hard ground before him.

Omega was on the verge of curling her lip in disgust at the display before her, but before she could move a single muscle, something seized at her brain that made all notions of the doctor disappear from her mind. The thin hairs on the back of her neck stood up as an icy chill erupted all over her skin, the coldness washing over her as suddenly as a plunge into arctic waters. It hurt her bones and shoved its way into her throat, making her feel like she was the one on the verge of suffocation…

She wanted to turn around to see the source of this coldness, and was on the verge of it when her instincts screamed at her, a tangible scream that she could hear in her head, telling her to stop, that if she turned around now, something horrible would happen. So instead, she stilled herself, frozen in place, like a prey that knew it had been spotted by some horrific beast. She could feel her heart thudding against her breast.

A deep, rhythmic sort of breathing resounded behind her now, but it was… wrong. Inhuman, as if it was not a human making that sound, but a machine.

“Tell me why I should spare you,” that same voice drawled from behind her, directed towards the doctor who was now all but groveling at her feet.

Hemlock cleared his throat as he tried to regain his composure, slowly rising back to his feet as he smoothed his hair back to what it once was.

“I… collected more samples of Ome- Of CE-O-219’s blood,” he corrected himself carefully, calmly, but there was no doubt in Omega’s mind that he was afraid of provoking the horrific thing behind her.

“It’s as I suspected, the result of the experiments that we ran on her during her time on Tantiss increased her own M-count, which would explain her notable increase in Force sensitivity. She analyzed her own samples, but she doesn’t realize it… I… believe she found out how to successfully transfer midichlorians to a new donor without degradation of the M-count or adverse effects to the new host.”

Omega stared up at the doctor, her brain buzzing from his words and anticipation, waiting to see if this information was enough to spare his life.

For what he was worth, Hemlock did a good job of masking his fear, but it unmistakably emanated from him through the Force.

“Leave us,” the voice finally ruled.

The mechanized breathing was all that passed between them until heavy bootsteps resounded behind her, the noise slowly fading away.

The coldness that seized her lessened, but not enough to compel her to move. Dread still had a stranglehold on her, and it only intensified when the voice spoke again.

“What do you require?”

“A chance to test my theory,” Hemlock replied quickly, his confidence less of a façade now. “And I need the clone. Not only is her blood the key to Project Necromancer, but her knowledge of cloning is almost unparalleled by almost anyone else in the galaxy. If turned, she would make a powerful asset to the Empire.”

Goosebumps erupted over her skin again.

“Very well… you will get your chance and your clone, Doctor Hemlock.”

He smiled. “I will not fail you, my Lord. I will resume my work on Project Necromancer right away.”

Omega’s heart began to beat quicker. ‘ To relax was a mistake!’ her mind screamed. She wanted to tell Hemlock to run away, that whatever he was doing now would bring him a pain that was worse than death.

“You are mistaken, Doctor,” the voice spoke again in a low tone, a warning. “You are suspended from Project Necromancer until you can prove to me that you are capable of such a task.”

Hemlock visibly paled, but he did not look otherwise disturbed by this information. “Whatever you require, I will do it.”

Omega had to turn around.

She had to see the monster behind her, but… she couldn’t do it. Her body wouldn’t obey her mind.

“You will begin working on Project… Starkiller. If you succeed, you will resume your work on Project Necromancer and be granted the position of Minister of Science…”

Turn around! She needed to turn around!

“However, should you fail me again…”

Finally, Omega forced herself to pivot, turning her back to Hemlock, and her heart stopped.

She was staring at Death.

Almost certainly, the thing in front of her was Death incarnate, shrouded by his dark cloak. The only features she could make out was the figure’s pale, wrinkled skin, his gnarled hands, and worse– the worst and most horrid thing of this figure– was the sickly yellow eyes that stared emotionlessly at Omega.

He raised a single hand in front of him.

“It will be for the last time!”

The last thing Omega saw was a bright flash of light, flying from the spectral figure, heading right for her-!

 

Omega shot up with a scream, pushing the weight off of her.

She had to get away, she had to—

-mega! Omega! It’s alright!”

Hands firmly pressed down on her shoulders, pushing her back into… a bed?

Omega looked around, taking in her surroundings.

She wasn’t surrounded by the dark, sterile coldness of the lab. No artificial lights, no stormtrooper watching her every move…

She was in her childhood bedroom on Pabu, in her childhood bed. The one she slept in from the time she was thirteen, to when she was sneaking off to join the Rebellion. The only difference was that there was medical equipment now, but it wasn’t the kind of equipment for testing or analyzing. It was healing equipment, the kind hospitals had, not science labs, but all the same, Omega would not help but wonder… what was it doing in her room? But, more importantly, what was she doing here?

It took her too long to process that someone was talking, saying her name, trying to get her attention.

She turned her head and saw her Master, Cal, sitting beside her bed. He looked tired, but relieved, and at the sight of him, everything came flooding back.

The rescue, her confrontation with Hemlock…

“How are you feeling today?” a new voice spoke from her periphery.

Slowly, she took her gaze off of Cal and turned to the new person, smiling almost the second she recognized them. “Emerie.”

This doctor was always a welcome sight for Omega, even when she was staring at her with a certain disapproval that she seemed to reserve solely for her hard-headed sister.

“Yes, it’s me,” Emerie said while pulling out a pocket torch, shining it in Omega’s eyes. “How are you feeling?” she repeated.

Omega shifted a bit. “Sore,” she replied, “It… feels weird to move.”

“Understandable,” Emerie replied, pulling out a scanner and sweeping it over Omega’s form. “You’ve been unconscious for two rotations.”

“Two rotations?” She shot up, then gasped when the passive soreness in her muscles quickly turned into active pain, a dull but burning throb that pulsed in time with her heartbeat.

“Easy!” Cal said, pushing her back down again. “You needed the rest. Especially… after…” He trailed off, and Omega lowered her gaze down to her lap.

She could feel it. Where the wounds on her back were. Underneath her shirt, she could feel the bandages that looped around nearly the entirety of her torso. Not too tight, not constricting her breathing, but not too loose to make her worried that they would slide off.

As always, Emerie’s handiwork was perfect.

“Is everyone alright?” Omega asked, looking up again. She hated the idea of anyone getting hurt because of her…

“Everyone’s fine,” Cal assured her. “Cere was a little banged up after her fight with the Grand Inquisitor, but nothing major.”

Omega let herself relax at this news. “That’s good.”

She was safe.

Everyone was safe…

Her eyes were getting heavy again, and Emerie placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Get some rest,” she said. “I’ll be nearby when you wake up.”

Omega nodded, closing her eyes again, letting herself drift off back into oblivion.

 

It was night when she woke up again.

She had always liked nights on Pabu. They were pleasant, even when the chill of the ocean swept across the island. The people were still active under the streetlights and glow of the moon. Even now, through the shades of her window, Omega would see the orange lanterns swaying, dancing with the breeze. She could hear the laughter of Pabu’s residents as they went about their business.

But, as relaxed as she was now, she was also restless.

Throwing off the blankets, she swung her legs out over the side of her bed and slid onto her feet.

The second she put weight on her legs, however, her knees buckled, completely giving out from under her, sending her tumbling to the ground. She barely managed to catch herself on the comforter before her face could plant into the hard floor, but sharp pain shot up from her shins, making her hiss and cuss and clench her fists as she worked through it.

“That doesn’t seem very Jedi of you,” a voice spoke from above her.

The room lights flicked on, prompting Omega to look up.

Her smile was as instantaneous with Lyana as it was with Emerie, but butterflies accompanied her now, seeing her friend leaning against the doorframe.

Carefully as she could, Omega pushed herself up, leaning against the bed for support. “Well, it’s hard to be a Jedi when your legs haven’t moved in over two-and-a-half rotations.” She tactfully left out the fact that she had also been strapped down to a table for an unknowable amount of time.

She didn’t want to think about that, not when Lyana was here.

Her friend walked over, helping her to her feet, keeping her upright as she looped Omega’s arm over her shoulder.

“Better?” Lyana asked, to which Omega nodded before they began to walk out of the room.

They walked down the short hall of Omega’s childhood home until they ended up outside, on the lanai, overlooking the island, the ocean in the distance.

Omega took a deep breath of the fresh air, savoring it as Lyana helped her into a nearby chair.

A long moment of silence passed between them.

Omega could sense the questions her friend was holding in, but refrained from speaking aloud, letting them have their peace for just a moment longer, before allowing herself a single, quiet admittance. “I… missed this.”

Lyana turned to her, but Omega kept her gaze focused on the dark ocean in the distance as she continued. “I’ve been to so many planets… but Pabu’s always been my favorite.”

“I wish you didn’t have to leave.”

Omega’s heart twinged as she bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself composed.

She was reminded now, of three different but very similar moments in her life.

The first was when she was thirteen, when her brothers knew Pabu had been compromised, that the Empire could be coming for her at any time. Just her, Lyana, and Batcher in the Archium, a hug shared and hope that it wouldn’t be the last.

The next was when she was 15, and loading up her recently built ship, The Cavalry, set to venture off to Concord Dawn. Lyana was watching from the pilot’s seat as Omega did her final checks.

And lastly, only a few years ago, when they sat on the beach together. When Omega had resolved to leave to join the Rebel Alliance, knowing she was needed somewhere else in the galaxy. The waves crashed at their feet as the sun was setting. They couldn’t look at each other.

Lyana had expressed the exact same sentiment each and every time, not begging Omega to stay, but letting her know that she would be missed.

Omega did not speak of these times, nor made any promises of returning. She was always careful about those kinds of things.

Instead, she took a breath, and smiled. “Don’t worry. It doesn’t look like I’m going anywhere,” she assured while pressing a hand to her middle, over the wound. “For the next couple of days, I’m all yours.”

Lyana casted her gaze downwards before nodding, accepting this, and when she looked up, a coy smile had taken residence on her face as she turned to Omega.

“Is that so? Well, let’s hope Emerie clears you soon so we can make the most of it.”

Omega felt a heat rise to her cheeks and gave a short laugh to cover it up. Many things had happened on the beach, after all. She knew her friend would make good on such a promise.

Luckily, she was spared from her lack of rebuttal when she felt a movement behind her.

“Cal,” she said, turning around just as her Master walked onto the lanai, two mugs in hand.

He stopped before looking at Lyana. “Would you mind giving us a minute?” he asked in a casual tone. “I need to talk to Omega… alone.”

The smile Lyana wore slowly vanished again, something unfamiliar and serious taking its place before she leaned over, placing a quick kiss on Omega’s cheek before standing up.

“I’ll talk to you later,” she promised before quickly leaving.

They watched her go before Cal turned back to Omega, handing her a warm, ceramic mug before taking Lyana’s spot.

She took a sip and found that the liquid was not caf, but bendu tea, from Greez’s own stock. It was a blend that was known for its small kick of spiciness, which Omega liked. It was a welcome reprieve to the coldness she had been feeling for what felt like almost forever by now.

“You had us worried,” Cal finally spoke up before sipping his own tea.

“Sorry,” she instinctively replied, but he waved her off.

“Don’t be.”

Omega nodded and turned her focus to the contents of her cup, trying to give her mind something to think about. She knew that had it been day instead of nighttime, she would have been able to hold up the drink in a glass cup and see that it actually had a reddish-bown hue when the sunlight hit it just right.

But it was not day, so dark the liquid remained, unable to even reflect her face back to her.

Deciding she had kept her master in silence for long enough, she decided to speak now, before she lost her nerve.

“I… had a vision, I think,” she quietly spoke.

Cal didn’t say anything, but she could sense his anticipation. He knew her dreams and visions were just as surreal and haunting as his, the Force mysterious until all was revealed.

“Hemlock survived Vader.” She swirled the liquid in her cup while she let Cal process this. “I didn’t want him to, but he did. And he still wants me to be his assistant.”

She said all of this very matter-of-factly, rushing through the words so she couldn’t have time to feel them. But she was, regardless. Cal took his time in responding, and it gave her time to realize that she spoke it out loud.

That Hemlock was alive, and he had not given up his pursuit of her.

“I’m sorry,” her Master finally spoke, and while she knew he meant it, that he was genuinely remorseful for her predicament, and he was also remorseful for his lack of ability to do anything about it.

“I should have shot him when I had the chance.”

The shock from Cal was tangible, ringing out in the Force, and while he kept most of his composure by not bursting into words outright, she could see the fracture in his mask, giving way to a slight look of alarm.

“I should have killed him,” she continued before he could collect himself enough to lecture her. “But I didn’t… He’s already taken so much from my family… I didn’t want him to take you away from me too.”

She looked down, guilt burning in her stomach. So close. She had come so close to compromising everything he taught her…

She could feel his gaze, and she could imagine his expression softening as he watched her.

“You could never loose me,” he said, voice quiet. “Even if you gave in to the Darkness… No matter how far away you stray, I will always be there to guide you back to the Light.”

Omega allowed herself a smile. “You’re a good Master like that.”

Cal shared her smile and sipped his tea. “You’re not so bad yourself, Padawan.”

She laughed, a full head-tilt back laughter, even though it wasn’t funny. It was just familiar, and that was good enough for her.

 

Omega spent the rest of the night being visited by a carousel rotation of her loved ones.

She and Cal were eventually joined by Merrin, Cere, and Greez, all of whom were glad to see her awake and well.

Then, they were ushered away by Emerie and Echo, both of whom were stern with their warnings of over-exerting herself so quickly after starting her recovery, and she was promptly led back to her childhood room and Emerie checked her over again.

While Emerie examined her most visible wound, Echo gently pressed her for everything that had happened, and Omega reported to him dutifully what she could remember. He was stoic as she recounted the events on Pilal V, how long ago they had seemed now. Waking up in a bacta tank on Admiral Gideon’s cruiser, passing out again, and being forced into the role of one of Hemlock’s assistants.

Emerie didn’t talk much during her recounting of that part of her captivity, but Omega did not miss the smile she suppressed when she recounted how she subdued him during her first escape attempt, a smile which was quick to disappear when Omega revealed she had been stabbed, and the torture she was subsequently subjected to.

Clinically, her sister attributed her muscular fatigue to the prolonged torture and warned her of any lingering muscle spasms that might result of it.

When they left, Echo gave her a pat on the shoulder and told her to get some rest, but she was not left alone for long before Crosshair and Tech took their place, and Omega recounted the events again.

Tech came to a similar diagnostic as Emerie while Crosshair mostly sat on a chair in a corner of the room while chewing a toothpick, flexing the fingers of his prosthetic hand, something he only wore during times of need.

He scowled throughout the entire story, deepening the frown lines that had been long carved into his face before he flicked the toothpick onto the ground and left without a comment.

Tech only shook his head, picking up the toothpick from the ground and bidding Omega a goodnight.

She did not remember falling asleep, but by the time she opened her eyes again, Lula was tucked into her side, and Wrecker had fallen asleep in the chair next to her bed, his head tilted back, mouth agape as he loudly snored.

She threw Lula at his head, and laughed as he almost fell out of the chair, startled.

He greeted her as warmly as the sun and told her she was stronger than him, glad to see her awake.

They compared their “counts” since the last time they saw each other, his number having been boosted by the skirmish in the hangar, but still nothing compared to hers, as she had not spent a majority of her time retired on Pabu. He told her double or nothing, and whoever won the next count was winner take all, which she gladly accepted.

He left with the promise of returning with enough food to give her her strength back, and she settled back into the bed, waiting.

But instead of Wrecker returning, it was Fives, grinning, carrying a tray, and no longer wearing prisoner fatigues, but some clothes fit for a Pabu resident. He was always smiling, but for the first time, it looked like he was truly feeling happy as he sat down.

He told her about the TIE he and Echo stole, and how they crashed it into the Inquisitor who stabbed her, which made Omega feel as good as the taste of the egg on her rice did.

She was laughing into her caf when Hunter finally came in, Batcher on his heels and a bemused smile on his face as he looked between the two.

“Glad to see you up, ad’ika,” he greeted, taking a seat as Fives slipped out, taking her empty tray with him.

She smiled and scratched Batcher’s head when the lucra hound half-climbed onto the bed. “I’m glad to be up.”

Hunter leaned forward, resting his arms on his legs, trying to appear relaxed, but Omega could tell he wasn’t by the way his leg bounced.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

She shifted a bit in the bed, keeping herself propped up as Batcher jumped onto the edge of the bed, curling up at her feet. “Fine, just a little sore.”

He nodded at her answer and took a deep breath. “We were worried about you, you know.”

“I’d be surprised if you weren’t.”

He huffed and looked down, running his hand across the back of his neck. “I’m always worried about you when you’re gone.”

“I know, Hunter.”

“I’m not telling you this to make you feel guilty, but… I don’t want to lose you to the fighting.”

“I know, Hunter.” This was almost the exact conversation they had many times before she finally resolved to just sneak away to join the Rebellion.

“I’m serious, Omega.” He sat up, looking at her. “I’m not going to stop you from leaving again, but I want you to know where I’m coming from. This isn’t the first time you’ve been captured. This isn’t the first time you’ve almost died. How many times will this happen again until your luck runs out?”

“I don’t need luck, Hunter. I have skill, every skill you taught me, in case the fight ever came to Pabu again. And I have what Cal has taught me since then.”

He sighed, shoulders sagging, which made her want to reach out and touch his shoulder, to reassure him just like she did in the alcove, but she knew that any sort of shifting would remind her of why she was so bogged down in the first place. “I’m going to be okay.”

Hunter nodded, not looking at her. “I know you are.”

 

Omega spent the next day in bed, slowly regaining her strength, and the day after that, she found herself walking around her room until Emerie’s close supervision.

“I told you, I’m fine,” she insisted, turning around when she completed her 10th lap around her bed.

“You’re fine for regular activities, but you’ve still yet to prove that you’re clear for missions,” Emerie replied sternly.

“Hemlock is still out there. He’s still looking for me. I want to find him before he finds me.” Omega sat down on her bed and rested her arms on her legs.

It wasn’t just Hemlock. The Emperor promised the doctor that she would be his assistant.

Before, she was resolute that she would die before that ever happened. But… when she thought about being on that table again, and couldn’t help if that was what it was like for Tech.

But as soon as she had the thought, she quashed it. No, that wasn’t what it was like. The incident on Eriadu had damaged his brain, making it easier to manipulate his memories, rendering him all but a blank slate for the CX program.

She decided then and there that if Hemlock wanted her, she’d give him a fight. The only option she’d give him is that he’d have to tear her down, piece by piece. Fry her brain until there was nothing left.

But she knew Cal wouldn’t let that happen.

She looked up when Emerie moved to sit next to her, touching her shoulder gently. “I understand why you’re afraid of him… but pushing yourself isn’t the answer.”

“I’m not scared,” Omega muttered. Her hands were shaking, in her lap, so she closed them into fists, an action she knew was noticed by her sister. “I’m… angry. And I know I shouldn’t be, but every time I think about him, I think about what he did. And I helped him.”

Emerie didn’t say anything. Maybe she didn’t know what to say, because Omega could feel her eyes baring into her skull.

Both were spared from seriously considering Omega’s actions when there was a knock on the door, and they turned in time to see Merrin poke her head in.

“We found a lead on the Haxion Brood.”

 

“So, you’re saying that we have a lead on one of their bounty hunters?” Omega asked, studying the holo before her with arms folded across her chest.

She had made Merrin take her back to the Mantis for the briefing before Emerie could protest, the two of them traveling via Nightsister magick, which was efficient, if… jarring.

“Former bounty hunters,” Cere corrected, “But yes. This information was taken from a puck.”

She gestured to the holo, detailing the crimes and price of the former Haxion Brood member; a solid 500,000 credits for “embezzlement”.

“If they were stealing from Sorc Tormo, it is no wonder why their bounty is almost as high as Cal’s,” Merrin muttered darkly, studying the holo as intensely as Omega.

“This is a big break,” he interjected, “We could use him to find the location of their base, use the coordinates to take them down. Stop their operations.”

“And finally get them off our backs!” Greez supplied.

“A lot of people will be free from their oppression…” It slowly dawned on Omega, the implications of it all. The galaxy without the Haxion Brood… it would be one less thing to worry about on their path to topple the Empire. She stood up, alreadying making her way to the cabins when she spoke again. “Just let me grab my gear and I’ll be good to–!”

“No, Omega.”

Cere’s firm words made her halt just at the edge of the short hall and slowly turn back around, giving the master a questioning look.

“As good as this opportunity is, you’re still recovering. We can’t risk you getting a set-back.”

Omega swallowed a bit and turned to them fully, standing at attention as she controlled her tone, taking great effort to speak evenly, afraid of coming across as disrespectful. “With all due respect, Master, we can’t risk losing this lead either.”

Cere’s responding expression was a gentle smile, and the clone knew why. It always amused the older woman whenever she was spoken to in a cadence worthy of a commanding officer. It was a hard habit for Omega to break, between her brothers and the Rebellion, but Cere always took it into stride, not admonishing her, not tactfully correcting her as Cal did.

She crossed the room and gently placed her hands on Omega’s shoulders.

“Your determination is admirable, padawan, but you can’t take care of the Galaxy without taking yourself first. Even if you don’t view yourself as important, we do.”

Omega bit the inside of her cheek, biting back her initial response to argue.

They couldn’t not do this mission, the reward was greater than the risk in her mind, but… as usual, Cere was right. She still wasn’t at 100%, how she was before Pilal V and everything after, and too much time would pass before she was. The bounty might slip away, someone else might catch them… their lead would be lost…

They couldn’t not do this mission…

“Then I’ll stay behind,” she resolved, “You can’t do this mission with me, but you can do it without me.”

Cal was on his feet and crossing the room before she could blink, arguments forming on his tongue, but Cere silenced him before he could speak a word with only a look over her shoulder before she turned back to Omega.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’ll stay here on Pabu and recuperate. When you’ve completed the mission, you can come back for me, I’ll be back to form by then.”

That resolved it in Cere’s mind, as she nodded before stepping away, now letting Cal say his piece.

He hesitated to speak, opening his mouth, then shutting it again several times before he eventually asked in a very quiet voice, “But what if we need you?”

Omega gave him a small, sympathetic smile. He was never good at hiding his emotions. He wore his worry on his face quite well.

“Master, you’ve done plenty of missions without me. I trust you can handle it.” Omega let herself smile at this, speaking to him as if he was the student.

Cal didn’t miss out on the irony either, sharing her grin, even if he tried to hide it. He placed a hand on her shoulder as he worked his face into a serious expression. “We’ll come back for you,” he promised.

“I know.”

With that said and nothing else to say between them, he moved forward and pressed his lips to the top of her head for a long second until he was pulling away, Merrin taking his place.

The Nightsister pulled her into a hug, which Omega gladly reciprocated.

“Keep him out of trouble,” she murmured.

“Impossible,” Merrin replied, making her laugh as they pulled away from each other.

She did a proper Mando handshake to Greez, grabbing his forearm and smiling. “Don’t use up all my spices while I’m gone,” she said.

“Please! Now I have an excuse to not touch the nasty stuff!” he retorted with a lopsided grin.

She let go of his arm and started to make her way to the boarding ramp, only stopping when she felt a tugging at her ankle. She stopped and saw BD-1, holding onto her pant-leg with, and when she had stopped, he wasted no time in hopping up and into her arms.

She rubbed the top of his head as he gave a long, sad boop that tugged at her heartstring.

“It’s not forever,” she promised the little droid. “I’ll be back.”

BD looked her up and down before he nudged her chin with the top of his head, mimicking the action Cal had done earlier, prompting her to hold him closely before eventually letting him go, letting him return back to Cal.

She turned around to face her crew one last time, taking a breath as she brought her hand up into a lazy, two-finger salute before waving at them with the gesture before turning around and exiting the Stinger Mantis.

As she stepped out to the upper court of Pabu, Omega was only mildly stunned to see her brothers already waiting for her at a small distance from the ship.

She made her way over to them with a slight smile.

“Emerie told us you snuck out,” Hunter said with arms folded over his chest.

“I did,” Omega said, simply, no use in denying what was blatantly true before turning around.

Cal stood at the entrance of the ship, watching her as the ramp began to raise.

They locked eyes then, and a rush of reassurance flooded over her, the storm inside of him calm, soothing her own internal storm even as the door came to a close.

“Not going with them?” Hunter tentatively asked as the take-off sequence was initiated, the Mantis slowly beginning to ascend.

“No. I thought it’d be better if I sat this one out,” Omega replied simply, clenching her fists as the ship cleared over the Archium. Is this how Hunter felt, only a handful of years ago?

She tried to reassure herself that it wouldn’t be forever, that they’d be back for her, but…

She didn’t take her eyes off of the Mantis as it soared higher and higher into the sky, until it was just a dark speck in the vast blueness, and then, it was unperceivable, too small for her to even see.

She took a breath and turned back to her brothers, smiling. “I think it’s time to rest… just for a little bit.”

Hunter simply wrapped a gentle arm around her as they began to walk back to the house. “I think that’s a good idea.”

Notes:

What a journey!

I again, want to thank everyone who commented and loved reading this fic as much as I loved writing it! I re-read every single comment I have ever gotten, and I hold them all very dear to my heart.

I have at least two more ideas for this series, but I want to start completing some other stuff first (unless the next idea gets me in a choke-hold), but I do have plans for Omega and Cal to return. One before and one after the events of Jedi: Survivor. I did put a little Easter Egg of what it could be about, I have some idea of what I want it to be, but nothing definitive yet.

But, as always, thank you all and love you all for reading, and, as always, leave your thoughts, questions, comments, jokes, critiques, etc.! I love any and all feedback!

Notes:

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed the chapter!

Please, let me know your thoughts, comments, questions, critiques, jokes, etc. I love any and all feedback, and I'll see you next time!

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